Tome And Plume: Grandfather Clocks Still Chime At Many Houses In Bhopal

Bhopal (Madhya Pradesh): My grandfather’s clock was too large for the shelf,

So it stood ninety years on the floor;

It was taller by half than the old man himself,

Though it weighed not a pennyweight more

-Henry Clay Work

The chimes of the grandfather clock may have faded, but they still hark back to fond memories.

Those who have dated with such clocks know how scary their gongs would be in the midnight hours.

The clangs, emanating from church tower clocks in villages, shattered the stillness of the night, reminding one of ghost stories.

But the scary sounds entailed some kind of romanticism. Its chimes are still nostalgic. And a few old Bhopalis still keep grandfather clocks. They remember those clangs — cheery in the day and scary at night. The children of today have seen such clocks only in movies.

Each of its ding-dongs heralded the beginning of an hour. Each tick-tock broke the silence of the summer noon in a house that had such clocks. The dusty village roads remained deserted at noon on those days. Inside, it was the clock’s ticking. Each movement of the pendulum indicated life went on.

A few residents in the state capital have such grandfather clocks installed. They feel the pulses of the bygone era in the peals and moving pendulums.

The collectors of antiques, too, keep such clocks, now a symbol of royalty. The keepers of the grandfather clock say its parts are not available, and they have to search for a mechanic to repair it.

If you go to any clock-repairing shop in the city, the shopkeeper will immediately say with folded hands that he is not acquainted with the art of handling such timers.

The owner moves from one place to another to search for a mechanic. He is even ready to part with any amount to get it repaired.

The owner goes to the dark and dingy nooks in the old city to find a grandfather clockmaker.

Tired of searching for a mechanic, he plans to return home. On the way, he meets an elderly person and seeks his help to find a grandfather clock repairer.

The pedestrian tells the grandfather clock owner that there is a mechanic, Beniprasad Rai, who runs a shop in the tin shed near the New Market. Beniprasad has inherited this art from his father, Brijmohan, grandfather, Hulas Rai and great grandfather Radhakishan.

Beniprasad’s father, grandfather and great grandfather used to repair the clocks of the Nawabs of Bhopal. Their clock-making business began in 1876.

It is Beniprasad who still repairs the over 190-year-old huge grandfather clock gifted by the Nawabs of Bhopal to Hamidia Hospital. He also repairs another huge grandfather clock installed in the PMG office.

It was because of the clock-making art that the Nawab conferred the title of Rai on the family of Brijmohan.

The clock owner goes there and finds a man wearing loupes. He is so busy with his work that he barely pays any attention to the customer.  

The clockmaker slowly raises his head and says he will handle the timepiece, but the charges will be very high. The clock owner is ready to pay any amount to get his prized possession back to chiming.

How does it come to Bhopal?

An English clockmaker, William Clement, produced a long-case clock around 1680. But the term grandfather clock came into being and became popular because of the song “My Grandfather’s Clock” by Henry Clay Work in 1876. The term grandfather clock is newer than the date of the invention of the timepiece.

When the term grandfather clock came into being, the City of Lakes was under the rule of Shah Jahan Begum. It is, however, challenging to determine the exact date when the grandfather clock arrived at Bhopal. The Nawabs who ruled the city had connections with the European countries. Thus, such clocks may have arrived at the city at the beginning of the 18th century. There are still several grandfather clocks in the treasury of the Nawabs.

Beniprasad says he repaired several broken-down grandfather clocks belonging to the royal families of Bhopal until the early 1990s.

By the time Beniprasad ended his story, the bust clock began to chime – tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock…!