“What will you do now dad?”
I was checking in my laptop to ensure that I have all the materials
required for the training schedule before leaving for the railway station when
I heard the question. My daughter was
watching the news in the television. I was
wondering whether some derailment or ‘rail-roko’ had popped up suddenly to affect
my travel plans. I asked her what that
was about. The channel was airing a news
item about the Indian brand of wrist watch ‘HMT’ is coming to an end.
There is a reason for her to quip me on this. Despite having a good collection of wrist
watches my affection of HMT watch is known in the family right from my grandpa
to my daughter. Over a period of time
through service awards, gift from friends and off late on my fifteenth marriage
anniversary I have received my eleventh wrist watch; Indian as well as foreign
brands. But given a choice, I will wear
my favorite HMT only. Only after
pressure from family members and a final ‘lovely’ glare from my wife I will
wear another one for occasions but soon will revert back to my old one.
I told her that my favorite watch is still in working
condition and as far it is ticking there is no issue at all. I dashed to the station, got the train and
when the train started with a whistle, I glanced at my wrist; right on
time. While the train darted forward
from the station my brain travelled backward with a speed much, much more than
that of the train to my childhood days.
During my school days watches were a luxury item among
students. Like the early years of
Aluminum, where only Kings and Lords were used to have spoons and forks made of
aluminum, while others had only silver and golden ones, watches were won only by
selected, elite, rich kids. If somebody come wearing one, he/she was
regarded as elite class and there will be a melee to see the watch from close
quarters. HMT, Camy, Westclox and Favre
Leuba were coveted brands of the seventies.
Students used to borrow the watch to wear them on the day of “group
photo” day where a class photo will be clicked once in a year.
No, I was not lucky enough to have worn a watch during my
school days, for that matter not even in my college days. I got my firs watch presented to me by a
neighbor, the year I was graduated and by that time the college days were
over. It was a Casio F5, with a push
switch that will illuminate the dial for five seconds. Day in and out I adored and adorned the
same, only removed it from my wrist when I went to bathe and toilet.
The one I bought for myself was a HMT and the model named as
KAJAL. There were four varieties of that when it was
introduced and the most sought out variant was a black case with a golden
colored dial. I made a ceremonious
ritual everyday wiping it before wearing and carefully placing her back in the case
before going to the bed. And till this
day, this very moment, she is on my wrist.
Even when I was awarded with gold plated Titan for my long service with
the pharma company which I have worked for, I replaced it the very next day
with my good old ‘Kajal’.
Along with me my ‘kajal’ have traversed India over a period
of thirty years. Barring a few
occasions, where the balancers and the spring was a cause of ‘non-ticking’ days
she has done her duty dutifully. Even
then there are expert mechanics who put her back to action.
These are troubled ‘time’ for wrist watches with the arrival
of mobiles, tablets and iPad and no wonder a company which was orchestrated as
“time keepers of the nation” is near the exit, with its future bleak. Sometime later I went to sleep and woke up
with a jolt of the train in the morning when it reached the outskirts of the
city where I have to get down. I just
glanced at my wrist, right on time; she is doing her job. The company’s future may be at stake, but she
will be safe with me always, ticking, ticking, ticking….
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