The Second Stealer

There is exactly one good cricket bat in the whole class, and everyone wants a turn in the lunch break. So the rule is fair and simple: two minutes each. Bat for two minutes, then hand it on to the next person in the line. The trouble is who holds the timer. Karan does. It's his phone, so he counts the two minutes out loud for everybody. And you have started to notice something. When his friends are batting, two minutes seems to stretch on forever — ball after ball, they're still going. When it's your turn, "two minutes" is over almost before you've faced three balls. "Time up!" he says, every time, right when you're getting your eye in. You can't prove anything. When you complain, he just shows you the phone — "look, two minutes, I counted." It's his count, his phone, and he's the only clock in the game. Whoever holds the clock owns the truth. So arguing is pointless. You don't need to win the argument. You need your own clock — one that isn't Karan's phone, isn't his counting, and gives the same honest second whether he's holding it or you are. A clock so simple and so steady that everyone in the line can watch it tick and agree: that is a real second, and nobody can stretch it or shrink it. Here's the strange thing: a weight on a string can do exactly that. Set it swinging, and it keeps a beat as steady as a heartbeat — the same beat every time, whoever lets it go. Get its swing to take exactly one second, and you've built a clock Karan can't cheat. Today, your team is going to build one.