In the year 1582 AD the Italian astronomer, physicist, engineer, and polymath, from Pisa, Galileo di Vincenzo Bonaiuti de’ Galilei discovered that time could be calculated using a pendulum. He inked the blueprint of a wound-up device, which could measure time and changed the history of Christendom. Using his designs, seventy-four years later in 1656, Christiaan Huygens, a Dutch physicist, mathematician, astronomer, and inventor, invented the first mechanical clock in human history.
The next year, in 1657, Huygens patented the design and engaged Salomon Coster, a Dutch clockmaker from Hague to build the first pendulum clock in the seventeenth century. Twenty-three years later in 1680, William Clement discovered that by increasing the length of the pendulum the clock’s accuracy could be increased.
It meant that the casing for the pendulum had to be elongated, this gave them the name of ‘Long Case Clocks,’ which later came to be known as the six-feet three-inch ‘Grandfather Clocks.’ Shorter variants of the same would come to be referred to as the ‘Grandmother Clock’. For the next three hundred years, these mechanical wonders would remain as the most accurate and trusted timekeepers of humanity.
Finally, in 1721, George Graham, an English clockmaker, inventor, and geophysicist, and a Fellow of the Royal Society, perfected the clock to the precision of a second. Two centuries later in 1912, Joseph Kieninger established the Kieninger Clock Company, the oldest and perhaps the finest manufacturer of clocks still in existence.
Now in the year 1990, one of the very original clocks built by Joseph Kieninger himself; stood at a corner of a damp and dingy room on the 1st floor of a two-storey dilapidated building housed in a tiny lane of the Hatibangan area in the city of Kolkata in India’s West Bengal state.
Brihospoti Mookerjee was the sole resident of this house, the ‘Mookerjee Villa’ and the last surviving member of his family. The fifty-one-year-old bachelor was comfortable with his whimsical and solitary life, living in this crumbling ancestral adobe along with some bygone furniture and fading antiques.
Of all the things Brihospoti owned, the Kieninger Grandfather Clock was his most precious thing. Every day he would dedicate hours to the antique clock’s upkeep. He would wind it, wipe it, clean it, admire it, and even talk to it.
The middle-aged man was as unsocial as a person could be. At a younger age, he had desired to start a family, settle down, and marry, however, as time passed, he was unable to find someone to tie the knot with. A lot of his hostility and crankiness was perhaps a result of this.
As a booking clerk of the Indian Railways, Brihospoti had spent the last twenty years of his life permanently posted at the Sealdah Railway Station selling train tickets. Like his uneventful life, his job too was as monotonous as it could be.
Apart from the nine to five railway duty, the man hardly ventured out of the house. At home, Brihospoti would spend much of his time brooding and lamenting over his solitary life. He would sadly regret his bland and lonely existence without a wife. During these empty evening hours, his only comfort was in taking care and talking to the old Kieninger timekeeping device.
Now the lane, on which Mookerjee Villa was situated was barely ten feet wide. Well, this was considered to a be good gap between houses in North Kolkata’s cramped and unplanned lanes and alleyways. For there were some passages betwixt buildings that were as narrow as two feet in breadth.
The Mookerjee Villa, a facade nearly two hundred years of age, a small house though, was built in a splendid gothic architectural style. Though today it looked like an abandoned house covered in banyan trees sprouting from its cracked outer walls, was certainly a beautiful looking home when it was built.
Presently in the year 1990, the city of Kolkata as any other developing metropolis in the world was fighting to create spaces for people to live. The answer to this space problem had come as the modern-day apartment or flat building.
These cooperative housing societies sprouted like mushrooms all over the metropolis. Closely packed and stacked against each other they were gradually replacing the old houses in the streets and bylanes of the city. Many of them were built by goonish promoters with dubious ties profiteering from illegal activities.
Chelu Panda was such a man, a black marketeer with two stores of imported goods in Khidderpore’s shady Fancy Market and an antique shop in Mirza Ghalib Street. The man had started as a roadside ruffian, who had done a few murders in his time, and now through the blessings of powerful businessmen and politicians had become a promoter acquiring old houses and building apartments dotting the city’s skyline.
