In the heart of Nairobi, amidst the hum of a modern city, a centuries-old family tradition ticks away its final chapters. Ravinder Singh, 74, is the fifth-generation keeper of a watchmaking legacy that has survived empires, witnessed rebellions, and crossed continents. Now, with his sons pursuing other paths, he faces the poignant reality that he may be the last Singh to dismantle delicate gear assemblies and breathe life back into antique timepieces.
A Legacy Forged in British India and Tested in Colonial Kenya
The story begins in the early 1800s in the farmlands outside Lahore, then part of British India. Ravinder's great-great-grandfather, Ram Singh, initially farmed wheat and rice but took up watchmaking as a hobby. He saw a future in it and advised his son, Nehal, to turn it into a business. This advice sparked a dynasty.
Nehal opened a watch shop in Lahore, a trade continued by his son, Jewan. By 1922, the family's skill was so renowned that Jewan Singh & Sons was appointed the official watchmaker to the Governor of the Punjab, Sir Edward Maclagan. Yet, behind this veneer of colonial service beat a heart of rebellion. Jewan's retreat on the Ravi River became a secret meeting point for Sikh activists plotting against British rule.
The anti-colonial fervor burned even brighter in Jewan's son, Vasdev Singh, born in 1900. Family lore recounts that at just 13, Vasdev ran off to Tehran intending to buy weapons for an uprising. His plans were thwarted by an elder who sent him home. Worried about his son's impulsive politics, Jewan sent Vasdev to East Africa in 1914 with his watchmaker uncle, Bishan Singh.
From Nairobi Shopfront to Secret Independence Hub
Vasdev Singh arrived in Nairobi during a wave of Indian migration to East Africa, which included over 32,000 Indian laborers brought between 1896 and 1901 to build the Kenya-Uganda railway. He eventually opened his own watch and jewelry store on Government Road in downtown Nairobi, becoming an authorized Rolex dealer popular with the white colonial elite.
But Vasdev led a double life. While fixing the timepieces of colonials, he was secretly financing the Mau Mau insurgents fighting the British in the 1950s. He funded the printing press of trade unionist Makhan Singh, who was jailed for 11 years for his activism. Vasdev's shop became a strategic gathering place for independence leaders, including Jomo Kenyatta, Kenya's future first president. Protected from arrest by a sympathetic Sikh policeman, Vasdev played a crucial, hidden role in the struggle for freedom.
The Final Tick of a Family Tradition
After Kenya's independence in 1963, Vasdev grew disillusioned with Kenyatta's government and emigrated to London in 1968. The craft, however, had already been passed to his son, Ravinder, who learned at his father's knee after school in Nairobi.
Today, Ravinder maintains the tradition not as a primary business—he runs a construction company—but as a passionate weekend pursuit in his cluttered upstairs workshop. At 74, with a white beard and turban, he painstakingly restores clocks using tools and Swiss parts collected by his father. "It keeps me occupied," he says. "I won't grow old." His wife, Gita, whom he married nearly 50 years ago after a matchmade meeting, says the work calms him.
Yet, the future is uncertain. His sons have "busy lives" and his best hope lies with his 18-year-old grandson, Harnek Singh, who has shown interest and plans to study mechanical engineering. Harnek dreams of working for brands like Rolex or Patek Philippe. Ravinder looks around his workshop filled with generations of tools and parts and wonders aloud, "After all, what are they going to do with all this stuff?"
The story of the Singh watchmakers is more than a tale of a fading craft. It is a living narrative of the Indian diaspora, colonial resistance, and the quiet, personal legacies that outlive empires, now waiting to see if time will finally run out.
