By Jagdesh Singh | Opinion |
The bicycle had only one gear connected to its back wheel, with both wheels of longer circumference, meaning they were bigger than the normal multi-gear bicycles us normal kids had at that time. It was painted black, and for a ‘Basikal Tua’ the paint job looked very new. He pedalled in a very cool like manner, slow and steady over the sandy pathway to his house, neighbouring my grandmother’s home. His smile through his bushy moustache and beard was the same every single time. Wide with pearly teeth, and genuinely sincere. We would wave back with a loud ‘Sat Sri Akal, Baba’. He would disappear into his home, and we continued with our mischief running around the village.
Tronoh Mines in the late 80s was a sleepy, small tin-mining town in Kinta District, Perak. The wooden houses peppered between lush tropical greenery and century old trees. Predominantly homes of Punjabi families of men who worked in the tin mines decades before, everyone knew each other. Most families owned a cowshed nearby, housing tens of cows, if not more. Fresh cow’s milk was abundant those days.
Eassar Baba probably would’ve been nearing 70 years of age at that time. Like his Basikal Tua, his beard was jet black without any hint of grey. He was taller than the typical adult Punjabi of today. He was skinny, but his posture suggests otherwise, always upright without much of a hunch. Whenever I ventured into his home, while galivanting around the village, he would give me the customary hug. He would say only a few words, chesty and a little laboured. His words were always kind. You can sense he was alert and possessed an excellent memory.
This 40-odd year old memory of him came to me yesterday as I was exercising to strengthen my back. You see, I have taken my health for granted most of my life. My better half had a nasty fall and ruptured her knee requiring surgery. Her slow recovery made us think quite hard about how damaging falls like this are at our age. The realization dawned upon me on the importance of building certain muscles that would be useful to remain mobile in the twilight years of my life, minimizing risks of falling.
The memory of Eassar Baba was an image of him on his bicycle, upright and steady, coming home in the evening after tending to the cows. He would bend down and squat to cutting grass for the cows for half an hour or more, carry bundles of lalang grass to feed the cows. He would walk steadily at that age, mobile and alert, smiling. The smile wasn’t the curtain that hid unhappiness. There was nothing hidden. He was content with life and at peace with it.
I shared this memory with my father, out of the blue yesterday, and we both marvelled at the simplicity of his life. I’m told that my own Babaji, my paternal grandfather, led an identical life as Eassar, along with many more men in Tronoh Mines. Their meals were simple roti and dhall. They enjoyed their cup of cha in the evening after returning from the cowshed. They were up at 4am and retired for the day at 9pm. They communed at the small Gurudwara they built together, the Granthi being one of them. They led quiet, peaceful and mundane lives from the days of Japanese occupation, Independence from the British, through the Communist insurgency, the formation of Malaysia to the industrialization in the 80s.
This lifestyle stands in stark contrast to my life today. I think it’s almost nigh impossible to replicate everything that men of that generation practised. We are far more sedentary today, far away from getting our hands dirty grounding ourselves on bare soil and further away from nature. Many of us are stressed with work and the furious pace of living in a city that never sleeps. I’m sure I share the same worries these fathers had bringing up families with children to feed and nurture. But that’s about the only similarity I have with them. They did so much more with so little.
Their health was their wealth. I’m nowhere near the age of Eassar Baba in my remembering of him, but I’m now very keen on attaining what these men had. Physically healthy, mobile, and alert, until the near end of their lives. Mentally healthy, with nothing to be stressed about but faithful that life will be fine anyway, finally contented and at peace, and smiling the sincerest of smiles with no need to hide any unhappiness.
Jagdesh Singh, a Kuala Lumpur-based executive with a US multinational company, is a father of three girls who are as opinionated as their mother
* This is the opinion of the writer, organisation or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of Asia Samachar.
RELATED STORY:
Why Netflix’ Adolescence hit so close to home (Asia Samachar, 23 March 2025)
ASIA SAMACHAR is an online newspaper for Sikhs / Punjabis in Southeast Asia and beyond. You can leave your comments at our website, Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. We will delete comments we deem offensive or potentially libelous. You can reach us via WhatsApp +6017-335-1399 or email: asia.samachar@gmail.com. For obituary announcements, click here