Now bang opposite to Brihospoti’s house, Chelu Panda had raised his newest four-storey sixteen-flat residence. There were a lot of questions about how he acquired the old house and built this new apartment place, however, no one dared to raise a red flag or say anything. New owners were gradually starting to come, take possession and live in the building.
Chelu Panda for many years now had been after Brihospoti, trying to acquire the Mookerjee Vila from him. The goon, however, to date had been unsuccessful in convincing the lonely and melancholy Bengali to sell him the property.
Then one Sunday, in the flat right opposite to Brihospoti’s first-floor damp and dingy room housing the Kieninger Grandfather Clock, a single lady in her mid-forties came and took residence.
At first, Brihospoti had not looked at her properly given his shy and unsocial demeanour, however, after a few days while cleaning his clock he observed the lady would be constantly looking at him. She looked at him in between most of the things she did, in between nearly every of her household chores, before going out of the house for her day-job, and right after coming back from it. It was like an infatuation with her to look at him it seemed.
Initially, he felt a bit intruded, however, on looking at her properly a few times, Brihospoti could not take his eyes off this middle-aged Bengali beauty. In time he came to know from the local grocery store, that she was Mrs Halder, a widow who had lost her husband a year back and was now trying to get over her grief and start a new life.
Gradually it became an obsession with Brihospoti to sneak a glance from the corner of his eyes to look at Mrs Halder looking at him cleaning and spending time with his beloved grandfather clock, the Kieninger timekeeping device.
He realised that the lady must have found him very charming and surely had developed a massive interest or even an attraction towards him. Otherwise, why would a middle-aged lonely widow look at a man through the window all the time?
Then on a few occasions, Brihospoti saw Chelu Panda along with some of his goons speaking with Mrs Halder. Every time, his voice would become gradually louder confronting the lady, and when the ruffian left, Mrs Halder would be in tears, sobbing all alone for hours. Brihospoti could see all this through his window peering into Mrs Halder’s drawing room and thought that the hoodlum in some big way must have entrapped his secret admirer.
Brihospoti wanted to do something for the lady he had come to silently love but did not know what to do until one-day Chelu Panda and his goons knocked on his door to speak a few words.
“Chelu you can come up to speak with me, but your goons are not welcome in my house,” said the middle-aged Bengali with some newfound love-fuelled courage and assertiveness.
Chelu was surprised with this, Brihospoti had never invited him into his house previously. All their conversations were outside in the alley. Not beating around the bush and of course fuelled with the newfound courage of love Brihospoti bluntly asked Chelu, that why was he troubling Mrs Halder and he should just let her be.
Sitting in Brihospoti’s drawing room, Chelu was hardly listening to what this suddenly courageous Bengali man was saying. His eyes were fixated on the old Kieninger timekeeping device. Being a dealer in antique the ruffian had realised the worth of the clock and could not look at or think about anything else other than the priceless grandfather clock in front of his eyes.
Regaining his composure and better listening to what Brihospoti was saying, maybe for the fourth time, Chelu recognised a middle-aged man madly in love with a widow, ready to do anything to end her troubles and better her life.
“Brihospoti babu, working very hard and saving money all her life Mrs Halder had bought this flat from me. Her late husband who was an addicted gambler lost the deed of the house to me over a card game of Teenpatti. I can throw Mrs Halder out of her house any day unless she gives me, what her late husband owes me, four lakh rupees,” said the gangster to the flabbergasted Bengali.
“I see a solution, however, if you give me your old clock, I will give back the deed of the flat to Mrs Halder and never disturb her again. Hell! I will never even bother you to sell me your house,” said Chelu to Brihospoti in a really sincere and honest way.
Thinking for a bit, Brihospoti agreed with Chelu and struck the deal with him. That day Chelu and his gang took away the clock from Mukherjee Villa to his antique shop in Mirza Ghalib Street.
Right from the day after Chelu took away the clock, for some reason Mrs Halder stopped looking at Brihospoti. She seemed to be leading a happier life but showed no interest to look at him, and this was killing the middle-aged love-sick Bengali.
