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Index Of Days Gone by 1. About this book 39. I met Prof. Satbir Singh thrice 2. Dr. Gurmukh Singh’s views 40. I come to Australia 3. Learned folk-writer 41. My second visit to Indonesia 4. Own story 42. To see the swan swim 5. My two mothers 43. I visited the Dabbo zoo 6. Hazy memories of 1947 44. Knowledge of domestic staff 7. Women laugh behid the door. 45. My Tour of the world in 1990 8. The killing of a jackal 46. I escape from Tanzanian immi. officers 9. A fight which nearly took place 47. My first visit to Pakistan 10. I go to school 48. My second visit to Pakistan 11. The Bhai Ji of our village 49. A Gurdwara library 12. Alla Singh 50. My first visit to Belgium 13. I leave the village 51. A langar of tea? 14. I buy my first book 52. My visit to Amritsar of 2006 15. The whole family leaves the village 53. Election of the SGPC president 16. The narrow thinking of a Sant Ji 54. Loudspeakers of Gurdwara Manji Sahib 17. Audacity of an Amritsari Sant 55. The doors of the Darshani Deodi 18. The first Attack on Sri Darbar Sahib 56. I too had to pay bribe 19. The Akali conference of 1956 57. Accident 20. A village fight 58. My third visit to Pakistan 21. Behive 59. The golden palki 22. A snake of rope 60. I count the small change 23. I joined SSM College 61. The sweet voice of a Granthi 24. Sikhs’s ‘bravery’ 62. Where did I get my motivation? 25. Sardar Kairon’s ‘victory’ 63. My first visit to Berlin 26. Transfer to Jind 64. The Long change with the time 27. Transfer to Patiala 65. The story of my invitation letters. 28. Kairon’s last attack on Sikh leaders 66. Doubts about Prakash-sthan Sri GGS 29. First non-congress gov. in Punjab 67. The President of India’s election - 1969 30. Bankan na jurhian 68. Deep consperacy behind the Punjab unrest 31. Tuna-Taman 69. Punjabi official language of Punjab 32. First time Tohra MP 70. My enquiries 33. Punjab council at its last gasp 71. News about Bhaia Ji’s death in newspapers 34. Trunck call or peg call? 72. A ’loss’ of eleven hundred dollars 35. I narrowly missed being a shoe thief 73. Thieves steel, owners wake up 36. Student agitation at Moga 74. Hai, my mobile! 37. A beautiful/handsome face 75. My lecture about June 1984 38. The Akali-Taksal tussle 76. I travel on half-fare Of Days Gone By About this book Two books Ujal Kaihan Chilkna and Yadan Bhari Changer describing the events of my like, are already in the hands of the readers. Their response to these books has been over whelming. they were still demanding the books when it went out of stock. About the stories published in those both books, some persons raised ifs and buts, but this was not unexpected. Contemporary events are seen with different eyes by different people from different angles. The demand for these two books was so great that I thought it better to publish them as one volume rather than do it seperately. So this book is combination of the too; some chapters have been removed while some new ones have been added. I admit that the book has some errors and other drawbacks and some events have been un wittingly repeated; but this, I feel, was natural, as these articles were written over a course of many years. These chapters were first written as news paper articles and on demand from readers over a number of years, and it became virtually impossible for me to remember which things had already been mentioned in the earlier writings, while writing new articles. So I crave the readers’ indulgence. My learned friend Dr. Harpal Singh Pannu Ji drew my attention to these errors of repition, while going through the manuscript, and advised me to have the book edited by an expert. It goes without saying that biographies and autobiographies are usually written about and by eminent persons, so that readers could drew inspiration from their life experiences. At against this, I feel I have done no great deed in my life which could become a source of inspiration for others, Naturally , the readers will think: what was then the need fro me to go to the trouble of spending time and so much money on publishing this book? Ad they would be fully justified in thinking thus. For a number of years, my brothers’/sisters’ and my own children have been urging me to write my memoirs. Some close friends had also hinted at the same idea. They said if I was unable to write about my life, I should at least have it recorded on tape. For some years this idea kept recurring to my mind, but could find no practical expression. Whenever I talked to a close friend about my past experiences, he would urge me to write about them. This encouragement to write about my life from friends and relatives is largely responsible for the accomplishment of this task. Not long ago, my niece Babbu (Baljit Kaur Johal) told me that I must write autobiography. She had her own reasons in urging me to undertake this task. She had given me the autobiography of a great scholar, late Principal Teja Singh Ji, entitled ‘Arsi’ which was a part of her M.A. course. She wanted me to emulate this great man and write my own life story on his line. Though I had read ‘Arsi’ way back in the 1960s, on Babbu’s urging, I read it once again. This had greatly impressed and influenced me on first reading; I found it still interesting. On its second reading, I found that I had unconciously observed some ideas in my youth from this book, had been even applying them in my daily living; but I had even unaware about their source. I now found that the ‘Arsi’ was the source. But still I could not muster the courage to undertake this task. I thought that a great deal had happened in my life; what should I include and what should I leave out in a written account of my life? From where I begin and up to which point should I proceed” But this question was resolved for me Toronto’s S. Kirpal Singh Pannu. He said,” what happens is like an ocean, but writing is just a drop of it.” This was what opened the closed door of my mind. I started collecting my already published articles in news papers and writing some fresh ones. “A stone from here, and a brick from there,” as Punjabi saying goes, “Bhanmati erected a house” Another essential thing that I want to share with my readers is that I keep no dairy or any other written work with me for reference while writing. Whatever I write comes from my memory, and memory alone, It is therefore possible that some errors in names, places, time, dates and sequence of events might have occurred. But humble claim that I can make is that I have done my best to present the true as recorded in my memory. I have not made any concious effort to lionise some one or to belittle another. What I felt I wrote. If I had unconciously hurt anyone’s feelings, I seek his/her forgiveness. To hurt any one’s feelings was not my aim. Some of the leaned friends, and in particular Prf. Dr. Waryam Singh Sandhu, say that my wring is too brief; readers craves to know more after reading it; he is left in a lurch so to say. Though I recognise this weakness in my style of writing I may not have been able to overcome it. This weakness, or strength as some would call it, in my style is hard to explain. Some times, I think that while reading S. Gurbax Singh Preetlari, thoug I might have been impressed with his style -- presenting a trivial event or idea in a grandliquent language -- I found myself unabale to adopt it. My style might have been influenced by the writings of Prof. Sahib Singh Ji, Principal Teja Singh Ji and Bhagat Puran Singh Ji. This may be the reason for the excessive brevity in mu writings. Even this realisation has recently downed on me while reading the autobiographies of these peerless scholars. This something, whatever it is, is offered go mu magnanious and discerning readers. I hope and pray tat like my previous books, they will receive this on with open hearts, despite its many shortcomings. Hoping for a kind response from my learned readers, Santokh Singh 166 Rooty Hill Road Eastern Creek, Sydney, NSW Australia 2766

Views of Dr. Gurmukh Singh about the book Of Days Gone by My acquaintance with Giani Santokh Singh goes back more than four decades, and I am well acquainted with his powers of recall, his mastery of the language, speed of expression, and skills in speech, Kirtan and Katha, but he started writing quite late in life. It is most satisfying to me that whatever he wrote he wrote it well both, from the angle of writing as an art a swell as from the view point of subject matter. His language and style is natural, while the range of subjects extends from current affairs to travel, religion, journalism, and literature; it seems to be an extention of his personality itself. I have been urging him for decades to write whatever he knows, and am now gratified that he has acted on my advice. Throughout our acquaintance, I have always addressed him with the intimate ‘Tu’ and still continue to write about him with the same intimacy. Santokh Singh has tremendous powers of recall. He talks about his village and its environs in such minute detail that the listener feels a it he had been standing with him at the very place he is talking about. A minor event is described in such elaborate detail that it takes a significance of its own. An excellent example: ‘A fight that just stopped short of breaking out’. Santokh Singh is humourous. He is found of recounting funny anecdotes, which are innocent and harmless and are based on his true life experiences. Santokh Singh is a great traveler. The event that took place during his travels are recounted with gusto even the ones unfavourable to him. These incidents amuse and instruct the reader and leave him much to ponder over. In his ‘My First Visit to Berlin’, where he has described German historical events and shown his grasp of world history, he has also reviewed the development of political ideas and, while expressing his views about the growth of Naxalbari movements in the Punjab, has also talked about adopting an ideology based on human welfare. In a teasing manner he says that while the Berlin wall has been demolished, a portion of it has been preserved as a monument. He has also criticised the so called holy Babas who have done their best to destroy ancient Sikh historical remains and artifacts. Giani Santokh Singh is an advocate of the Sikh religion and has done much to popularise it in foreign lands. The essay about the controversy regarding the first place of installation of Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji is thought-provoking and clearly brings out the distinction between talk and action. Je has exhorted the Panth to ponder this matter. The essay, ‘Controversy over the resolution about the implementation of Punjabi language shows the indifference of Punjabis towards their mother tongue. It also shows the dithering of the Punjab government over this issue. People lack love for their motherland and feel proud when they use English in their administrative and education work and in other forums. These essays contain wonderful information regarding the great leaders of the Damdami Taksal. Santokh Singh’s father, Bhai Gain Singh Ji was a senior student of the Taksal and maintained close relationship with it to the end of his life. Owing to his father, Santokh Singh is among the few previleged persons who enjoyed intimacy with such eminent leaders of the Taksal as Sant Gurbachan Singh Ji, Sant Kartar Singh Ji and Bhai Amrik Singh Ji. Giani Santokh Sing has explained the growing gulf between the Taksal and the SGPC and Shiromani Akali Dal, and has brought out facts and events which explain the hitherto unexplained things. Santokh Singh is politically astute. His eye is far-seeing and plumbs the hidden depths. He has a knack of knowing the core of an issue and takes pain to give an unbiased view of what he sees. He has much useful information about Akali politics and was witness to some of its momentous events. He had interaction for some years with Sant Channan Singh, Sant Fateh Singh and Jathedar Mohan Singh Tur, and acted as their P.A. During this period he saw and heard a great deal. All this he undertook to tell honestly, though a bit late. His references to these leaders are full of useful and authentic information about their personalities, about their political sagacity and work habits. The information about such personalities as Sant Channan Singh, Sant Fateh Singh, S. Gurnam Singh, Prf. Sahib Singh, Sant Kartar Singh, Sant Gurbachan Singh, Sant Jarnail Singh, Bhagat Puran Singh, S. Partap Singh Kairon etc. is new as well as authentic. Santokh Singh Has deep understanding of the motives and actions of Punjab leaders. He has written about the tricks of Congress leaders to weaken the Akalis and grab political power, ruining the state in the process. Congress exploited Nirankaris, Bhaniare Wala, Radha Swamis, Nur Mehlia, Sirsa sects etc. and encouraged them in order to divide thee Sikhs. Santokh Singh has presented his views regarding attempts to over throw the Akalis led government and creating turmoil in the state, which I regard as unbiased as well as alarming. I have also something to say about Santokh Singh’s mastery over the language and his style of writing. Both are wonderful. His language is simple and unwarnished. His use of words shows literary sense and skill in the use letters. The manner of presentation is masterly. His use of humour saves the reader from boredom. Such books as this one bring novelty and freshness to the Punjabi literature; and I am sure that, in the near future, Santokh Singh will write such books as: My Childhood Memories, My Political Memoirs, My Travels Abroad, My Political Views etc. and enrich the Punjab literature in the process. Gurmukh Singh (Dr.) 8 Dasmesh Nagar, Police line Road Patiala Learned Folk-Writer Giani Santokh Singh Giani Santokh Singh is a great writer of small essays. His life-story is more reflection of the personalities of those who came in contact with him, than an autobiography. His essays are as interesting as short stories and have elements of drama, novel and poetry. Giani Gurdit Singh had written his ‘Mera Pind’ at the time when a Pind meant just that, his own village. Giani Santokh Singh, by writing the present book, has proved that now a Pind can mean the whole world. He had produced a new genre of writing by combining humour and satire. Examples: in police uniform during the day, and wearing Cholas by night, the ‘warriors’ of both sides advanced beyond abuse; by the sword of Indira; a mechanic hears the pearls of wisdom uttered by a Sant, the police loses a golden opportunity of robbing, an Akali government with powers equalent to a muncipality, the Babus’ wives in this age of price-rise etc. Such is the writing style of Giani Ji. Giani Ji is a master of folk language. Some may call it bazaru language, such expressions as: bhian bula deni, dhibri tat kar deni, anakani karke, atkal pachu, ghur ghap, katru vachhru, jhall vallalian, thun thun gopal, puttran di muramat, gheemchola etc. Humour invests his essays with a lightness, and is a source of delight, the context may be the situation, language, nievety or ignorance; he never lacks suitable expressions, whether he is describing a zoo or drawing pen-picture of a village Granthi. Giani Ji’s writing has strength; it has the coquetry of a Paris, the gravity of a London, the vastness of a Washington, but none the hurly burly of a Delhi. Giani Ji’s writing is a sea of knowledge, a guide for living a fine specimen of literature, It is a shining example of good prose; a collection of delightful anecdotes. It is source of inspiration, delight and spiritual flight. It is a colourful collection of Punjabi rural slang, idioms, proverbs, legends and jokes. It is a handbook of Sikh history, Sikh leadership, Sikh culture, customs, beliefs, superstitions, Sikh diaspora and Sikh politics. It is a new chapter in Punjabi prose. It is hard to find a person who, being innocent of a formal school education, has travelled over four continents, has associated with so many eminent Sikh leaders, and is so addicted to books and journalism. Though he writes with a sense of humour, he avoids hurting any one’s feelings or denigrating any one’s character. It is my request that the next addition of this book be embelished with photographs, pictures and maps. Surjit Singh Kalra 2 Saint Annes Close, HWW Birmingham B20 IBS United Kingdom Own story Birth

On the Road from Guru Ji’s Nagri, Amritsar, to Sri Hargobind Pur, at the four kilometer short of Mehta Chowk, there is a small village called Suro Padda. This village has four pattis, three of jatts and the fourth of the mzjhbis. My Chacha Sardar Bachan Singh once told me that during the murabbabandi, old records showed that centuries before, from village Dialpur near the boundary between Jalandhar and Kapurthala districts, one of our ancestors had come and founded this village on the land belonging to the neighbouring big Pind Nangal. The other villages in the vicinity are: Mallik Nangal, Uddonangal, the nearby Burhe Nangal, and my Chachi Ji’s village, Vairo Nangal which falls in Gurdaspur district. Then there is Manga, next Channan Ke, Nath Wali Khuhi, Jalal, Usma, Nawabpur and Ghawatwind. My village falls in Amritsar district. Before the formation of Pakistan there lived three Muslim families in the village, one of blacksmiths, one of telis, and the third of marassis; they all migrated to Pakistan after the partition. A Hindu family came from Pakistan and settled in the village. Two brothers of this family opened their shops in the village, whereas before only a Dada Brahman of Nangal used to come and sell his goods here. At the height of the Second World War, though my pareants belong thi this small village but as was custom in those days in Kirsani community, I was born at my maternal grand-parents house at Uddoke village in 1943, on the eleventh day of the month of July. Though I was given birth by my mother Jaswant Kaur Ji, I was brought up by my Dadi Ji Inder Kaur Ji. At that time the members of my family included my great grand-father Sardar Wadhawa Singh and his younger brother Sardar Kesar Singh. My grand-mother Inder Kaur Ji was the matriarch of our family. The other members included my father Ji Gian Singh Ji, my uncles Sardar Bachan Singh Ji and Sardar Kundan Singh Ji, my married aunt Charan Kaur Ji, my mother Jaswant Kaur Ji and my uncle’s wife Tej Kaur Ji. After a few years my younger uncle’s wife Shindo joined the family, and then my cousins. My grand-father Sardar Amar Singh had died in the prime of his life. His elder brothers Sardar Bhan Singh and Havildar Harnam Singh and a younger brother Sardar Ishar Singh and their families lived in a nearby houses. First we used to live in the middle of the village at the end of the street but later we shifted to our haveli which was on the periphery of the village. The door of our new house opened in front of the door of our village Gurdwara. Being the first child of my generation in the family, and the family being under the wise care of my beloved grand-mother, I am sure the celebration of my birth must have been grand but it is not possible for me to know, nor can I take a flight of fancy like Sardar Gurbax Singh Preetlari to describe it. But this I remember: the Muslim blacksmith of the village had made a toy-cart for me, in which I could not only sit; but drive it as well. I don’t think any other child of my village in those days had this privilege.

