‘When former employees come here, they cry’
On the afternoon that I visit the HMT Heritage Centre and Museum in north Bengaluru, I meet Rajendra Rao, a project manager, his wife, daughters, and mother-in-law, who have just finished the tour and are now at the tiny souvenir shop that sells watches and miniature tractors. Rao tells me about his first HMT, passed on to him from his father-in-law — a Swarna limited edition watch with an Indian flag on the dial. “I have 16 watches of various brands, but today I bought my own HMT,” he says. “I wish the government had not shut it down. This was the essence of Make In India.”
Within the nondescript two-storey building — originally the official residence of the HMT chairperson — set in a sprawling four-acre space, lush with a hundred trees, the museum is as much about the story of HMT as it is about the intricate craft of watch-making.
My tour begins in a brightly lit room with pictorial charts on the walls marking milestones from 1953 when HMT (Hindustan Machine Tools Ltd) was incorporated by the government as a machine tool manufacturing company. In 1961, the foundation for the first watch factory was laid in Bangalore and operations began with technical know-how from Japan’s Citizen Watch Company.
Within the next decade, more factories were set up across the country, including in Srinagar and Ranibagh in Uttarakhand. There is a photograph of Jawaharlal Nehru receiving the first hand-wound HMT watch, manufactured in 1962, which he famously christened Janata, a legendary name now.
Up till the 90s, HMT watches enjoyed a golden era, controlling 90% of the market. In 2000, the then Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee was presented HMT’s 100 millionth watch. But with the arrival of quartz watches, cheap timepieces from China, and stiff competition, the slowdown in sales began, which was never stemmed.
Losing steam
In 2013 the company reported a loss of a whopping ₹242 crores, and began to lose steam. The watches division was fully phased out by 2016. However, watches are still sold on their website hmtindia.com. There are still some two to three lakh watches on their inventory, and their wind-up watches are still in high demand.
“The demand for HMTs was so great that in the 60s, a pledge was made to set up a new factory every year,” says Jayapalan P., who worked at HMT for 30 years in the after-sales department, and now manages the museum.
I find myself in a room where the watch has been turned inside out. Titled ‘Parts of a Watch’, the display shows every single component that goes into a standard watch: movement pieces, hair springs, screwdrivers, horological jigs, pliers, watchcases, gaskets, dials, even straps.
There are hand-press machines that ‘coined’ the dials of the 60s’ watches, and the powerful eyeglasses used during assemblage. Jayapalan stops at one display that houses minute-hour markers, watch hands and dials. “This may look simple but the task of placing each component on the dial is exacting and tedious,” he says. And there used to be more women than men working in the assembly section, he says.
Interestingly, the museum’s display boxes — in bright yellows, reds and greens — are made from the old doors and windows of the HMT school in Bengaluru, which was shut down two years ago. The factory floor has been recreated as well, complete with all the heavy machinery. You can even insert a card into the punching clock as employees would once have done. In fact, most of the machines too are in working condition. Jayapalan points to an antique printing press manufactured by William Notting in 1760. “When former employees come here, they cry,” he sighs.
Gems and gold biscuits
On the shelves I spot the elegant Sujata (the first HMT ladies watch); Chandana, circa 1990, with a sandalwood dial ring and sold with a bottle of sandalwood oil to smear on it when worn); Kanchan (apparently every groom had to have this); the Tareeq series (the only one with a date interface); the Gem Utsav series (silver studded with semiprecious stones); and the ‘gold biscuit’ watches (with a gram of gold on the dial). HMT had Braille watches (1970) that came with a Braille handbook — “no one else did this in India” — and ‘nurse watches’ with just a dial that could be pinned to the uniform blouse.
There are watches commissioned by PSUs and government departments, watches with pictures of gurus, politicians and freedom fighters. Jayapalan shows off his 25-year-old Suraj watch, fully automatic and with no battery. “It works on the movement of my hand,” he says.
Jayapalan remembers standing in line at 5 a.m. to buy his Janata in 1970. And he spends no more than ₹20 each year to replace the glass casing. “Nothing goes wrong with it,” he says. “Maybe that’s why the factory closed; once you bought an HMT, there was no reason to replace it.”
Outside, children are taking joy rides on the HMT tractor or buying tiny tractor models. But Shivanand Patil, 24, the young tractor driver, doesn’t wear a watch. “I have my phone,” he says.
The freelance writer believes that everything has a story waiting to be told
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Society / by Jayanthi Madhukar / August 17th, 2019