Then finally one-day Brihospoti made up his mind to confront Mrs Halder. He was determined to speak with the lady, tell her that he loved her and that he wanted to marry her. He was all courageous because it was she who had started all this by constantly looking at him. With a great preparation on that day, Mr Mookerjee decked himself up and caught up with the lady on her usual route back from work.
The nervous love-sick Bengali introduced himself as Mr Brihospoti Mookerjee, her neighbour from right across the street. Mrs Halder reciprocated by saying that she knew him, and a casual conversation started between them as the two walked towards their homes looking all hopeful and happy.
Then the moment of truth finally came and Brihospoti was about to ask Mrs Halder about her interest in him as she always used to look at him. Just before Brihospoti was about to stutter this, Mrs Halder said a very unexpected thing.
“Do you know Mr Mookerjee when I was shifting, in a great hurry I misplaced some of my things? When I unpacked everything I realised that I had lost my wall clock, which was very important to me. You see I am a stickler with time and need to do everything by the clock. Unfortunately, I am allergic to a wristwatch, so I decided that the next day I would go to the market and buy me a wall hanging or pedestal timepiece,” said Mrs Halder to Mr Mookerjee, who was bubbling inside like a child to tell her that she was the heroine of his love story.
“That day in the evening when I looked out of my window across the lane through yours, I saw you cleaning the most beautiful grandfather clock I had ever see. It, being clearly visible from my window I became dependent on looking at it to get the correct time for everything I did. I started looking at it to do all my chores, for cooking, and every other thing,” said Mrs Halder to Mr Mookerjee with a tone of apology.
“I must ask for your forgiveness for looking at your house all the time. I actually had no other interest other than knowing the time. For this, you must excuse me,” said the apologetic lady to the Bengali babu, who suddenly looked all pale, blank and lost in time.
“A month back, one fine day I saw that your clock was not there anymore, and with my obsessive nature that very evening I went to the market and got myself a wall clock very fine. Since then, fortunately, I did not have to peep into your window all the time,” said Mrs Halder with a deep and relieving sigh.
The lady then enquired, “well now that we know each other, can I ask what happened to your beautiful grandfather clock?” An embarrassed Brihospoti who a moment ago was about to express his deep love, barely managing his composure took a moment and big gulp to say, “You see Mrs Halder I had to sell the timepiece to save my love. Now if you excuse me, I shall be on my way! Goodbye! It seems I too need to buy myself a clock.”
Copyright © 2021 TRISHIKH DASGUPTA
This work of fiction, written by Trishikh Dasgupta is the author’s sole intellectual property. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, send an email to the author at trishikh@gmail.com or get in touch with Trishikh on the CONTACT page of this website.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Trishikh Dasgupta
Adventurer, philosopher, writer, painter, photographer, craftsman, innovator, or just a momentary speck in the universe flickering to leave behind a footprint on the sands of time... READ MORE
Weekend Stories by Trishikh 
A touching love story. I think he should have told her how he felt about her. I’m not convinced it was all about the clock. Was he standing in front of the clock every time she came to visit? I doubt it, then if not…she was looking at him but too bashful to tell him.
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All these brilliant and beautiful analysis I leave to the imagination of my readers. Maybe you are right, perhaps she had an interest too and was too shy to admit. Well to find out what happens next is another story I guess.
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Thanks, an intriguing story for Valentine’s Day.
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Oh! Yes you are right. I did not remember it’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow. Lucky I guess the story came out this way.
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Yes, it’s two more days here. 🙂
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In India it’s tomorrow.
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It’s still Friday night in America.
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It’s Saturday morning in India.
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We have a couple of hours left in Friday. 🙂
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Do you mind if I reblog it?”
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I would love to have you reblog my story. It would be my honour. You may reblog any of them anytime.
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Thanks! 😀
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like your work
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Thank you so much. It always means a lot when someone appreciates.
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You are very welcome
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Trishikh, very interesting and beautiful history.
Thank you for share.
Take care.
Elvira
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You are very welcome Elvira. As you already know by now, that I will always put atleast a little bit of history in my stories. Always look forward to your likes.
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Trishikh, thank you for your kimdness, and your beautiful words. I know that you put your heart on your post.
So do I.
Take care a lot.