As far back as my memory can go I remember that, under the wise leadership of my grand- mother, my family remained the most prosperous in the village. Ji and their grand-fathers used always to keep a mazhabi servant to help in the farm work. The younger great grand-father also drew a small pension which greatly facilitated our sundry expenses. Then the time came for the family to divide into smaller units. Though my grand-mother tried her best to keep the family under one roof, the separation became unavoidable. That happens to all families sooner or later. Though everyone knows it is economically more advantageous to live in a joint family, at times the need for more personal freedom becomes an overriding factor. “It is good to be high and dry, but one cannot do without the rain”, a Punjabi saying goes. If a group, a country, a family, or a religious sect has achieved unity, but has achieved it under a pressing need, it is only the existence of that need which can hold it together. There is no other way because no one likes to be burdened with responsibility for others. No one likes that for doing something or for spending a sum of money he should have to ask someone else. Even if the grand-mother had succeeded in her task, it might have kept the family together for a few more years, but division had to happen one day. Fed up with the daily grumbling, my elder uncle one day took a tin Peepa and began to pile up our wheat in three mounds. Despite strenuous efforts of grand-mother the family split into three parts. One part consisted of my father, mother and their children (excluding me). The second part of my elder uncle Sardar Bachan Singh and his family, and the third of my grand-mother, the younger unmarried Chacha Ji Sardar Kundan Singh, younger great grand-father Sardar Kesar Singh and myself, the darling grand-son of my grand-mother. I had the honour of being the eldest of all my brothers, sisters, and cousins, and therefore of being called Bhau by them, and later Jeth by their spouses and ending up being everyone’s Taya. Arrangements were made for the feeding of my great grand-father Sardar Wadhawa Singh that he will eat at the kitchen of his elder grand daughter-in-law (my mother) for one month and then at that of his younger grand daughter-in-law, my Chachi Ji for the next month. For some time the land continued to be farmed jointly, but this did not last longer, as said by Giani Hira Singh Dard, “Once the kitchens are separated, the front yard cannot continue as before.” So the arrangement did not work out. At last the cattle were also divided. Before, there were six adult males to do the farm work and two daughters-in- law to do the household work under the wise guidance of my grand-mother, and additional help could always be procured from other ladies of the village, anyone of whom could be summoned for unpaid work. The house was always full and lively with activity; now it looked kind of forlorn. But all this was not strange. All families have to undergo such tearing apart. “What the neighbor had to face, think that you will soon face it yourself”. For some time the farming continued in three parts. Then our cousins sued us for unfair division of the farmland, and the case dragged on for many years. My great grand-father’s younger brother had remained a bachelor and was living with us. His share of land was therefore in our possession. He also drew a pension and did his share of farm work, though he was very short-tempered and dispensed liberal doses of free abuse to all and sundry. After many years of litigation the court at last gave its ruling: so long as the old man was alive, his land belonged to those with whom he lived; after his death it should be divided equally among his heirs. My own great grand-father’s land had already been divided among his four sons, though he lived in our house. His younger brother for this reason used to sometimes heap abuse on him: “Look at this old fool, he has given all his land to those Kanjars but comes here to eat.” Sometimes, hearing such words my great grand-father would go back without stepping inside. On winter nights, I used to sleep either with my grand-mother or the great grand-father. I still remember the stories he then told me. I remember that we two used to work together, cut fodder from the field and do many other small tasks. When he lost his eye sight, it was I who helped him go out. Later he had his eyes treated at Baba Bakala and recovered his eye sight. I do not recall if we then did anything together. The other two parts of the family continued to live in the same house, dividing it into two parts, while we came out to the Haveli. Later, finding it more convenient, first Bhaya Ji’s and then Chacha Ji’s families too came to live in the Haveli. Still later, Chacha Ji went with his family to live at the Pipal Wala Khooh near my Chachi Ji’s ancestral village Vairo Nangal. This Khoohh is situated between the two Vairo Nangals and is next to the historical Gurdwara: Guruana. This Khooh was the property of Chachi Ji’s parents; it is now the residence of Chacha Ji’s family. This Khooh is now called the Paddian Walian Da Khooh. My two mothers: the one who gave me birth, Bibi Ma Ji; the one who brought me up, Dadi Ma Ji I am not a great and creative writer like S. Gurbax Singh or S. Khushwant Singh; therefore, I am not able to record the memories of my mother in classic terms, which would be informative as well as entertaining; nor am I a world famous writer such as Gorki, who wrote a great novel about a mother’s sacrifices for her son. This famous novel got translated into most world languages, and its main character, the mother, became an iconic figure for the young in all countries. But still I have a strong desire to share my feelings with the readers, and avail of this opportunity to remember the selfless love of those two great souls. I had two mothers: the one who gave me birth and whom all of us, my brothers and sisters called Bibi Ji; my second mother was the one who brought me up, my grand-mother, and whom we called Ma Ji , including Ji, my Chacha Jis, my real brothers and sisters, my cousins and me. I have very few childhood memories of my Bibi Ji but many of my Ma Ji, because it was she who brought me up. Bibi Ji had my brothers and sisters to look after and most of her energy and time were spent in looking after their needs. My childhood proceeded in relatively more luxurious circumstances as Ma Ji was older and more experienced in rearing children, and I being the apple of her eyes, was very dear to her, as a well-worn Punjabi saying goes: the interest is dearer than the principal. For many years I remained under impression that Ma Ji was indeed my real mother, as I called her by that name and was under her loving care most of the time. Sometimes village women, including my aunts and cousin sisters would remark, “Look Nee, instead of staying with his own mother, this boy lives with his grand- mother.” I would be greatly perturbed hearing such talk, and would reply in indignation, “Who says she is not my mother? The lady you are talking about is my my Bibi Ji; not my Ma Ji.” Gradually I began to be assailed by doubts; one was: why then I did not stay with Bhaia Ji as my cousin Manohar Singh and my brother Dalbir Singh stayed with their own Bhaia Jis and Bibi Jis. The second was: why did I not have my Nanke and Mama Ji living in the same place as my cousin Manohar Singh’s did. The reason was that my only Mama Ji had died in his youth before I was born and now only my Nana Ji and his grand-son Pritam Singh whom we all called ‘Bhau Preetu lived at my Nanka village, and I seldom visited there; where as my grand-mother’s Peka village Sangojla was in Kapurthala District and I often went there with her; grand-mother’s brothers were all of Bhaia Ji’s age and I used to call them Mama Ji. Later when I began to live with my own parents, Bhaia Ji, seeing my strong likes and dislikes about food, would often remark that I had been spoiled by my grand-mother and that he found it difficult to put up with my whims and fancies about various things. Ma Ji loved me above all others; according to my cousin Dalbir Singh she was the only one who had no complaints against me; otherwise everyone else had one or other grudge against me. Though Ma Ji had nourished me with selfless devotion, I never could do much in return. I even failed to go to Amritsar at the time of death of my mother and grand-mother, due to financial difficulties. It was Guru’s will as he is the master of us all that when Bhaia Ji expired on the night of 6-7 December, I had no wish to go to Amritsar, but due to persuasion of my sagacious daughter-in-law and my son Sandep Singh who said it was an occasion I should not miss, I did go. It was my thinking that my going there will not help bring them back; other religious ceremonies and rituals could be carried out by my three brothers. This I remember that during winter while sleeping with my grand-mother I sometimes urinated on the bed and in the morning finding the bed wet, my grand-mother would mildly scold me for this. While lying together on bed my grand-mother would tell me stories while slowly rubbing her fingertips through my hair, and perhaps some lice also received Nirvana at her hands during the process. During this double service which my grand-mother routinely performed for me, I would fall asleep. My hair was thick and long; to have it washed, dried and combed was a risky undertaking and the one which I dreaded. Ma Ji would give me a hair wash with curd or lassi and then apply Ghee when they dried; and all these tasks were performed while I wriggled to escape from her clutches and gave out loud screams. Ma Ji knew my weakness for stories; she would begin some long and interesting tale which I would acknowledge with eager grunts; and forget the pain while she untangled and combed my long and thick hair. I remember that on one such occasion while I was screaming and struggling to escape from this painful operation, I heard a bird from nearby tree whose sound I then heard to resemble, “Koko Kee, Koko Kee.” Grand-mother at once seized this occasion to pacify me, saying, “Look, even that sparrow is making fun of your cries; she is saying ‘Sokho Kee, Sokho Kee?” Sokho used be one of my pet names in childhood. I immediately stopped crying. Ma Ji used to tell me that on Dewali nights someone sprinkled blood into our cattle fodder troughs and also cut a lock of my hair without letting me know; this she believed was part of black magic which someone was taking the trouble to do in order to bring evil upon us. My grand-mother believed that I being her eldest grand-son was especially the target of some witch-woman. I remember that the morning after one Dewali night when she untied my head-knot to comb my hair, she started cursing, “Last night again some God-accursed woman has done her evil work; the witch has cut a lock of my son’s hair.” It is generally believed in Punjab villages that some kind of black magic is performed by using the hair of someone’s eldest son, to appease some evil spirit to get one’s wish fulfilled; but the loser of the hair suffers some evil in return. This belief may be prevalent even now, though to a lesser degree. My grand-mother came from a family in the then Kapurthala state. It could even be counted among progressive ones who had some idea of what was then happening in India and elsewhere. Grand-mother’s elder brother had held the rank of a Naik in the state army and had missed during the First World War; the second brother had taken part in the activities of the Azad Hind Fauj. Ma Ji was short and had a wheatish complexion, but her control over the family was absolute. It was said that she sometimes thrashed even her married sons. No one dared to speak a word against any of her decisions. My grand-father had died quite early in his life; he had urinary infection and was unable to urinate for a number of days before he died. No one then knew about the ‘operation’ to treat this disease and a patient was generally allowed to die for the want of something to drink. No one then thought that a patient should be taken to a hospital for treatment. Ma Ji had to bear responsibility of a large family over her shoulders: four small children; two old men, her father-in- law and his brother; three sons; two daughters-in-law (the third son had been married much later); a servant and sometimes also a maid, they were all her responsibility. Under her charge the family to my knowledge enjoyed a much more comfortable existence compared to that of many in our village or among other relatives. She dealt with other members of the extended family, with our clansmen, and relatives according to the traditions and usages of the time. On the other hand my mother’s family was totally illiterate and weak in terms of men and resources. They lived in Uddoke village which is on the boundary between the districts of Amritsar and Gurdaspur. My Nana Ji’s only son had died after a prolonged illness leaving behind his wife and an infant, to be looked after by his aged parents. Nana Ji Ganda Singh had to bear the loss of his only son as well as to rear his family. He also had to suffer a grave and unhealed injury to his ankle sustained while fighting a gang of robbers at night. He also had to marry off his three daughters in an honourable and respectable way. Nana Ji had a formidable temper. Though illiterate he had come under influence of the Singh Sabha Movement. Whenever Sri Guru Granth Sahib was taken to and from the Gurdwara for any function at someone’s house, my Nana Ji would walk ahead with a drum hanging from his neck, on the beat of which he would sing devotional songs. One of the lines sung by him on one occasion I still remember: Having completed his task, the Satguru is now going home. Nana Ji’s speech was rustic; he spoke without any restraint, be it to an animal or human. One such instance of his free speech I heard from my mother or may be from someone else. It took place before I was born. Once my Bhaia Ji went to visit my Nana Ji’s house. After an overnight stay he got up very early the next morning and drawing water from the well between the houses of my Nana Ji and his cousins, he took a noisy bath, and then started his daily recital of the Nitnem, followed by the Path of Asa Di Vaar and Sukhmani Sahjb. He had started this recital not much after the midnight, and without thinking he might be disturbing others, had continued walking in the courtyard, reciting aloud. When my Nani Ji after churning milk called out her family members to take a meal of Rirhkia (churned) and Adrirhkia (half-churned) milk, my Nana Ji said aloud, “O, first give the milk to him who has been having a Paggo-Hathi (literally a turban-fight) with God since the early morning.” It was the Bapu Ji’s way of saying that that the one who had got up so early and was reciting the word of God deserved more nourishment than others. Remember that the tea was then not as popular as it is now. In the mornings then, people either used to have buttermilk or the half-churned thick curd. It was called Shahwela because Shah means Lassi (buttermilk). The last time I met my Nana Ji was in September 1983, during my visit to the motherland. It was at his village, while sitting on a Charpoi under the shade of a mulberry tree at his Khooh. He had taken one of my hands into his own and had given it a firm shake; I could even then guess at the power his grip must have possessed when he was at his prime. Our Nani Ji, Bhagwan Kaur, was an extremely simple and saintly woman; she stood on no ceremony when we visited their house. It was usually evening during the winter by the time I reached Uddoke, walking from my own village Suro Padda. Upon reaching there Nani Ji would give us whatever Rotis, were already lying in her bread-basket. To go with the Roti she would hand us unsugared skimmed milk from the earthen pot ; if there is piece of Gur available, well and good, otherwise a radish would do as well. After we finished eating, she would say, “Now go to the Khuh, your Bhau is there, go and chew sugarcane there.” My mother, the Bibi Ji had inherited the good qualities of both her parents. Like them she was tall and of a somewhat dark complexion. Whereas internally she was simple and kindhearted like her mother, she had the stern temper of her father, and on occasion would not hesitate to discipline us. As I was pampered by my grand-mother and could not accept her scolding with grace, my brothers and sister had to bear her stern reproaches. When the family became divided and the living became more strained she had perforce to be more careful with money for family expenditure, but even when the conditions improved and the family saw prosperous days, she did not give up her old habits of economy; you could almost call her a miser. Whenever we bought her new clothes that befitted her age and status, she would store them in a trunk and continue to wear the old ones; she would sometimes give them to her daughter. Whenever we asked her why she did not wear the new clothes we bought for her, her usual excuse was: the new clothes caused itching to her skin. Later she found a new excuse: the new clothes will draw attention to the fact that her three sons were abroad and earned a lot of money, and then someone would come and rob us. She would say, “You do not see that robbers are now a days everywhere; they wear police uniforms during day and long robes during night; and it is raining fire everywhere in the country; even mothers do not find it safe to take care of their children, and you people talk of wearing new clothes?” This was during the period when the Punjab was burning in the fire of government terror; and the peasantry of Punjab was tormented by uniformed terror during the day and by the non-uniformed terror at night. It was a mill of two grinding stones: the terror of Punjab police during day and that of robbers in the guise of freedom fighters during night. The prime prey of both these terrors was the hardworking and relatively well off families of Sikhs. By the will of the Almighty first Ma Ji in the beginning of 1987, and later Bibi Ji in May 1994, left this world for their heavenly abodes, and left behind them large and thriving extended families. I still regret that I could not be of much service to them, certainly not as much as I should have done. On both occasions I could not be present at their funerals, being in Sydney and lacking financial resources. In 1975 Ma Ji had said to me, “Son, God has given you much and will give you much more”. In May 1990 when I met Bibi Ji after a world tour and told her about my travels, she told me that an old prophecy had come true, which she said was somewhat like this: when you were an infant and was sleeping on a cot one evening, the Bhai Ji of our village Gurdwara came to collect his daily food. Looking at you lying on the cot he had foretold that this boy will fly in aeroplanes and tour the world. This prophecy has now been realized. There is another act of kindness on part of my Bibi Ji that I still remember. In March 1973 I was to go to Malawi to take over a job there. Though I had got a work permit for two years and the plane tickets as well from my employers, I still needed cash to buy clothes, books, and other sundry things, as well as the train fare to Delhi. I had no money; though I had worked with the Shiromani Gurdwara Prabadhak Committee for twelve years and had drawn more salary than my colleagues, I lacked the skill of money management. I was therefore in a position of ‘Palley na dhela te kardi mela mela’ (no penny in the purse and repeats: the fair, the fair). On the contrary I owed about seven to eight thousand rupees in debt to other people. I told my problem to friends and relatives including the Bhaia Ji, but no one came to my help. They were not prepared to believe that I had no money. Perhaps they thought that no one who had been in employment for so long could lack money; or possibly they might have thought I was trying to cheat them of their hard-earned money. On that occasion it was my Bibi Ji who came to my help. She gave me one thousand rupees. Later I came to know that it was money she had borrowed on interest from one of her friends, who belonged to the same street of her paternal village and was therefore the equivalent of an aunt to me. It was with this money that I could go to Delhi and catch my flight to Malawi. Hazy Memory Of Disturbances (1947) The dreadful events that took place at the birth of Pakistan in 1947 are called disturbances by the people of my village. The month of August which brought an opportunity to capture political power in the name of democracy for a small number of people in Hindutan, also brought dreadful misery for countless millions. A lot has so far been said, heard, written, and caused to be written about it. Here my aim is just to bring out a hazy picture of the period built up in my then young mind. This division of India has neither brought any solution to problems of Muslims, nor has it brought much peace and prosperity to the rest of Indians. The boundary line beyond Wagha/Attari was just a line drawn on a piece of paper, but for the Muslims who crossed that line and went to Pakistan and the Hindus and Sikhs who crossed this line and came to India it was one of the greatest tragedies of human history, which the people have still not forgotten. After more than six decades the Muslims of Bihar who went to the then East Pakistan are yet to find a firm foothold in their adopted country. Those who know will tell you of the travails of those who are trying to surreptitiously sneak from Bangladesh into India, to then cross the border into Pakistan by any means. Apart from being robbed by ruthless agents, they sometimes fall victims to bullets of the border-guards. Only the lucky few are successful in entering Pakistan. They are well aware that no aunt of theirs is awaiting them in Pakistan with hot Paraunthas. People had heard that regimes changed, but no one imagined the population can also change. On the road from Amritsar to Sri Hargobindpur at the twenty second milestone, and three miles from Mehta Chowk, was our Khooh. There used to be three Khoohs on this road. One mile from the Nath Wali Khoohhi. The first Khooh on the left hand side belonged our Bhaichara, and was called the Sarhak Wala Khooh; a school is standing there now. Next to it is the road leading to the village. Farther on, there came two Khoohs in succession. The first I know was called the Wichkarla and the second by some other name, but somehow the name Botlan Wala Khooh is stuck in my childhood memory. My Chacha Ji was walking behind the bullocks which were yoked to the well, while my younger brother Bheero (now Subedar Dalbir Singh), Chacha Ji’s son Manohar (now Manohar Singh) and I were bathing in the Auloo. Our clothes drying in the sun nearby. It was a summer noon. We saw a man come running from the direction of Amritsar, shouting, “They are coming; they are coming”. He wore a small kirpan in his gatra and his face resembled that of my Chhote Chacha Ji. His words meant that that a band of Muslim robbers was coming to loot and kill, and that the people should save themselves. Chacha Ji said to us, “Put on your shirts, let us go home”. I said that the shirts were still wet. He said that was even better. I still do not know why he said so. He helped us wear our shirts, lifted two of us on his shoulders and the third on his hip and brought us home. All the village women and children were standing on their roofs and looking in the direction of my elder Chachi Ji’s village. A column of smoke could be seen rising from there. Men were going out of their houses, with hurriedly tied turbans, strips of cloth wound around their middles as Kamerbands, having drunk water sweetened with Gur. Their destination was village Vairo Nangal. Later, it came to be known that Baloach military had shot down some people there and on hearing the news, a band of marauders from the Muslim-majority city of Batala were coming this way, causing havoc among the villages in their way. The women standing on roof-tops were exchanging rumours they had heard in the streets. My mother gave us some Chapatis to eat with Gur and Ghee. But this turmoil had killed my appetite. I did not understand what was happening, but whatever it was, my instinct told me was not good. Men were still marching out from the village. They were going in the direction where the houses of the blacksmiths and the Mazabis stood. The village Vairo Nangal was also in that direction. The women on roof tops asked one another, “Will the men go?”; “only those who have horses”, the others would answer. My Ji and Chacha Ji were among those who had drunk the Sharbat and had gone out. If my memory is true, Ji had a Kirpan in his hand and Chacha Ji had a Barsha. Both had their middles tied with Kamerbands and Marhassas around their heads. I think my younger Chacha Ji was not in the village and my great grand-mother also may have gone to her ancestral village Sangojla in the state of Kapurthala, because I cannot remember their whereabouts. But I remember that at the turning of the street leading to our house and near the Bhathi of the Jheevers, swords and Barshas were being wrought by a blacksmith called from another village. My great grand-father’s youngest brother Bapu Ishar Singh had a Gandasaa, which he used to keep hidden in the straw kept in a room of the Haveli. Near our Khooh, on the path leading from the main road towards our village, a large ditch was dug in the middle of the road to deter the enemies from coming to our village on cart or motor vehicle. More than once, men from the neighbouring large village Nangal had come to demand that the Muslims of our village be handed over to them for slaughter. That village being large and the men powerful, they could not be stopped by force. It could only be done with soothing words and vague promises, such as that we will discuss the matter among members of Panchayat . But in the end seeing no other alternative to save their lives, they were quietly taken out and left with a caravan of Muslim refugees going to Pakistan. It was thus that the people of our village saved themselves from witnessing the slaughter of our village’s Muslims. It was during these days that the women and children of our house went to spend a night at the house of a distant relative at the village Nangal, fearing attack from Muslims. I remember that at night we all slept on the roof top. The blinking of stars in the clear sky was fascinating. In the morning when I woke up, I found that we were inside the home and it was raining outside. Apparently the rain had come sometime during the night and we children had been brought down to sleep indoors. The whole of that day we spent playing in the courtyard of the house. When and how we returned to our house I do not now remember. This is the remembrance of those momentous times lying in some corner of my mind. Hearing such odd and rambling talk from me, my mother one day remarked, “He talks of the times of Baba Adam.” Women laugh behind the door First let me explain the meaning of word Buddhi. It is the feminine gender of word Buddha, which means an old man/woman. Half a century ago, and perhaps even now, the people in the Punjab’s Majha region called any married woman a Buddhi, be she of any age, which was another way of saying that she was somebody’s wife. In my boyhood I sometimes heard an old man asking a nearby person, “Whose Buddhi is she?” when they saw some veiled woman pass by. In the Duaba region a mother is sometimes called a Buddhi but it is modified to sound as Burhi. Kazi Nur Mohammand who came to Punjab with Ahmed Shah Abdali during his raids, has words of praise about the character, bravery, and chivalry of Sikh soldiers in his Jangnama, an account of Abdali’s Indian campaigns. As an example of the innocent behavior of Sikhs as regards women, he has particularly mentioned this word. He says that they use the same word Buddhi to refer to a woman of any age, even if she is seventeen years of age. So here the word means a woman and not an old woman. My boyhood was like that of any other boy of the village. I played with friends of my own age, grazed cattle, helped in plowing and did other sundry work such as cutting fodder, pushing it into the chopping machine, mending irrigation ditches, drop seed into the furrow behind the plow etc. The only difference was that unlike other boys I also had to attend Gurbani sessions with Ji, which was like swallowing pebbles to me those days. One small incident from before my age of cattle grazing days I have still not forgotten. All the boys with whom I had to do play then were stronger and older than me, and I could only weakly copy their exploits. To show off my knowledge I one day recited the following lines to them: Our cane-crusher was running, I stood at the jaggery-basket Looking over the wall I saw an idiot passing by Buddian laughed behind door I knew I was describing an eye witness account but my friends did not know the background of the story. Somehow they were so taken up with the story that they made me to retell it many times over. They would laugh uproariously over it every time I told it. It became a pastime for them. Among the listeners were three brothers. One day the eldest of them asked me, “ Oi, who were those Buddian?” Without thinking I replied, “One was yourmother.” After this no one asked me to repeat these lines. The event was somewhat like this: There was a Tahli within the boundary wall of our Haveli. In the shade of this Tahli there used to be a Toka, and adjoining this was a shed with a large round stove dug into the ground for the boiling of sugarcane juice to make Gur. A cane crusher was also installed nearby. Here Gur was made in the winter from sugarcane juice. This machine has two heavy rollers and a third somewhat lighter than these; all three are meshed to rotate together. The cane is fed into gap between larger rollers and a pair of bullocks are yoked to a large beam, which when pulled causes the rollers to rotate and crush the cane and squeeze out the juice. This juice is then collected in large tin pots, and is then put in a large cauldron to boil. Before my time the rollers were also made of wood. Most of farming implements were then made in nearby town of Batala, and I remember that this cane crusher had also been brought from there. My Chacha Ji Bachan Singh had brought the heavy cauldron weighing about fifty kilos over his head from Batala to our village, a distance of about twenty kilometers. In Malwa and Bangar the cane crusher (Vellna) is also called a Kulharhi. It was winter. Our Velana was in operation that day. A well dressed middle aged man, holding a Khundi in his hand, was walking on the road, coming towards our Haveli; He was talking to his own self. On the corner near the Tahli was the door of my younger Baba Ji’s Haveli; it opened towards the foot-path around the village. Some women from our Shreeka were walking out through the door towards the foot-path. They had heard the old man talking to himself; they hid behind the door, and laughed among themselves, covering their faces with their Dupattas. I watched all this from over the wall, standing over an upturned basket. At that time I considered it a great piece of news; I composed the above-mentioned lines about this incident; and it was this that my companions were so amused with. The Killing of a Jackal When we used to graze cattle, in the surroundings of our village, in the fields, shrubs, sandy track, grovels and gardens etc. we would hear taunts of beasts of a great variety and they would also appear themselves too. We would catch sight of the hares, foxes, large lizards, weasels, snakes, deer and jackals and even to that extent that while grazing cattle during the month of Savan and Bhadon sometimes flocks of deer too would come into the sight. This whole is the happening before 1950 A.D. Along with the beast and the birds of every kind commonly found in the contemporary Punjab, the partridges, quails and accordingly the season the curlews and rosy pastors etc. too could be seen from time to time. Also the groups of hunters used to wander here and there to hunt these beasts and birds. Due to the consolidation, population explosion, advent of machinery, fertilizers, seeds etc., bringing every inch of land under the cultivating tools by the peasantry of the Punjab now in the changed times that old natural environment has ceased to exist. Please do not assume that I am opposing this modernization. Change is the law of nature. Guru Nanak Dev the Master thus manifests the coomandment: During day time the sun travels During the night many stars travle Nank says truith that only God is stationary. Din rav Chalae nis sas chalae tarika lakh paloei. Mukam ohi ek hae Nanaka sach bugoei.8.17 (64) I was about to narrate the killing of a jackal, which is the main objective herein. We owned a pair of oxen. One was of deep red colour and the other white grey. The red coloured because of a bit matured and perhaps its being slower to some extent was yoked downwards (to the interior side) and the grey white upwards (to the exterior side). Downwards and upwards actually don’t signify literally up and down to each other. In the dialect of the peasantry these two words just mean to the left and the right sides respectively. The animal while harnessing kept to the left side is called the upper and which is kept to the right side is said to be the lower and perhaps even today the peasantry go on calling the same. This white grey coloured ox one day could not stand on its own force in the morning. During the wintry night it was struck with an attack of paralysis and its one side of the body ceased from working. We would make it stand up by applying twists but it would collapse again. This was the time of the year when the wheat crop was showing its growth with its ears and the sugarcane crop was still standing in the fields. As it was the spring season so there was greenery and greenery all around coming into the sight. It was somewhat the noon during which both the village hunters and those who came from outside were wandering alongwith their hounds shouting in their own particular styles in the sugarcane fields. Due to the teeny age group and free of all responsibilities several boys including myself too with an eagerness of watching festivity annexed their ponnies into the dust i.e. running along aimlessly. Then all of sudden I caught sight of the jackal running in a poor state of mind in the wheat crop and many hounds hankering after the poor creature. It was running in the sprouted and legally occupied wheat crop. The wheat crop was getting entangled to one side bickering to its body. I was an eye witness when the hounds threw it down. After that due to my weak sort of mentality I could not observe anything else. This killed and captured Jackal was brought to our own mansion. I was informed by somebody afterwards that at some ‘old and experience person’s suggestion (i.e. a self made physician of the village) this Jackal was killed and captured for the treatment of our own ox. By the way the peasant in general were not habitual of eating the jackal themselves. A Mazhabi named Lacchoo lived in our village the same man who afterwards was appointed as the watchman of the village by making the former one deviated by my uncle the Nambardar. In those days the watchman was called also Raptia i.e. the reporter as he used to dictate and make every good or bad happening included at the police station which took place there in the village . He cut that into pieces and prepared. That was equally divided into two parts. After performing the task he, inspite of being resisted carried one leg for his own consumption to his home. The half jackal was put into the brass pitcher and put over the oven for fretting in the mansion. The instruction was that its steam shouldn’t let loose. So after placing the lid upon the mouth of the pitcher an iron peg of the roller was duly placed upon the same. Upon the peg was placed a field roller; and when the boiling point was going to be the highest, upon the field roller men too sat. It was assumed that the steam of that content had such a force which could throw even so much weight away. I remember whenever a bit of steam was about to let loose, S. Bhola Singh a Jheevar sitting alert by the side of the oven checked successfully the same by tapping a lump of mud at the spot placed therein already prepared for the purpose. The content went on fretting throughout the night and as it was day break the same by putting into a barrel was inverted into the ox’s mouth. The whole procedure of rubbing the boiled flesh, separating the bones, of preparing thing and thick fatty solution, putting the same into the barrel made from bamboo and inverting it into the ox’s throat was performed by S. Karnail Singh on both days. This good fellow alongwith being the inhabitant of the village was wedded in our own relatives at village Harchowal in Gurdaspur district and this relationship was made by my reverend granny. So apart from being a co-inhabitant of the village he was a close relative too. After a considerable time this man was elected also Sarpanch i.e. the village head. In his prime he used to do hunting and while the jackal was being hunted he was the first and foremost man alongwith his hounds. The undertaking was done for two days. Upon the ox this worked as a miracle. It not only started standing on its own force but also initiated to be harnessed to the ox-driven mill popularly known as the kharas in our dialect working well. When one day I saw it being harnessed to the ox-driven mill I have preserved that sight still in the layers of my mind. It continually remainded showing a sign of being lame but it worked with the complete force. A fight which nearly took place It happened when I was very young, not even of a age when boys are sent out to mind the grazing of cattle. In our Haveli, at dusk, my two Chacha Jis S. Bachan Singh and S. Kundan Singh were chopping fodder on a hand-machine. elder Chacha was driving the machine, while the younger fed fodder into it. Bhai Ji had gone out some where. Our Haveli occupied a large space in front of the Gurdwara. This space had been equally divided among my grand father and his three brothers. Our share of land was right in front of the Gurdwara, and the portion of land behind our belonged to my grand father’s number two elder brother Havildar Harnam Singh. He, with his family, had gone to the land alloted to him in compensation to the one which he had left in the Bar, in Pakistan. this was at village Bhalaipur near historical town Baba Bakala. Havildar Harnam Singh left his part of Haveli and land to his eldest brother, S. Bhan Singh. The wives of both these brothers were sisters; therefore it was natural for their families to have a closer relationship with each other than they had with us. The fourth part had gone to the youngest brother of my Bapu Ji, S. Ishar Singh. They long since gone and settled in U.P., but of the time I am writing about, they were still at the village. Though the four plots had walls enclosing them, one could see and hear the people on the other side. The walls being less than a man’s height. That evening my father’s cousins, the sons of my eldest grand father, S. Bhan Singh were talking in some what angry tones, sitting on charpais. Their voices could be heard in our Haveli. I could not make out what they were talking, but I could sense its evil effect on my mind. Then suddenly my younger Chacha stopped feeding fodder to the machine and addressed some angry words to them over the small wall, which I think were, “then come and dare to pick up the log.” “Ok, then here we come; we will see what you can do,” the reply. Saying thus, they all got up and started walking towards the gate if our Haveli. From our side my Chachas abandoned the fodder chopping, and elder Chacha took up a sword and younger Chacha a Barchha and rushed to meet them at the door. The genesis of this dispute is somewhat as follows: We had a Khuh in the sandy land towards villages of Manga and Vairo Nangal. This Khuh was paved with large bricks which meant that it was not very old; the old Khuhs were paved with the miniscule Nanak Shahi bricks. There was also an abandened Khuh near this one, which was overgrown with weeds and jungle brush, and invoked intense fear in us, whenever we had occasion to approach near it while grazing cattle. The older boys told tales of Yogis inhabiting in the Khuh and even sometimes coming face to face with them. Our skins would prickle at hearing these fearsome stories. There was a large stone embedded at the foot path near the Khuh. This stone indicates the boundry between the districts of Amritsar and Gurdaspur. Our village Suro Padda and my Chachi Jis’ village Vairo Nangal were both one mile distant from this stone on either side. About these distances in miles, I came to know much later, at the time when Sant Giani Gurbachan Singh of Bhindranwale had stopped at Gurdwara Guruana at Vairo Nangal and we were on our way to hear Sant Ji’s Katha. My Bhaia Ji’s Mama Ji, S. Sohan Singh was leading us on this occasion. He had come from his village Sangojla in the Karpurthla State, especially to hear Sant Ji’s Katha. I couldn’t understand about the Katha, being so very young; I do not even remember whether I sat down to hear it; and even if I heard it, I could not have understood a word of it. Well, we came to the stone already mentioned; every one called it Jhadda. Standing near the Jhadda, Mama Ji looked towards our village and then towards the village Vairo Nangal. He said that the two villages were each a mile away from the stone; there for the total distance between them was about two miles. The kilometers was not then in vogue those days and even the miles must have been quite recent. The distance was then usually measured in Khuhs; a Koh was somewhat longer than a mile, just as a mile is larger than a kilometer. There used to be milestone near our village on the road from Amritsar to Sri Har Gobindpur road. May be it is still there. That white painted concrete slab had words, “Mehta 2 miles, Sri Har Gobindpur 14 miles” in black Punjabi letters on one face, and on the other side, “Amritsar 22 miles.” Seeing this writing one day My Baba Ji’s elder brother Havildar Harnam Singh had remarked, “Oh, that means Amritsar is fifteen Kohs from here.” I came to know then that 22 miles are equal to 15 Kohs. Though the majority of countries had by now adopted kilometer as a unit of distance, many other countries including England still use the miles. This Khuh which was called the Maire Wala Khuh had a Dharek (Melia Azedarach) tree in the vicinity. The tree had dried up and had no leaves to give a shade. My Chachas had felled this tree and had brought its trunk to our Haveli. In theory, that tree was the joint property of my Baba Ji and his brothers, being on the common land. My father’s cousins resented this and made it a cause of dispute. The gate of our Haveli was closed. My Chachas’ beeped through a crack in the door and noticed that their Taya Ji, the father of their cousins was leading his sons. They all were unarmed. My Chachas hurriedly hid their own arms behind the doors and then opened the gate. The cousins too saw that their rivals were unarmed and some what cooled down in temper; otherwise they far outnumbered my Chachas, being seven against the two. They were six brothers and their father leading them – the eldest lived in Malaysia. They stood outside the gate and held their ground, while my Chachas faced them from the inside. A sharp exchange took place in which the refrain was, “you! you!!; No, it was you!!” Thankfully, the quarrel remained confined to words only and the cousins returned to their home ground. The progression from words to actual abuse and then to hand to hand fighting somehow ground to a sudden halt. According to my thinking it was not reached hand to hand fighting due to their father, my Chachas’ elder Taya Ji was leading his sons. He did not let his sons to indulge in real fighting. That trunk of dead tree kept lying in our Haveli for an unknown time and I do not know what became of it. The image of this episode has some how stuck in my memory. I did not fully grasp the significance of this event. Later I learnt that my eldest Baba Ji’s sagacity had prevented a tragic event from happening and had saved his family from ruin. His commonsense prevailed which stopped this tragedy in tracks. I go to school Just when or how my Dadi Ma sent me to school in the neighbouring village Nangal, I do not remember; there was then no school in our own village. I only remember that my grand mother had given me Roti with ghee and sugar which I carried to the school. An older boy had mixed these two contents for me to eat with his finger, and then licked his finger. The other boys looked on and laughed. I cannot remember how and when I stopped going to school, but by then had learnt the thirty-five letters of Punjabi alphabet, though I could not yet read any text. One day I told to my cousin Chacha, Jailo (Jarnail Singh) who was roughly two years older than me, that I knew alphabet. He asked me if I knew the alphabet by heart, I hesitently replied that I did not know it by heart, not really understanding the meaning of knowing something by heart, though in fact I did know. I had then, as now the habit of wandering far and wide, largely aimlessly. I knew no distinction between my own people and strangers; I felt all were my own people. I visited everywhere, be it a running well, or and ox-drawn or cane-crusher or a plough; and kept hanging around them. Once I went to the well belonging to Tiloka’s family at Rohi Wala Khuh. I the afternoon, I saw my Bhaia Ji coming towards the well, in search of me . He did not address any words to me, but just picked me up on his back and left me at the Haveli-house with my Dadi Ma. Next day, Bhaia Ji again came to the Haveli. Of the conversation that ensued between the mother and son, I only remember that Ma Ji had said, “I did not reproach him, now have I allowed him to go out; I made him to remain under mu eye through out the day.” Next day, Ma Ji took something from home and got me admitted to class one in the school at Nangal village. That day proved to me a very long one for me. A boy further frightened me saying, “the classes today will go on for the full day.” I prayed, “let God complete today school earlier; I will donate one Paisa at the village Gurdwara.” God heard my prayer; the school closed about mid-day as usual. It was summer. The teacher of class one, was a very good man. He dealt relatively mildly with me because of my occasional gifts of melons etc. to him. He paid special attention to me and favoured me above all my class mates. Then one day, the teacher of class two who taught us that day our own teacher being on leave thrashed me and one other boy due to some misunderstanding. I stopped going to school from that day on. Our own teacher came a couple of times to our house to plead with Ma Ji to send me to school. One evening, he came to our house in the when we were chopping up fodder and I was feeding the chopping machine. But I did not go back to school. One day when I used to go to school, Numberdar’s son Jailo (Now Havildar Jarnail Singh) asked me, “have you too started going school?” I replied, “it is only for a few days; then I will stop.” I kept my promise; but he went to school, and retired from police as a Havildar.” You will naturally think that if he did not go to school, how has he learnt to talk and write so much. I submit that Bhaia Ji, while busy in farm work, found time to teach me the Punjabi Qaida. After finishing Qaida he brought a Gutka from the Gurdwara and tried to teach me Gurbani Japu Ji Sahib. I still remember that the first line was in bold letters while the second line was in normal letters. later I learnt that the first line was from the actual text of Japu Ji Sahib while the second was the exposition of its meaning. But I could not make out much from this Gutka. My father said, “you are not yet able enough to read it; you should try to remember the proper use of the vowels.” Now I started chanting the various vowel sounds (Muharni) while grazing cattle. I used to do it fifteen to twenty times every day. The malaria being wide spread those days. I too fell a victim to it. My family told me that I used to chant these sounds even in my fevered sleep. This some line passed in inactivity. One day, I was sitting at our Khuh, a boy from our clan, Sokha (Santokh Singh) while passing, said to me, “you should get a second standard book and read it. He himself was in the second standard. Returning home, I told Bhaia Ji the same. He took a quantity of grain to Nangal, sold it and brought home a second standard book. He started teaching me from this book. Some words and stories from this book, I still remember, such as: do good and have good, line came, these are my toys etc. Strangely, I some how would pronounced ‘Khidoune’ the Punjabi word for toys as ‘Kheh downe’, which literally means ‘raising dust’. My cousin Chacha Jailo pointed this mistake one day; but I remained adamant in my foolishness. The Chacha looked closely at the picture on the