The Patek Philippe 5296R used to be my grail watch. I convinced myself all would be well once I owned (or rather, looked after) a Patek Philippe.

The Orientals teach their young to be steadfast and self-reliant once reaching thirty years of age. What better means to symbolise responsibility and maturity other than a fine timepiece? I stood in front of a Patek Philippe AD, fighting every ounce of insecurity bubbling in my stomach. “I don’t suppose you happen to have a 5296R in stock, do you?” Before I could react, the salesperson snipped open the sealed bag. Out the door, I walked, still baffled at the exchange. Four years went by, yet the encounter seemed like yesterday.

Sealed inside the crystal bubble and as crisp as the day it left the shop, the faceted indices behave differently depending on light and mood. On a bright sunny day, they dazzle and glitter while living in the moment. On gloomy nights, the indices sparkle and twinkle, hinting it is perhaps time for one last sip of whiskey before calling it a day. Other times, the indices sit quietly on the wrist scheduling the daily hustle and bustle under fluorescent lamps, calling little attention to itself unless consulted. The gold-framed date window placed unassumingly at 3 o’clock adds subtle practicality to an otherwise quintessential dress watch. Doing what dress watches do best, the Patek Philippe 5296R is accustomed to the day-in and day-out mundanity of dating documents and jotting down time stamps in a busy clinic.

The once blushing rose-gold case has aged gracefully to a mature golden-yellow hue. The solid gold case displays its age through the blemishes gathered over regular wear. Over time, the original polishing has seasoned to one that is not given but earned. Gazing at the man through the hazy watch surface, one wishes, like the watch, he has not only grown older; but wiser. There is no denying that patina is just a fancy word for damage, c’est la vie. Like their owners, objects absorb the imprints of their handlers, some smudge, others graze, and a few dent the surface beyond repair. When the inevitable day comes to part the watch onto the next owner, perhaps they too shall ponder upon the untold stories sealed inside the domed crystal bubble. A well-worn timepiece is not merely a horological instrument. It lends itself to a living chronology – until the day when its oils run dry, its wheels snap, and the mainspring is reduced to a lifeless filament. By that time, should the next owner stumble upon this passage, do promise me to keep the case unpolished and not touch the dial.

The Greeks say the only constant in life is change, yet some gems, like the naive smile across a watch crystal, never change – until one realises yesterday’s grail becomes tomorrow’s gateway leading to the next chapter in life.