Elvira
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You are most welcome Elvira, take care too.
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Thank you so much.
Best wishes.
Elvira
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You are most welcome, many best wishes to you too.
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Thank you Trishikh, take care.
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A perfect story at the perfect time!! ❤️❤️🌟
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Thanks Arpita, however, I did not think about that while writing it.
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Amazing love story! Loved it.
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Thank you so much. Always treasure your appreciation.
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Thank you very much for your history of clocks. That’s a very well done summary. A couple of years ago we read several books about the development of the clock from Huygens until today (in Dutch and German). Your article is a great to remember what we read.
All the best.
Keep healthy and happy
The Fab Four of Cley
🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂
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You are most welcome. It makes my day when someone appreciates my writing. So glad that you like the history about clocks. A big portion of my stories goes into the history of things.
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Do you plan a book about the history of things? We find that very interesting. Do you the book “History of Things” by Stephen Lubar et al.?
The Fab Four of Cley
🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂
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I will certainly read the book “History of Things” by Stephen Lunar, under your recommendation. I myself have not thought about publishing my work yet. After I finish 50 stories, I might try to publish a collection of it. Let’s see how that goes. For now I am just concentrating on writing. It’s a pleasure talking with you. Take care, have a lovely day.
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Hi please subscribe My Channel 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏
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Nice and engaging love story. Loved it. Thank you for sharing.
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You are most welcome Chitrangada. Really glad that you liked it.
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Reblogged this on Ned Hamson's Second Line View of the News.
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Your story evoke a very strong essence of Bangla literature, an old world charm mixed in moden setting. The subtle humor is really engaging. Wish you luck for many more to come!
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Thank you very much, you are very kind with your appreciation. Yes you have correctly observed – a lot of my writing is influenced by Bengali literate of the past. Mixing the past with the present is also a favourite thing of mine. Am so glad that you find the subtle humor engaging. By the grace of God, and through the encouragement from from good friends like you, I am sure I would be able to write many more of such stories in the days to come.
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I do look forward to them!
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Guessed she was looking at the grandfather clock. However, I thought the clock reminded her of her late husband or held some childhood memory, but did not anticipate her need for punctuality. Poor Brihospoti…but at least, he saved a woman’s honor.
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Yes the end indeed has an unexpected twist. Though she says she was looking at the time, we cannot rule out the possibility of her thinking about other things as well. I leave it to the imagination of my readers. Always look forward to your comments.
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A clever and poignant story, I thought maybe the widow was interested in antiques, I didn’t guess it was merely the time she needed to check!
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Yes its has an unexpected ending. Am glad that the story came out good. Sometimes we imagine so much more that what a thing really is. Thanks for visiting and reading.
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Amazing story! Thank you for sharing it!
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You are most welcome. Thanks for liking.
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Interesting story! Thank you for posting!
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You are most welcome Cherie, glad that you liked it.
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Very intriguing love story…started with science n ended with emotions…nicely penned…
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Wow, I did not think of it this way. Thanks for the lovely analysis. Really appreciate your encouragement.
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You’re welcome…. absolutely amazing to come across your blog…how did I miss this..
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Oh! You are too kind with your words. My blog is pretty new, started from 2nd August 2020, just 7 months now. I write and publish one short Story every weekend. Till now I have managed to write 24 stories. Will keep on writing by the grace of God and through the best wishes of friends like you.
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Yes, keep writing….keep going strong….would love to read your posts..
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Will keep at it. Thanks for you best wishes.
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Such a great story! I enjoyed the little twist and the sadness of unrequited love.
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Thank you so much Kerry for liking the story. When I was writing it, was not that sure how it would end. Fortunately was able to think of a decent ending. Do visit my blog again and read some of the other stories, I am sure you would find a couple of them interesting.
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I will visit again! Right now, I am a bit distracted with our crazy weather in Texas. Lots of tidying up…
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I look forward to your visit. Best of luck with the crazy weather, I have visited Texas and San Antonio once. Love the place. Best of luck with the weather and tidying up.
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San Antonio is a beautiful city with that Mission feel. All the dead plants outside have been cleared so it looks better and is quite warm.