chapter and thinking aloud, he said, “yes, I think you may be right; here is a monkey also in the picture and a monkey some times raises dust; so this word may be Kheh doune after all. I remember while digging out weeds from wheat, or while chopping fodder, Bhaia Ji would ask me the spellings of this or that word, and I would twitter out the spellings in quick succession. One year the Senji ( a sort of cattle fodder grows in winter) crop was over-abundant and could not be fully consumed by the cattle; so it ripened. We fed the wetted Senji grain to the cattle. The seeds came out in the animals’ faeces and went back to the fields in the manure. The wheat crop that year became filled up with Senji plants. We then resorted to pulling out the Senji plants from the wheat and feed to cattle as fodder. On finishing this book, I was again given the Japu Ji Sahib to read. I remember that one day while Bhaia Ji was mixing feed for the cattle, I read the last words of the Japu Ji Sahib, Bhaia told me to say Fateh after these words, but I insisted that there was no such mention in the Gutka to do this. After giving me to read the Rehras, I was given the Panj-Granthi Pothi. The writing Bhaia Ji neither knew himself, nor did he tried to teach it to me. But he used some times to tell me, “without writing, a person is only half-literate.” Nor could I count beyond ten; but the numerals from 1 to 9 I had learnt to recognize; therefore for a number of years, I would keep reading 101 as a ten and one is eleven. In the meantime I had to go to my Chachi Ji’s village Vairo Nangal to study Panj-Granthi at Gurdwara Guruana. There were a number of other students there, who were taught by Bhai Piara Singh but I was taught by my father’s dear friend Baba Darshan Singh Ji. He was the over all in-charge there, the boss man. He, together with his father and his father’s elder brother, served at the Gurdwara their whole lives. They also cultivated the land owned by the Gurdwara. Apart from studying at the Gurdwara, also I helped in the farm work along with the other students. At night I went to sleep at my Chachi Ji’s parental house. Baba Darshan Singh Ji was a religious and saintly person. I never saw him getting angry. Many Sadhus and Sants came to the Gurdwara to spend a night or some days, before getting on their way to their next journey. In the last days of his life, Baba Darshan Singh Ji had sold his ancestral land at his village of Vairo Nangal and stayed at Gurdwara Gurdarshan Prakash at Mehta. He spent the proceeds of this land to buy land at Mehta in the name of the Gurdwara and did farm work there. He got killed during the 1978 Nirankari episode on the Vaisakhi day at Amritsar. There was another venerable old man living at the time. He was called ‘Baba Tharhe Bann’ by everyone, though his proper name was Bhai Bahadur Singh. His life’s work was to raise mud plat- frames around trees that gave protection to them, as well as providing space to sit. He also undertook to de-silt the Gurdwara tank (Sarover), and urged others to do the same. While sitting by the tank one day, he said to me, “I hear that you know the whole Japu Ji Sahib by heart.” When I said yes, he asked me, “don’t you know the Shabad Hazare also?” Then he made me to hear the full text of the traditional Sakhi of Sri Guru Arjan Dev Ji how he composed this Bani. Telling me at the end, “this is what it really is; all you have to do is to memorise it.” I thought it better to agree and get rid of this sermon. From a visiting Sadhu here, I learnt that Jawar is also called Makki. I had heard the word Makai from my cousin Chachas on their migration from Pakistan in 1947; but this was a small new addition to my vocabolary. Sant Ji actually showed me Jawar’s grains and told me this is Makki. Then I came to understand its full meaning. There were some dogs and a cock in the vicinity. There were frequent fights between a grown up white coloured dog and the cock and every time the cock beat the dog and maintained its dominance. Here two other minor events regarding my education took place. One day I found a well- dressed man an owner of a good bi-cycle, using the term ‘Bazurg’ quite frequently in his conversation with another man. The word means a venerable old man. But I had not found an equalent of letter Z in Punjabi. Long after I came to know that a dot put at the foot of letter J makes it equalent a Z. Perhaps my Bhaia Ji did not know it or the reason could be that such dotted letters are not found in the Gurbani; he did not find it necessary to teach me their use. The memory of the second event invokes sympathy for a Bazurg and anger at my own foolishness. The man had asked me, “do you know all the letters of Punjabi?” Upon hearing a yes from me he wrote the Punjabi letter S in the dust and then put a dot at its foot and made it into Sh. He asked, “what is this letter?” I at once replied that it was the letter S with a dot. He said that I was wrong; it was the equalent of Sh. But I kept insisting that the equalent of Sh can only be a Chh. The poor fellow spent much time and effort to make me understand the proper use of Sh, but to no avail. All his efforts were in vain. At last he had to withdraw into a sullen silence. Whenever I remember this scene and the old man’s disappointed face, my mind is filled with remorse at my own foolishness. At this historically important religious place, the monthly fair of Massia, I got opportunity to hear the exploits of Sikh warriors from the singers and bards. The Ragi Jatha was then different from that of today. The leader of the Ragi Jatha played on a harmonium placed on a table, while the others sat down on the ground and played on drums and tongs. The leader gave the commentary and interspersed it with songs. The drum and tong players repeated the lines sung by the leader. The leader told the tale like a bard. Two prominent leaders of the Sikhs, Sant Fateh Singh and Sant Harchand Singh Longowal did their Kirtan in this way too. The Bhai Ji of our village The Granthi of our village was called Bhai Ji by everyone. I did not know his real name. After many years, I came to know that his name was Bhai Vir Singh. Of the whole village only my grand father’s elder brother, Havildar Harnam Singh and his children called him Baba Ji. It may have been the effect of his military service where Granthi Ji is called Baba Ji. Being an ex-military man, Bhai Ji’s saffron coloured turban was always meticulously tied in the military style, with every fold visible. Beneath the turban there was a dark blue Keski, a part of which was visible on his forehead as a fifty. He wore a long robe of navy blue cloth. From the right shoulder to the left arm-pit hung a Gatra for the small sword. On the other shoulder he wore another Gatra which was attached a bag to carry the Gutka. Both these Gatras were also saffron. These three provided a sharp contrast with the navy blue robe. Partly covered with the robe was the long white underwear Kachhehra, covering the hips and hanging down to the knees. The legs from knee to ankle were wrapped in neat Khaki strips. On the feet he wore black leather Gurgabi. Those days, there used to be only two bi-cycles in our village; one was owned by my younger Chacha Ji and the other by the Bhai Ji. Whenever they had to ride outside the village, they tied long swords to the handles of the bi-cycles. Bhai Ji belonged the Numberdar family. He was tall and lean with a wiry frame. He looked a fine example of the old historical Sikh warriors. He had served in the army but having taken part in and gone to prison during Morchas of the Akali movement at Guru Ka Bag, he got discharged from the army and became a ‘Baran Pathar’, in the village parlance. He played a leading part in the construction of the village Gurdwara and in laying out a beautiful garden that had shady trees and fruit trees such as the mango, jamun, berry, mandrin, mousami, banana, lemon etc. Bhai Ji would water this garden in the early morning operating the Khuhi himself. He had this garden neatly hedged and watched it with a hawk-eye. All this construction of the Gurdwara and the garden took place before I born. But I saw him operating the Khuhi and watering the garden in the early mornings; blowing the Conchshell mornings and evenings and doing other services at the Gurdwara. During winter, when the sun was up and bright, he would sit on a Manja and recite Gurbani from the Gutka, A corrupted version of one of its Tuks, I still remember: Jite namatan, Bhite namatan. After a great while I learnt that the correct rendering was: Namastwan ajite. Namastwan abhite. But at that time we repeated the corrupted version to poke fun at the Bhai Ji. Whatever fruit ripened during its season, Bhai Ji distributed among the village people. The mob of village urchins always made holes in the hedge to steel fruit from the garden. Bhai Ji was especially watchful about it and closely guarded the fruit trees. Whenever one of us was found stealing fruit, Bhai Ji would run after him, uttering his choicest abuse at the culprit. But he would seldom be successful in catching the culprit. On one such occasion, while the others escaped, my Chacha Ji’s second son, Jagir escaped from Bhai Ji’s clutches, ran and hid in the lap of our Bhua Ji who sat in the courtyard and turned the spinning wheel. Bhai Ji followed and slapped him while he sat in Bhua Ji’s lap. She also had to bear a part of this assault of the Bhai Ji. When the boy’s father, my Chacha Ji heard of this, he became very angry and gave a piece of his mind to the Bhai Ji. Despite being very hot-tempered himself, the Bhai Ji kept quiet. Bhai Ji came from a land-owning Numberdar family and was entitled to a share of its ancestral land; but whether he actually got anything from his brothers and nephews I do not know. Some land had been alloted by the villagers to the Gurdwara and its six-monthly rent was given to the Bhai Ji. He also kept the offerings from the devotees. There were no Gurdwara committees those days. After independence when the government granted pensions to freedom fighters, Bhai Ji too got a pension as he had taken part in the Guru Ka Bag Morcha, been in jail and had been dismissed from the army. Bhai Ji also taught Gurmukhi (The Punjabi letters) to the village children. I too had learnt my alphabets by writing over the dusty courtyard of the Gurdwara. My Bhaia Ji and my younger Chacha Ji also had learnt to read Punjabi letters and to recite Gurbani from Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji from the Bhai Ji. Later, Bhaia Ji had gone to Sant Baba Gurbachan Singh Bhindranwale for further refinement in recitation of Gurbani and other studies. The extent of our village education in those days was that my elder Chacha Ji S. Bachan Singh had studied up to Eighth standard at Mehta Nangal school but, but had not passed this standard. The people of our village came to him to have their letters, written in Urdu language read or written. He would first silently read the letter and then explain its contents in his own words. I do not know as to what manner of selection was adopted before the passing of Panchayat Act for selecting the village leader (Sarpanch) but my great grand-father’s cousin brother, S. Surain Singh Ji was acknowledged as the village leader (Sarpanch). The Urdu newspaper used to come to the village was read out by him to the others and accounts of land tax, collected by the Numberdar S. Hari Singh Ji, were kept by him. But where he got his education from I have been unable to find out. Recently my younger brother S. Dalbir Singh told me that he (S. Surain Singh ) been some time in Malaysia, called Malaya in those days. Bhai Ji’s elder and younger brothers were Numberdars turn by turn. Another brother of Bhai Ji S. Gopal Singh, was a army pensioner and was addicted to opium like my great grand-father’s younger brother, S. Kesar Singh. Was it a coincidence that all three men of a single generation who took opium, were army pensioners? The third addict was S. Hakam Singh. Bhai Ji remained unmarried throughout his life. So far as my understanding goes Bhai Ji was very ill-tempered, which state of mind is natural to majority of persons living under such condition of life as Bhai Ji. He was hard working, sincere, religious and devoted to the care of the Gurdwara, but he lived a lonely life. In the last years of his life, in the fifties, he queralled with the villagers and went to live in U.P. with his nephews. There was no one else to look after the Gurdwara. Kheti khasman seti (farming possible only with care). The Gurdwara he had helped raise and the garden he had nourished with care went to waste. Abondoned gardens are ruled by ghosts, a Punjabi saying goes; so the mob of children vandalised the garden. Who cared about this destruction? My younger Chacha Ji even had a Gurdwara committee installed, but situation went from bad to worse. Whenever he was in the village, he undertook to conduct the recitation in the morning of Sukhmani Sahib, and of Rehras Sahib and the Ardas in the evenings; but whenever he was out of the village the Gurdwara remained in the care of Guru Ji and God. Bhai Ji came back from U.P. to spend the last days of his life in the home of his younger brother, Numberdar Hari Singh, but he was seriously ill. One day during my visit to the village from Amritsar, I went to meet Bhai Ji to know his wellbeing. He was lying on a cot and S. Hari Singh’s wife who was a contemporary of my Dadi Man Ji was in the Chowka cleaning utensils. She came and placed his hand over my head in blessing, according to the custom of the village; she asked about the well-being of my family, and then addressed Bhai Ji, “Inder Kaur’s grandson has some to meet you from the city.” we talked for a while. I do not know whether he recognised me or not. On my next visit to the village, I found that Bhai Ji had departed for the other world and people of the village had jointly held an Akhand Path in the Gurdwara. I went to the Gurdwara and bowed my head to pay obeisance to Guru Ji. I paid my conribution for the Akhand Path and then because of the commitment of my job, I went ahead. Now with the blessings and guidance of the thirteenth head of Damdami Taksal, Sant Kartar Singh Ji there is a beautiful Gurdwara in the village and is prominently visible to the eyes from the near by road upon arrival in the village; and a Granthi Singh from the village itself is taking its care. But Bhai Ji is no more. Alla Hon Bhreen Sardar Alla Singh Sardar Alla Singh was an old, honourable inoffensive gentleman of our small village, Suro Padda. He was contemporary of my great grand father and belonged to the Shah Ke Pasa. All four sides of our small village had different names. Our side of the village was called the Jattan Da Pasa. The second was the Shah Kian Da Pasa; the third was the Mazhbian Da Pasa; and the fourth was Javian Da Pasa. Next to it was the Gurdwara and next to the Gurdwara was the beginning of our Pasa ie Jattan Da Pasa. Till then the Sarpanch was from our Pasa, perhaps because of its larger size. No one knows why the names Shah Ke and Jave came into use, otherwise the people of these two sides are also Jatts. This old man, S. Alla Singh was called Bharheen by the village Children. Usually the surname Singh is corrupted to Sonh or Honh in the Majha region. But the origin of Bharheen was a mystery to me. This also was common that persons and families had some or other All (appelation) added to their names. One family of our village was called the Amlis (addicts), another by the name Kan (crow), while our family was called Bhai. My elder Baba Ji was called Khairsalla (all is well), his brother the Havildar (sergent) being an army NCO and their youngest brother the Bhagat (the devotee). My real Baba Ji was dead in his youth long ago, so I did not know his All. Some other old gentlemen were Chuha (rat), Bhalwan (restler) Painch (village Chief) etc. Similarly S. Alla Singh was called Bharheen. There was a mound un front of the Gurdwara where my friends and I used to play and enact practical jokes. My friends included my eldest cousin, my younger brother and from our clan Pritu, Siso, Bhajo etc. All were naughty and play full young devils. We would stand on the mound and when S. Alla Singh passed by with his cattle, he would point his stick at us and ask palyfully, “say, who is thief among you?” we would laugh ,”hee hee hee; khee khee khee.” One day, our mob descended on the garden of Shah Ke, to eat raw mangoes. We had two mango tree at our Khuh; the Numberdars also had a mango grove on other side of the road. At a distance there were two very large mango trees which were called the Sauni De Amb, because their owner was one S. Saun Singh. Next to it was the garden of which I am talking about.. this garden had mango trees which bore yellowish mangoes which looked like ripe ones; perhaps that is the reason of our preference for them; otherwise the Gurdwara garden too had large mango trees along with other fruit trees, but that being closely guarded by Bhai Ji, was out of our reach. On the way back from that garden, coming towards the Sauni De Amb, there was a field of Jawar. The crop there stood little bit higher than our knees. We did not know to whom the field belonged. We young devils started breaking the stems with our feet which gave the Krhuk Krhuk sound. We were trying to out do one another in this destructive game; it gave us excitement; we were ecstatic, hearing the sound of breaking stems. It was beyond our understanding that we were ruining the hard work of poor farmer, and a farmer who was without a family, cooked his own food and shed his sweat and blood raising a livelihood from this field. Our young minds thought that we were doing a vey courageous act. This field of Jawar belonged to S. Alla Singh. That evening when he returned with his cattle to the village, we stood on mound as usual. I still remember the scene. that good man’s face was red with anger and frustration., He looked with hunted eyes at us, but did not say anything aloud; only murmured something in very low and desperate tone; he nor complained to our parents. He never spoke to us again. This was his humble way to express his resentment towards us. Some years later I heard that S. Alla Singh had been killed when his Kutcha Kotha collapsed in the great floods of 1955. At that time we lived at Tarn Taran and I studied at the Khalsa Pracharak Vidiala, run by the Chief Khalsa Diwan. These floods are remembered as the most dreaded calamity by the people of Punjab. For many days I was stranded at the Vidiala and could not go home My parents worried about me these days. When the waters subsided a little, my Bhaia Ji came to see me at the Vidiala. This Vidiala was on the Jandiala Road, and then seemed far distant from the city, but now due to the expansion of the city and the building of the new bus stand, it has become a part of the city itself. In youth we do not realise how much harm we are capable of doing for petty excitement. This wanton act on our part destroyed a poor farmer’s hard raised crop; all his toil became meaningless. Even now when I remember this incident, I am filled with remorse. I leave the village “Barhe be-abru ho kar tere kuche se ham nikle.” thought it was not anything or this kind or like the Baba Adam kicked out of heaven, it became a compulsion. Search for employment made my Bhaia Ji leave his village, and he went to do service with Sant Bhuri Wale at Amritsar. Whatever little money he earned at the Sant Ji’s Dera, he spent on ration for the family. He made the from Amritsar to the village and back on a hired bi-cycled to save he bus fair. On the Diwali festival of 1952, he took me to Amritsar on the hired bi-cycle. On the way one of my feet got into the spokes of front wheel of the bi-cycle because I was sitting on the front rod. We usually sit on carrier but shop keeper of bi-cycles removed the carriers to stop sitting double passenger on it. I dropped down on the road and was badly bruised and feeling swear pain in my right foot. Men grazing cattle nearby came running towards us. On such occasions the lookers on get opportunity to offer criticism and free advice in insulting language, but on this occasion seeing Bhaia Ji’s stout body and the large sword in the Gatra, they did not dare to say anything and just drifted off. They tried first to use wrong language then Bhaia Ji told them about our relation. Bhaia Ji lived in a room at the Dera and did work on the Parkarma at Sri Darbar Sahib. On one occasion I was with him when he was gathering carpets from the Parkarma. I turned to the Harimandir and asked him “Bhaia Ji, what is that?” He said, “that is Harimandir Sahib; after we finish this Sewa, we will go there to offer prayers.” Sri Harmandir Sahib was somewhat different; the real one did not match it. When we went there the Kirtan also did not sound like Kirtan to me; I thought that perhaps the Ragis were just taking rest, because the Kirtan I had heard at Guruana Gurdwara and at Baba Bakala on the fairs of Massia was of a different quality. Also, on this trip, at the Diwan held at the side of Sant Gurmukh Singh, I heard the saga of the selection Panj Piare by Sri Guru Gobind Singh Ji. The bard said that Guru Ji had slaughtered five goats one by one in side his tent. This picture of the slaying of goats remained in my mind untill January 1958, I heard from Principal Sahib Singh Ji, “If Guru Ji desired this to remain a mystery, who are we that should try to peep through the chinks to see the truth?” As mentioned before, when the family got divided into three parts, the means of livelihood too get divided. The younger great grand-father died. His pension stopped and a large part of his land went to other families of clan. To get divison of his land there was a long court case during his life time. The money borrowed from a money lender for fighting the land law-suit had to be paid back by Bhaia Ji. My Chacha Ji’s family did not have to face much difficulty as Chachi Ji’s parental village was nearby just two miles away and her father and brothers were well to do and willing to help her family; but so was not case with my mother’s parents. Her father had three daughters and his only son had died of prolonged illness in his youth. He himself had a damaged ankle and could not do much easy walking. It was under these circumstances that mu father had to leave the village to find means of support for his family. I remember those times well. He took a field on rent, borrowed money from his sister to buy the seedlings and sowed a crop of sugarcane. On the advice of his younger brother, he hired a truck and carried his sugarcane to the sugar mill at Hamira. I do not know whether the payment for this produce was stolen by his bother or the truck-driver, or whether the mill officials robbed him of it. The proceeds of the what crop went to pay the rent on the field. The debt owed to his sister and the money lender was still outstanding. Bhaia Ji decided to bid farewell to farming. His family and m mother’s family expressed great resentment at his decision, ad among the Jatt families, of those days, the farming is considered to be the only honourable profession to earn livelihood. The other lesser ways of doing it were either to enroll oneself in the army or to go to Singapore or Malaya. Some men from our village had actually gone to those countries to find employment. But my father did not fall in either of these catagories. He gave up farming. But how was a family of eight to eat? There was no food in the house. Myself and my brother Bheero (now Subedar Dalbir Singh) used to cut the green growing plants of sugarcane for fodder for the cattle. The people who saw us doing it would say in horror, “have you turned mad, Oi, You are wasting such a fine crop!” Little did they know of the condition under which we were living. This was in 1952. It was then that I knew that there is something like year or a Samat, when some one writing a post-card, sitting on a Mani under a Jamun tree, said that it was now the year 1952. Towards the end of 1952, I found a friend, Balbir Singh. It so happened that his father brought him to my father for teaching him Gurbani from my father. They both lived at our place for this purpose. He knew a lot of Sikh history, or so it seemed to me. He was especially knowledgable about the Bravery of Sikh heroes. Encouraged by him, I read Baba Banda Singh Bahadur’ written by Giani Kartar Singh Kalsswalia in Poetry. I also read the Janam Sakhi Bhai Balewali. Inspired by Bhaia Ji, I memorised the whole Nitnem during those days. I buy my first book In the beginning of 1953, on return from the village Bhaia Ji joined the SGPC as a Granthi. He got accommodation in the quarters behind Sri Akal Takhat Sahib and his place of duty was at Gurdwara Santokhsar. He brought me here so that I could continue my Gurmat studies. I lived alternately at Amritsar and the village. I made frequent trips to the village, for I had no friends of my age at Amritsar. The reason I lacked friends was that I attended no school. The only school I had so far attended for few days was the Uddo Nangal school, and now I passed the school-going age. All my friends still grazed cattle at the village. I had to pay only a half-fare at that time while travelling by bus. Knowing m eagerness to go to the village, Bhaia Ji would send me there with money for the family expenditure, and also to save a half-fare. Call it coincident or otherwise, I still pay only a half-fare while travelling by air, my daughter being an employee of Australian airline Qantas. Rail fare in Australia is also half as I am a pensioner. At the village I would linger for days and forget all I had learnt at Amritsar. I would again become a mere herd-boy. At Amritsar I read two books of Giani Kartar Singh Klasswalia in poetry: Baba Bands Singh Bahadur And Tatt Khalsa, apart from daily Gurbani lesson. I never missed the Katha sessions held at Manji Sahib by Sri Akal Takhat Sahib Jathedar Singh Sahib Giani Achhar Singh Ji. This Katha was from Panth Prakash. this I got intimate with the Sikh history. Whether I liked it or not the lessons from Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji with Bhaia Ji I had to attend regularly. though I could never disobey him openly, I some times found excuses to miss them. His command was to repeat the lesson five times, but I could hardly manage once. Though I thought I was successful in tricking him, he knew everything. This I came to know from him after many years. During the summer of 1953, I often wandered through Bazar Mai Sewan and would gaze at the titles of books displayed there, such as Bhai Bale Wali Vaddi Janam Sakhi, Asli Ate Vaddi Hir Waris Shah, Kissa Shah Muhamad, Hari Singh Nalua, Phula Singh Akali, Dukhea Ma Puttar etc. I remember it well that I bought my first book, in fact a Kissa, here. To go to Bazar Mai Sewan from the quarters behind Sri Akal Takhat Sahib, one had to pass the Gurdwara Tharha Sahib and make a turn near the Halwai shop at the left corner of Burj Gianian. The Bazar ended at the Ghanta Ghar Chowk. If you turn left, it extended op to Karmo Deorhi and then joined the Guru Bazar. The Halwai shop reminds me of another incident. I used to come and buy milk from this Halwai. One day while I waited for him to give the milk, his lunch arrived from home. He called his servant, “Oi Ramu, give this boy milk, I am going to eat my lunch.” Saying this he got up from his seat and went back. I was surprised to know that the Halwai too had to eat food. When he had so many sweets with him, why should he need any other food! In my mind only those people ate food who had no sweets to east. In between the living area for Giani Chiefs during the Khalsa Raj, the Burj Gianian and the Ghanta Ghar, a few shops before the now standing Akharha Sangal Wala on the left side, there was the book shop of Bhai Jawahar Singh Kirpal Singh. Among oh titles displayed at the shop, one showed Sahibzada Ajit Singh fighting in the battle of Chamkaur. That picture fascinated me. Above the picture was the title of the book ‘Jang Chamkaur’. The price written on the title was for Annas ( quarter of a rupee). For some days I looked at the title with great longing in my eyes. One day I summoned a little courage and stopped at the shop; I looked longingly at the title. Then I walked off, but again came back to the shop. My mind was disturbed. the price was four Annas where as I had only two Annas in my pocket; what should I do? With great diffidence I asked the shop owner, a Sardar Ji who had plastered his beard with fixer, “I want to read this book, but I have only two Annas with me. I put great humility in my voice. He immediately took the two Annas from me and put it in his money box and then handing me the book with delicacy, as if doing me a favour, he said, “take the book and read it.” After many years, I learnt that the Punjabi books are sold at much less than their written prices. This was the first occasion when I spent any money on a book I wanted to read. I was about ten years old then. This description of Bazar Mai Sewan is of the time before June 1984. Every thing has now changed, ‘thanks’ to Indira Gandhi. All this area has now come within the Galiara Scheme and is almost all changed. Previously the whole Bazar Mai Sewan was filled with book shops. Now there are only two book shops left there: one of Bhai Chatar Singh Jivan Singh and the other of the Singh Brothers. The remaining shops have either closed down or have shifted to City Centre near the bus Stand. Scuffles and the exchange of heated words is part the village life, and in this respect our little village was no exception. The saying that whenever two utensils are kept together they have to clash with each other is true. One such event is still prominent in my mind. This happened in the mid fifties and the time was summer. In the forenoon, two parties from our clan exchanged hot words. One party was from the descendents of my great grand-father‘s cousin brother, while the other belonged to the middle brother of my great grand-father. The hot words progressed to abuse and then to the actual wielding of weapons. Some ‘warriors’ of both parties got hurt, though not seriously. The contest was between two armies and fighting intense. The situation was not so serious but the tumult was great for a few minutes. And then my cousin Chacha Ji S. Darshan Singh, who was a wrestler took his life in his own hands and jumped in the middle of two warring groups and separated them. Every body gone to their ways. Then in the afternoon a man from one party brought a police contingent from the Mehta Police Chowki (now a Police Station). It was quiet all around. The police men sat under shady trees and asked the fighters’ names. The name of Darshan Singh who had actually been a peacemaker got on top of the list. He was quietly sleeping on a Charpoi in the shade. The Thanedar made him got up and sit on the ground, like a supplicant. I was watching all this happening. The man who had brought the police was a contemporary of my grand-father. The police could not lay their hands on the real offenders, if they are; they took S. Darshan Singh to the Police Chowki with them. Later that night , the Mohatbar men of the village sat together with the ;warriors’ and made peace between the two parties; the police was informed of this development. the police was not happy as a golden chamce had slipped from their hands to harrass and loot the contending parties. The fighters celebrated the peace by drinking the home made liquer dancing and calling out aloud in Bakkre Bulaune. The innocent Darshan Singh remained in the police custody; before the news of the compromise reached them the police had already sent him for confinement to the main Police Station Beas. I do no remember after how many days the police took pity on and released him. This was the reward he got from his good work. If he had not risked his own life amidst the weapon-wielding fighters it was possible some one would have been seriously wounded, or even died. In my childhood, Bhaia Ji had read out to me a story from a second standard book: A dove took pity on an ant which was drowning in a Nehar. She brought a tree lief and dropped in the water near the ant. The ant crawled over on to the lief and the dove lifted the lief in her beak and brought it to the shore, thus, saved ant’s life. Then one day while a hunter was about to shoot the dove, the ant bit his arm and spoiled his aim, thus saving the dove and returning the favour. At the end of the story was the moral: do good and have good; in the end good always brings good. But after watching the above incident I had my doubts; does a good deed always bring a reward? it appeared to me the moral should have been: do good and have bad; in the end good will bring the bad. The whole family leaves the village It was the month of Assu (mid September to mid October). Towards afternoon my elder Chacha Ji and I were sitting under a Sheesham (Tahli) tree and my grand mother was making tea on the Chullah. Bhaia Ji got down from the bus with his bed roll and walked home. From his face, I could immediately make out that something bad had happened to him. After having tea, he told us that he had been transfered to the far off Mukatsar. He was not looking happy. Chacha Ji asked, “then will you go there?” “There is no other choice. What is for me in the village to do?” was the sad reply from Bhaia Ji. Now the whole family began to prepare for going to Mukatsar. Just then my Nana Ji came riding a mare to our home and asked my mother to go with him to their house as his grand son’s engagement ceremony was to take place after some days and they needed additional help. When he came to know of our situation, he had to return empty-handed and disappointed. Now the whole family came to Mukatsar. While living here Bhaia Ji taught me to read all Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji. I also memorised the Nitnem including the Jaapu Sahib. Well-known religious scholars used to stand amazed at my reciting the Jaapu Sahib without any written reference. On the outskirts of the city there was a Dera of Baba Mastan Singh. I used to go there to listen Katha of Nanak Prakash from an elderly Sant, Giani Sarovar Singh Ji. One day, I heard a comparatively young Sant Ji was reading out the story of Kurkshetra war from a small booklet to an elderly Mahant of the Dera. I was listening with immense interest. As soon as he finished reading, I almost grabbed the booklet and opened it, but to my utter disappointment the language was Hindi, which I did not then know. I requested Sant Ji to teach me Hindi. He drew the Hindi alphabet on Ash-spread ground. and I started to learn and memorise at once Hindi alphabet, starting from Ka, Kha, Ga Gha. As in Amritsar, there was also in Mukatsar, ample opportunity for me to hear the Dhadis, preachers and poets sing their compositions about the Sikh history and culture during monthly festival of Massia and on special occasions. Apart from that, in the mornings, we heard the explanation of the Mukhwak by Giani Sarovar Singh and in the evenings the Katha from Nanak Prakash at the Dera. After sometime, I two was called upon to recite the Path of Nanak Prakash during Katha. The Malwai folk used to be fascinated by my mastery of the religious lore at such a young age, especially the women. They often used to exagrate about my knowledge. One day I heard two visiting Sant Jis talking about me. “He seems to have learnt this while he was inside his monther’s womb,” one said. “How is this possible?” the other questioned. “Why not, if Abhimanyu could learn the Chakarview while in the womb, why not he?” quipped the first. When the talk turned to kings and queens in Katha, I would ask myself, “who is our king now?” One day when I asked my mother, She said, “now the Hindus rule,” If the Hindus are rulers, why then that man sells peanuts out side our Deorhi?” I querried. “Not all Hindus are rulers, only one of them,” was the reply. A Sewadar of Gurdwara told me that now the voters decide who would be the rulers, and the greatest of them is called the Prime Minister. The one greater than even him is called the president. I went running to my younger brother, to share with him my new knowledge, I cried, “Bhiro, Bhiro, there is some body is even bigger than Thanedar!” “Only God could be bigger than Thanedar”, was reply from my brother, who is now a Retired Indian Army JCO, and by dint of his grit has settled in Australia with his children. The narrow thinking of a Sant Ji During this stay at Mukatsar the real ace of a so called Sant Ji, who was reputed to have renounced the world-came t light. God forgive me; what I am about to mention does not match his reputation as a Sant. This Sant Ji was blind, but very learned, and recited the Katha of the morning’s Mukhvak at Sri Darbar Sahib Mukatsar and afternoon at a Dera. He lived in the Dera premises, in a humble residence. Some times three or four disciples to do his bidding. They studied under his tutorship as well served him. He received no remuneration from any institution, but subsisted on the offerings of his devotees. Whatever he needed he readily got from willing hands of the Sangat which respected and honoured him. He was a bachelor, an old man, a and learned person and, as is usually the case, of very irritable temper. One day while doing morning time Katha he declared, “My body has mow became very old. I desire to go to the Dera of Sant Amir Singh Ji in the Satto Wali Gali, in Amritsar, to spend the last days of my life. At hearing this declaration of Sant Ji, the Sangat urged him, “Sant Ji, we will not let you go to Amritsar. Who then will recite the Katha, to us. We will make arrangements or you to live here. This was in 1954. The Sangat collected a large sum of money and bought mud brick house belonging to a Jatt near Gurdwara Shahid Ganj. The house was then demolished and a beautiful one looking kike a Dera began to be constructed there. Those days I spent most of my time at the site; at night I came back home. The labour was done by Sant Ji’s admirers and a Nihang Singh brick-layer laid the bricks at a nominal daily wage. He also did not bother about working hours and at times continued to work till late on the evenings. One evening, as Sewadar handed the brick-layer his night meal from the Langar, and after eating the brick-layer continued t do the work till late at night. Sant Ji could not see. He thought that the brick-layer had left the site after eating. He came out of his room, red in the face, burst out in anger to his Sewadar Bhai Hari Singh; and continued doing it for a long while. The gist of his complaint was that when the brick-layer was given his daily wages, why should he be offered food. We were all stunned and heard it all quietly. The brick-layer also continued to do plaster work as before quietly. It was late at night. Sant Ji did not know that he was hearing everything. This thought does not go from my mind that what offence the Sewadar had committed by giving some Rotis to a worker Gursikh, out of what he had brought as offerings from the faithfuls; and that too to a Nihang Singh who worked selflessly not caring about his time and wages. Is this what the Gurbani and the Sikh history was taught us? Sant Ji cooled off after he let out the torrent of his anger and the shocked Sewadars too slowly mustered their courage to speak but no one dared to ascribe any wrong doing to Sant Ji. The brick-layer too spoke up to give Sant Ji the progress of work. Only then did he realise that he had heard everything. I could see regret plainly on Sant Ji’s face when, after leaving for home Nihang Singh, he shamefacedly said to the Sewadars, “you should have told me that he was here.” But the words had already been spoken and could not be eaten back. After serving roughly one and a half year, Bhaia Ji got his transfer to Sri Darbar Sahib, Tarn Taran. Apart from hearing Kirtan at Sri Darbar Sahib, I also used to hear the Katha from Nanak Prakash recited daily at Manji Sahib by the Mukh Granthi Giani Hari Singh Ji. I also would hear the epic poems sung by the Dhadis on the night before the Massia festival every month. After some months, Bhaia Ji got admitted me in the Khalsa Pracharak Vidiala to learn Kirtan. There with my own inspiration I learnt the Bhagat Bani’s meanings from the Vidiala manager Giani Sudagar Singh Ji and practiced writing Gurmukhi which I could not learn before. I read some books from the Vidiala’s library, especially those of Bawa Prem Singh Hoti about the Khalsa Raj. Here I heard of Bhai Vir Singh’s name for the first time. I would read out his volumes to the member-incharge of the Vidiala, though I am yet to make out any thing of his ‘Chamatkars’. Audacity of an Amritsari Sant This happened in 1955. My Bhaia Ji was serving as a Granthi at Sri Darbar Sahib Tarn Taran. The whole family stayed with him. Milk, curd, butter-milk, ghee and almonds were the favourite foods of Bhaia Ji apart from usual food, and continued to remain so till the last night of his life, with a short interval in last days of his life, when fruits replaced almonds. It may have been that almonds were difficult to chew due to the weekness of teeth. On the last nigh of his life too he had eaten his favourite food and had taken a glass of milk before going to sleep. At 1.35am on 9 December, my younger brother Sewa Singh found him to be well and resting. At about 3am when he saw that Bhaia Ji did not get up as used to go to bathroom, he went to his bed and found that Bhaia Ji had departed this word to sit at the feet of Guru Ji. My Dadi Ji was living in the village, and she always kept a cow or a buffalo. She would collect ghee for Bhaia Ji. Once I brought back ghee handed my Dadi Ma Ji. She had packed the ghee in a Garhwi which had a screw on lid; She had sealed the slight gap between the Garhwi and the lid with wet flour, so that the ghee should not leak. To go to Tarn Taran, on had to go via Amritsar by bus. Though young, I found it difficult not to go the sacred tank of a bath and to pay obeisance at Sri Darbar Sahib while passing through Amritsar. But it was cumbersome to carry the Garhwi to Sri Darbar Sahib. My Chacha Ji had told me that on the side of the Chowl Mandi, out side the Parkarma he had an acquintance at the Dera of Lyalpurian. He had advised me to put my luggage there before going inside Sri Darbar Sahib. Usually it takes a lot of time and inquiry for me to find a place. But on this occasion I found the place quite easily, even without asking any body. Keeping the Garhwi and other things in Chacha Ji’s acquintance‘s room, who was not present there at the time, I went to pay my obeisance at Sri Darbar Singh. When I came back to the room, I found that an old Sant was sitting there and two of his Sewadars were massaging his legs and the third his scalp with the ghee out of my Garhwi, which had its lid open near by, They were scraping ghee from the Garhwi with their fingers and rubbing it on the wrinkled skin of the Sant. They were in great hurry to finish with the Ghee as soon as possible. This scene was not less horror for me; I was shocked at their behaviour. Due to a timid nature, I could not say anything to them, but the Sant, instead of being embarassed, asked me, “do you want to sell the ghee?” What could I say? I picked up the Garhwi and came out of the room. Till today, I am unable to forget the scene and the Sant’s shameful behaviour. Does Sikh religion, Gurbani, moral values, and teaching of great men teach us this? On the other way, they teach us that we should appropriate the things placed in our care by others. This ghee had been collected by an old mother for his son and grand sons to eat, but this so called Sant had robbed it. I suspect that like the ghee if such men find someone’s sister or daughter unprotected, they would do not less than to molest her. Such incidents are already gracing the headlines of our media. After narrating a bad incident, it will be unfair for me not to narrate a good one, During my journey of USA and Canada in November 1978, I was staying at Yuba city of California state in America. This Gurdwara had three capable young men as Granthis: Bhai Blaraj Singh, Bhai Sukhjivan Singh and Bhai Hardev Singh. They were so well trained by a Dera Sant, that they carried the whole burden of work at the Gurdwara. They did not let the Sangat, the management or visitors like me feel anything was wanting in the Gurdwara. But their very virtues had become their enemies. The management did not want to get green cards (permanent residence )for them from the US government because they thought then they will leave for elsewhere and the Gurdwara would lose three good Granthis. I requested S. Didar Singh Bains the rich and influential person of that place, “why are you squeezing the blood the these poor men? They getting past the age of raising a family. You should get green cards for them. or if that is not possible, then you can get green card fro one person. If he leaves then you can call some one new from Punjab. Turn by turn this way you can get green cards for three of them. During that time they can train new comers from Punjab to replace them. He did not say no to me, like a good politician that he was/is said, “yes, yes; we will do that.” But did not do anything to help those three young men. After many years they got green cards on their own efforts. When during my world visit of 2003, went to California I found S. Balraj Singh Brar is doing his own business at Frizno; S. Sukhjivan Singh is also thriving with this family in a nearby town; and the third S. Hardev Singh, being a gifted singer has joined a white singing group and made a name for himself. But I had started telling you about honesty. One day S. Didar Singh said, “Giani Ji, go to Freemont to attend celebration on the birthday of Sri Guru Nanak Dev Ji.” Saying Yes, I took lift with a couple going that way and started for Fremont. On the way I remembered that I had left all my belongings in the bed roll at the Gurdwara; they included tickets, passport, traveller cheques, cash British pounds, Canadian and American dollars; practically everything of value, depending on which I was able to travel abroad. I was then bolder than I am now, my beard and face then being of the same colour. I did not worry more than I needed to, but told S. Balraj Singh on phone , from a pay phone on road side, take these things under his own care. I also told him what the cash money amounted to in all. On my return, he asked me, “Giani Ji, tell me again what was the amount of cash dollars?” I told him again what I remembered. But what he handed me was $300 more than I told him. Had he wished he could have kept the whole amount with him saying he did not find any money under my pillow; or at least he could keep the $300 dollars which was more than the amount I had told him about. But he did not waver in his honesty, this was the difference an honest young man and an old Sant sitting at the feet of Guru Ram Das Ji at Amritsar. Freemont city is located hear the mega city of San Francisco. I was very keen t see it, as it was once the head quarters of the Gadri Babas who had under taken to bring about a revolution in India and free the country from foreign rule. Sardar Kartar Singh Srabha published his newspaper called Gadar for here to give inspiration to Hindustanis to lunge themselves in the freedom movement. I had a strong desire to visit this place of the patriotic Gadri Babas. Now S. Didar Singh had given me opportunity to do so. Let me say what happened at Freemont. there used to be no Gurdwara at Freemont those days, thought now with the grace of Guru Ji, there is great religious activities there. The Diwan was held on the grounds of a school. I introduced myself to the organisers of the Diwan and informed them that S. Didar Singh had sent me to take part in the Gurpurab celebrations. After that I sat down in the Sangat. The Sangat seemed to be full of well-educated people. At the end when Diwan was about to wind up, the lady stage secretary said that now Giani Santokh Singh will address the Sangat for five minutes. It has ever been my endevour that I should complete my address well within the given time. I had read from Principal Ganga Singh Ji’s book ‘Janta Vich Kiven Bolie’ in 1958, that a speech should end just when the audience craved to hear more. The audience should not wish that now the speaker should end his speech. Of course the professional religious scholars or singers cannot follow this diction as it is financially unfavourable to them. All this had been told to me by a friend of mine in London in 1977. I have tried to follow these rules, but have only been partially successful. I then used to wear a wrist watch. I untied and took it in my hand and started speaking looking at the watch, I completed my address in four and a half minutes; I then sat down after exchanging Fateh with the Sangat. After Diwan the home-cooked Langar was distributed. The Sangat made a queue and got their share of the Langar and ate it, some sitting and others standing. When my turn came, the Sewadars handed us only one Roti instead of the two, as the Langar fell short to the demand. I took a Roti and stood aside to eat it. A clean-shaven young man had been standing behind me in the queue when we were standing to get our share of