Time past and present

I have seen many clock towers in my long years on this planet. The one I love the most is in Colombo. It was constructed more than a hundred years ago; and it was the only clock tower in the whole world that was also a lighthouse.

I have seen many clock towers in my long years on this planet. The one I love the most is in Colombo. It was constructed more than a hundred years ago; and it was the only clock tower in the whole world that was also a lighthouse.

I have a feeling that a clock tower does great service to its people. By proclaiming the right hour 8212; and sounding loud chimes at 30-minute interval, it seems to say: 8220;Time waits for no man!8221; And while statues of our prominent leaders are garlanded today and brought down tomorrow, clock towers are treated uniformly with attention.

From 1936 to 1938, I lived as a young boy at Karimnagar, in the Nizam8217;s dominion of what is today the Telangana region of Andhra Pradesh. My greatest attraction was the beautiful clock tower in the heart of the town that was situated just outside my home. Its hourly and half-hourly bells reverberated through the entire town, which had then a population of 30,000, or so. A watch for most people in those pre-war days was a luxury 8212; as was the radio; and our clock tower was the sole benefactor that gave us the right time.

I always considered Karimnagar8217;s clock tower as my own. As a boy I used to play around it. As I grew a little older I used to drink tea 8212; served at a Lipton stall 8212; sitting on its steps. And I would gaze at its face almost always.

Last year, in my late seventies,

I revisited Karimnagar for two reasons. The first was to see our old house. The second was to re-acquaint myself with my ghanta ghar, as it was locally called. My house had disappeared without a trace; but, thank God, the clock tower was still there.

From a nearby restaurant, while sipping tea, I fondly gazed at it. Old times came back in a rush, and I recreated my days of innocence: horse-driven tongas, gaslight burners, empty roads, even during sunny hours, and children in the middle of the road flying kites. The 1930s came back to me in a rush. Just then, as if to wake me up from my daydreaming, a bell resounded from my clock tower. It reminded me that it was time to depart.