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Yes I was there on missionary work with the Diocese of Texas. It’s a lovely place.
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Despite being a lapsed Catholic, I really enjoy visiting and praying in Texas churches. The Mission churches are lovely but so, too, are the German and Czech ones.
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Oh yes you are absolutely right. The presence of God makes things, beings, and places beautiful.
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Awww, beautiful.❤️
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Thank you so much Laleh. Means a lot coming from a writer like you.
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You’re so amazing yourself dear.🌷
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Thank you Laleh, always love your appreciation.
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My pleasure.🙏
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This is such a charming story, Trishikh. The kind-hearted but unlucky Brihospoti reminds me a little bit of Marcovaldo, a character by Italian writer Italo Calvino I came across many years ago. He’s a harmless nice guy who’s just unlucky, in such hilarious situations. I hope Brihospoti and Mrs Halder gets together as a couple eventually! At least in my mind they do.
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Wow! That’s nice to hear. Many times similarities do come up in writing, and this is what which makes them so interesting. I also wish that Mrs.Halder and Brihospoti babu finally gets together.
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Most interesting, thank you
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Really glad that you find my story interesting. Much appreciate your appreciation.
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Sweet and heartbreaking.
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Thank you Anna, but don’t feel sad, who knows maybe in future Brihospoti and Mrs. Halder would ultimately unite someday. I leave it to the imagination of the reader.
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Yes, at least the clock got the conversation going! 🙂
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That it surely did. I did not think of it this way, good that you brought it up, now I see the clock had a purpose afterall.
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Great info. Lucky me I ran across your blog by chance (stumbleupon). I have book marked it for later!
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Wonderful love story Trishikh, i enjoy it. Great work! Thank you for this post.
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You are most welcome Wayan. So glad that you loved the story. Really appreciate your dedicated attraction towards my stories, which makes writing them worthwhile.
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I am a slow reader, short story is perfect for me. I am amazed how you come up and write so great and elaborated story in every post. You have been doing fantastic work. Thank you Trishikh.
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Dear Wayan, I start writing 1 story every Monday and continue writing it through the week and try to release it on Saturday or latest Sunday. I write 2 to 3 hours every early morning. I do a lot lot research for my writings, as research gives me great joy. I start a story sometimes with just a word, or a thought, or a phrase, and then gradually build on it over the week. Most of the times at the start of my story I do not know how it would end, what is the plot and other things. I just start writing and slowly a good story builds up. Very rarely do I write a story, about which I know everything, how it would flow, how it would end, etc. Thank you once again for liking my stories.
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Wow you are amazing Trishikh, i can imagine how you love writing so much. Writing for hours every day is really only the great writers who love what they do able to do it. You flow and let the story leading you. It is wonderful. I feel like learning history and reading beautiful story at the same time. Thank you.
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Thank you Wayan, you are too kind with your words of appreciation for my writing. I believe with perceverienc and dedication anything can be achieved, if one has the passion for it.
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Thanks for imparting such all precious knwledges by telling stories of older time.
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I treasure your comment Subhra. Thank you so much.
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I feel so sorry for Brihospoti! Upstaged by a clock! Poor man.
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Very true! One never know, which materialistic thing might play a key emotional role in life.
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This is the most unusual love story I have ever read, Trishikh. It started with Galileo and as I wrote about him too, I was interested. Also, I love the clocks, have one in every room, and the pendulum one is not only beautiful but keeps perfect time. When you have progressed to modern times, I started to worry about you, Trishikh. What if the gangster you describe in such detail really exists and can find out where you live?
Perhaps, this is the exceptional mastery of your writing that makes the reader believe every word of your story, but if I ever were able to come the
India, and your city, I would look for a beautiful villa from your story.
Would I find it?
Joanna
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Dear Joanna, this story indeed is a bit unusual for a love saga. Galileo and clocks and things mechanical are very dear to me too. Glad to know, you share a similar passion. It gives me great joy when I am able to convince fiction as fact – you are very kind to point this out. You would certainly find out many such houses in Kolkata. They are not that difficult to locate.
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As long as you are safe, Trishikh, all is well !
Joanna
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I am very safe Joanna. No worries.
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