the Langar. He was inquiring after my bona fides from me, as he suspected that I was as a paid member of some big organisation who was bearing all my expenditures of travelling. But I spoke plainly and told him the truth about myself. He seemed convinced about my bone fides. After The Langar, taking leave of me saying , “Changa Giani Ji, e shook my hand with both of his and then slipped a paper into my palm. I saw that it was a cheque of $51. When I expressed my surprise and delight at his action, he said in reply, “this is my share to meet a part of your travelling expenses.” There was no time that day to go to San Francisco. I need to stay there for a night. When I looked at the Sangat, I had seen a white bearded and blue-turbaned Sikh sitting in the Sangat. I had approached him and said, “Singh Ji, can I stay for this night at your home?” He had happily agreed. I later learnt that he was the brother of Dhadi Giani Gurnam Singh, whom I had met in London a year and half earlier. But then I met another blue-turbaned man who had met me earlier at Yuba city. He pressed me to spend the night in his home. I therefore asked the pardon of the first gentleman with thanks, and walked off with the later. “With whom she talked, she went with”, as a Punjabi saying goes. This young man’s home was in San Jose city. While staying at his house, I came to know that though he himself was an Amritdhari Singh sharing the Akali ideology, his in-laws who staying with him, belonged to the Radha Swami Sect. But they raised no objection to another Akali Sikh sharing their home for a night. Early in the next morning telephone rang. The host Singh talked for a while and then handed the [hone to me. To my hello, the famous advocate S. Santa Singh Maan Said, “I have told your host to leave you with me before leaving for work.” That good man, my host, left me at Sardar Maan’s house before sunrise. Maan Ji was clad in his night clothes and was alone at home; perhaps his life mate had gone out to work. From the photos hanging on the walls, I same to know that he too was disciple of Beas Wale. Maan sahib himself prepared the breakfast for both of us. A long conversation ensued. He gathered quite a lot of information about the Akali leadership from me; and note down a number of addresses of my friends in Amritsar. Later, on returning to Amritsar, I was told by my friends that Maan Sahib had visited them, and they had entertained him to the best of their means. They said he spoke well of you. In our meeting Maan Sahib had kept it a secret that he was going to visit Amritsar shortly and would like to meet my friends there. I have no objection to his not informing me about his visit, because the way he treated me as his guest, I still remember . He came to the bus stand to help me board the bus to San Francisco before the fore-noon. While I was boarding the bus, he handed me a cheque for $21. After getting down at San Francisco, I thought to look around, as I had time enough to board the next bus to Yuba city. I do not remember why I postpone to visit ‘Gadar Ashram’ there. As I was walking, a car stopped by and the owner said, “Sardar Ji, pleas get in.” I got in is car. On my asking him about himself, he told me that he is Santa Singh Maan, an advocate there. On his asking I told him that I came from S. Santa Singh Maan, he told me that he was elder brother of S. Santa Singh. He took me to his home and we both took lunch there. After lunch we chatted. While departing I asked him, “what should I do with these cheques?” He took the both cheques and handed me the cash in lieu of them, adding $21 dollars to the sum from his own pocket saying, “I will deal with these.” After I boarded the bus to Yuba city he bid me good by and went on his way. At the mid night I rached at Yuba city. This is what I have say for the time being. The first attack of the Congress government upon Sri Darbar Sahib It was on fifth July 1955 when I was sitting in the Sangat at Parkarma of Sri Darbar Sahib Tarn Taran and listening to Granth Nanak Prakash Katha from Giani Hari Singh Ji, the Mukh Granthi. At the end of the Katha, Giani Harbhajan Singh, a Pracharak of the SGPC got up and addressed the Sangat thus: Last night the police attacked Sri Darbar Sahib. To terrorise the people present there, the police fist fired gun shots and then dropped the tear gas. The police occupied Gurdwara Manji Sahib Diwan Sthan, Sri Guru Ram Das Sran, Langar, offices of the SGPC, Shiromani Akali Dal and Sri Darbar Sahib etc. All pilgrims, volunteers, Sewadars and leaders present there at the time have been arrested by the police. Some people have also got injured by bullets and the tear gas shells. Today the people had forgotten this tragic incident. This may be due to two reasons: the first that the people have short memories and the second that what India Gandhi did in 2984 far surpasses what her father did in 1955. The background is this: In August 1947 the British left India the communal Hindus grabbed political power in the guise of the so called secular Congress. The Sikh leaders as usual realised that they got nothing as a nation, when it was too late. Seeing this a powerful group of Akalis, known as the ‘Nagoke group’, joined forces with ‘Patel Group’ in the congress party, through the manipulation of Maharaja Patiala and began to enjoy political power given to it as a favour. This group included leaders such as Jathedar Udham Singh Nagoke as its leader and others were J. Darshan Singh Feruman, J. Sohan Singh Jalal Usma, S. Ishar Singh Majhail, S. Wariam Singh Bhagowalia, Giani Sohan Singh Sital etc. This group also called as ‘Majhail Group’ or ‘Jathedar Group’. This group occupied the SGPC, thus controlling all the Gurdwara resources. On the other side the group headed by Giani Kartar Singh was called ‘Giani Group’. This group got leadership of Shiromani Akali Dal Giani Ji being its president. Though ideologically Master Tara Singh favoured the ‘Giani Group’. He aimed at remaining the common head to the two groups and wanted to keep unity in Akal ranks. The Nagoke group thought that in the present age of general elections, the Sikhs can never enjoy political power without joining hands with the congress. The other group argued that the congress had deceived the Sikhs and had gone back on its promised; the Sikhs therefore should strive to maintain an independent Panthic entity. Mater Tara Singh agreed with this view and keep fighting with the government for this up to the end of his life in November 1967. Punjab congress too had two groups: one was the group headed by the then Chief Minister of Punjab, Dr. Gopi Chand Bhargo and was under the auspices of the home Minister of India, Sardar Valabh Bhai Patel. The other group was of Lala Bhim Sen Sachar, which was favoured by the Prime Minister, Pandit Jawar Lal Nehru. S. Partap Singh Kairon was also in this group. With the death of Sardar Patel, Dr. Gopi Chand Bhargo’s group weakened and he lost the Chief Ministership. With the blessings of Pandit Nehru, Lala Bhim Sen Sachar became the Chief Minister. Partap Singh Kairon became Development Minister in his ministry. The SGPC election was held after Eight years in 1955. The first after independence of India. the congressite Sikh leaders fought this election against Shiromani Akali Dal under the name of ‘Khalsa Dal’. This organisation came in to being under the leadership of Jathedar Udham Singh Nagoke, with the secret support of congress. The Nagoke group was at the time in control of the SGPC. Shiromani Akali Dal, under the leadership of Master Tara Singh made the creation of ‘Punjabi Suba as its election issue. The communists formed an organisation named ‘Desh Bhagat Board’ to fight SGPC election and joined Shiromani Akali Dal. The Shiromani Akali Dal left 25 seats for them; they all won. Despite support from the ruling congress party and the resources of the SGPC, the Khalsa Dal won only three seats. Thus the Shiromani Akali Dal won a glorious victory. Having won the elections on the issued of the Punjabi Suba, the Shiromani Akali Dal was obliged to fight for it. It therefore raised the slogan of ‘Punjabi Suba Zindabad’, and the government banned this slogan and started cramming Akali workers into jails. This agitation was known as the Punjabi Suba Zindabad Morcha. Within days, twelve thousand agitators filled the jails. the government paniced and tried to crush the Morcha. On the night of 4-5 July, the D.I.G. Ashwani Kumar, with his police force, raided and occupied key areas where the agitators could walk, find shelter or eat food. The government had thought that by doing this, it will be successful in crushing the Morcha, but the opposite happened. When the Sangats heard about these tragic events , they were filled with resentment and anger. They began to support the agitation in all possible ways. The ladies of Amritsar cooked Langar at their homes and began to hand it over the roof-tops to the agitators at Sri Akal Takhat Sahib. The government got afraid and lifted the ban on the ‘Punjabi Suba Zindabad’ slogans. The head of the government, The Chief Minister, Lala Bhim Sen Sachar, appeared at Sri Akal Takhat Sahib and asked the Sangat’s pardon with hands joined. Accepting responsibility, he resigned the Chief Ministership. So much happened in 1984, but from the government so far, no body has found it necessary to seek apology. I had kept the photograph of the Chief Minister Lala Bhim Sen Sachar apologising to the Sangat before Sri Akal Takhat Sahib, published in ‘Sachiter Kaumi Ekta’ magazine from Delhi. It is a different matter that Mr. Sachar was made the governor of Orissa and Pandit Nehru gave his blessings to S. Partap Singh Kairon and made him the Chief Minister of the Punjab. Till the time of Nehru’s death, Sardar Kairon ruled Punjab with an iron fist, crushing all opposition and agitations. He acted as a kind of dictator – like te proverbial cobbler, when made ruler only for a day, issued a currency made of leather. All this he did because he was protected by Pandit Nehru. When Nehru was no more, all his bravado and the so called ability, knowledge, cunning, smartness and strength deserted him. His enemies first deprived him of his government and then of his life. His corpse kept lying unclaimed for hours on the G.T. Road. The Akali Conference of February 1956 The 1955’s ‘Punjabi Suba Zindabad’ Morcha the Akalis won with glory. This victory put new life in the Sikhs and particularly the Akalis. The Akali leadership now decided to hold a Sarab Hind Akali conference at Amritsar. The congress too declared its programme to hold an all India Conference and the Jan Sangh its Akhil Bhatya Adhivation. Who was the fist and who followed I do not know. this I know that we then lived at Tarn Taran. I too started by bus my journey to Amritsar to see the action. On the way many stoves burned to heat water for the dying of Sikh Turbans and women’s dupattas blue. It is a bit astonishing that according to my information this conference held on 5 - 6 February, while Dr. Harjinder Singh Dilgeer and S. Harbir Singh Bhanwer write 11 February. We there were the participants of the conference but differ its dates. Most of the buses going to Amritsar were full of Jan Sangh activists who shout the slogan, ‘Amritsar ko Janna hai, Maha Punjab Bannana hai.’ It is to be remembered that the Akali wanted to exclude the Hindi speaking areas from the then Punjab and make pure Punjabi speaking state so that the Sikhs could maintain a semblance of political independence and the Congress leaders’ promises to Sikhs before partition, should some extent be fulfilled. It would also lend great weight to the Sikhs’ views in the national politics. But the communal congress and Jan Sangh leaders were jealous of even a slight increase in the Akalis influence. Instead of excluding the Hindi-speaking areas from Punjab, they demanded the inclusion of Himachal and PEPSU, which had slightly Sikh majority state, in their Maha Punjab, so as to further dilute the Akalis’ influence in Punjab politics. It was in this political atmosphere that the three conferences were being held concurrently in Amritsar. Three conferences took out their separate processions on the same day. The Akali procession started from the ‘Buraj Baba Phula Singh Ji’ Gurdwara and continued till late at night. At first the processionists walked in column of eleven abreast, but later due to immense increase in number that could not be maintained, and the people walked as they pleased, for it was not possible to control such a large crowd. In front of the procession, Supreme Akali leaders were riding on an elephant; they were Master Tara Singh Ji the President of Shiromani Akali Dal accompanied by S. Hukam Singh and S. Harbans Singh Majitha. I joined this procession at he Ucha Pul out side the Hall Gate. The Akali Singhs were high spirits and marched towards conference Pandal, which was beyond the congress Pandal in the newly created Shahid Nagar. This place was far beyond the city towards Pakistan side. I had hurried and reached the Pandal during the day time. Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji had Prakashman there but Diwan had not yet started. Below in front of Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji, on each side, were placed two photographs, one of Master Tara Singh, bearing the caption ‘the Jarnail of the Panth Sri Man Master Tara Singh Ji’; the other of Giani Kartar Singh, with the caption ‘the brain of the Panth, Sri Man Giani Kartar Singh Ji’. I soon left the Pandal; reason: I did not have any acquaintance there; I also did not understand what was spoken there; so I had no interest in remaining there. I had to reach Tarn Taran before nightfall as I had no lodgings to spend the night at Amritsar. Additionally, it was difficult to explain to the stern mother why and where had I spent the night. Two things happened to me during the conference: while coming down from the Ucha Pul, I had to pass through a trough of excited Singhs, who were going in the procession and I was coming back. They were marching in force and in haste. Suddenly some one’s fist hit me a in my stomack. I sat down; stars danced in front of my eyes; after quite a while I got up and was able to walk. On reaching Tarn Taran, I realised that the shawl from my shoulders had disappeared like horns from the head of a donkey. From this, I remembered a joke: A Sant Ji went to a fare, where his Bhuri (blanket) got stolen. He was a real Sant and had no other possessions his own, other than his Bhuri, Karmadal and a Langoti. He greatly resented the loss of his Bhuri. On returning to the village where he lived, the people asked him how he had enjoyed the Mela! He said in anger, “What Mela? It was all a conspiracy to rob me of my Bhuri.” I cannot claim that the conference was held to rob me of my shawl, but lost it I had in this tumult. For long afterwards, there was continued talk about the success of the conference. It was seen that the press within India and abroad had given wide coverage to this unique event. It was said that the Langar at the Congress conference had fallen short and some people from their camp had to come and eat at the Langar of the Akali camp. Pandit Nehru was so shocked by seeing such enthusiastic response to the Akali conference, that he was compelled to say, “to get huge gathering, these people want us to get scared, but we are not afraid of them.” One should perhaps ask him if he was not afraid, what was the need to say this aloud! The president of congress conference was Giani Gurmukh Singh Musafir, a renowned Sikh scholar, educationist, preacher, religious leader, a man of letters, poet, freedom fighter, and an ex-Jathedar of Sri Akal Takhat Sahib. He became the first Chief Minister of the Punjabi Suba but only for four months and eight days. Then In 1967 election, he lost his assembly seat from the Amritsar West constituency to a communist leader Satpal Dang. The President of the All India Congress Committee then was Sri U.N. Dheber. The photograph Master Tara Singh Ji riding an elephant during the procession at the conference became a familiar sight and decorated the houses of many Panthic enthusiasts, including our house for decades. This conference which took place on 5 – 6 February 1956 became a source of inspiration for the Sikh Panth and a wonder for the world press. It also became a source of jealousy for the opponents of the Panth. An agreement was signed after this conference between the congress and The Shiromani Akali Dal; that came to known as ‘the Regional Formula’. Regional Formula: It was estimated that ten lakh Sikhs had taken part in this conference. The success of the conference proved beyond doubt that the leader of the Sikhs was Master Tara Singh and their demand was the creation of the Punjabi Suba. the congress leaders were jolted into action and started negotiations with the Akalis. From the Akali under the overall leadership of Master Tara Singh, S. Hukam Singh, Giani Kartar Singh, S. Gian Singh Rarhewala and a representative of the Chief Khalsa Diwan, Bhai Jodh Singh participate in the talks. the Congress side was lead by Pandit Jawahar Lal Nehru, Maulana Abul Kalam Azad and Pandit Govind Valabh Pant. The negotiations took place from 22 February to 24 February 1956. All four Akali leaders and Bhai Jodh Singh, save Master Tara Singh, fell under the spell of congress leaders. They were bought off with promises of political posts in one form or the other. The Akalis were offered the so called Regional Formula which they accepted despite opposition from Master Tara Singh Ji. In response to te Master Ji’s reservations about the Regional Formula, Giani Kartar Singh said that the Regional Formula was like the engagement before the actual wedding, which would eventually take place. Giani Kartar Singh was reputed as a persuasive talker and was usually successful in making others to agree with whatever he said. I had heard him many years later, a number of times when he spoke during the Akali meetings and conferences. This formula proposed to include PEPSU in the Punjab and then divide it into two regions: Punjabi speaking region and a Hindi speaking one. Himachal was not to be included in it. Both regions were to have separate regional committees and to have charge of all affairs other than Law and Order, taxation and finance. The ministers were responsible to their respective committees. The governor’s decision was to be considered final in the event of any dispute. Punjabi language in Gurmukhi script was accepted for Punjabi speaking zone and Hindi in Devnagri scrip for Hindi speaking zone. Despite Master Ji’s reluctance the Akalis accepted this formula. Shiromani Akali Dal adopted a resolution that all the political activities of Akali Dal be from the congress plate farm. The Dal will be active only within religious, cultural, social language jurisdiction. A majority of Akali leaders decided to join the congress party, with the exception of the Dal’s president, Master Tara Singh Ji. The whole Akali legislature wing also merged into the congress legislature party. The regional formula came into force. PEPSU was duly included in the Punjab and the state was divided into two zones. The 1957 general election the Akali leaders fought of assembly and Parliament seats on congress tickets. More than two dozen Akalis became members of assembly and three of them get elected to the Parliament. Giani Kartar Singh and S. Gain Singh Rarhewala became ministers in Punjab and S. Hukam Singh remained as the Deputy Speaker of the Parliament’s Lok Sabha, as already appointed by Pandit Nehru, as a reward for agreeing to the Regional Formula. I do not know what the fourth, Bhai Jodh Singh, got as an immediate reward, but he was later appointed as the first Vice Chancellor of the newly created Punjabi University. Thus, all three Akali and an one Chief Khalsa Diwan leaders got rewarded for their pains making agree Akali rank and file to accept Regional Formula, but the action on this was concerned, it met the same fate of other such ill-thought agreements. Those day Pandit Jawar Lal Nehru had a political weapon in the person of S. Partap Singh Kairon, who ruled Punjab as a virtual dictator under the patronship of Pandit Nehru. Peace between the Akalis and the Central government was not in Kairon’s interest, as in that case he should have become unnecessary to Pandit Nehru. Sardar Kairon therefore wanted to torpedo this agreement; the central government, on its part, was also not serious about the implementation of the agreement. Master Tara Singh was already against this agreement. The immediate cause of contention became appointment of the Chairman of Punjabi Regional committee. Sardar Kairon favoured the appointment of S. Darbara Singh to this post, but the Akalis prevailed and were able to appoint Seth Ram Nath as the Chairman. They felt that as he was the lone Hindu among prominent Hindu leaders of Punjab to speak in favour the Punjabi Suba, he should be rewarded for his courage speak for right thing in right time. Sardar Kairon got badly up set and came out openly against the Regional Formula. He went so far as to foil the efforts of Seth Ji to establish even an office of the Punjabi Regional Committee in the assembly complex. Thus, the Regional Formula did not see implementation due to the insincerity of all concerned, and in the beginning of 1958, the Akali Dal openly rejected this Formula. Master Ji blamed the congress government for breaking the agreement and asked its M.L.A.s to come out of congress assembly party and sit separate under the name of ‘Panthic Group. At this only eight members came out of 24. They were: S. Sarup Singh, S. Atma Singh, Bibi Jagdish Kaur, S. Dhanna Singh Gulshan, Master Partap Singh, S. Gurbakhash Singh, S. Harguranad Singh and S. Udham Singh. The Formula died its natural death and the demand for the creation of Punjabi Suba restarted. The congress used Giani Kartar Singh to rob the Akali Dal of its dominance over the SGPC. In November 1958, during the election of office bearers of the SGPC, Giani Kartar made S. Prem Singh Lalpura as its president against Master Tara Singh with three votes. Thus, congress grabbed the plate farm of the SGPC from Shiromani Akali Dal to stop propagation of Punjabi Suba. Out of them, their leader S. Sarup Singh was successfully persuaded by Sardar Kairon to bring him back in congress fold. Shiromani Akali Dal engaged all its efforts for next General election the SGPC which had held in the beginning of 1960, and regained its dominance winning 136 seats of 140. The Dal again sounded the bugle for creation of the Punjabi Suba which resulted in the arrest of 57129 Akalis. But Sardar Kairon out manoeured them ad failed the agitation. For knowing the back ground in detail and the whole description of these events, the reader Should read S. Ajit Singh Sarhadi’s book named ‘Punjabi Sube Di Gatha’ book A Village Fight Scuffles and the exchange of heated words is part the village life, and in this respect our little village was no exception. The saying that whenever two utensils are kept together they have to clash with each other is true. One such event is still prominent in my mind. This happened in the mid fifties and the time was summer. In the forenoon, two parties from our clan exchanged hot words. One party was from the descendents of my great grand-father‘s cousin brother, while the other belonged to the middle brother of my great grand-father. The hot words progressed to abuse and then to the actual wielding of weapons. Some ‘warriors’ of both parties got hurt, though not seriously. The contest was between two armies and fighting intense. The situation was not so serious but the tumult was great for a few minutes. And then my cousin Chacha Ji S. Darshan Singh, who was a wrestler took his life in his own hands and jumped in the middle of two warring groups and separated them. Every body gone to their ways. Then in the afternoon a man from one party brought a police contingent from the Mehta Police Chowki (now a Police Station). It was quiet all around. The police men sat under shady trees and asked the fighters’ names. The name of Darshan Singh who had actually been a peacemaker got on top of the list. He was quietly sleeping on a Charpoi in the shade. The Thanedar made him got up and sit on the ground, like a supplicant. I was watching all this happening. The man who had brought the police was a contemporary of my grand-father. The police could not lay their hands on the real offenders, if they are; they took S. Darshan Singh to the Police Chowki with them. Later that night , the Mohatbar men of the village sat together with the ;warriors’ and made peace between the two parties; the police was informed of this development. the police was not happy as a golden chamce had slipped from their hands to harrass and loot the contending parties. The fighters celebrated the peace by drinking the home made liquer dancing and calling out aloud in Bakkre Bulaune. The innocent Darshan Singh remained in the police custody; before the news of the compromise reached them the police had already sent him for confinement to the main Police Station Beas. I do no remember after how many days the police took pity on and released him. This was the reward he got from his good work. If he had not risked his own life amidst the weapon-wielding fighters it was possible some one would have been seriously wounded, or even died. In my childhood, Bhaia Ji had read out to me a story from a second standard book: A dove took pity on an ant which was drowning in a Nehar. She brought a tree lief and dropped in the water near the ant. The ant crawled over on to the lief and the dove lifted the lief in her beak and brought it to the shore, thus, saved ant’s life. Then one day while a hunter was about to shoot the dove, the ant bit his arm and spoiled his aim, thus saving the dove and returning the favour. At the end of the story was the moral: do good and have good; in the end good always brings good. But after watching the above incident I had my doubts; does a good deed always bring a reward? it appeared to me the moral should have been: do good and have bad; in the end good will bring the bad. It happened in 1956. Beehive It alos happend in second half of 1956 or 57. A nest of honey-bees is called a Dumna in Punjabi language. The bees gather nectar from the surrounding vegetation and turn it into honey which, apart from being delicious to eat, in the cure for many diseases. While collecting this nectar the bees also do the useful work to pollinating the flowers. But all this hard and useful work brings only catastrophe upon them. Bhagat Kabir Ji compares their work to amassing of money by a miser. He spends his whole life collecting wealth but spends very little or none on himself. His wealth is later spent lavishly by his descendants after his death. Similarly, when the honey-bees complete their honey-making work, the honey collector comes and smokes them out to reach the honey, killing most of them in the process. About the honey-bees’ social behaviour their division of labour and the organisation of honeycomb only a biologist can throw any light any light, here mu purpose is to narrate an incident which had the potential to turn dreadful. We had a large mulberry (Tut) tree at our Khuh, located near the Amritsar- Mehta Road. Every summer more than one bee-hive used to build up in its branches. I still remember once my great grand-father eating honey out of a brass bowl one winter. Many legends were, and perhaps are even now, current in Punjab those days about the behaviour of honey–bees when agitate. It was believed that once they started to attack a person, they never left him alone, let him hide anywhere. The smoke and darkness might provide some protection. Even if you point a finger at the bee-hive they will attack you. Even if one bee survives after one disturbs her, and goes back to the hive, the whole crowd of them will attack the person. Some rare people were believed to have miraculous powers to mesmerise the bees while they extracted honey without any harm to themselves. How far all these assertions are true only the knowledgeable people know. A bee-hive containing honey is only on beehive amongst twenty thousands other kinds. There are smaller honey-bees also and their bee-hives are called Makhia in the Punjab. They rarely bite and even if they do, their bite is not so painful. They built their bee-haves among heaps of dry sticks of the cotton plants or some such places instead of big trees. I have also harvested honey from these on more than a couple of occasions. One afternoon when we returned from the cattle grazing. some boys among us began to play the Gulli Danda (a village play of children). They included my cousin Manohar Singh and you younger brother Dalbir Singh. A boy from our clan called Preetu, began to throw clods of earth at the bee–hive on our tree at our Khuh. I tried to stop him doing this mischievous play but he didn’t stop. I failed to make a runaway from there, though I knew the danger and warned him repeatedly. Just then one of his missiles hit the bee-hive squarely. The bees blew off and came towards us. the whole scene still lies vivid in some corner of my brain. I can still see te clod hitting the bee-have and the rush of bees towards us. But the bees were some what tardy in their attack or may be they had to make up their mid about which target to attack. We boy ran helter skelter from the place to escape the approaching bees. I remember that we fled towards Channanke village side and ran along an irrigation ditch. Some boys we shoulder to shoulder with me; the swifter ones were slightly ahead. Then I heard some one scream behind me. I looked back and saw my younger sister Satto screaming near the Khuh. She was surrounded by bees and some have bitten her. I was in a dilemma: whether continue my flight to save myself or to go back to save my sister. There was no time to think. Interestingly at once, I ran back to Satto and shouted at her to keep running towards me along the irrigation ditch. She did so. I reached to her. We both ran away with me behind her. I kept lifting water form the ditch with my hands and throwing it over her. At intervals I would throw water over my own head also to get rid of the bees. Though no water was running through the ditch at the time but there was standing water from the previous flow. After some time and distance, the bees left us. At the time I thought it a miracle because of the dreadful stories I had heard about their pursuit of their victim. It was said the a person attacked by the bees hid in a pond, immersing his body in the water and keeping his head covered by an utensil to escape the bees. But the bees came and sat on the utensil and would attack him as soon as he uncovered his head. There was a story about another man who had dived into a big pond and kept swimming under water and emerged from the water at some distance. But as soon as he surfaced his head from the water the bees attacked him. Because of these stories doing the rounds of my mind I could only regard our escape as a mercy of God; I still think so today. A Snake of rope The wise say that in darkness sometimes rope appears to be a snake but my cousin and I got deceived in broad day light, that too completely. In 1962, we were transferred from Tarn Taran the capital of the then Jind ex-state, the Jind city. This was against our wish but we had to move Jind, where we were posted at the Gurdwara Guru Teg Bahadur Sahib. This city is now the district headquarter in Haryana province but was earlier a subdivision the Sangrur district. Though Sewa I did Kirtan, I was more interested in books and newspapers. Because of the distance, the newspapers published from Jalandhar were not available there. The newspaper, Ranjit published from Patiala, used to come there but that did not satisfy me. It looked barren to me. After the morning Kirtan of Asa Di Var, I went to the city’s library and used to read Hindi newspapers. My favourite weekly the ‘Dharamyug’ was available here also, as it was at Amritsar. This being in Hindi, I could practice Hindi (not writing). Among newspapers my first choice was the ‘Akali’, which, thanks to S. Partap Singh Kairon, had been compelled to become the ‘Jathedar’. I read this newspaper from 1958 to 1960. Then in 1960 among the other stern steps taken by S. Kairon to make the Akali’s ‘Dhibri Tight’ in response to the Morcha, was the banning of this newspaper. After the Morcha when the publishers of the Akali asked his permission to restart it’s publication, they did not get it and therefore brought out the Jathedar as its new Avtar. Only the name had changed, the contents were the same. All the Punjabi newspapers remained behind in Tarn Taran and Amritsar; here only Qaumi Dard and Jathedar, that too after two days of their publication. Jathedar also published on the back page true incidents sent by its readers. Inspired by then, I too sent a true incident of my life, which was my very first literary effort. To my delight this got published in the paper; my happiness new no bounds. I then did not know of such literary refinements as compound words, para making are world construction etc; but the editor had done all these for me, and seeing the article published in this form make me ecstatic. Bur the sad part is, that I did not follow it up with more articles. Perhaps I did not then have anything more to write; but it was possible that, had I been able to get learned advice, I would have been able to join the literary brotherhood sooner. The true story was like this: In about the year 1956-57, my cousin Manohar Singh I went to one of our fields, called ‘Baghiarhan Wali’, to cut fodder. Approaching the edge of the field we saw a ‘snake’ in about the mid of the field. We watched it closely for any moement for long time but it did not move at all. I thought of making it run away y throwing a clod of earth at it but Manohar Singh implored me not to do it. Whenever I lifted a clod of earth to hit the snake, he would run away and stand at some distance from me. I too could not muster enough courage to hit the snake while I stood alone, There was not much difference between us, so far as bravery goes, but he was ever the more coutious one. So far as my views about bravery are concerned, it has become difficult for me to distinguish it from fool-hardiness; I think the two overlap. Without some fool-hardiness, it is difficult to undertake any risky action. I the doer of te action is successful, the is considered brave, otherwise a fool. The others may disagree with my view as I cannot be always right. After a great deal of discussion and a bit hot argument, we came back without cutting fodder. The next day, we told this to our younger Chacha Ji, ad requested him to go with us to the field. He said, “Oi, fools, do you expect that snake to be still there! It must have long disappeared.” But when we pressed him further, he went with us. Sure enough the ‘snake’ was still there, Chacha Je Said, “ Oi, this looks like a rope.“ Then he said, “ Oi, no, it is indeed a snake.” Chacha Ji threw some clods at it but it remained unmoved. We did not this time run away, due to Chacha Ji’s presence. Seeing no response from the ‘snake’ Chacha Ji said, “Oi, it looks to be a snake, but dead one He then went towards the ‘snake’ holding a sickle in his hand. He picked up the ‘snake’ on the sickle and came back towards us laughing. We also joined with him hearty laugh. The real thing was that my Bhaia Ji, being a baptised Sikh, wore the large Kachhaira instead of the smaller one which most of other persons usually wore. This Kachhaira had a waist band and required a long and thick cord to tie it around the waist. The cord must have been thrown away on the heap of manure, along with an old Kachhaira, and then it had reached its present destination along with the manure. It was this cord which had scared us as a snake. I join the Shahid Sikh Missionary College Towards the end of 1957, I gave interview for admission to Gurmat Sangeet course at the Shahid Sikh Missionary college. Though I was not fully eligible from the point of age, education, height and health, in short from all aspects, according to, “Jad de jamme bodion lamme”, Bhaia Ji being the head Granthi of Sri Akal Takhat Sahib used his influence with the selectors and in spite of my shortcomings I got admission to Sangeet class of the College. The selection Committee included Singh Jathedar Achhar Singh Ji Jathedar Sri Akal Takhat Sahib, Singh Sahib Giani Bhupinder Singh Ji, Head Granthi Sri Darbar Sahib and the Principal of the college was the famous Sikh scholar Prof. Sahib Singh Ji. Admission to this college opened wide horizons for me. Interaction with other students better than me in wisdom, age and education, left a great impression on my mind and ideas. Such super and glorious teachers. Apart from Prof. Sahib Singh Ji, other teachers were: the Master of classical music Prof. Rajinder Singh Ji, Master Sadhu Singh Ji, Prof. Amar Singh Chakar Ji, The views of Principal Sahib Ji, the famous Sikh scholar and Gurbani commentator lifted me up from my narrow sectarian thinking to the level of thinking about wider problems of Sikh Panth and human existence. Though I was student of music class, my interest was more in books. I read almost all the books written by Principal Sahib Singh Ji during a bit more than three years time. Those days the famous revolutionary Bhai Parmand Jhansi and the great public speaker Principal Ganga Singh Ji visited the college thrice a week to deliver lectures to the Prachark class. My dealing with Principal Ganga Singh Ji was confined to the evening Volley Ball game. He invariably assigned me to the rival team so as exploit my weakness at the game by throwing the ball at me. He had assigned me the nickname ‘letter box’, because like the letter box never returned the letter dropped into it, I was never able to return the ball thrown at me. I had very little to do with Bhai Parmand Jhansi Ji. Principal Sahib Singh Ji used to call me by my the nickname of Bhalwan Ji, being short of everything physically but he was admirer of my knowledge of Gurbani and Sikh history. One day out of a bit anger he told the class in front of me, “His father taught him so much and he became so week that he couldn’t stand on his legs.” During more than three years I spent this educational centre a lot happened: some it good and some bad. In the second summer of the college itself a bloody event took place. After dinner almost all students went for a walk, some followed the road to Putlighar side, some went towards other areas and a few went to the grounds of the Khalsa College. One night on return from the walk, we were surprised to see the police’s presence in my room, where I lived with four other students. They had Karam Singh, one of my room mates, a student from U.P. sitting on the ground. The police had taken into possession his small sword and tied his arms his back. Though he had it washed on college’s hand pump, it still had a drop of diluted blood hanging from it.. His blood-stained clothes were also in the police custody. We were all stunned to see this. Karam Singh was arrested and taken to the Sadar Police Station. After the police left we came to we came that Karam Singh Had stabbed another student from U.P. Dalip Singh. Dalip Singh had been stabbed in his side near the heart and some one had taken him to the hospital. He had named Karam Singh as stabber. Both these students had been sent by Giani Hardit Singh Ji, incharge of Gurmat Vidiala, of Gurdwara Rakab Ganj Delhi. He was the teacher of our music teacher Prof. Rajinder Singh Ji. Giani Hardit Singh Ji spent his whole working life at Gurmat Vidiala of Gurdwara Rakab Ganj. He used to send some students from his Vidiala to this college for each session. Some older students from among us also gave their blood for Dalip Singh. but his would kept bleeding and the given blood was in vain. At last he died after some days. Some how, before his death, Karam Singh was released by the police and he left by train for Delhi. The whole this case had been dealt with by Prof. Rajinder Singh Ji and S. Narinder Singh Soch Ji. Both the students were roughly of my age and I had friendship with both. Due to this tragic incident the summer holidays were a bit declared earlier. The students were told to go home after recording their names and addresses with the office. With the end of the year on 31 first Dec 1060, or three years course too came to and end. It started on first January 1958. Before the end of the course on 18 Dec 1959, with the influence of Bhaia Ji, I had been able to get temporary Jathedar Ragi at Gurdwara Pipli Sahib along side two other students Tara Singh And Pritam Singh. Though I was a bit under age for the post, Bhaia Ji’s influence worked, and or course diploma of the college. I had a strong desire to do the Prachark course under Principal Sahib Singh Ji but Bhaia Ji’s persuasive powers and attraction of salary worked against it. I attended classes fro a for three months but then stopped on the advice of Bhaia Ji. Then in May 1961, I got employment as Ragi with the Dharam Prachar Committee, a semi independent branch of the SGPC. This job was offered to me by committee’s incharge, because during last examination of the college he was very much impressed from my performance as other examiners. But I was more used as a clerk than a Ragi in the office. I continued reading of Principal Sahib Singh‘s books and articles even after leaving the college. Also continued efforts to enhance my knowledge of classical music and completed Vishard course from Allahabad. My hand–writing being neat and clean the permanent entries in the committee register were make by me. Bhaia Ji’s whole purpose in encouraging me to study was to see me as Singer of Gurbani and wok as Ragi for whole of my life and profession as well Bhagti and hobby. Because he himself could not do so due to the conditions at home he wanted to see his ambition fullfilled through me. Two worth-remembering events took place during this clerical duties of mine: one was an application from Principal Sahib Singh Ji that he had completed his commentary (Tika) of the whole text of Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji. Because he had completed this great task during employment of the committee, he said that the committee had first claim to publish this work if it wanted to do so. After considering his proposal, the committee kept it pending for their next meeting. In stead of waiting, the Principal Sahib handed it the Raj Publishers of Jalandhar for publishing. What happened back stage I did not then know but some information about it I have now gathered from his auto- biography. Principal Sahib Ji wrote in his auto-biography in detail about the rejection of publication of this work by the committee. Perhaps the readers would be interested to know something about it. This great work of explaining the Gurbani according to its grammar, has been voluntarily done by a Hindu convert to Sikhism. The residence where he completed this work he had got on the recommendation of his communist friend Prof. Waryam Singh. The recommendation of the same communist was instrumental in this work being published; and the publisher was another Hindu. The publisher had got a new press installed for the publication of this work. Thus, this great commentary about Sri Guru Granth Sahib came into being; and it is considered as the most authentic work about Gurbani. The second event also involved the Principal Sahib Ji. He recommended that the students of Missionary class of the college should be given preference in filling vacant posts in the SGPC institutions. This recommendation was accepted by the committee. While recording the resolution in the committee register, I knowingly wrote the word ‘college’ instead of ‘class’. This entry helped a number of students of all classes of the college in finding employment in the SGPC institutions. During service with the Dharam Prachar Committee’s office, getting very little opportunity to do Kirtan and doing clerical work most of the time I soon myself transfered in November 1961 to Sri Darbar Sahib Tarn Taran as a Ragi. Sikhs’ ‘Bravery’ After I have described this eye-witness incident don’t think I am among those who doubt Sikhs bravery. The sacrifices made by the Sikh Panth are know the world over. I am going narrate a black act done by hooligans which does not do honour to the Sikhs. This incident happened in the summer of 1961, when I worked in the office of the Dharam Prachar Committee (SGPC) at Amritsar. The fast unto death under taken by Sant Fateh Singh Ji in 1960, during the Morcha was cleverly broken by Sardar Kairon using the influence of Master Tara Singh Ji. Then he enacted the farce of negotiations between Pandit Nehru and Sant Ji, but in the end Sant Ji And Master Ji realised that nothing will come off from these talks; disappointed, Mater Ji under took another fast. One day, evening was approaching. I was returning from home to the office, from the direction of Gurdwara Baba Attal Ji. On the road separating the committee offices from Sri Darbar Sahib premises, some youths were dragging a man by his hair from the bazar of Baba Attal Ji. At intervals they hit him mercilessly with what ever came to their hands. Before my very eyes, one of the more aggressive ones hit him on his back with a scabbarded sword. Those days the offices of te Shiromani Akali Dal used to g on the upper floor of Sri Guru Ram Das Hospital, between the Baba Attal Sahib and the Gurdwara Manji Sahib, where now stands Mata Ganga Ji Niwas Srai. Now the masters of the Dal have not only hijacked its agenda, they have taken its office also to Chandigarh. Some rooms had been built on this site earlier after the stone laying ceremony by Jathedar Mohan Singh Tur, the then Dal’s president, and they remained in the keeping of S. Jagdev Singh Talwandi who later handed them over to Baba Joginder Singh Ji, the father of Sant Jarnail Singh Ji. S. Simranjit Singh Mann took over their charge from Baba Ji and he occupied these rooms till the time Bibi Jagir Kaur become the president of the SGPC. One night, Bibi Ji had a buldozer rage this structure to the ground and got a beautiful inn made over the site through a Sant Ji of Kar Sewa. The Mann Dal’s office’s sign board transfered to its General Secretary Bhai Ram Singh’s house on the upper floor, where a board announced its presence. Now Since Bhai Ram Singh left Mann Dal and joined Badal Dal, I do not what happened to that board; it wont be at that place now, I guess. This board reminds me of some other boards. The congress fought the 1960 SGPC general election under the name of ‘Sadh Sangat Board’; but it could secure only three seats out of 140. The Akali Dal, under the leadership of Master Tara Singh Ji, won theses election despite the efforts of the central and state rulers. Before this, the 1955 elections had also been won by the Akalis but in alliance with the communists, who had got 25 seats from the Dal. Shiromani Akali Dal had defeated the Jathedar Udham Singh led ‘Khalsa Dal’ of the congress. But this time communists had allied with the congress. Before the election, there were three parties in the field, facing the Akali Dal: Giani Kartar Singh’s Panth Sewak Dal, Gian Singh Rarhewala’s Malwa Akali Dal and Partap Singh Kairon’s Shere Punjab Dal. Taking advantage of Daily Ajit’s Editor Sadhu Singh Hamdard’s suggestion that the Gurdwara elections should by fought by the Sadh Sangat, the three Dals facing the Akali Dal demolished themselves and out of this debris, they build up a ‘Sadh Sangat board’. But this party got badly beaten in the elections. The Akali workers jeered at them: One would ask , “ Oi Talib Singha, what became of he Sadh Sangat Board, oi?” “What was to become of it, Bhai Jagat Singha? The Sadhs joined the Sadhs and the Sangat merged with the Sangat. As for the board, it now hangs at the upper floor of the house of Ram Dial Singh at Ludhiana,” Talib Singh’s reply was literally true.” Let us come back to the incident. Jathedar Khazan Singh Ji Mirankot was watching this incident, standing at the gallries of the Dal’s office. He kept shouting, ”Oi, don’t beat the poor man.” But who hears such pleas during a Mela? When a weak and lone victim fells into the hands of cowards, why shouldn’t the out do each other in beating him! The offences of the poor man was that he was suspected to be from the C.I.D. but there was nothing new in this, some elderly and young men were known to be from the secret service. Some of them I came to know. In the late 1960s and early 1970s, I used to attend the Dal’s and SGPC’s executive committee meetings as an employ. They used to contact me for the inside information, competing with each other to be the first to get it. I then did not know that the information could be misused. Most of the time I would brush them off, saying the press will be given the information jointly. Next day I was surprised to know that a case had been registered against the poor Jathedar Khazan Singh for beating that policeman, against the person who had been shouting to save him. From this I remember another incident which had happened a little earlier. The Morcha of Punjabi Suba in 1960 at its height. An A.S.I. had been shot dead by some one in