For many years the clock tower of Darjeeling Capitol hall lay silent and forgotten. It is as if the bells had forgotten to toll and it had no one to toll for. Now the clock tower chimes everyday, a wonderful resurrection by the Rotary Club of Darjeeling.
It is a familiar sight for all of us. Coming back from a long journey; it is a faithful friend that is waiting to greet us. On a dark night, it keeps a steady vigil on our town. Many a day starts with the first chime and a reminder that it is time to hit the road for your morning walk. For those who are forgetful, it sends out a reminder hour after hour.
Who knows what the Darjeeling clock tower may have witnessed over the years? If it could tell tales, then perhaps we would hear the untold stories of Darjeeling. Those early years of British settlement, the stories of various expeditions to the Himalayas and Tibet, the setting up of various establishments, the romances and the conspiracies, the struggle for the seat of power and position, the numerous classic movies screened at the Capitol hall.
Would it also tell us a sad tale? A tale that would “freeze the marrow of the bone”, the tale of the gradual decay of urban planning, the neglect of its citizens, the corrupt power-play of the few, the slow but steady decline of basic amenities. Would it then, weep for us, the denizens of Darjeeling?
I would like to think that it would hope and pray for us, and keep up its facade like the strong sentinel it has been over the years. Like the colourful prayer flags that flutter over our hills, and the prayer wheels that keep spinning, it also sends out a prayer after every chime - hoping that Darjeeling would arise, awaken and rebuild anew. Of promises we have to keep and miles to go before we sleep and miles to go before we sleep..............
: kinleysj@yahoo.com Message: If only the clock tower could speak, heroes would be villains and villains would be heroes. Only a few listen to the bell and for him it tolls. It tolls for the kanchandzonga whose silvery cloak is greying, it tolls for the Mall stripped off its beauty and now frozen in concrete, it tolls for the people who are leaderless, it tolls for yesteryear .... but listen like the Listeners and one will hear the horses chomping the grass at the Mall, the tower peals to the many shiny faces of the children going to school, jubilant welcome peal for the tourists, it tells it's own story, I will rise again on a day it is destined.