It was the year 1923, the whole school was astir with excitement and expectancy. Even we, the pupils, forgot our usual jocularity. The seriousness of the teachers was reflected on us and for a moment we strove to look sober, steadfast and demure. It was an eventful day! The Director was visiting our school and we were in the highest class�Form III.

            It is ten O�clock; the bell rings and the classes start work. The Headmaster with his glasses perched at the tip of his nose is steadily growing nervous and is fidgeting about. It is a few minutes to twelve and we hear the hoot of a horn from far. The Headmaster rushes to the gate and receives the Director. The latter, a tall and stately figure, comes along and steps into the school in the company of the Headmaster. 

            It is the third period and we, in the third form, are having our Drawing lesson. The Drawing master � the most dreaded teacher in the school � for once deprived of his formidable cane � looked really human. The old clock of the school was laboriously plying its uphill work. It was just five minutes to twelve and both the hands of the clock were nearing the peak.

            The Director and the Headmaster enter our class. The Drawing master makes a sign to us with his piercing eyes and all of us immediately stand up, by way of respect to the distinguished visitor.

            The Director seems to be satisfied with the discipline of the school. But unfortunately for the school, there breaks out, all on a sudden, a boisterous laughter from the whole class. The Director is taken aback and stands non-pulsed. The Headmaster and the Drawing master fret and fume and quaking behind the Director�s back, beckon to us to keep silent. But it was of no avail. The laughter only grows louder! The Director not knowing the reason for this outburst of hilarity, feels annoyed and is about to leave the class in a fit of temper, when the agitated Headmaster begins to explain. 

            The old clock has a peculiar characteristic. Once both the hands reach the number twelve, to indicate the time, suddenly they rush down until they come and rest at the number six. The fact of the matter is that the springs of the clock are so old and weak that they are unable to hold the hands so high. When the situation was properly explained to the Director, he too broke into laughter and left the class with a smile on his face. The old clock, I hear, is still in the school and continues to hold his own against all newcomers.

            Long live the old clock!! 

This web is another creation from