front of the Braham Buta Akharha. A case was registered against Sant Fateh Sigh Ji who at the tine had been sitting far away in a room near Sri Akal Takhat Sahib, directing this peaceful Morcha for the attainment of Punjabi Suba. It was said that after shooting the A.S.I., the Sant Ji ran away to the Parikarma, passing through the narrow crowded street between Brahm Buta Akharha and the Bunga Ramgarhian. Sardar Partap Singh ‘wins’ despite loosing the election While living at Tarn Taran, an unforgettable event took place in February 19062, that gives true and vivid picture of the Indian democracy in action. After winning the 1955 Punjabi Suba Zindabad Morcha, Shiromani Akali Dal and congress joined politically in 1956. The Akalis fought 1957 general election on congress tickets, as because of the agreement on Regional Formula, peace had been established between the two. There was virtual no opposition in Punjab. This peace some how lasted till 1958, but the clash between the two was inevitable so long as Sardar Kairon remained Chief Minister. Amity between congress and Akali Dal was not in favour of Political career of Sardar Kairon as in that case he would have become politically unimportant to Pundit Nehru. He could not ill-treat the Hindus of Punjab because they ruled India; the only ones left for him to beat were the Akalis. He incited the Akalis by not implementing the Regional Formula and they were forced to clash with the government. During Pandit Nehru’s life time Sardar Kairon virtually ruled Punjab like a dictator. In 1960 the Morcha for Punjabi Suba began afresh. Some 57129 people got arrested. Sant Fateh Singh Ji undertook a fast unto death. Under political tactics, Sardar Kairon used Master Tara Singh and Master Ji persuaded Sant Ji to break his fast. After that some unsuccessful meetings with Pandit Nehru took place. Then Master Ji went on a fast unto death, broke it on getting false promises; out come: zero, Then approached the 1962 general election. The congress was opposed by all party alliance under the leadership of Akalis in Punjabi region and in Hindi region Chaudhry Devi Lal. Pratap Singh Kairon was opposed by the Akali candidate Jathedar Mohan Singh Tur From Sarhali constituency. Jathedar was Saharanpur (U.P.) Jail and Sardar Kairon made 52 cases against him. Neighbouring constituency was Patti and from this S. Hazara Singh Gill an Akali candidate, was opposing to a brother-in-law of Sardar Kairon. Gill was also in jail. Being both were in jails after finishing the Morcha of 1960, the in-charge of these two constituencies was Sant Fateh Singh Ji. The contest was fierce. Fortunately the election took place without actual fighting with weapons or bloodshed. The counting of votes took place in the Tehsil office of Tarn Taran. From the Tarn Taran constituency the congress candidate was S. Gurdial Singh Dhillon. He was speaker of the Punjab Assembly as a curtsy to his position as the speaker, The Akalis did not field any candidate against him. But Sardar Kairon did not want him to win un-opposed; so he secretly supported a Dalit candidate to stand against Sardar Dhillon as an independent. Sardar Dhillon did not like Sardar Kairon and his real sympathies were with the Akalis. From time to time during the counting, he would come out and encourage the Akali workers by hinting that they were in the lead. At last in the evening time, it was declared that Jathedar Mohan Singh Tur had won the seat by a margin of 384 votes, and Sardar Kairon had been defeated. In the hullabloo that followed the announcement, some one shouted, “there goes S. Surinder Singh Kairon in the car.” S. Surinder Singh was elder son of Sardar Partap Singh Kairon. Some one was with him, but who, no one knew at that time, I stood on the road-side and heard and saw all this. The Akali workers celebrated their victory with a procession led by the elder son of Jathedar Mohan Singh Tur, S. Lakha Singh; then exhausted they sat down to rest before midnight. I was lying on bed in my room on the upper floor of Sri Guru Arjan Dev Niwas Srai. I was half asleep when a Sikh living in the house on the other side of the street opened his room’s window and asked, “Sardar Ji, who won?: Upon mu telling him that Jathedar Mohan Singh Tur had won the seat, he said, “the radio here, in the 11.15pm news had just said that Sardar Partap Singh Kairon has won the seat with a margin of 34 votes!” “How this out rage can take place; all know that Jathedar Mohan Singh Tur won the Sarhali seat!” I said in surprise. Just then we heard the sounds of drum-beats and Bhangra coming for many parts of the city, accompanied by slogans, such as, “Congress Zindabad, S. Partap Singh Kairon Zindabad etc. The crowd of congress workers kept the city awake with loud celebrations. Akali workers remained in doors. With the sunrise the next day many opposition leaders reached Tarn Taran. They sat in a Dharna in front of the Tehsil office. The noise continued till afternoon of that day. They demanded re-counting of votes. At the afternoon, the S.S.P. Sardar Ranjit Singh Grewal ordered firing and tear-gas. The votes got mingled in this melee. This Grewal Sahib was a brother-in-law of Sardar Kairon’s elder son, S. Surinder Singh Kairon. The police took Master Tara Singh to Amritsar and the other leaders to Delhi. The B.B.C. London broadcast the news this: Mr. Partap Singh Kairon, the Chief Minister of Punjab, declared himself elected. S. Partap Singh Kairon continued as the chief Minister of Punjab. The petition progressed at the speed of a insect. Sardar Kairon crushed all opposition; his writ ran in Punjab till his benefactor’s death on 27 May 1964. With Pandit Nehru’s death, the glow of Sardar Kairon’s power also started dimming. “Immediately after the head-shaving, the hail-stones fell,” ad Punjabi saying goes. In the succession struggle that followed Nehru’s death, Sardar Kairon backed the losing candidate Sri Morar Ji Desai. Pandit Nehru’s successor overthrew Sardar Kairon from the Chief Ministership and installed a relatively unknown Congress man, Comrade Ram Kishan on the C.M.’s chair. “Where ever went boats, the boatmen followed.” So where ever Pandit Nehru went, there Sardar Partap Singh Kairon followed. Both the Sarhali and the Patti seats the congress had lost and Akalis won. Jathedar Mohan Singh Tur was cheated of this victory and S. Hazara Singh Gill was kept in jail. Thus, couldn’t come to the Assembly and sworn-in. Jathedar Tur also remained in Jail. Such was the power of Sardar Kairon. But the source of all this power was Pandit Nehru. When he was not there, all Kairon’s power melted away. When the source was no more from where the power was to come and by whom it was to be used. The second man, who was in S. Surinder Singh Kairon’s car on the evening of vote counting day, was the returning officer, who had declared Jathedar Tur to have won by 384 votes in the Tehsil office, but later reported on radio that Sardar Kairon had won the seat by 34 votes. He was later made an I.A.S. officer as reward to his services to Sardar Kairon. The people’s verdict was reduced to zero by misuse of official power. Sardar Kairon remained the Chief Minister even after his defeat in the election; Jathedar Tur remained in jail even after wining it. The petition ran its course’ the agitation against this wrong doing in the press continued. But there was no effect on Pandit Nehru. He had no other handy weapon than Sardar Kairon to be used against the Sikhs. Master Tara Singh’s exhortation, “loser is not the one who loses a fight but the one who loses his heart”, was meant for the Akali workers. It was to encourage them in their struggle against the government; but Sardar Kairon was the one to follow it in letter and spirit. After few days of Prime Minister Pandit Nehru’s death, S. Partap Singh removed from his Chief Ministership; on 5 February 1965 he got assassinated; the petition filed against him for malpractices died with his death. The above description of this event I wrote as a neutral and disinterested eye witness, at an age below the voting age. A gentleman, after reading this article has added to mu knowledge by giving his version of this event (in 2009) He was an employee of the Tarn Taran Municipal Committee at that time and was among those counting votes in the Tehsil office. On the condition of remaining anonymous, he had given his written eye witness account as follow: In 1962 Tarn Taran was still a Tehsil. The head of te Tehsil was a resident magistrate. At that time Mr. S.K. Dewan held that post. S. Harbans Singh was the Tehsildar. They were the returning officer and the deputy returning officer respectively. The Chief Minister of Punjab at the time was S. Partap Singh Kairon. His contest was with Jathedar Mohan Singh Tur, who was in jail at the time. the election symbol of the congress was a pair of bullocks harnessed to a plough. The Akalis had the hand with five fingers spread as their election symbol (though now the congress has stolen this symbol from them). The votes had been sealed in ballot boxes. The government employees were given the duty of counting the votes. I was one of them; I then worked as a clerk. The counting took place in a hall of an old building in the Tehsil complex. The counting was done by polling booths; and the votes got by each candidate from each booth were written on a black board. S. Gurdial Singh Dhillon, who was the speaker of Punjab Legislative Assembly was present there. Later he became the speaker of the Parliament. The polling percentage in this election was between 75 to 80 percent. after counting, it was found that Jathedar Mohan Singh Tur had won the Sarhali seat with a overwhelming majority (sweeping majority), but te returning officer did not announce the result. The reason was that when Pandit Nehru, the Prime Minister got a secret message that Partap Singh Kairon had been badly beaten in the election, he rang up S. Harbans Singh, the Tehsildar and told him that by any means (by hook or crook) Partap Singh Kairon was to be declared the winner. It was his decree. He also said that Partap Sigh had to remain the Chief Minister of Punjab. When S. Harbans Singh apprised Mr. Dewan about Pandit Nehru’s command he said that the truth cannot be hidden; Jathedar Mohan Singh Tur had won the election and should be declared the winner. Then Harbans Singh wrapped his arm around Mr. Dewan’s shoulder and took him to a corner of the hall. We sat on chairs and hear everything. S. Harbans Singh again pleaded with Mr. Dewan to act on Pandit Nehru’s command, hinting that his (Mr. Dewan’s) life could be in danger if he did not do it. He said it was Nehru’s command, who do not listen to any appeal or Daleel (Argument). While this was going on the police fired tear-gas shells. Smoke spread everywhere. We ran to the Verandas, covered our noses with wetted kerchief’s and fled from there. Whatever Nehru ruled from Delhi was done. The records were forged and Sardar Kairon declared winner by a small majority of 34 votes. The Jalandhar Radio that night announced that Sardar Kairon had won the Sarhali seat by a margin of 34 votes; while the truth was that Jathedar Mohan Singh Tur had won the seat by a margin of many thousands of votes. Both returning officers later promoted that means they rewarded for this wrong doing. Shah Muhammed wrote: O Shah Muhammed, the armies won the battle But lost it due want of the leader. This gentleman’s description little bit differs from mine. We both wrote it from our memoires. Transfer to Jind. After a few months our Ragi Jatha was transfered from Tarn Taran to Jind. Thought this had been done without consulting us and despite our protest, in my heart I was happy as I was ever keen to see new places. I remained at Jind from April 1962 to May 1964. Thieves must have thought, seeing our neat white dresses that, we had a lot of money. We used to sleep on the roof of the upper floor of Gurdwara’s vast Deorhi. One night the thieves locked us out from the inside; all they found after a thorough search of our belongings was my box filled with books; and this was found later in the bushes nearby with the books scattered. The thieves thought we were rich, but what can one find in the house of ‘Mirassis!’ Here I got inspired to take up regular studies. My Bhaia Ji had tried a number of times to persuade me to do the Giani course. This view was that by doing this course one could find employment in the army as Granthi in the rank of a J.C.O, and the pay and later the pension could provide a life long sustenance. Real reason for his thinking this way was his disappointment with the service in the SGPC. A thorough gentleman, religious scholar and a honourable employee, Giani Jagjit Singh had been forced to resign from the post of the Head Granthi of Sri Akal Takhat Sahib on false charges of misappropriation of money. he was a victim of conspiracy against him by anther employee. Later the man who had accused him had the same treatment meted out to him but and had to flee his post. This incident had given Bhaia Ji a great shock as we had both been greatly impressed by the personality of Giani Jagjit Singh Ji. Thus, Bhaia Ji’s life long wish to see me a Ragi changed and instead of being singer of Gurbani in the presence of Guru Ji and Sangat, he wanted to see me in the Indian Army as a Granthi. I had no learned person to guide me in my studies. Bhaia Ji had arranged fro an elderly Kar- Sewa Sant, without informing me. to stay with me for a few days and persuade me to do the Giani course. That Sant Ji was an educated person who used to read English paper The Tribune. But only when I got inner inspiration did I so something towards proceeding on this path. the reason of so big hesitation towards this was that I did not know that I had so much knowledge of Punjabi language and out of this inferior complex I did not think that I can do these sort of courses. While living here, an unfortunate event took place. At some distance from Jind city, a village called Chhanna. the whole land of that village belonged the Gurdwara but it was cultivated by tenants. Those tenant living within that land comprising village Chhanna. The whole population of the village was Haryanwi peasants barring one Sardar Shopkeeper who migrated from Pakistan. There was some dispute about one of the fields. The manger of the Gurdwara, an ex-soldier, went to the village with some other Sewadars the manager took me with him too though that wasn’t my duty but went along just for outing like a couple of time before we used to go. I always felt happy visiting any rural landscape. We didn’t know anything of the matter. the manager went and stabbed an elderly looking man with his Belt sword. The man was walking behind the plough. He just walk off quietly and told about it to the men working in the fields nearby. I heard voices shouting somewhat as, “Oh, Manager has stabbed Sundu with spear; Oi, run, the Sundu has been killed.” the whole village on us, all including the women and children attacked us with whatever came to their hands. We could find no escape. I don’t know how a large sword came to my hand; I found a wall of Dangs (sticks) approaching my head, and I tried to stop them with the sword. After all the sticks fell on my head with full force, only the grip of the sword remained in my hand. I do not know where the blade went. The Dangs descended on me and I got a thorough beating; but some I how remained concious. Every one badly injured and were lying all over the wide field. I used my remaining strength lifting palmfulls of stale water from the nearby irrigation ditch and putting it in mouths of the injured. At last the police arrived, led by an A.S.I. Sardar Thanedar. They collected us and took to the hospital in the city. I lost consciousness for sometime while at the hospital. One of the badly injured was a Sewadar Bhai Bagga Singh, who missed death by an inch. This manager was so head strong that later he brought another trouble on his head. He beat a Ghumar boy black and blue with a big rough stick from the Langar firewood. His offence was that his donkeys had entered the empty land along side the road. After very badly beaten, the boy went to the police station and reported the incident to the S.H.O. The S.H.O., who was a Haryanwi, summoned the manager to the police station. We accompanied him to provide him ‘moral support’. Though the Sub Inspector addressed the manager as ‘Manage Sahib’, he gave him a thorough tongue-lashing, saying, “you were lucky I did not go myself at the time of the Chhanna village fight; had I been there you would have come to know the consequences of attack some one.” “A wise enemy is better than a foolish friend,” say the wise. Contact with the world of Literature at Patiala To persue my ne-found love of learning, with Bhaia Ji’s influence, I got my transfer to Patiala, which happened to be the best place for studies. Here I got admission to a government run istitution, named ‘Government Institute of Oriental and Modern Indian Languages’, and got multi-faceted education. The vice-principal was Madam Surjit Kaur Ji, who also headed the Pujabi departent. She was herself a good scholar and taught us to read good literature and how to read it. At Patiala I could as satisfy my craving for reading all Punjabi newspapers; and I also got opportunity of attending as audience the various functions held at the public library. as well other political, literay and religios conferences. One of these functions I consider worth-mentioning here. The public laibrary held a function sponsered by the ‘Congress Forum for Socialism’, at which ideas were about bringing in socialism into the country were discussed. The function was presided over by the then speaker of Punjab Assembly, Sri Harbans Lal and the main speaker at the venue was Giani Zail Singh, who was also the vice-president of the congress party. The Punjab at that time was still undivided. Giani Ji‘s main idea, expresed in his speech at the conference was that religion was the chief hurdle in bringing about the socilism into the country. This he expressed by citing an incident from his experience some what as follows: During the PEPSU election of 1952, we were compaigning for our congress candidate for the assembly. One day we visited that candidate’s maternal uncle’s village to ask for votes. The uncles’ house was near the entry to the village. We found him smoking Hooka on the mud-platform sitting against a wall on the outside of his house. He had a trimmed beard and shorn hair and was without any head covering. We called out Fateh to him and said, “Mama Ji, your nephew is fighting this election. Please help him in every way.” Then uncle’s eyes became read with anger; he scowled at us; removed the pipe of the Hooka from his mouth, and shouted these word to us, “Oi, should I leave the Panth on the urging of you renegades?” We said in all humility, “ Mama Ji, you have your hair shorn what have you to do with the Panth?” “Oi, if you shave off the hair from the tail of a cow, does she become a she- donkey?” Mama Ji’s logic made us all answerless. Living here, I met many persons, with whom I still keep in touch. One of them was the great Sikh religious scholar of his time, late Sant Giani Niranjan Singh Ji. He had been impressed by my ability of speech and I used to attend all his religious Diwans. Giani Ji’s daughter Biba Harinder Kaur Ji was my co-student at the institute, where she studied Sanskrit under Pandit Durga Datt Viakarnachariam he was also the Principal of the institute. Thus, our relationship became more close. The Principal was a good friend of Giani Ji and used to attend his Diwans. Biba Ji still treats me like a brother. On the occasion of Sant Ji’s tenth anniversary, she had rang me up to attend the function but in those days I was in Oslo (Norway) and fearing the heat of Punjab in that season, I could not then go, but went later. She got me honoured with a Siropa by the hands of his son, Sahibzada Baba Mohinder Singh Ji. On 25 of December 2006, on the occasion of Sant Ji’s birth day, I spoke to the Sangat about Sant Ji’s life and work. The Sangat Had blessed me with their admiration. It was during my stay here that 1965 war with Pakistan took place. The weapons of Sri Guru Gobind Singh Ji were brought from England. The Sikhs demand of Punjabi Suba was accepted. Its formation was declared, which was formally brought into existence on the first day of November 1966. At Taskent, Prime Minister Sri Lal Bahadur Shastri died under mysterious circumstances and Indira Gandhi became Prime Minister, beating Sri Morar Ji Bhai Desai. The last unsuccessful attack of Sardar Kairon on Akali leadership It was January 1970. We were going from Amritsar to Jalandhar in the car of the then Finance Minister, S. Balwant Singh. As usual S. Balwant Singh sat on the back seat and S. Gurcharan Singh Tohra was sitting on his right;’ I sat on the front seat with the driver. By way of conversation I asked Sardar Tohra that if Pandit Nehru had not died on 27 May 1964, what would have been the form of the Sikh leadership today! On his usual forthright manner Sardar Tohra replied that in that case the Sikh leadership of that time would have been different. The back ground of this as follows: Before even the start of the 1960Punjabi Suba Morcha, the police had arrested and taken by truck Master Tara Singh, one midnight, Being a student at the Sikh Missionary College, I happened to be at the scene. Master Ji’s house and the College had a common wall. We kept shouting ‘Zindabad, Zindabad’ in protest, but before our very eyes Master Ji was loaded in the police truck and taken away. From the next day’s newspapers it became known that thousands of Akali workers had been caught and put behind bars that night. So it happened that Morcha came be led by Sant Fateh Singh Ji instead of Master Tara Singh Ji as originally planned. Sant Ji had wise counsellors and gave such secular colour to the Morcha that no one had much to say against it. All other parties barring the Congress and the Jan Sangh, came out in support of the Morcha. The Jan Sangh wanted to make a Maha Punjab by including Himachal Pradesh in it. This peaceful Morcha went on for about eight months under leadership of Sant Fateh Singh Ji. Men and women in record numbers (57129) filled the jails. The congress government, under Sardar Kairon crossed all boundaries of cruelty. It even killed a number of Akali workers in a shooting at the Bathinda jail To enthuse the people and put pressure on the government, Sant Ji undertook a fast unto death; but Sardar Kairon, guided by Pandit Nehru used Chanakya Niti and failed the fast and agitation. He brought Master Ji from the Jail to Amritsar and had him to persuaded Sant Ji to break his fast. The only outcome was false promises; all sacrifices were wasted. The Sikh community sank into gloom; Master Ji lost prestige; Sant Ji became better admired. Some how a pretence of unit was maintained in the Akali ranks and the elections of 1962 the Akali fought against the Congress, in collaboration with other parties. Sant Ji himself led the election campaign in two constituencies and had Sardar Kairon lost his seat from Sarhali and his brother-in-law from Patti. It is different matter that Sardar Kairon used his political muscle and succeeded in declaring himself the winner by a margin of 34 votes and keeping the actual winners from the Sarhali and Patti constituencies in jails. The coals of Akali discord kept smouldering under the ash and at last the cat was brought out from the bag by Jathedar Jivan Singh Umranangal and S. Lachhman Singh Gill. They split the Akalis into two groups. One group came to be led by Sant Fateh Singh, the other by Master Tara Singh. Then started the race to capture the Shiromani Gurdwara Prabandhic Committee. As usual, the congress government secretly supported the Sant group against the established leadership of the Akalis. Master Ji’s candidate S. Kirpal Singh , on w October 1962, lost the presidentship of the SGPC to Sant Ji’s candidate, Sant Channan Singh Ji, by a margin of two votes. This Sant Fateh Singh emerged as the new leader of the Sikhs, in place of Master Ji. All parties opposing Congress had an understanding that in future elections, the sitting M.L.A. or the candidate who secured the greatest number of votes among the losers, would be their common candidate. Based on this understanding, when the Communist M.L.A. S. Sampuran Singh Dhaula of Sangrur District died, the new Communist candidate was supported by the opposition parties. The leader of the election campaign was Sant Fateh Singh, because of his status and abilities. His car used to serve as his home, where he ate as well as slept folding his legs, lying on the back seat. Sant Ji himself told me that on Congress stages erected with the government support, during election rallies, the last speech used to be that of Sardar Kairon. During the time Kairon spoke on stage, Sant Ji would slowly take his car to the back of the stage and when Kairon said ‘Jai Jind’ at the end of his speech, Sant ji would take over the mike and say, “brothers, you have head the congress side; now before you leave, please hear me also.” The audience would stare at him in surprise while he slowly demolished whatever Sardar Kairon had said. It was not difficult for Congress to win the seat with all the government means at its disposal and it was what it did; but Kairon was badly sore with Sant Ji. He thought, “my own cat, growling at me?” which meant, “I supported this Sant against Master Tara Singh and helped him become the Leader of the Sikhs; and this Sadh is trying to pull my own legs from under me.” There were many other things about which he was angry a Sant Ji, but he still kept supporting him because he did not want Master Ji to recover his leadership of the Sikhs. As a reward he wanted Sant Ji to feel gratitude towards himself; but Sant Ji was very careless about it as was his nature. Sant Ji had himself campaigned against Kairon and his brother-in-law and made them to lose their seats. Though Kairon declared himself the winner with his political muscle power, he could not recover his former prestige. The Akalis won 20 seats in the elections of 1962. Winner of one seat was not allowed to come out of jail and be sworn as a member of the Assembly and another seat was snatched from the Akalis through government power; so they left with 18 seats. The Vice-President of Punjab congress, Chowdhry Devi Lal became unhappy with Sardar Kairon due to dispute over congress ticket distribution. He formed a separate party and fought the election. Though he did not with many sets, he joined hands with other smaller parties and some independents and got the status of official opposition with 23 seats. Kairon had so far not let any official opposition to come into existence. Whenever it came close to forming he would break it with his clever tactics. So now he again began to play his old game and brought down the opposition to less than 16 members, the minimum required numbers to remain as official opposition. During that time Akalis were also split in two groups: one led by S. Gurnam Singh was with Master Ji had 6 members and the other group led by S. Lachhman Singh Gill was with Sant Ji with 10 members. Sant Ji quietly merged his ten MLAs with the other group of six, and made up the ‘magic number’ of 16 MLAs; they got recognition as the official opposition with S. Gurnam Singh as their leader ad Sardar Gill the deputy leader. Sardar Kairon was badly irked at this move of Sat Ji’ he thought this clever Sadh was always able to out wit him at every turn. He had another grudge against Sant Ji before this incident. After every earlier election the Akalis, independents and other MLAs used to quietly join the Congress and no one used to raise any hue and cry against this. This time when Kairon took two Akali MLAs: Chowdhry Lakhi Singh of Miani and S. Dalip Singh of Shahkot into Congress, Sant Ji took him to task and sat in Dharna in front of their doors. It was the first time that such hue and cry was against desertions; Kairon did not like it. To counteract these moves of Sant Ji, Sardar Kairon joined hands with Master Ji and brought out a no-confidence motion against the President of the SGPC. All government means were put at the disposal of the Master group. This was against the official government policy of no-interference in the religious affairs of the Sikhs, but as Kairon had the backing of Pandit Nehru who was to tell him what to do or not to do! He put pressure on the Sant group members of the SGPC; whoever had any truck, bus or other vehicle, were immediately impounded by the respective Thanedars, and their owners told to collect them on the third of June after voting for Master group. If any member had a relative in the Government service, he or she was told to come back on the 3rd of June, only if their relative member voted for the Master group. Claims of victory were made by leaders of both groups and the press delightfully reported their sallies against each other. One day the President of the Master Dal, Giani Bhupinder Singh Ji, declared that the Bhaumat (majority) was with their group. Being a Kashmiri he stressed more on the first half of this term, ie Bahu, which literally means a daughter-in-law. Sant Ji made fun of this statement saying, “Giani Ji is right; his Bahu is indeed in his favour; all members are with us.” In this ‘war’ Mater Tara Singh, Maharaja Sahib Patiala. Giani Kartar Singh, and S. Gian Singh Rarhewala had joined forces and were led by Sardar Kairon to teach a lesson to this Sadh of Budha Johar. Kairon had staked all the finish this Sadh for good. It seemed that the groups were about evenly matched and the out come could go either way. To express this fact in poetic language, an employ of the committee, Bhai Santokh Singh, had written a longish poem, which contained a line, “half on each side and Gunna in between”. There was a member of the SGPC from Moga named S. Labh Singh Gunna; no one knew on which side he was. These days were in fact to prove the last days of glory of S. Partap Singh Kairon. He had ruled Punjab with Danda (stick) for more than eight and a half year. Whoever rose against him he crushed. His Danka rang every where. Akalis, Jan Sanghis. communists, Teachers, Patwaris, or other government employees whoever demurred he immediately silenced. All this happened because Nehru personally supported him. But, ”man proposes and God disposes’ proved to be true now. Six days before the climax of this ‘war’, the source of Sardar Kairon’s power, Pandit Nehru left this world. Hearing this terrible news, Sardar Kairon got almost paralysed. Shah Commission had already been investigating complaints of corruption against him. Only with the protection of Pandit Nehru did he run a currency of leather in the Punjab. According to, “every one for himself and the devil take the hindmost”, now he started worrying for his own seat. Leaders of all groups had set up their Deras (camps) at Amritsar a couple of days before 2 nd June, ie the day of voting on the no-confidence motion. Master Ji and Giani Kartar Singh, being of the nature of Faqirs were camping within Sri Darbar Sahib complex ie in the office of the Master Group Akali Dal, on the upper floor of Sri Guru Ram Das Hospital. Sardar Kairon was staying in the circuit house while the Maharaja of Patiala and his maternal uncle, S. Giani Singh Rarhewala had their own arrangements according to their status. On the second June, in the after noon the General Ijlas of the SGPC members began to discus the motion of no-confidence against the President of the AGPC. Sant group had posted guards armed with spears at the toy of the two flights of stairs leading to the hall where the Ijlas was being held. They had instructions to stop two particular members of the Master group from attending the Ijlas. The Sant group was not sure of its victory. This move was to ensure its certain victory. These arm guards stopped those two certain members of opposite group. When this news reached the leader of Master group, he protested that the members of his group were being prevented from attending the Ijlas. The President of the Ijlas said that those members had failed to attend two earlier meetings of the SGPC and had then lost their membership according to rules. I reply to his next question he was told, “go and bring a order from the Gurdwara Judicial Commission for re- instatement of their membership.” This was to take time and b then the whole thing would have been over. S. Kirpal Singh got angry ad said. “Then we walk out in protest. He had hardly finished speaking when, according to a previously-made plan, the members of the Master group were pushed down the stairs and forced to leave the venue. In the absence of the opposition group the motion of n-confidence was unanimously defeated. This meeting was being presided over by then president Sant Channan Singh and the stage secretary was S. Lachhman Singh Gill the then General Secretary. According to the rules the Deputy Commissioner of Amritsar, S. Sunder Singh was present there as the government representative. His signatures were obtained on the relevant documents. The opposition group held a separate meeting on the lawn in front of the building and elected S. Jasbir Singh Hissar as President of the SGPC. When they asked the departing Deputy commissioner to approve this election, he said, “Han Ji, Han Ji (yes, yes) and parted on his way like, “shaking off the sticking soil from the turnips.” (ie only words, no action). This S. Sunder Singh was the son of famous Sikh religious scholar, law-giver and educationist, the first Vice-Chancellor of the Punjabi University, Dr. Bhai Jodh Singh Ji. It was widely believed that Sardar Kairon will send police men in plain clothes and thus hand the office of the SGPC by force to the Master group; like he had had himself declared the winner of an election he had lost. But people wondered that nothing of the kind happened. This was because with the death of Pandit Nehru, he had lost all courage and now did not have the nerve to enforce his will. It was thus that the death of Pandit Nehru became instrumental in retaining the hold of Sant Fateh Singh group upon the SGPC, and master Ji did not succeed in recovering his leadership of the Sikhs. It was all happening in those days when I returned from Jind to Patiala. All this information I gathered from the Punjabi newspapers published at the time, from Sant Fateh Singh Ji, from Sant Channan Singh Ji and from one their Garhwai (personal Sewadar), a great soul Sant Ajaib Singh Ji. First non-Congress government in Punjab. After the 1952 elections, the Akalis had the distinction of forming first no-congress government in newly farmed PEPSU state. That was the first non-congress government in any Indian state. The first Chief Minister of this government was S. Gian Singh Rarhewala. But Pandit Nehru forcibly had this government dismissed and installed the Governor’s rule in the state. Later, in 1956 he merged this state, with a marginal Sikh majority state, with the Hindu majority state of Punjab and tried to kill the Akalis’ dream of ruling their mother land for ever. “When there is no nose, no fly can sit there.” Akalis felt cheated soon after the independence. Some lost heats and joined the Congress; others decided to continue their struggle for an independent Panthic entity under leadership of Master Tara Singh. Because of secular general elections Akalis’ influence in the political and government spheres lessened. Hindu communalists led by the Arya Smaj did the rest. In their enmity with the Sikhs they went to the extent of denying that their mother tongue was Punjabi; they said it was the mother tongue only of the Sikhs. Every one knows there can be no other mother tongue of the Punjabis than the Punjabi Language. One interesting incident: Principal Kanhaya Lal Kapur, a learned scholar of Punjabi, Hindi, Urdu and English, wrote that once he had occasion to submit a form to a government department. He filled the form and handed it to the clerk sitting behind a window. Seeing that the column regarding mother tongue had Punjabi written in it, the Hindu clerk demurred, Kapur Ji said to him, “listen Babu, my mother was Punjaban; she married a Punjabi Khattari; and I, those Punjabis’ son, was born in the Punjab; can my mother tongue be Chinese or Japanese? In such political climate, the Sikhs with Akali ideology had only one option: to demand the formation of a Sikh Majority state, however small. But it looked to be an unreasonable demand; so a state based on language was demanded. At last, after a long struggle the Indian government had to agree to form a Punjabi Suba due to a member of reasons. A tattered Punjabi Suba came into existence on 1 November 1966. Giani Gurmukh Singh Musafir was sent from Delhi to rule the state as its Chief Minister. He led the Congress in the elections of 1967; not only his party failed to win a majority, he himself lost his Amritsar (West) seat to the right wing communist leader Mr. Satpal Dang. Shiromani Akali Dal fought these elections against the congress, in alliance with the other parties by making seat-adjustments with them. When the election campaign ended Sant Fateh Singh Ji disgusted with the excessive selfish behaviour shown by Some Akali leaders came to Budha Johar (Ganganagar). I was then there to impart training to music teacher at the Vidyala there. Observing my speech skills, Sant Is asked me to accompany him. We came to Central Gurdwara 19Z near Ganganagar, where he began to live quiet life for more than a couple of days. Then the results of the elections began to be announced on radio. I was alone with Sant Ji, when we were hearing the election results from the Jalandhar radio station in their ‘Pradeshak Samachar’ bulletin. Sant Ji looked to be greatly disappointed with the results. After decades of sacrifices, the Akali Dal could not secure a majority. Three out of the five ‘Zinda Shahids’, who had declared to die before Sant Ji, when he decided to sacrifice his life during the Punjabi Suba Morcha, lost elections. When he received news that from Beas constituency, where his most trusted lieutenant Jathedar Jivan Singh Umranangal had fought the election, the congress candidate Jathedar Sohan Singh Jalal Usma had beaten his nearest rival Dr. Kartar Singh Daulonangal, Sant Ji remarked, “our Jathedar has not even been able to become the nearest rival.” Interestingly, as soon as the lady news reader said, “now the Congress has to win all remaining seats to get a majority,” Sant Ji said, “now to prevent the congress from getting a majority we will have to win all the remaining seats.” Strange to say but the Congress did not get even one of the remaining seats; all were won by its rival candidates. Out of the total 104 seats: Sant Akali Dal:24, Master Akali Dal:2, Congress: 48, Republicans: 3, Communists right: 5, Left:3, Jan Sangh:9, Independents: 9 and S.S.P.: 1. After all the results declared Sant Ji said, “had Giani Kartar Singh been among us today, we could form a government. I was still pondering over how this can happen, When Sant Ji said, “even if I myself was there, we could form the government.” I could not believe it. I had constitutional knowledge about how a government is formed in a parliamentary democracy but did not know how it works in practice. I thought that the Congress was in power from the village Panchayat level up to the Parliament. The legislative council did not have a single Akali member. So far the desertion of members had always been from the Akalis and others to the Congress. Never had anyone left the Congress and joined the Akalis. How can it happen that the 24 would form the government, while the 48 just stare at their faces? Soon the Akali winner from Ropar, Master Baldev Singh, and one independent winner from Samana, Bhajan Lal, joined the Congress. Now the congress had 50 instead of 48 members, while the Akalis came down from 24 to 23. While sitting at the Central Gurdwara 19Z, Sant Ji had said to me, That it would be better for Punjab if the Akali Dal and Congress form a collision government in the state; thus, the culture of confrontation between the Akalis and the government will have a chance to end and conditions could arise in which the injustices done to Punjab could be remedied. I said without thinking, “then it should be done.” Upon this Sant Ji said, “but by doing this we would be stamped as the Congress supporters and the leadership of the Panth will go back to the Master group.” The next day I saw that almost all newly elected Akali members and other prominent Akali leaders were marching towards the Central Gurdwara 19Z, making hue and cry, and trying to over take each other in racing Sant Ji. For a whole day and a night they stuck to Sant Ji’s legs, imploring him to go to Punjab, and do something to form a non-congress government. At last Sant Ji relented and accepted their request. He led them to Khanna, where they all pitched their camp at the residence of S. Mohinder Singh. Then started a campaign to gather all non- Congress members there. All rivals of Congress, ie 23+2+9+6+3+3+1+7= 53 gathered there. Their signatures were obtained on a blank sheet of paper at the bottom; the upper space was left for the letter to the governor. The paper containing the signatures was in my keeping. I recognised all signatures save one. The reason was that one MLA had signed his Got (last name) along with his name and this I had never come across earlier. To confusion, he had written the English letter C in the middle of his name, instead of the K. I asked a gentleman there if he knew the gentleman whose signature it was. That happened to be the very gentleman about whose signature I was making inquiries: S. Parkash Singh Majitha. He told me that his Got was Gill and he always wrote his Got while signing. He said that the use of C was also the standard practice with him. As it is usual practice for political parties in India, the choice of the leader, who was to become the Chief Minister, was left with the supremo, in this case Sant Fateh Singh Ji. He called each member separately into his room and asked his opinion about his choice of the leader. Each said at first, ‘n=make whom you like.” On further probing he would say “make me the leader.” On the third asking he would name his choice. S. Hazara Singh Gill’s choice was S. Harcharan Singh Hudiara, while S. Karnail Singh Mararhi named S. Lachhman Singh Gill as his choice; all others were in favour of Justice Gurnam Singh. Sant Fateh Sing told this to Sant Channan Singh Ji, who took practical action to bring it all about officially. To be concise, the meeting of 53 MLAs took place under the presidentship of San Channan Singh Ji (President of the SGPC). A party named the ‘United People’s Front’ was formed. Justice Gurnam Singh was elected its leader and Dr. Baldev Parkash (Jan Sangh) was his deputy. Next day those 53 members took the letter and presented themselves before the Governor, who next day preside over the oath-taking ceremony and formed the new government on 9 March, 1967. Thus ended the four months and eight days short career of the first government of the new Punjab, under Giani Gurmukh Singh Musafir and the new government came into being, lead by Justice Gurnam Singh; the first government of non-Congress government of Punjab. This also came to be called ‘the Front government’. In this government, apart from Justice Gurnam Singh as the Chief Minister, Dr. Baldev Parkash (Jan Sangh), S. Lachhman Singh Gill (Akali Dal), Maj. Gen. Rajinder Singh sparrow (independent), Comrade Satpal Dang (Communist right), And Piara Ram Dhannowali (Republican) took oath of the office along side with the Judge Sahib. Comrade Harkishan Singh Surjit (Communist left), preferred to be convener of the new Front than to be join it as a minister. Nine independent candidates had won this election. One went to the Congress while the other who won from Dakala constituency, Maharaja Yadwinder of Patiala, joined neither. In fact, he had given up his post as ambassador in Rome and had come to Punjab expecting the Chief Ministership. When he found the Congress in poor shape, he decided to fight as an independent, hoping that after the election, all parties including the Congress and the Akali Dal, would accept him as their unanimous choice for the Chief Ministership. The Congress, on purpose, had the papers of their candidate, Giani Zail Singh cancelled and left the seat to the Maharaja Sahib; the Akalis supported another independent candidate, S. Ranbir Singh Dhillon. Maharaja Sahib won the seat with record number of votes, but lost the race for the Chief Ministership. He had not given up his post of an ambassador, which is the equalent of a cabinet minister of Central government, to become an MLA. When he saw that the Chief Ministership was not possible, he approached Sant Fateh Singh to get at least the speakership of the assembly but about it the decision had already been made in favour of S. Joginder Singh Mann, the father of S. Simranjit Singh Mann. Then, “began the Ganga flowing in the reverse direction” as the saying goes. The Sikh MLAs of Congress began to join the Akali Dal in droves. I used to wonder that the Sikhs sitting in the Congress for decades, had began running to Shiromani Akali Dal so soon after the formation of this rag tag government led by the Akalis; a government which by all accounts seemed destined to last not for long. It seemed that they had been with the Congress only from necessity. The record showed that up to now, the passage was only one way from this side towards the Congress; no one had come into the reverse direction. S. Balwant Singh, S. Gurmit Singh, S. Shingara Singh, Tikka Jagtar Singh now rushed and joined Akali Dal. After the demise of Sardar Gill’s government which had been formed after breaking the Gurnam Singh government, S. Gain Singh Rarhewala also came to the Akali fold. The next to come Major Harinder Singh of Raja Sahnsi was already negotiating with Sant Channan Singh Ji, but his terms not liked by Justice Gurnam Singh. Thus, the negotiations did not succeed. Major Sahib wanted the home portfolio along with deputy Chief Ministership; but Justice Gurnam Singh did not want to give up the home department. S. Harcharan Singh Brar who later became the Chief Minister, too came to the Akali Dal. In the election held 1969, S. Beant Singh did not get a ticket from Akali Dal; he fought the election as an independent with secret support from Justice Gurnam Singh. After defeating the official Akali candidate, S. Gian Singh Rarhewala, he also joined the Akali Dal. Observing such behavior of the Congress Sikh leaders, Sant Channan Singh said, “when a ship begins to sink, the rats rush out; the ship of the Congress is now sinking; Oi, Jan Sanghio, take your boat near the Congress ship and rescue the Hindus; we will do the same with the Conressi Sikhs.” These out spoken words poking fun at the newly deserted Congress leaders to Akali Dal, was not liked much by them; but what could they do? They had to bear the barbs of Sant Ji in silence. From those times till now, according to the Punjabi proverb, ”uttar kato main charhan” (get down kato, now let me mount), the people of Punjab elect the Akalis and the Congress alternatively. But the truth is that whether a blue-turbaned or a white-turbaned man is sitting on the throne of Chief Ministership, the Parnala remains at its original position. The people will have their buttocks beaten by Thanedars, the Patwaris will continue to rob them; people will have there work done by the shoes of silver (Bribe money). It is up to them whether they want to be robbed by the ‘Whites’(congress) or the Blue-Saffron (Akalis-BJP) What Guru Nanak Ji said five centuries ago, is still true he had said that kings are lions, the officials are dogs. All who rule are hunters/killers. Bankan Na Jurhian After the 1967 election, Sant Fateh Singh Ji by his political capacity thwarted congress which had 50 members in its bid to form the government and succeeded in forming the government with his mere 23 members by making an alliance with other parties and independents. Justice Gurmann Singh became the chief minister. Among the senior Akali leaders, S. Harcharan Singh Hudiara too wanted to become the chief minister of the new Punjab. He had played leading part in every agitation for the creation of the Punjabi Suba. He had even declared that he will not wear the Jhagga till the Punjabi Suba was created; and had not worn it for a number of years. He had tried to get the leadership of Akali Assembly party but except S. Hazarh Singh Gill no one supported him. Justice Gurnam Singh, a much junior leader, had come to occupy the Chief Minister’s chair; he would not share his power with any other Akali leader. He made fun of Senior Akali leaders who had made sacrifices for the Panth and called them by funny names behind their backs. Unlike other Akali leaders who had a history of confrontation with the government, he was from a rich landed family which had always been pro- government. He had studied abroad, joined government service, and reached the August post of a high court judge. After retirement he fought the 1962 election on an Akali ticket, had become MLA and when the time was ripe, became leader of the opposition and finally the Chief Minister.

