By T Sher Singh | Opinion |
Newly married in 1947, my parents lost all they had during the cataclysmic Partition of Punjab. Fleeing the eye of the storm that engulfed the subcontinent and claimed millions of lives, they settled down in an alien land a thousand miles away and made it their home.
I was born there in the City of Patna two years later.
The iconic Takht Sahib Patna Gurdwara marking the birthplace of Guru Gobind Singh in the ancient part of the city was a dozen miles away from where we set up home. The only station where long-distance trains could stop then was the Patna Junction railway-stop which was at the end of the street where I grew up.
All dignitaries coming to pay their respects at the Gurdwara or to attend Gurpurab celebrations had to disembark in our neighbourhood and then be driven for an hour to the old city (later renamed Patna Sahib). It fell on my father, struggling then to establish a motor-spares business, to be part of the reception party each time a VIP arrived. Sometimes it meant bringing the entire entourage to our modest apartment to feed them before driving them to their destination.
Being the eldest child then, I would be by my father’s side on these occasions. My earliest memories are therefore from around the train platform with a sea of turbans milling around a garlanded figure alighting from a train carriage and the air suddenly filling with a thunderous burst of welcoming slogans from those who still had raw memories of grievous loss from the recent conflagration in their distant homeland.
I clearly recall being in my father’s arms once, eyeing one particular figure in the crowd screaming: “Master Tara Singh Zindabad” (Long Live …), except his was in a voice hoarse from the demands he was making on his vocal chords. For years after that, I thought one could only shout slogans in a similarly splintered voice, and took great pains in welcoming each new arrival with a rough imitation, but always the same words: Master Tara Singh Zindabad!
It was exactly how I received Gian Singh Rarewala and Giani Kartar Singh and Surjit Singh Majithia. Kapur Singh and Hukam Singh, too, as well as Gurdit Singh of Komagata Maru fame.
Later, in my early teens, we billeted the ace-pilot Hardit Singh Malik at our home. Followed by the scholar Dr Ganda Singh and then the artist Kirpal Singh.
My head spun with each arrival and the preparatory history lesson my father gave me each time to explain who the person was and all that he or she had done for the nation. What particularly remains etched in my mind, though, are his standard concluding words: “Never forget, beta, when you meet these people who made history that they are all ordinary people like you and me. Only, they did extraordinary things!”
I now realize with some sadness that they have all moved on.
T. Sher Singh is a writer, editor and publisher at sikhchic.com. The Sikh media portal, now undergoing a major overhaul to bring it up-to-date with the latest gadgets, aims to be up by Spring.
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(Asia Samachar, xx 2021)
ASIA SAMACHAR is an online newspaper for Sikhs / Punjabis in Southeast Asia and beyond.Facebook | WhatsApp +6017-335-1399 | Email: editor@asiasamachar.com | Twitter | Instagram | Obituary announcements, click here
