The Wall Clock Street, 2008

If you take a sharp left down the main road and ride straight, you will hit a dirt wall. No one knows who owns the wall but every Thursday, another new poster gets plastered over the disturbingly colourful mess of film ads beneath. You can even catch a glimpse of an old MGR rerun on the bottom right. It is a wall that silently supports cinema, fandom and teethering drunks. Enough of the brown wall. Now see this tiny alley to the right of it? Dim-lit and a tad shady. That my friend, leads to the renown Wall clock Street.

Unlike the path to it, the Wall Clock Street is a brightly-lit, blustering little community. It is filled with small box shops on either side. The name boards spell differently but all the shops are as alike as sisters. Each identical to the next from the humming tubelights and alarmingly low fans that don't keep away the mosquitoes.The sassier ones have neon lights dangling like cheap jewellery. The road is almost always damp with puddles- tred with care. The rusting shutters are rolled up invitingly with powdery plastic stools beneath. A small boy runs around with his chai- holder delivering the glass cups to the watchmakers with their monacles ( they can repair your wristwatches for a cheap 150 bucks). And chatter flows freely into the street.

Pick a random shop and enter. Make sure to leave your sandals on the steps. The air within thrums with the collective tuts of the clock. The muslim 'bai's sitting there greet you with a nod, if you are new. You get a friendly salaam and generous pat on the back if you visit again. These are traditional shops- every customer becomes a family friend. You will receive chicken stew next Eid.

 A chair is hastily vacated for you by the display. The counter is glass, green around the corners, which the salesman quickly dusts. And walls, oh the walls! They gleam from head to toe with clocks. Of every imaginable size and shape. There are round, wooden ones, cheap and fit for municipal offices. There are lithe ones, light as feather, borders in shiny purple, pink and yellow plastic. There are old ones at the back whose glass panes you can open and adjust the needles within ( I spent hours learning to tell time with such a clock). And then there are the crystal ones that dominate the display. The long faced models have gleaming pendulums and rotating music fountains of crystals dangling from their faces. You can pick the solid "100% pure gold" ones as the owners call it. Or the pieces that come with swans, mermaids and dolphins- a favourite of womenfolk. They sell off the counter like hot cakes. 

Wall clocks are markers of pride. They define your living room wall and is, importantly, silent show-off to the guests that come. A gaudy, glimmering clock means good wealth and fortune. That's why it is a tradition to change wall clocks every New Year. The old ones are transferred to the bedroom( the less fortunate to the attic). You can see the bais sitting straighter around New years. They know what you got last year. They have shipped something grander this year. 

And so the Wall Clock street lives. Tucked secretly from the city. With a thousand clocks in a timeless square. Scattered in a hundred living rooms, ticking softly. Next time, a new year arrives, mind to visit Wall Clock Street of 2008.