Jathedar Harcharan Singh Hudiara, like Dr Jagjit Singh and Harkishan Singh Surjit had become MLA for the first and only time in his life. Sant Chanan Singh had tried to persuade S. Gurnam Singh to take Hudiara Ji as a minister into the cabinet but he did not agree. To pacify Hudiara Ji, he was given the empty and barren lolly pop of the post of leader of the Panthak Assembly Party. But what would Hudiara Ji do with this Khali Shunshuna.

At least, “Mardi ne akk chabbia har ke jeth na lae” (finding no other choice she had to submit to the love of elder brother-in-law), Hudiara decided to approach the Central Home Minister, YB Chawan, to seek his secret support to replace Justice Gurnam Singh on the Chief Minister’s chair. While proceeding to Delhi for this great undertaking, he stopped at the Gurdwara Sri Guru Teg Bahadur Sahib, Jind (Haryana), took bath in the holy tank and paid his respects to the Guru Ji.

S. Hazara Singh Gill was in company, I was also there at the time but did not know the purpose of the journey of these gentlemen.

Hudiara Ji did git-mit with Union Home Minister YB Chawam Ji and came back. When Sant Chanan Singh came to know of this he tried to dissuade Hudiara Ji from this course of action, but he was adamant Saying, ”I have settled it with Chawan Ji, nothing else can now be done.” According to the plan, Hudiara voted in the assembly against the government on a bill so at it could be brought down, but no one else joined him except his friend S. Hazara Singh Gill. So he failed in this risky move. YB Chawan too did not keep his promise and Hudiara Ji was left in the lurch. He had staked his all, all his life’s work and his prestige in a bid to become the Chief Minister, but failed miserably and could never again regain his former status in the Sikh politics.

S. Harcharan Singh Hudiara those days was so sure about the success of his scheme and becoming the chief minister of the state, that he got a beautiful Jhagga of Do Ghorian Wali Boski made for himself and also a fine Achkan, so that he should not lack a suitable dress at the time of the swearing in ceremony for the chief ministership; but with him it became a cast of “Nahati dhoti reh gai te muh te makhi beh gai.” (all the washing and bathing did not avail and a fly came and sat on the nose).

The Congress leaders played him false. After a few days, in keeping with his teasing and playful nature, Sant Fateh Singh repeated a Punjabi proverb: “Rann adian koochdi mar gai, bankan na jurian.” To sum up the situation, he fired another shot: “Din charhia te jamm pai taro, nattian gharhaian reh gaian.”

After some months, S. Lachhman Singh Gill played a similar trick and unlike Hudiara Ji, he succeeded and his Dhobhi Patra completely floored Gurnam Singh; he became the chief minister; Dr. Jagjit Singh too became the finance minister.

S. Harcharan Singh Hudiara was not only shunted out of the party, he also lost the post of Senior Vice President of the SGPC, which he had held since 2 October 1962. Jathedar Mohan Singh Tur replaced him. When S. Gurcharan Singh Tohra got suspended from the party he formed a rival Akali Dal called the Sarab Hind Akali Dal. Similarly, Hudiara Ji too announced the formation of an Akali Dal; he had the office of his Dal installed in the residence of S. Arjun Singh Budhiraja in front of Gurdwara Baba Atal Ji. He appointed Budhiraja as general secretary of his Akali Dal. The residence was the property of Sri Darbar Sahib and Budhiraja lived there paying a nominal rent. Apart from Budhiraja, some junior Akali leaders including S. Shiv Singh Jhavan, S. Sukhram Singh S. Kernail Singh Nag etc. also joined his Dal. Then he played his Dug-dugi for a few days against Sant Fateh Singh in Morchas and Jalsas. He even got Bhagat Puran Singh Ji to speak against Sant Ji at a Jalsa in front of Chowk Ghantaghar. Now people saw the spectacle of Satyagrahis marching into the Darbar Sahib complex from the outside; so far they had seen only the Satygrahis marching from Darbar Sahib towards the outside. During these unsettled times, one day Hudiara Ji, while addressing an audience at the Chowk Ghantaghar spoke somewhat these words denigrating Sant Ji, “What kind of Sadh is he? He wears a Chola of terraline. Those days wearing a Jhagga-Pajama of terraline was considered the height of fashion. In reply the Sant Ji addressing another Jalsa at Chowk Ghantaghar said, “He is not content with one, but has to wear a Boski of two horses; my poor terra offends him so much!” Needless to say that Sant Ji was a master of repartee. He was adept at turning the very words of a rival against him. Remember that Hudiara Ji those days used to wear a shirt made of Do Ghorian wali Boski, perhaps to make up for the days when he did not wear any. Tuna-Taman

Here by Tuna-Taman I do not mean the ordinary witchcraft or the spell-casting or other such devices. I am going to describe an historical event which has not been able to become a part of recorded history nor is likely to so in future. Many of those who saw it all but forgot it; indeed many who took the part in it have departed this world.

After the 1967 election, people saw that the Congress party had lost its rule in all the states between Amritsar and Kalcatta and other parties had formed governments in them by forming coalitions. In Punjab too Sant Fateh Singh by his political skill had been able to form a coalition of non-congress members with his 23 Akali members as against the Congress 50, with Justice Gurnam Singh as his head. This Front Government, formed on 9th March 1967, was toppled by the Congress in November 1967 and its Education Minister, S. Lchhman Singh Gill grabbed the Chief Ministership. The Congrss Party promised him an outside support. S. Lachhman Singh Gill was able to detatch 17 members of the front to his side which included 3 Congress deserters; there were Tikka Jagtar Singh, S. Shingara Singh and Sri Shiv Chang. These three could not get any ministerial berth because the Congress did not want any of its deserters to be rewarded.

Those days there was great resentment against Congress and Gill among the political elite in the Punjab. They included Virender Kumar Bagi and Sadhu Singh Dard, who composed poems against Gill and read them out from the stage. I still remember a line from a satirical poem of Sadhu Singh Dard: “Galgal Vangun Gilla gall tu gaal ditti”. The Dhadi Jatha of Giani Gurdev Singh Yogi in one of their Vaars sung on a stage at the Takhtupura Maghi Mela likened the renegade Gill to a young calf who had kicked its mother, in this case the Panth, by calling him ‘Lachhu Vehrhika’.

For about three-quarters of a year the Congress kept this government going by an outside support and when it suited the Congress it withdrew the plank of support from under it and it fell on its face. It was then that I knew that there was something called an ‘outside support’ which helped a minority government to survive. After six months of governor’s rule, the elections were scheduled again. I had them estimated that the positions of Congress and Akali Dal will be reversed so far as numbers of seats were concerned, and it turned out to be correct. The Akali rose from 24 to 43 while the Congress came down from 48 to about what the Akalis were in the earlier election. The position of other smaller parties was about the same.

Before giving tickets for the coming election, all Akali candidates were summoned to Sri Akal Takhat so that they could be administered oath that they will not desert the party after winning the election as before. A paper was prepared for each candidate to sign, to the effect that he took an oath in the presence of Sri Akhal Takhat that after becoming an MLA he will remain faithful to Shiromani Akali Dal, and will not desert it to join another party. Reading the paper I pointed out to Sant Chanan Singh Ji that a member could still find a loop hole in this oath and circumvent it by forming another Akali Dal and signing that he was faithful to it. I suggested that it should be added that the member will remain faithful to the Akali Dal headed by Sant Fateh Singh Ji. This suggestion was accepted at once and the necessary changes made in the paper. To explain the need for this oath, Sant Fateh Singh Ji addressed those present there in his gentle but firm voice as follows:

Bhaio, if one of the sons of a mother dies or falls sick, or even if she suspects that there is something wrong with him, she goes to all, does not hesitate to go to any Hakeen, Vaid, doctor or a healer she hears about. From what ever source she can find succour for her sick son she tries. She goes to even witch-doctors as well as to any Sadh, astrologer, Faqir, tombs, cemetries, Dere-daars or others As for me, I have lost all my 17 grown sons (at this everyone laughed heartily). So brothers, I am resorting to this Tuna-Taman so that none of my new sons dies again.

It is a different matter that when one the Sant Ji’s eldest and wisest sons, S. Gurnam Singh, rebelled, he too took 17 members with him. When Indira Gandhi did not oblige him he shamefacedly came back with all his colleagues. After sometime when he again went to the Governor’s house to bring the government down, the 17 accompanied him. Perhaps it was this number 17, which every time became the cause of the Akali’s Satarvin. It may be a co-incidence or something else.

This assembly took place in the open space between Sri Akal Takhat Sahib and the Deodi of Sri Darbar Sahib. One more interesting thing also happened there. In the Chhajja of the Takhat Sahib, the Jathedar of the Takhat Sadhu Singh Bhowra Ji was sitting with some others. After the end of these proceedings he called S. Surinder Singh Kairon. Sardar Kairon went below the Chhajja and raising his heels, listened to what Jathedar Bhawra Ji said in his ear. No one heard what was said there but Sardar Kairon’s face, after a few days said what might have been said. It was that Sardar Kairon’s beard was much longer than it used to be. From this I concluded that the Jathedar must have told Kairon not to trim his beard again. This S. Surinder Singh Kairon was the son of S. Pratap Singh Kairon, who had ruled Punjab with an iron fist for more than eight years, crushing all opposition under his heel. It is my view that had Kairon not stood between the government of India and the Akalis, the Punjabi Suba would have come into existence ten years earlier and the sacrifices the Akalis made would have been far fewer. But the readers might have different views.

With the end of the Gill government, when the elections approached, Sant Chanan Singh with the advice and advice of Jathedar Jivan Singh Umranangal, took Sardar Kairon into the Akali Party. When this news got to the ears of the Akali leaders and workers of the area, they felt as if the ground below their feet had slipped. They came rushing to the Darbar of Sant Channan Singh crying, “We are done for; we have been robbed; Sant Ji, What is it you have done? Our ribs are still paining where his father had us beaten. Why have you brought him into the party?” Some of their name are: S. Major Singh Ubboke, J. Niranjan Singh Patti, Prof. Jagir Singh Varnala, Dr. Bhagwan Singh Bhaggupur et al. Others I do not now remember but this I know that they came to the Akal Takhat in droves. But the greatest surprise of all was that the person who had been wronged most of all by Kairon was not among those who complained. This was Jathedar Mohan Singh Turh. For a number of years he had been bars by Kairon, who had 52 cases registered against him. Despite winning the election in 1962, he had been declared a loser by Kairon, who not only remained the Chief Minister, but had himself declared as the winner. It seems that he must have been taken into confidence by Sant Ji, but when and how I do not now recall. Perhaps I was not present there at the time. Sant Channan Singh was a very astute and far- sighted person. He heard everyone with great patience and if necessary replied in few and calculated words, but only if absolutely necessary; most of the time he just remained silent and did not let his feelings known. He gave a vague reply that he had to keep all aspects in mind, but the complainants were in great passion; they said, “Sant Ji, we are not worried about the hare that has crossed through the field, but the trail he has left. Today you have taken him into the Panth; tomorrow he will ask for a ticket to fight the election, and he is sure to win; then he will not be content to remain a mere MLA; he will want to become a minister, perhaps the Chief Minister; then like his father he would beat our ribs. Our ribs are still paining where his father had us hit.”

Most of their fears proved to be true. Observing such resentment among Akali workers, Sant Channan Singh asked Surinder Singh’s younger brother Gurinder Singh to stand for election in place of his brother, but he declined fearing a rift within their family. S. Surinder Singh Kairon did fight the coming election on an Akali ticket and did win his seat.

Indeed the time came when he did put pressure to get a ministerial berth. On 27 March 1970, S. Parkash Singh Badal replaced Gurnam Singh as the Chief Minister. Akalis lost Gurnam Singh and 17 other members who went out with him. But the eight members of the Jan Sangh stuck to the Akalis, so the government had the required majority. During the summer of that year on the issue of affiliation of colleges of the Jalandhar Division to the Guru Nanak University such intense protests were organised by the Hindu educational institutions that fearing the loss of Hindu voters, the eight Jan Sangh members resigned the government. The two ministers Dr. Baldev Prakash and Sri Balram Ji Das Tandon too left the government. The underlying cause of the Arya Samajist institutions opportion was that one of their greatest leaders was Principal Behl Ji who apart from being a staunch Arya Samaji, was a personal rival of Guru Nanak Dev University’s first and current vice-chancellor S. Bishan Singh Samundari. Principal Behl Ji was from an urban anti-Punjabi Arya Samaji background while S. Bishan Singh Samundari came from a rival peasant and an orthodox Panthak background. Sardar Samundari was the worthy son of the well-known Panthak leader of the Akali movement, Sardar Teja Singh Samundari who instead of signing an agreement that he did not approve of, had sought martyrdom at the Lahore Jail. It was in his memory that the main office of the SGPC is named as the ‘Teja Singh Samundari Hall’, that still reminds of the atrocities of Inidan Government committed in 1984, with its smoke-stained walls, half-burnt doors, windows and ventilators. It is said that they also clashed during the politics involving the Punjab University Chandigarh, where because of the dominance of intense anti-Punjabi and anti-Sikh lobby, Behl Ji usually had the upper hand. Now if all these educational institutions became affilliated to Guru Nanak University, S. Bishan Singh was to be the boss of all this while Behl Ji remained a mere Principal. This was not acceptable to Sri Behl Sahib.

Sardar Surinder Singh Kairon thought this an opportune moment to play his hand. He fled with five other Akali members and hid them no one knew where. These five were: S. Pritam Singh Beekhowali, S. Pratap Singh Kadian, S. Hari Singh Beas, Nawab of Malerkotha and S. Tara Singh Lyallpuri. S Pritam Singh was known as an excessively gentle and quiet personality and had been a member of the SGPC for a long time. When Sant Channan Singh came to know that he too had joined Sardar Kairon, he burst out, “Gentleness is another name of weakness; only so long a person does not get opportunity to do mischief, he is a gentleman; when he get the opportunity, you see his real face.” It is to be remembered that Sant Channan Singh was a man of great patience and an unperturbable nature. I remained in his service for many years. I never found him to express his anger as he did on this occasion. One can see that these words expressed the upper limit of his anger.

All government means were employed to find these missing members; but no one knew where they had disappeared. Sardar Kairon himself remained busy at night to hunt for other members who could be hijacked. This Kairon family had been audacious from the time anyone knew them; about this there was no doubt. On one such night Sardar Kairon visited even the house of a minister, S. Sohan Singh Basi, where Sant Channan Singh Ji used to stay during his visits to Chandigarh. The policemen on guard duty did not dare to stop him from going inside. I was standing on the porch of the Kothi; only when light fell on the departing car near the gate did I recognise him sitting on the front seat. S. Gurcharan Singh Tohra become M.P. for the first time

In the spring of 1969 when a congress member of Rajya Sabha, Dr. Anup Singh died, a seat of the Sabha became vacant for one year. Sant Channan Singh Ji, the then controller of Shiromani Akali Dal, called Sardar Jagdev Singh Talwandi to the house of S. Sohan Singh Bassi at Chandigarh and told him that he should resign his Punjab Assembly seat of Rai Kot and take up the vacant Rajya Sabha seat and become an M.P., so that S. Sohan Singh Bassi could fight the election from Rai Kot and after winning it could remain a minister. Sardar Sohan Singh Bassi had earlier been the member of Lok Sabha from Ferozepur and was personal friend of S. Lachhman Singh Gill. Sant Channan Singh persuaded him to resign from Parliament, which he got elected in 1967 and fight against his friend on Akali ticket. And promised him whether he win or loose, he would be a minister with all the departments which were previously held by Sardar Gill. He obliged and fought against his friend. He lost but as promised made minister accordingly.

