A watchmaker’s dilemma

I saw him sitting on the roadside in Hatirjheel, while returning home from work one day. A man well past his sixties perched up on a plastic tool, with a styrofoam box in front being used as a makeshift table.

On the box are a set of watchmaker’s tools, a few wristwatches I presume are for use as spare parts, and a cheap rechargeable LED light, flickering. Looking closely, I notice his hands shaking, his eyes covered with thick glasses, yellowed after years of use.

He was waiting patiently for customers in a sea of people, who passed him by without even taking a second glance. I was curious. What compels a man his age to set up shop? The answer is easy, economic hardship, but maybe there is more to this story.

Why doesn’t he have anyone to take care of him? Have the recent hikes in the prices of every commodity imaginable left him with no other option?

Mechanical watches are precision machines that require a steady hand to repair. Once a must-have companion for both kings and paupers, regular watches are steadily losing the battle against mobile phones and smart watches.

A few days go by, I never see him serving even one customer. One night, out of curiosity and perhaps a sense of morbid empathy, I took one of my old wristwatches to him for repair. It needs a battery replacement, he said, with a smile. Do it, I tell him. I pry him for personal details as he gets to work, years of experience at his still nimble fingers.

The watchmaker explains his dilemma, “I managed to go through my entire life without taking handouts from anyone, why start now?”

Do you have any sons, daughters? Why don’t they take care of you? “I have two children. I married off my daughter to a migrant worker, she now lives in Qatar. She has a good life there. She hardly calls me or her mother anymore. Life is fast and busy there, I hear.”

What about your son? “He has his own problems, as he’s barely able to take care of his wife with what little money he makes as a shop assistant in Dhaka.”

“I have regrets. I couldn’t get him the things he wanted as a young boy. I just didn’t have the money. I am in my twilight years, and I don’t want to be dead weight in his life now.”

I didn’t have to ask, I knew that the years have not been kind to him. I guess people who go through immense hardships their whole lives have the warmest smiles.

He keeps working on my watch, keeps sharing his story.

“I had put away my watchmaker’s tools years ago. The money my children were sending me was more than enough for me and my old lady.”

But good times don’t last very long, do they?

“My migrant son-in-law had lost his job during the pandemic. The shop that employed my son remained closed for nearly a year. They ate up their savings, and so did I. The money they used to send me dried up. So one day, I decided to dust off my watchmaker’s tools, and head out.”

“I’ve raised two fine children, but I will not be a burden to them. Somebody has to look after my old lady, and it isn’t going to be someone else.”

So, how’s business? The watchmaker smiles again. He knows the era of his craftsmanship is on its last legs, that his mechanical skills – honed over the course of decades – is irrelevant in a world running on microchips.

“You’re the only customer I’ve had in days. But it’s not like I’ve got anything else to do, anywhere else to be. So, I come here, sit and wait.”

He finishes replacing my watch battery, and I get a new belt as well. How much?

“That’ll be Tk 150.” I give him Tk 200, and tell him to keep the change. This is the first time the watchmaker makes eye contact with me, his look conveys a hint of surprise, and maybe gratitude. I was worried his pride would get hurt, but his smile tells me it’s okay.

A few days later, with another of my old watches in hand, I got to the spot where the watchmaker usually sets up his shop. I could not find him. No one could say where he might be now. I didn’t even ask him his name. The wind goes wherever it pleases, a grain of sand goes where the wind takes him. What is a grain of sand against the wind?

What is a grain of sand in the desert?