In November 1967, S. Lachhman Singh Gill had played Dhobi Patra with S. Gurnam Singh and after toppling his ministry with the Congress help had become the Chief Minister but after some months, as expected, the Congress played the same trick on him and his ministry fell. As a result the Punjab assembly election had to held in March 1969. During these mid-term elections, Akali Dal pitted S. Sohan Singh Basi against Sardar Gill, for the Dharam Kot assembly seat, and as expected Sardar Basi lost the election. Sardar Basi was made a minister in the new government as promised by Sant Channan Singh Ji, but in order to remain a minister he had to become a member of one of the two houses: either the assembly or the council. That was the reason Sant Ji had asked S. Jagdev Singh Talwandi to give up his Rai Kot Assembly seat so that Sardar Basi could fight a bye-election from there. Sant Ji had asked Sardar Talwandi to make this sacrifice because he was his trusted and loyal colleague. But now Sardar Talwandi gave an unexpected response , “I will give up the seat as you ask, but it will be very difficult for Sardar Basi to win it again. I myself have won it with great difficulty in the last election. But I will obey your command. I will give up the seat for Sardar Basi even without the consolation of the Raya Sabha seat.” Before Sant Ji could say something Sardar Talwandi said further, “Why don’t we send Sardar Tohra to the Rajya Sabha. He has been with us long enough. He has never asked anything for himself, but that should not mean that we should give him nothing.” Hearing these words Sant Ji at once said to me “Santokh Singh, go and tell my driver to pick up Tohra from his village.” I obeyed and told the driver, and Sardar Tohra was fetched from his village. As commanded by Sant Ji he filled his papers for The Rajya Sabha seat and was duly elected. It should be noted that only the member of the state legislature vote in this election. Perhaps after Sardar Tohra I was the happiest person seeing him elected as M.P. I said to Sant Ji in happy mood, “low Tohra Ji has become M.P. for seven years.” Sant Ji remained unmoved and made me feel that my estimation was premature. Tohra Ji had been elected to fill up the empty seat for one year and as the term of the Rajya Sabha seat is for six years. I had thought that at the expiry of one year, Sardar Tohra was bound to be re-nominated again and as the Akali legislators had the required majority he would win the seat again for six years. Thus, he will be member for seven years. During the jubilation that followed his election, Sardar Tohra took out two garlands from around his neck and put them one each around the necks of mine and the driver. My heels would not touch the ground. I was so happy; the people had honoured Tohra Ji with currency notes garlands and he had the greatness to honour two humble workers like us! But my guess proved correct even more than I had thought. Since 1969, Tohra Ji was repeatedly won the Rajya Sabha seat and has remained a M.P. In the 1977 general election he defeated the congress candidate Capt. Amrinder Singh from the Patiala Parliamentry constituency and became a member of the Lok Sabha. He has been one of the longest serving members of the Parliament. When last time I saw Sardar Tohra’s name in the Rajya Sabha nominees, I thought that his position and status in the Sikh Panth was much above that of a M.P. I used to treat him of the level of such great Panthak leaders as master Ji and Sant Ji. He should have sent one of his disciples to the Rajya Sabha and remain free to serve the Panth. He should have toured Punjab country side and put new life in the Sikh Panth. He should have been bestowing chairmanships, ministries and presidentships to others, instead of receiving them himself. But it may be that the astute politician that he was, he might have foreseen the coming era, with Sardar Badal having all Sikh institutions under his control and being in a position to pull the ladder from under his feet. The best alternative he saw may have been this position of a M.P. It is a different matter that Sardar Basi was able to save his position of a minister by becoming the member of the Vidhan Parishad, as it was then still in existence. Later C.M. S. Gurnam Singh took the election manifestow of the Akali Dal as an excuse and against the wishes of Akali leaders, had the Vidhan Parishad abolished in a hurry. His aim was to get rid of Jathedar Jiwan Singh Umranangal who was a minster and a Parishad member. He was a confidant of Sant Ji and S. Gurnam considered him to be his political rival. Moreover S. Gurnam Singh wanted to deprive Panthak leaders like Sant Channan Singh and S. Gian Singh Rarewala of the chance to become Parishad’s members and find their way to the state legislature. He sought to remove these challenges to his leadership in the times to come. Another name I found in the list of Akali Candidates for Rajya Sabha was that of the editor of ‘Ajit’. S. Barjinder Singh Hamdard. which I considered odd. In my view Hamdard Sahib should have used his full time and energy to take to ‘Ajit’ to new heights with the party and government support. The membership of the Rajya Sabha was not much an achievement for him. The lack of power and influence from which the Punjabi press, and in particular the Sikh press suffered, could only be made up by the ‘Ajit’ under the leadership of Hamdard Ji. The ‘Ajit’ should widen its readership by its publication of English and Hindi editions. It was fortunate that Hamdard Ji got rid of Rajya Sabha after elected its member. He didn’t even bother to sworn-in. He decided to use his time for the care of ‘Ajit’. Its immediate effect too came to be seen not long afterwards; now the readers can read their beloved ‘Ajit’ on the internet as well. Note: this article was written in 2000, when Sardar Tohra Ji still lived. Punjab Vidhan Prishad at its last gasp. It was during the summer of 1970; as usual when one day I started to enter the Punjab Assembly Hall through the speaker’s door, the guard on duty tried to stop me. This was surprising to me; did not the man recognise me? I scowled at him and went inside. He did not dare to stop me physically. Inside I found the atmosphere somewhat different. On the speaker’s chair instead of S. Darbara Singh I found an elderly looking man with the hair shorn and on the Marshal’s chair to the left instead of the usual Sikh DSP I found a stout offier of DSP rank, also a Hindu gentleman. When I looked down into the hall, there too I found more elderly people, most of then clean-shaven. The whole scene looked barren and colourless. Then I understood why the guard had tried to stop me.

Justice Gurnam Singh had become the Chief Minister a second time. The government consisted of a coalition of Akali Dah and the Jan Sangh. The Akali party was controlled by Sant Channan Singh. He frequently came to Chandigarh and spent most of his time in the Assembly Complex, keeping an eye on the proceedings, so that immediate action could be taken in case any problem arose. Being his PA I used to be with him. The whole staff at the assembly complex knew me; so I could go anywhere. Whenever I had free time I used to go into the hall, sit in the governor’s gallery, and watch the proceedings. It so happened that instead of the assembly session, a session of the Punjab Vidhan Prishad was being held there. It was being presided over by its chairman, Sri DD Puri. It is to be remembered that Prishad Hall of Punjab had been given to the Haryana Assembly, and now the Punjab Vidhan Prishad sessions were held in the assembly hall whenever it became available. The Prishad itself was counting its last days as the Akalis had declared in their election manifesto that they will banish it if elected. Additionally S. Gurnam Singh wanted to remove Jathedar Jivan Singh Umramangal from the ministry, who was a minister only because he was a member of the Prishad. He also wanted to stop the entry of those leaders to the legislature through this route who could challenge his leadership in future. So the Vidhan Prishad was a guest of only a few days more. One could sense the gloom which had descended on the Prishad members by the sad reaction of the chairman to something said by a government member.

It was because the Prishad members were not familiar with face that the security man had stopped me entering through the speaker’s door. Marshal too had been surprised by my presence there but when I carelessly went and sat in one of the chairs in the governor’s gallery he hesitated from saying anything. That day the discussion was on the status of Chandigarh and Bhakhra. The congress member Seth Ram Nath of Jaito was then speaking on this subject. The gist of his speech was that the Prime Minister will decide the matter soon. He said that Chandigarh by right belonged to Punjab and the Pradhan Mantri Jian - Indira Gandhi was the Prime Minister then - will most likely award it to Punjab. It was then that I learnt that a woman could be addressed as Jian. I had not heard the word used before.

Seth Ji was a thorough gentleman and being a congress member was ably defending its leader, the Prime Minister. But it seemed as if no one was interested in the matter. As a minister, the Senior Akali leader, Jathedar Jivan Singh Umaranangal, was also present in the session. Jathedar Ji with his tall frame was an impressive personality. He was a fearless Akali leader and brave in the extreme. He did not believe in ifs and buts; whenever he found an issue to his liking, and if there was any hurdle in its path, he would act like a Beendi bullock and pull it out of the mire. Now pointing his finger towards the Jathedar, Seth Ji said, “Let us give up Umaranangal and get the Bakhranangal” It being a pun on the word ‘Nangal’ Seth Ji expected some laughter, but there was very little of it, if any. A patient who knew his fate and was counting his days cannot be expected to laugh at a joke. I too, soon came out of the governor’s gallery.

After only a few more days the Akalis finished the Punjab Vidha Sabha.

I hear there is now some talk of reviving it again. Trunk call or peg call

In 1969 when the Akali-led government came into being in Punjab for the second time, it was for Sant Channan Singh Ji to save it from the cruel claws of a she-eagle like the Indira Gandhi. Among the measures he took to do it was also a weak one of holding a dinner at the house of some minister so that the MLA could be kept together by this device. Now the MLA Sahiban are not the weak and alms- seeking Sadhs of ordinary Deras that they will eat Shakahari food sitting in a row on spread mats, and sing the lines from the Gurbani and prey at the end of the meal.

From this I remember an incident in 1977. The Akalis of England undertook the great task of celebrating the 400th anniversary of the establishment of the Amritsar City at the Albert Hall in London. They invited some leaders from Punjab to participate in the celebrations. Among them were S. Jagdev Singh Talwandi MP, the president of Shiromani Akali Dal. The others were the President of the SGPC S. Gurcharan Singh Tohra, Secretary of the Dal Giani Amjer Singh, S. Abinashi Singh, Dr. Gurnam Singh Teer, and the minister of co-operative, S. Jaswinder Singh Brar. All of these were invited to the night’s Langar by Bhai Sahib Harbhajan Singh Khalsa Yogi Ji at his London Ashram. First the unwilling guests were made to listen to the kirtan by our Ragi Jatha, led by Bhai Sahib Bhagwant Singh Ji. The Shabad sang by us was “Raj yog takhat dian guru ram dass.” Then they were given the Langar consisting of the western style vegetarian food which they had to eat sitting on the ground in a row on spread mats. The food was flat and tasteless eveen to a man like me. At the end of the meal, S. Jagdev Singh Talwandi, in keeping with his open hearted and tactless manner, said in a ringing and clear voice about the 18th century Sikh warriors, “The 18th century Singhs ate similiar food containing Ghass-Phooss like the one Yogi Ji has given us, but they still managed to thrash their cruel enemies.” The remark hit at the heels but no one including the Yogi Ji had any choice but to laugh at the joke. Talwandi Ji was fond of the lion’s diet. There is one other comment he made to the Yogi Ji, “We do not mind the excessive love you show for the fourth guru, Guru Ram Das Ji, but we are sometimes afraid lest you take out this one of our ten Gurus and leave us only with the nine.” There were reels of laughter at this remark.

Anyway the subject was the dinner dipomacy of the Akaklis. Leaders, minister or MLA are normally from the rich or Sardari families. Their food is also of the Sardari type. Sant Channan Singh used to be the Chief guest such dinners being the party leader, in fact this scheme was his innovation. Sometimes Sant Fateh Singh Ji too used to attend these dinners but not often; in his presence it was difficult to ‘Sharpen the teeth’, in plain language to drink liquor before dinner. Every Gursikh before baptism is enjoined to abandon intoxicants, be it tabacco or alcohol. The application form required to be submitted for becoming the basic member of the Akali Dal had a condition that the member was required to become a baptised Sikh. But here the Mehfil itself was of the Sardars. Sant Ji and the members of train, like me were infact unwanted guests. Therefore, the modus operandi was like this: a member sitting next to or near Sant Ji was told that a trunk call was waiting for him. That member would go inside another room where the supposed trunk call waited. After sharpening his teeth when he came back he would not go near Sant Ji, lest he see the ‘sharpened teeth’. Somehow a news reporter got wind of this thing and he got an article published in his newspaper under the heading: ‘Trunk call or peg call?’

I remember another incident that took place sometime afterwards. On the issue of the affilliation of colleges to the Guru Nanak Dev University, the eight Jan Sangh MLAs resigned from the government. S. Surinder Singh Kairon thought it a convenient time to put pressure on the party chief to have his demands accepted. He fled with his six MLAs and disappeared somewhere.

Thus the government became a minority government and its fall became imminent. It is a different matter that Sant Channan Singh was able to save it for the time being by making a make-shift arrangement with the Union Home Minister Mr YB Chawan through S. Swarn Singh. Before that was done the Sant Ji and the Chief Minister Sardar Badal would start in the early morning and spend the whole day searching for the missing MLAs and return late in the evening. On one such evening, the party leaders were sitting dejected in the house of a leading Akali member, when a servant entered with cold drinks on a tray. The cold drink looked like Coca-Cola but I knew that contained also the Somrass. The host asked Sant Ji to take a cold drink as a mere formality. Sant Ji extended his hand to pick up the drink. The colour from the host’s face disappeared and his helpless eyes looked at me. An idea immediately flashed in my mind like, “Andhe ko Andhere main dur ki sujhi.” (the blind got a fore- sighted idea in the dark). I saved the situation by saying to Sant Ji, “ Baba Ji, this glass has been touched by soiled hands, another glass will be brought for you.” Sant Ji withdrew his hand; the host looked at me with grateful eyes.

Sometimes I think what would have happened had the Sant Ji got to know what the glass contained. I don’t think he would have had the host shot or snatched his leadership away. The respect is only in the eyes. Such respect has been admired in the Gurbani as a ‘Nirmal Bhou’. This is what keeps the fabric of family, society, institution and country together. The Akh Di Sharam is a good way to respect elders. A daughter should have it towards her parents; a daughter-in-law should show it at the house of her in-laws. It is not that if the young do not respect their elders, they would try to harm them in anyway; to respect one’s elders is what keeps a society running and save it from disintegration.

I remember one more thing. We all know that due to the influence of western culture where keeping the head bared is a practise, the Sikh sisters, daughters-in-law, daughters and even some elderly ladies have begun to consider covering their heads with a Leerha as an insult to themselves. I think that the effect of modernisation on the Sikh Bibis has been a bit more than the others.

I went to a Gurdwara Sahib in a city of Australia on the invitation of its management. One fore- noon, a young Sikh doctor took me to his house for lunch according to a previously made programme. His father who was my contemporary in age was also with us. The Doctor Sahib’s wife was perhaps out at work; his mother made the lunch for us with great love and devotion. I saw that while preparing the food, she had not allowed her Leerha to slip from her head even once. It may be that she did not do it otherwise as a daily practise but in my presence she was especially careful about this aspect. If that good and well-mannered lady had not done so, it is not that I would have left their home without eating; this only increased my admiration and respect for that good sister. Seeing that the visitor was a scholar Sikh, she had been especially mindful about her head covering. This was nothing but respect for a guest’s feelings. We go to Guru-Ghar with our head covered. This is out of respect for our lord, our Guru; it is not that if we did not cover our heads, the Maharaj will take us by the wrist and kick us out of his house. When I just missed being a shoe thief

We all know it is common to lose our shoes at the Sikh Diwans. Sometimes the shoes are misplaced while on other occassions someone takes them by mistake, leaving his own. Some Sajjans do the ‘Sewa’ of leaving their old shoes and walking off with someone’s new ones. The old shoes then become the problem of the Gurdwara sevadars to dispose of.

One Gurmat Scholar-Kathakar told such an incident, thus:

One new non-Punjabi Sikh pracharak came out of a Diwan after reciting his Katha. He could not find his shoes. After looking for them here and there for some time, he found the secretary of the Gurdwara. He said to him in a mixture of Punjabi and Hindi, “Eh Skkatri Sahib, mahre joote kahan parhe?” The secretary who had been somewhat displeased with the Pracharak, nay, he had been displeased with all Pracharaks because of his repeated contact with them, said in some irritation, “Bhai Sahib, where you did something deserving of a shoe-beating, the shoes might be lying there. Now how can I tell where you got a shoe-beating?”

Living in the village most of my contempories did not have shoes on their feet because they could not afford them. Being in somewhat better circumstances, I got the shoes but was not habitual of wearing them. For one thing the new shoes of thick leather bruised my heels and for the other I did not like to look different than my companions. The usual dress for us boys those days used to be long Jhagga and a Sutna. Only I got Kashaira and full turban to wear. The turban was usually a thin tattered piece of cloth. Bare feet we would run through the needle sharp grass or a newly cut field of crop while minding the cattle grazing. This was the situation about 50-60 years ago; the boys of the present generation may find it hard to believe. On rare occassions when I wore shoes I would remove them at the first opportunity to do so and forget to bring them home; Dadi Ma Ji then had a good time and gave me a good scolding as a free gift. I remember that once I lost my shoes among the Tibbas of the neighbouring village Nawabpura. A narrow irrigation canal they call a Sooa in the Majha area separated the land of our village from Nawabpura’s land. This sooa also ran through those Tibbas and part them in two groups. This sooa had been dug up during my childhood. While minding cattle, we used to bathe in this sooa. Some of the memories of those days still lie in a corner of my mind. One day I was alone while bathing in the sooa. A crow flew by over my head; it was evening; I got somewhat frightened, wore my Jhagga immediately and rushed back home. At night I realised that in a hurry to leave the vicinity I had left my shoes there. In the morning when I looked for them, I found them lying in the ankle-high Dabh on the banks of the canal.

Those days we boys were not even aware that we did not wear shoes; now by chance if I have to walk from a Gurdwara steps to the door of a car some distance away, it becomes too much and produces a mental resolution not to do something so arduous again.

It happened to me twice. During my travels abroad in April 1990, when I left Birmingham Gurdwara, Sri Guru Har Rai Sahib, to get a bus ride to Southall, I could not find my Gurgabi. I was standing bare-footed on the bus stop when a Gurdwara Prabandhak saw me and asked the reason. He said “There is a mound of abandoned shoes there. Come with me and wear whatever matches your feet.” Though not so taken up with the idea, I followed him to the Gurdwara. I have always had a dislike of wearing someone else’s clothes or shoes. However on this occasion I found a Gurgabi matching my feet; I thought I will buy a new Bata Gurgabi upon reaching Amritsar. It is a different matter that I did not find Gurgabi matching my taste in Amritsar and had to come to Sydney in borrowed ones.; this I threw in the waste bin as soon as I bought a new pair.

I remember another such occasion; it happened somewhat earlier. Whenever I visited the Jatha of the then head of the Damdami Taksal Sant Giani Kartar Singh Khalsa Ji at a Gurdwara where they stayed during their tours, he would especially ask me to deliver an address to the Singh of his Jatha. It was during the peak of the winter season in the end the December 1971 or the beginning of 1972. I came to know that at the Gurdwara Gurdarshan Prakash, Mehta Chowk, the lenter of the Gurdwara Diwan Hall was to be installed and an attendence of Sangat in large numbers was required for the purpose. I went there to do my share of the service. Though not much used to physical work and more to the pen, I spent the day carrying Baltas of cement to the roof of the building along with the Sangat. On completion of the work late in the evening, I went inside a room that had rice-straw spread over its floor. I felt tired and immediately fell asleep on the floor. At night two young Singhs woke me up saying that the Mahapurash had summoned me to the Diwan. Sant Ji had completed the routine Katha of the Suraj Prakash and wanted to hear my lecture. He said, “Santokh Singh, let the Sangat hear the story of the Dehli Gurdwara Morcha from you.” Those days the Akalis had a agitation going at Delhi against the government. The government had used Bibi Nirlep Kaur as a figure head and taken over control of Delhi Gurdwaras. After making a Trust of the pro-government Sikhs, they had installed Bibi Ji’s father-in-law Sardar Bahadur Ranjit Singh as its Chairman. S. Kulwant Singh Virk, an IAS officer, and a famed Punjabi short story writer, had been appointed the Prabandhak of all this set up. As usual the Akalis had got a peacecull Morcha going against such dictatorship of the government. Everyday a Jatha started from Amritsar and travelling to Delhi by train, got its member arrested at the capital. One of my colleagues S. Ajit Singh Maulvi and I had special duty at Delhi in connection with the Morcha. While doing our duty, one day we fell into the hands of the police; I somehow dodged the police and escaped from the police station; Maulvi Ji had spent some days in jail

With the encouragement and blessing of the Sant Ji, my lecture went very well, and its good impression could be read from his face and the words of praise that he spoke. At the end of the Diwan towards late at night when I came out, I found my Gurbabi missing. I looked for it near and far but could not find it. It was a daunting task to walk a distance of over two mile bare footed to my village. Then I thought why not to just wear one of the pair of shoes from those lying there and walk off. But another thought immediately stopped me from doing it; if caught while do so what will the people say; Singhs will think it is the same man who gives big lectures; what will the Sant Ji think about me. I give him such respect and honour but he turned out to be a shoe thief after all. Had I not just delivered that lecture, possibly I could have worn someone else’s shoes and walked off, but my lecture stopped me. It was this that I missed being a shoe thief, by a small margin indeed. I thought it better to walk the two miles bare-footed in extreme cold at night and I did so. I spent the night with Dadi Ma Ji. Had I told Sant Ji about my problem, I am sure he would have managed to either give me a pair of shoes or make some other arrangement for me to go to my village. Student Agitation at Moga.

After reading the recently published article of Dr. Waryam Singh Sandhu ‘Meri Pehli Griftari’ in ‘Seerat.com’, I too have remembered some of the events of that period.

During the beginning autumn season of the year 1972, the press gave wide coverage to news that one cinema hall of Moga owner called the police and it shot down a number of Students. I cannot now recall how many, who were found dead there. Hearing it Sant Fateh Singh Ji too went to Moga and sat in Dharna at the Gurdwara Sri Guru Singh Sabha. The management of Khalsa College Amritsar was usually pro-government; so it was rare for its students to take part in any agitation. My friends Jathedar Darshan Singh Isapur. S. Ajit Singh Maulvi, S. Darshan Singh Majbur thought of doing something to stir them so that they too could be induced to take part in this agitation. According to plan a number of bangles and Chunnis were collected and one morning we went to the first gate of the College on the G.T. Road before its opening time. A Lalari’s old and tattered bench was lying nearby. I was told to stand on it and start a speech. I kept speaking for a long time. The students instead of going inside kept gathering there and listening my speech. The staff including the Principal too stood there. The police reached there in force. Four faces I still remember: the Principal Sahib, Professor Karnail Singh Thind, The D.C. and the S.S.P. Addressing that vast crowd when I said that the female students of Moga have sent these Bangles and Chunnis for you, the Maulvi Ji threw those items towards the students. The students go angry started calling Jaikaras and other slogans. The police got alerted. All this happened out side the gate on G.T. Road. Soon after my speech the Deputy Commissioner spoke to students such words of wisdom in side the gate that the effect of my long speech just melted away. The speech even impressed me and my temper cooled. During his speech the S.S.P. was standing on his side and the police was standing ready for some distance. At that moment I saw that J. Darshan Singh Isapur jumped to speak to students, right after D.C. finished his speech with such passion, that they again became angry and started shouting slogans. The D.C. had said in his speech that the government will give Rs. 50000 each to the next of kin of the students killed at Moga. Jathedar Isapur said in reply, “D.C. Sahib, let me kill your son and I’ll give you R. 50000; will you accept it?” The students got more angry and shouted slogans even lauder against the government. The D.C. and the S.S.P. drifted away from the site, though the police maintained a distant vigil. The police also included the mounted policemen and was ready to meet any situation. We lead the procession of angry students toward the Ghantaghar. The police did not interfere, though some mischievous students pelted stones at them. The angry students broke sign boards of some shops and caused other damage also. I tried to restrain them but without success, It became a free for all. Somehow with the grace of God the procession came to an end in the Ghantaghar Chowk. Despite ample provocation from the students , the police had maintained its calm. I was used to the Akali peaceful Morchas in the 1960, 1961, 1966 and 1971 Morchas. In those Morchas it was the agitators who had faced the police oppression with calm like the Satyagrahis. This was first occasion for me to see the agitators harming others property. At night a meeting of some students took place in room no. 132 of Guru Ram Das Srai, where we used to stay and the next day’s strategy was discussed. One young, tall and impressive looking leader from a leftist party dominate the meeting. He threw light on the means of causing disruption: how to render a railway engine useless, how to derail a train, how to make a fire bomb and use it etc. I was trembling in my heart hearing such dangerous talk and imagining the havoc it would came to the common innocent people. I did no have the nerve even to watch such activities, let alone taking part in them. Once or twice I tried in my humble voice to interrupt him and give my own point of view, but it found no favour with those present there. In my view all that was being discussed there was against the teachings of the Gurbani, the history of Guru Sahibans and the Akali ideology. I thought of walking out of the meeting but thinking that if it all leaked out the suspicion will fall on me; I did not do it sat there keeping quiet. There was another problem for me. I was a Pracharak of The SGPC and to take part in such activities was not proper for me. I was also considered a close confidant of the President of the SGPC. I would cause him embarrassment if a complaint was made to him against me. I did the little I could do in the circumstances. I kept sitting in the meeting keeping quiet but did not go next day to Khalsa College to take part in the agitation. The government during the night had made all arrangements to foil this agitation. Those who went there were at once arrested and taken to jail. A flag march took place in the city. It was thus that I missed the company of Gentlemen like Dr. Waryam Singh Sandhu who graced the jail. At Achal-Batala’s famous Mela I gave a speech about the students agitation. The police got after me, but somehow I successfully evaded it. I also had the opportunity of Attending the Bhog Ceremony at village Charhik for those killed. there. The Akali leaders such as S. Atma Singh and Jathedar Jiwan Singh Umranangal too attended it. I also accompanied J. Darshan Singh Isapur to visit the Arrested students at Mukatsar Jail. Seeing these Jhall-wallalian of mine, the Amritsar D.C. complained against me to Sant Channan Singh Ji the president of the SGPC. He told him that in all such Garhbarh I had taken a leading part. Sant Ji to take me out from all this Garhbarh sent me on duty to Gurdwara Paunta Sahib in Himachal Pradesh on the banks of Jamuna river, for lecture tour on Avtar Gurpurab of Sri Guru Nanak Dev Ji. I was thus able to keep myself away from this so called Inqlabi Jado-Jahid. It was the first and the only occasion for me apart from taking part in the Akali-run Morchas, to take part in such kind of agitation. In March 1973, I left Des for a small country in Africa continent named Malawi. A beautiful/handsome face During my this tour seven African countries, I had gone back to Malawi after twenty years and beside visiting old friends there had also found time to visit seven African countries. Here I stayed at Gurdwara Sahib, with Giani Harjinder Pal Singh Ji Hambrhanwale in the city of Limbe. From here I bought a bus ticket for the Zimbabwean capital Harare. The bus travelled at a leisurely pace and passed through picturesque countryside. The roads were both paved and unpaved with rough surface and potholes. While the bus wound its way through low hills and scrub, an ugly scene caught my eyes. In an open field crowd of men, women and children had gathered. On closer look I saw that a few stout men were tying a cow to a large tree with its neck rope. I also saw two men, one with a spike and the other a hammer, slowly approaching the cow. I could imagine that they were about to slaughter the animal by driving the spike into her head and averted my eyes. Luckily the bus did not stop here and I spared watching from this cruel scene. On the way to Harare the bus was to pass through Mozambique. At the border of this country the bus stopped and the conductor began collecting money from the passengers to pay to the immigration officers at the border. I do not know why this money was necessary. Though I had all my papers in order, when I saw the other passengers paying for it quietly, I too gave the money without asking any question. When travelling in these sort of countries including and Pakistan, I always keep some local currency in my pocket where I can lay my hand quick and pay to the relevant officials. After entering this country, bus was stopped at a town of Mozambique. The name of this town is Tait. I also got off the bus, bought an avocado (a fruit) and ate it. After eating avocado I washed my hand and mouth on which avocado’s parts stuck, I remembered a man I had come across in Malawi, roughly 22 years ago. the man was Sikh, advanced in age but still retaining an impressing figure and a handsome face. I also thought of a large number of children scattered through out the countryside which he had sired through African women, he had kept them as his mistresses, Then I thought that the man must have gone back to his Maker (God) now. A handsome/beautiful face attracts every one but I am especially susceptible to this weakness. Like the creator of the Gurbani Grammer, Principal Sahib Singh Ji, I, from my early childhood, have always been impressed the personality of a Gursikh, who had impressive features, a beautiful full and flowing beard, and a matching turban. I wad found of seeing Nihang Singhs in full dresses. Similarly I am always impressed by a Sikh Bibi with al imposing figure, beautiful face as simple Punjabi dress. If she has a Keski over her head she becomes more respectable to me; but a head covered by a Dupatta is the next best. Principal Sahib Singh Ji had not been impressed by the personality of learned Sikh scholar or a Sant Mahanpursh by Sikh soldiers clad in smart uniforms, with their beards neatly tied in black nets. They impressed him so much that he converted to a Sikh; he was a Hindu by birth. My condition is somewhat different: I was born and brought up in a Sikh family, but apart from my Bhaia Ji and Chacha Jis, majority of our villagers trimmed their beards and had shortened heads. the male members of my extended family were an exception, and for this reason our family was called the ‘Bhai’ family. After I have come to live in Amritsar along side My Bhaia Ji, there were Gursikhs all around, which gave me the inspiration of look like them when I became an adult. Whenever I saw the armed Nihang Singh in their warrior dresses, I was delighted. They too were a common sight at Amritsar. Their skill in Gatka delighted me the most. I too had the desire to look like them and act like them, but lacking the required encouragement, could not fullful it. In the winter the sight of a Gursikh clad in black Atchkin and white Churhidar pajama, and with a full handsome face and flowing beard, was most pleasing sight to me. In the summer a knee-length Kurta and the same length Kachhehra of a Gursikh also impresses me. I too generally used to wear such clothes. I left Amritsar on 7th and reached Malawi on 9th of March, 1973. There in the house of a Gursikh, I saw a photograph of an elderly gentleman in his family album. The man looked impressive with his handsome featured face with a glowing skin and flowing white beard, a matching turban on his head. The clothes were simple and unadorned but matched perfectly with his tall and full frame. He had a folded Chola of the Nishan Sahib over his head and was approaching it with dignity. The new Chola was meant to replace the old one. I was greatly impressed by his bearing and personality and asked the Gursikh, my host, as to who he was. The host told me that the man came from the neighbouring country of Mozambiqe, which at that time had been a Portugese colony. He told me that he came to visit there almost every year on the birth day Gurpurab of Sri Guru Nanak Dev Ji. I waited for the da when I would be able to have his Darshan ie to see this impressive man fact to face but incidently, during my stay there more than years he did not turn up. When I again went to Malawi in November 1975, with my family, we styaed at the home of S. Dalip Singh Litt for a couple of days before moving our own residence. That gentleman was already there as a guest he looked older than what he did in the photograph but still had an impressive personality. He knew no of the three languages: Punjabi, Hindi or English. He kneow only Gujrati and Portugese languages, but was aable to manage with a smattering of Hindi. The reason was that in Mzambique hed had had no dealings with those who spoke Hindi, English or Punjabi. He told me that he had only once gone to Punjab, but finding that his land had already been appropriated by his brothers and he was not treated respectfully, he came back and never went back again. From S. Dalip Singh Singh’s house he shifted to ours and my wife looked after his food, etc. when he stayed with us. His language was very crude. He was the age of my wife’s grand father, but he did not address her as daughter or even by her name; he called her ‘Bhai Ki Lugai’ ie wife of Bhai. We did not like such language but tried to ignore the offence it caused to our ears. We thought that it was due t his imperfect knowledge of the language. But when he one day told me how he lived his life in Africa, I was shocked beyond belief. He said that keeps an african woman to do his house-hold work, but not as a servant; he kept her as a temporary wife so as to avoid paying her wages salary. It and when she became pregnant he would drive her from his house on some pretext and then replace her with another poor and destitute African woman. He said in this way he avoided taking responsibility for her and her child. This ‘practice’ continued through out his life in that country. Hearing such deeds committed by this impressvve looking man, my dream of seeing a perfect Gursikh was shattered. It is not necessary that a handsome/beautiful looking person will be a doer of good deeds. According to Gurbani only those gentlemen are good who do good deeds and have dealings with truthful and pious persons. The Akali-Taksal Tussle Up to the time of Sant Baba Gurbachan Singh Ji Bhindranwale, the Damdami Taksal had been know as Bindranwala Jatha. This Jatha was a nursery where Granthis, Shudh Pathis, Kathakars and Jathedars of the Panth were produced, and it was they who took care of and served the important religious shrines under the jurisdiction of the SGPC. The Taksal claims its origin from the Tenth Guru Ji and Baba Deep Singh Shaheed Ji. I have read in my childhood the account of the life of Sant Baba Sunder Singh Ji, who came a village called Bhinder Kalan: for this reason the Jatha came to be known as Bhindranwale. After him his Dastar was bestowed on Sant Giani Gurbachan Singh Khalsa Ji, who did hot find much favour with prominent members of the Jatha. He therefore propagated the faith touring different parts of the country and only infrequently visited the Bhinder village. At the 300th birth centenary of Sri Guru Gobind Singh Ji, at Takhat Sri Patna Sahib, he formally invested Sant Kartar Singh Ji as his successor, also having it recorded on tape to avoid any future controversy. I also listened that tape in 1968. Many senior members of the Jatha were not happy at this decision but did not succeed in changing the succession. I the summer of 1969, Sant Baba Gurbachan Singh Ji left for his heavenly abode. He was cremated at Kiratpur Sahib and the Bhog ceremony was held at the Bhinder Kalan village. At the Bhog ceremony the Dastar was handed over to a senior and scholarly member of the Jatha, Sant Mohan Singh Ji. At that time the leader of the Panth was Sant Fateh Singh Ji, and the Punjab government, the SGPC, Sri Akal Takhat Sahib, Sri Darbar Sahib etc. were all under his control. His deputy was Sant Channan Singh Ji who took charge of all religious and political affairs. Sant Channan Singh Ji was not happy with Sant Kartar Singh Ji, and it was he who had engineered this move against Sant Kartar Singh Ji. I was in Kashmir at the time and was therefore not with Sant Channan Singh Ji. But what could I have done even if I was there? I was just an insignificant servant of the SGPC. I later heard that the atmosphere at the Bhog ceremony had become so tense that physical violence against Sant Kartar Singh become a strong possibility, but due to the timely and bold stand, taken by the Bidhi Chandie Baba Sohan Singh Ji and his Nihang Jatha, no harm came to Sant Kartar Singh Ji. A young man now told me an account of this interesting episode. Securing that Sant Kartar Singh Ji had been kept detained in a locked room, Baba Sohan Singh first tried to persuade Sant Kartar Singh Ji’s rivals to release him saying that the Dastar rightfully bestowed to Sant Kartar Singh Ji and his safety had been entrusted to him by Sant Gurbachan Singh Ji, but when he found that his arguments cut no ice with Sant Kartar Singh Ji’s tormenters, he took up his Pathani rifle and pointing it towards them and said in his ringing Majhaili voice, “then come, who dares to touch Sant Ji?” Thekedar S. Makhan Singh from Sri Ganganagar, a devotee of Taksal, had his trucks ready to transport Sant Ji to a safe place. Sant Ji invited all Singhs who were willing to go with him, to board the trucks. About half of those present accepted his invitation. But they were not allowed to take their books, clothes and the recorded tapes of Sant Gurbachan Singh Ji with them. The house where Sant Gurbachan Singh Ji had breathed his last at village Mehta village in Amritsar district, had been gifted to the Jatha by its owner. Now Sant Kartar Singh set up Taksal’s headquarters in this village. The two adjoining houses were later purchased by the Jatha and the adjoining pond was filled with sand and levelled. Slowly a large complex with a Gurdwara rose at the place. Its name is ‘Gurdwara Gurdarshan Prakash’. Up to the time of Sant Gurbachan Singh Ji the Jatha had no permanent abode or Dera. It also did not have any fixed funds. Whatever money remained after meeting the daily needs of the Jatha was used to offer Krhah-Prashad at Sri Darbar Sahib or given to the members of the Jatha to visit distant Gurdwaras, such as Sri Hazur Sahib. During lean time, the money was borrowed from prosperous members of the Jatha and when the finacial position of the Jatha improved the money was returned to the lenders, and sometimes the lenders declined to take back their money. Many Singh of the Jatha hold land at their parental villages, therefore the money collected was promptly used for works of Charity. I can quote two such instances: In the summer of 1961, our Ragi Jatha was sent by the SGPC to village Maddoke to do Kirtan at its annual Diwan. Sant Ji’s Jatha was also then there present. After our Kirtan of Asa Di war in the morning, Sant Ji did the Katha of the Mukh-wak. During noon Singh Sahib Giani Kirpal Singh Ji, then Granthi of Sri Darbar Sahib, took me with him for a Darshan of Sant Ji. He told Sant Ji that I was a some of Bhai Gian Singh Ji. Sant Je was delighted to see me. He had great love for Nitnemis and Kirtan-singers clad in Gursikhi dress. He used to say that only those who had gifted pearls in their past life got the opportunity of doing Kirtan of Gurbani in this one. A Mata Ji came during our presence there and bowed her head to Sant Ji presenting a Shawl to him with some money on the top of Shawl. Sant Ji picked it up and gifted me the Shawl and money then and there. I lost that Shawl the same year during my visit to district Kangra. Once when Sant Ji visited Gurdwara Sri Khadur Sahib, a devotee presented him a car. Sant Ji immediately presented that car to Sant Uttam Singh Ji, who was performing there Car-Sewa, saying that he could make a better use of it than he could. After Sant Gurbachan Singh Ji, the far-sighted Sant Kartar Singh Ji maintained harmonious relations with the SGPC and Shiromani Akali Dal, though these institutions had not respected the wishes of his predecessor. He kept visiting the Gurdwaras under the charge of the Committee and also took part in all Panthak activities. When during the 1975 emergency, the Shiromani Akali Dal was running a Morcha from Gurdwara Manji Sahib, Sant Ji organised vast processions throughout the country on the occasion of 300th birth anniversary of Sri Guru Teg Bahadur Ji, and put new spirit in the Sikh Panth. Jatha Bhindran or Damdami Taksal always supported Panth be it a Morcha or an election. The reason is that till now the political or fighting wing of the Panth was/is Shiromani Akali Dal. And since even at the time of baptism a Sikh has to take a pledge to sacrifice his head for the sake of the Panth, there is no question that a Sikh will not vote for the Akali Dal. So this Jatha always stood by the Shiromani Akal Dal and the SGPC. I was told that once Sant Gurbachan Singh Ji had been offered the post of Head Granthi of Sri Darbar Sahib but he had declined preferring to be an independent preacher of the Panth than to be a paid servant. The rift created between the Taksal and the Dal on the issued of Dastar became wider as Sant Channan Singh Ji, the SGPC Chief, had a difference of opinion with Sant Kartar Singh Ji on the issue of Mangla Charan of Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji. During the election of the SGPC in 1960, the Chie o the Jatha Sant Gurbachan Singh Ji had rupported Akali Dal and had extracted a promise from the Panthak supremo Master Tara Singh regarding re-compositon of the Mangla Charan. But after winning the election the Dal Leaders forgot their promise. Five Singhs of the Jatha held a hunger satrike in front of the office SGPC to demand from the Dal leaders that fulfill their promise but the Dal foiled their strike by clever moves. The same evening at Manji Sahib Diwan, Giani Kehar Singh Vairagi, a Jatha opponent ad a Dal supporter ridiculed the Jatha and tried to belittle its members. Despite being an admirer Giani Vairagi Ji’s, I did not like what he ssid, but what could I do? When in 1962 the Akali Dal split into two groups, Sant Gurbachan Singh Ji supported Sant Fateh Singh group, against Master Tara Singh’s group, on the condition that after winning; the Sant Ji will undertake the revision of the Mangla Charan. After the Sant group won control of the SGPC, this revision process was began. The Taksal nominated Sant Kartar Singh Ji to help in this revision. To assist him, Sant Jarnail Singh also accompanied him as his personal assistant. They set up their Dera at the press at Gurdwara Ramsar Sahib. During this work of the revision of Mangla Charan, Sant Channan Singh Ji got displeased with Sant Kartar Singh Ji over some point in their discussions. This small crack in their relations was taken advantage of by one of my friends and was widened into a gulf. That gentleman is a very strong personality. His knowledge of Gurmat, Gurbani and Sikh history, speaking prowess and table-talk I found superior to others. I was and still am impressed by his personality. Unfortunately he had some dispute with Sant Kartar Singh Ji while he was a member of the Jatha, as a result of which he had to leave the Jatha against his will. Rightly or wrongly he blamed Sant Kartar Singh Ji for this. He came to Sant Fateh Singh Ji at Amritsar and gained his confidence while living here. He became a confidant of Sant Channan Singh Ji also. He began to poison his ears against Sant Kartar Singh Ji. Sant Channan Singh Ji got so disenchanted with Sant Kartar Singh Ji that he went to the extent of handing the Chief ship of the Taksal to some one else. It was for this reason that Sant Kartar Singh Ji had to come to village Mehta and set up his Dear here. In this war of succession, the family members of earlier Taksal Chiefs Sant Sunder Singh Ji and Sant Gurbachan Singh Ji, the SGPC, Shiromani Akali Dal, Five Takhats, Sri Darbar Sahib and the Punjab government all ranged themselves against Sant Kartar Singh Ji to take away the Chiefship of this purely religious and Gurmat educational institution from Sant Kartar Singh Ji. The Taksal had no permanent headquarters or any propeerty. Every weapon was employed in this dispute, according to the well-worn saying, “All is fair in love and war.” The party which fought shy of using any weapon it considered unfair became the loser though we keep praising it for using fair means. the Majha-Malwa weapon was also recklessly used in this ‘war’. Despite all this the Sangats recogised Sant Kartar Singh Ji as the rightful successor of Sant Gurbachan Singh Ji. Beginning the Vaisakhi of 1978, the dispute between the Taksal and the Dal assumed dangerous proportions. The Taksal Chief San Jarnail Singh Ji began to consider the Akali Dal lead by Sardar Badal a more deadly enemy than any body else. One of the reasons was that Sant Ji considered the Badal government responsible for the challenge posed by the Nirankari Baba to the Panth and the Nirankari Chief’s escape from Punjab after massacring 13 Singhs at Amritsar. No Nirankari got formally in the pusished by the court for this crime. During the Gurdwara election of 1979, S. Prakash Singh Badal went out of his way to support Jathedar Jiwan Singh Umranangal, and defeat Sant Ji’s candidate Bhai Amrik Singh. As a result the Akalis with Panthak ideology and self-sacrificing natures got pushed aside by new and more opportunistic leaders, who completely forgot the religious importance of Damdami Taksal. From them on the gulf kept widening when the law of the land failed to punish the culprits of 1978 massacre of Sikhs, Sant Ji took his own measures to have them punished. During these circumstances Sant Ji’ two confidants, Bhai Amrik Singh and Baba Thahra Singh were arrested by the Police. Then Sant Ji began a Morcha to have them released from custody of Police. Sant Ji made the headquarters of this Morcha Sri Akal Takhat Sahib. Sant Ji setup his Dera in the complex of Sri Darbar Sahib when the Morcha began on 19 July 1982. The President of the SGPC S. Gurcharan Singh Tohra lent his full support to Sant Ji. this Morcha was going on when on 4 August, the Shiromani Akali Dal started its own Dharam Yudh Morcha. Sant Ji merged his own Morcha with that of the Akalis. During this long Morcha, the Akali Dal led by Sant Harchnad Singh Longowal Ji and the Taksal led by Sant Jarnail Singh Ji, clashed openly at many stages. This is a long and melancholy tale. During this struggle Sardar Tohra played a pro-Taksali role, though for his own political reasons. The following true story may be of interest: Sant Channan Singh Ji the SGPC Chief had had a heart attack and had been admitted at Sri Ganganagar Hospital. Sant Kartar Singh ji went to visit him, accompanied by a few other Singhs. Doctor Baldev Singh Brar allowed only Sant Ji to go inside the room. When Sant Kartar Singh Ji called out Fateh to Sant Channan Singh Ji, he embraced him to his chest and with tears in his eyes said, “Kartar Singh, I have wronged you, if Guru Ji gives me time, I will right that wrong.” “It doesn’t matter Sant Ji, you get better,” said Sant Kartar Singh Ji. The was no one else in the room other than two Sant Jis and me. I did not think of telling this to anyone at the time. So it remained a secret. Some time back I told one of my friends S. Kuldev Singh about it when I visited his home in South Australia. He persuaded me to write about it and I promised to do so but due to my laxy natiure I did not do anything about it. Recently when he came to Sydney and stayed at night with me at my home, he reminded me of my promise and again urged me to write an account of this important event in the Sikh religious history. I met Prof. Satbir Singh thrice Late Prof. Satbir Singh was among the finest of our religious spokesmen who spoke from stage. He was also a professor of history, a successful educationist and an outstanding historian. He was very close to Master Tara Singh Ji in 1950s decade. There was such magic in his speech that the audience sat spell-bound. During the Punjabi Suba agitation of 1960, his speech was a daily feature at Gurdwara Manji Sahib’s Diwan. He would pick up some episode from the Ramayan or Mahabharat and relate it to the current injustice done by the government to the Sikh Panth. The stage secretary those days used to be Jathedar Tirlochan Singh Babbar Majara. Jathedar Jivan Singh Umranangal and Giani Harcharn Singh Hudiara spoke almost daily, while Sant Fateh Singh spoke on few occasions but deep impression on the audience. During all this the Jatha would also march out. I used to climb the Sukhchain tree in front of Manji Sahib to listen to Professor Sahib’s speechs so as to also watch his face during the speech. His books, I not only bought to read myself but would also recommend to others. During the Sant/Master duel of 1962, he supported the Sant group; then during the 1965 SGPC election, got into dispute with Sant Ji about the distribution of tickets, and put up his own candidates for the election; as expected they lost their security deposits and went home; the Professor Sahib went to Yamunanagar as Principal of Guru Nanak Khalsa College. Some times his emissaries used to come to Sant Channan Singh Ji to bring about a reconciliation between The Professor Ji and Panthic Leaders, but Sant Channan Singh put them off with vague assurances as usual Sant Ji’s way of dealing the situations. In January 1973 when S. Gurcharan Singh Tohra became the President of the SGPC, after the death of Sant Channan Singh Ji, Professor Sahib again became active in Panthic activities but these were confined to educational and religious fields. Once he came to the office of the SGPC when Sant Channan Singh Ji was its President. Instead of hearing what he to say, Sant Ji pointed in my direction and asked him to have it noted to me. Perhaps Professor Sahib felt insulted and walked out without meeting me. I was disappointed not because he had considered it below his dignity to talk to me but because I had lost an opportunity to meet such an eminent scholar, whom I idolized. Then I got another opportunity to meet him. A Panthic delegation led by Sant Channan Singh Ji, the SGPC chief, had gone to see the President of India, Dr Zaker Hussain, to invite him to be the chief guest at the 500th birth anniversary of Sri Guru Nanak Dev Ji to be celebrated at Amritsar. Those who made the delegation were: Sant Channan Singh, Giani Bhupinder Singh, S. Narinder Singh Brar Jhindwala MP, and Professor Satbir Singh. Though not a member of the delegation, as I was Sant Ji’s PA. On this important occasion I did not want to be left out. As soon we were called inside, Professor Sahib handed me his hand bag and said, “ Keep it with you and wait here.” He had clearly meant that I was not to go inside the President’s room but was to wait outside. Though I resented this prompting command of his, as I had great respect for him, I quietly took the bag but went inside with the others. I didn’t want to miss this historic meeting. I was deeply impressed by Dr Zakir Hussain’ manners: his education, gentlemanliness, ready answers, humility, dress and personality. We were all served Sharbat, which the President graciously shared with us. At the end of the meeting he himself came to bid us farewell at the door and the door he opened for us himself. Coming out, I would see that Professor Sahib was clearly not pleased with my behavior. I met for the third time in London during winter of 1977. S. Niranjan Singh Sehli of Patiala who was staying with his daughter there and his son-in-law, S. Surjit Singh Vigg was/is a successful businessman. They had been impressed by my lectures and had expressed their admiration for my speaking prowess, which greatly encouraged me. One day they invited me for dinner at their home which I happily accepted. After two days they told me that Prof. Satbir Singh Ji had come to London and if I had no objection, they would like to invite him also. I gave my permission with great pleasure. I thought I would be able to meet the great scholar here in London, something that I had not been able to do at home country. When we gathered at the Sardar Ji’s house for dinner, I tried to catch the Professor Sahib’s eyes so as to call out a Fateh to him, but he avoided all eye contact with me. After the lapse of quite a bit of tie when I at last greeted him with a Fateh, his response was not very encouraging, so I thought it better not to engage him in conversation, though on his pat, he spoke continuously without a break, giving no opportunity to others to break in, as usual behaviour of stage speakers. Admittedly his discourse was not uninteresting or boring and all heard him with rapt attention. So far as his attitude to my presence was concerned, it seemed to say, “Why did you have to invite this duller here?” I sincerely hope that he really did not dislike me and it was all my imagination. I thought it might have been to my advantage to keep quiet. I might have said something which could have reduced respect for me among that family. “ Silence is an ornament of fools” the wise people say. I have to admit that his talk remained largely confined to Sikhism, Gurbani and Sikh history. He stressed on the idea that a Sikh should not miss the ‘Amrit Vela’ to recite the name of Waheguru. He said that if we resolve in our mind to get up early while going to sleep, the nature is sure to wake us up at that hour; but you must get up from bed otherwise if you think that you will get up a little later, you will not be able to do so. This is my own experience also. I come to Australia

Today Australia is not unfamiliar to Punjabis. Countless Punjabi young students come here to study and to settle here permanently. No one should have objection to this; on the contrary we should be happy that our own community is growing in numbers here. On this great world created by God every one is wondering from place to place to seek a better future. During my round the world journey in 1979 when I had come here with my younger brother Sewa Singh, Sikhs were rarely seen in Australia. There was only one Gurdwara here, the Singh Sabha Gurdwara at Reversby, a suburb of Sydney. The Diwan here was held only twice a month and the Langar was served only if any family took the responsibility of its preparation and distribution. Today with Guru’s grace, Sydney alone has eight Gurdwaras and it is hustle and bustle in all of them. This has only become possible because of the arrival of Sikh Sangat here in large numbers. The country of Australia is situated in the Southern Hemisphere between Indonesia and New Zealand. It is nearly two and a half times the land surface of India but a population of only twenty two millions The population is mainly concentrated in 7 coastal cities; the interior is mostly inhabitated. It is said that the original inhabitants of this country came from South Asia about 40,000 years ago. They are called Aboriginals. They are divided into about 300 tribes, speak 250 languages and 700 dialects. Their numbers are estimated to be about 2% of the total population of Australia. They have some special rights not enjoyed by other citizens. Though Australia has been discovered before, only when America under George Washington won freedom from Great Britain, Britain had to find another place to ‘dump’ it’s unwanted citizens. The British knew Australia was New Holland in the 17th Century but the first British ship arrived here only in 1770, commanded by Captain Cook. Then on 26 January 1788, eleven British ships arrived here bring 1500 prisoners. These ships had landed at Sydney harbour. By 1868 about 160,000 prisoners had landed in Australia. The new arivals hunted and chased out the original inhabitants and occupied their hunting grounds. Many of the aboriginals died of diseases brought by the new inhabitants, to which they had no immunity. To find a 100% pure aboriginal now is almost impossible. In the beginning years at the 19th Century, many Soldiers, officers and prisoners obtained land from the government and established farms here. Attracted by this many enterprising people from Britain too came here to do farming. The new settlers occupied the fertile vast lands and built new cities on the coast, pushing the inhabitants into the interior. They had lethal fire arms which the aboriginals could not match. Later gold was found here which attracted herds of new immigrants. Chinese too arrived here in large numbers by boats. After the two world wars many refugees too sought shelter here. Australia at first consisted of six independent colonies, but on 1 January 1901, they joined into a federation called ‘Commonwealth of Australia’ under a new constitution. Now above the state governments there is a federal government with its headquarters in the newly-built city of Canberra. The parliament has two houses. The leader of the majority party in the lower house, like Lok Sabha in India, becomes the Prime Minister. The nominal ruler of the country is the queen of the United Kingdom and it is her picture that graces the currency notes, but she has no direct control of the government. The prime minister sends the name of his chosen candidate for the governorship, and the queen puts her seal and appoints him as the Governor General of Australia. A former president of America Mr. Nikson had called Australia “The land of future” in his book. Some people also call it “The Nation of Throw aways” and “The Country of Gamblers” based on mentality of its inhabitants. The people seldom take the trouble of repairing old machines/automobiles, but buy new ones instead. On the first Tuesday in November every year, there is seldom any citizen of Australia, including me, who does not bet money on race horses, in the horse races that take place in Melbourne. The Labour Government of Gough Whitlam in 1972, along with other works of public welfare, officially abandoned the policy of ‘White Australia’ and opened the way to a multi-racial Australia. As a result, now there are immigrants from more than 200 countries settled in Australia. Because of this fact, Australia is sometimes called a ‘country of migrants’. Since the time, I have come here, I have been trying to find the number of Sikhs, or those speaking Punjabi but have so far been unsuccessful in this. The reason is that in every census, the number of Sikhs or Punjabis is shown to be much less than their actual population. According to my estimation their numbers are in Lakhs, whereas the census show only few thousands. It is now time that I should talk about my coming to Australia: This was in the summer of 1964. I was then at Gurudwara Sri Dukh Nivaran Sahib at Patiala and along with the seva of Kirtan was trying to do further studies. My friend, the Ragi Singh Bhai Karam Singh’s room had a world map hanging from a wall. In keeping with my habit of reading whatever came to my eyes. I started looking the map. My eye immediately caught a large patch of green on which was written: Australia. The words printed on the map were in Hindi, so I was able to read them ( I would not yet read English letters). May be the green colour had attracted me towards this country. I do not know why the white, the dark blue and the dark green colours have been affecting me since my childhood. Another thing that drew my attention towards this part of the earth were geometrical straight lines that divided its states. In other countries, the lines dividing different states or provinces are usually jagged and wavy, but this simple division in Australia had a deep impression on my mind. Whenever I happened to go to Bhai Karam Singh’s room, most of time would be spent in looking at the map and especially the Australia. I remember that the route from Bombay to Sydney was shown by a line with an image of a ship and the words: Bombay to Sydney in Hindi. The matter ended there. When in March 1977, I bid farewell to Malawi, I arranged my return by air as follows: Malawi to Nairobi, Kampala, Cairo, Athens, Rome, Frankfurt, Luxamburg, Paris, Amsterdam, London, New York, Vancouver, Honolulu, Auckland, Sydney, Singapore, Mumbai, Delhi, Amritsar. But due to some reason, I had to stay in London for six seven months when I reached there. During the stay at London, I could also earn the amount already spent in my travels. One day at the Australian High Commission in London, I inquired about visa to Australia. The reason for my visit, I said was to meet interact long time established Sikh farmers in Queensland. They said I could apply for visa, but I returned to Amritsar instead. Then coming back to London, I bought a cheap one way ticket for £64 and on 13 April 1978 landed in New York. To the immigration officers inquired about my returend or further air tickets, I said I had enough cash and when leaving America, I would again buy an air ticket. For about three-quarters of the year, I roamed America and Canada by bus/car from coast to coast. During these travels, I went to the Australian Consulate in San Francisco and inquired about Australian visa. The lady receptionist took my passport inside and after coming out said that I could come the next day with ticket, money and collect my visa. At Los Angeles, Sri Singh Sahib Yogi Harbhajan Singh Khalsa Ji persuaded me to return to Amritsar instead of travelling onward. This too was for a reason. On 25 January 1979, I bought a one-way ticket at Los Angeles for $125 and went to London, and from there I again bought a one-way ticket for £80 and returned to Amritsar. Now I once again made preparations for going abroad for the fourth time. Accompanied by my younger brother Seva Singh, I landed at Bangkok on 29 April 1979. Staying two weeks at Bangkok, we travelled by road through Malaysia, Thailand and arrived in Singapore. It may look strange to readers but when I was still undecided about my travel plans, I had a dream one night that on this my fourth tour abroad, I had come to the Southern Hemisphere and had settled in one of the countries here. When in March 1977, I was making preparation to leave Malawi, a young engineer had looked closely at my palm and had said that I would not be able to settle in any country in the Northern Hemisphere, and would do so only in one in the Southern Hemisphere. At that time I had not paid much attention to what he had said. While starting my journey from Amritsar, I had planned to visit maximum number of countries travelling overseas by land. I wanted to visit Indonesia and go up to its eastern most end, the capital of East Timor, Dilli. From there I had planned to go to Australia and to roam through that country starting from Darwin. For this purpose we applied for Indonesian visa. I got the visa but my brother did not get it. I went by ship to Jakarta to try to Indonesian visa for my brother but did not succeed in getting one. From Jakarta, I went by air to Medan city in Sumatra. There a Sindhi friend whose home I stayed. S. Mohinder Singh took me on a sight-seeing tour of many cities in his van. From Medan, I came back to Penang by plane and from there by bus to Singapore. What the lady at San Francisco Consulate had done with my passport, there in Singapore I came to know while I applied for visa at the Australian High Commission in Singapore. That lady had put a mark in my passport due to which the High Commission had to send inquiries not only to Delhi but also to San Francisco. That mark was SFO 79. Due to this instead of the usual two days, it took 13 days for us to get our visas. Both of us, my brother and I had got two months visa to visit Australia and New Zealand. It was a miracle that whereas my brother could not get an Indonesian visa, he now got visa for Australia and New Zealand. At least, taking a flight of the French, United Airlines, flying through Nomea, we landed at Sydney. After inquiring at the information desk at the airport we went to stay at the youth centre. This was at English Bay, near Kings Cross. Here we had to stay for two nights. From here we were picked up by the Singh Sabha treasurer S. Bwa Singh Jagev who took us to Gurdwara Sri Guru Singh Sabha at Reversby. Here we attended the Akhand Path and Diwan held by Sri Guru Nanak dev Ji’s Prakash Purab. We had two months visitor’s visa. After two months my brother went on to New Zealand, while the Guru Nanak Foundation applied for a permanent visa for me. I had to stay idle here agains my wish without any work for seven months; so I got disenchanted with this place. The two books I read during my stay here further increased my disenchantment. These books were: ‘The Roots’ and ‘The Australian at Risk’. ‘The Roots’ is a famous novel written by an African American and describes the lives of African slaves taken to America. The second book ‘The Australian at Risk’ is a report by commission setup by the State government of Queensland in Australia. This book describes the darker side of life of different communities living in Australia. Therefore I flew to New Zealand from Sydney on 30 May 1980 without any visa. I had twice before obtained New Zealand visa but both times it had expired without my going to New Zealand. The third time the lady at the Consulate refused the visa outright. I was somewhat bolder those days than I am now. So pointing my finger at her in the office, I declared, “I am going to Auckland tomorrow and will stay there for one week. Let us see who stop me.” The lady kept staring at my face in surprise. There was an office of the Qantas Airlines nearby. Going there I asked the lady there to check the time an Indian citizen could stay in New Zealand without a visa. I was told that the time limit was 48 hours, so I booked a ticket for Nandi (Fiji) with one day halt at Auckand. I then departed Sydney and landed at Auckland. An interesting thing happened at Sydney airport. Reading the word ‘departed’ stamped by the immigration official at the airport as ‘deported’, I went back to check. The concerned officer laughed and said that word was indeed ‘departed’. My suspicion was based on two reasons. One was that the letter was faded and the second that I had overstayed the limit of two months allowed by my visa. Anyhow I went to Auckland by air on 30 May. When the immigration authorities at the airport asked about my not having a visa I said that I would depart from Auckland the next day, so I did not need it. After 2-4 days when I went to the airport for going to Fiji, no airline agreed to take me there. One Airline sent my luggage to be loaded in the plane but when they found that I had no onward ticket from Fiji or a visa of any country, they got my luggage back and said they cannot take me. Therefore my stay there extended to ten days, where as I had thought of staying there for 2-4 days. The reason was that if a passenger did not have return ticket for the country which he belongs, the Airlines do not take him because if the country where the passenger lands does not accept them, it has to drop the passenger back from where he was picked at airline’s own cost. My friend, the London resident, famous Bhai Bhagwant Singh had given me this piece of information in London in 1977, but I had so far been roaming the world like a tree bird without any hindrance, so I had not much cared about this fact. Even now I have the same attitude. Now in June 1980 after coming to New Zealand I had realised the importance of what he had said to me. They rightly say: the real taste of Amla and of what a wise man says is realised much later. Auckland resident S. Balwindr Singh nagra took me a Punjabi travel agent. At last the professional efficiency of a Punjabi travel agent Mr. Bajaj allowed me to leave for Fiji. He made a new ticket for me, including the old one in it, as follows: Auckland to Nandi, Nandi to Seattle, and Seattle to Vancouver. He advised that from Seattle I should go to Vancouver by bus. I told him not to worry as I know that part of the world. He asked me $525 for all this. I told S. Balwinddr Singh Nagra Ji give him a cheque for this money and my brother Sewa Singh will pqy you. He did so without any second thought. On 8 June, with the grace of God, I boarded the flight for Fiji. As the plane flew in the wide blue sky, a thought came to me that the dream which I had dreamed at Amritsar in April 1979 had proved to be false: that I was now leaving these two countries of the Southern Hemisphere and was unlikely to get visas for Australi and New Zealand in future, because I had not met the promises made to immigration authorities there and overstayed my visa limit. I had stayed in Australia for seven months and in New Zealand for ten days. After three months I came back to Sydney on a visitor visa for two weeks. Completing the papers, forms, etc. I again had to remain with work for about seven months, the reason for which I had earlier left Australia in disgust. I came back form Fiji on 1 July 1980 again and approed for PR of Australia.At least I got a break in 19 December 1980 when a eight- point permanent stamp was put on my papers, albeit with certain conditions. This too happened when in anger at their office, I said, “I don’t want your immigration. Give me back my passport; I want to go back; my grandmother is ill.” The immigration officer was a gentleman. He went inside and coming out after a few minutes said, handing my duly stamped passport, “This stamp, though I have put it today, will be considered effective from 30 January 1981. Then I set out to find employment, but finding work outside limits of one’s field is very difficult. I left no stone unturned. I went from one factory to another; twice I found work in post office, did bus-conductor’s job for a while, and in railway too. On 28 March 1981, my four member family too joined me here. The elder son Sandeep was six year old, daughter Raveen about four, and the younger daughter Kulbir was just ten months old. The fourth child, son Gurbal was born here in June 1983. I had been carrying some money in traveller cheques since 1977, on the strength of which I used to get visas to various countries. Some money I had saved from my wages here. I was able to get a loan from the government of Rs. 30000. I bought a house for Rs. 50000 for my family to live. Now my family had a roof over their head so one of my worries was over. The loan would get slowly paid back, I thought. Thought at the back of mind was the worry that I had contracted a large loan when the money is calculated in rupees, but I had no other choice at the time. November 9, 1981, was an auspicious day in my life. On that day I got a job in the Westpac Bank, which was then called the Bank of Wales. This job was totally unexpected, and quite outside of my experience, qualifications and social background. This was also outside the Sikh social circle in Australia. This was like a gold mine for me. On this day too, I bought a new house, that too in the most expensive city of Australia, Sydney. All this was beyond my wildest dreams. But though I had got a good bank job, my mind was still restless. I served here for about two and a half years. Though from the financial point of view, my feet had now been firmly established over the Australian soil, from the mental stand point I was still a wanderer. I sometimes joined English classes, sometimes computer ones, and also enrolled sometimes in one university, sometimes at some college. My wife had steady employment for a very long time. Slowly but surely the home loan too got repaid; the children grew up, got educated, and got employed on good jobs. Finding myself free at last from domestic worries, I started roaming the world and scribble articles like these. Residing in Australia, I undertook the risky enterprise of publishing a Punjabi/English newspaper on April 1985. This went on for about six and half years, at first as a weekly for about one and a half year and than as monthly news magazine. But this attempt was premature in time, and due to lack of experience, resourses and financial constraints, this enterprise met its natural death. Three out of four children are now married, employed, living happily in their own homes, by the grace of Satguru. The fourth child Gurbal Singh after obtaining his degree from a university had got a full time permanent job according to his education, but had left the job and went to London, but has now come back after one and ahalf years. He is a restless and a wandering spirit like me. But what ever the God wills! I always try to live according to God’s will. Besides all this, my younger brothers S. Dalbir Singh and S. Harjit Singh are also settled here in Australia with their families. two brotheres and one sister are in Amritsar and feel happy in thier situation. All are happy with God’s blessings. I pray to the Almighty God to keep all of them under his kind care. My Second Visit to Indonesia This was in June 1979 when my younger brother Sewa Singh and I, when we were at Singapore, had applied for visa to Indonesia. It has ever been my endeavour to the maximum of this God’s world with the minimum of expenditure. There fore on my fourth world trip, starting from Amritsar on 29th April 1979. I had resolved to start from the Southern part of South East Asia and slowly work my way to towards the North. We both brothers flew to Bangkok from Delhi and then from there travelling leisurely by bus and train eventually reached Singapore, We applied for Indonesian Visa at its embassy in Singapore. A young official Mr. Wahid received our papers and told us to come and collect our passports and visas the next day. The next day when I went to him at the embassy he handed me my passport with Visa stamp on it and then handing me my brother’s passport without any Visa said to me, “Sewa Singh is Gabbar Singh to Indonesia.” Those days the Hindi movie ‘Sholay’ was very popular and its main villain Gabber Singh had become very well-known. Denial of Visa to Sewa Singh was for the reason that a bad character named Sewa Singh had earlier caused such havoc in Indonesia that the Indonesian officials had become allergic to this name. I got worried that if Sewa Sing failed to get an Indonesian Visa, how then will we manage to get Visas for Australia, America, Canada, England etc. for him. I there fore went by a Russian ship to the Indonesian capital Jakarta so as to try for the Visa through the foreign ministry there. Upon landing at Jakarta sea port, I rang to the President of the Gurdwara. He gave me the address of his shop and told me to come to his shop by taxi. When I reached the shop a clean-shaven gentleman came out. I said to him in English that I wanted to see S. Pritam Singh. He smiled and replied, “I am Pritam Singh, Giani Ji!” I was surprised, because he was so white in colour that it was difficult to imagine that he was a Punjabi. He himself said to me that any one who saw him the first time thought so. That good gentleman paid the taxi fare from is own pocket and after giving me refreshments, set me up in a room of the Gurdwara. The Granthi Ji of this Gurdwara, locates at a suburb of Jakarta, Pasar Baru, was very well-natured and was a recent arrival from Punjab, where he had been Numberdar of his village. He looked frail of health due to some sickness. When I again visited the place in August 1983, with Guru’s grace he had recovered his health so much that I did not recognise him but he did so and met me warmly. On the advice of some knowledgeable friends I gave up trying to get the Visa for my brother and doing some site seeing decided to visit the largest Island of Indonesia, the Sumatra. the capital of Indonesia, Jakarta in situated on Java Island. During my stay at Jakarta at the Gurdwara, I had met a Sindhi gentleman of Medan, the capital of Sumatra Utara province and the largest city of Sumatra Island, had extended me an invitation to visit his home there. His name was Toko Narain Ji. A ship-owner Sikh of Jakarta gave me a free ticket to travel in his ship which was leaving for Medan. When I boarded the ship I found a crowd of students swarming the deck this being the holiday season. It was a small cargo ship, I did not find the atmosphere there very congenial to me. The fish smell caused me a headache. The young boys and girls treated me as novelty and wanted to talk to me, but the language was a barrier, I looked around for a while like a cow isolated from her herd. When the Indonesian captain of the ship came on deck I asked him about my living room. He did not show any consideration to me and pointed to the deck with all these students camping there. I thought for a long while what to do. There were two attractions: a free travel and visit to a number of port cities in route where the ship was to stop for about one week. The ocean islands, jungles and natural landscapes have always been my weekness. Now I was to given opportunity to visit them for free. Also there was the added attraction of living amid lush youth and enchanting beauty of the youngsters. As against this there was the daunting ordeal of living under an open sky on the deck of a stinking vesal even when there was rain or storm. Another problem was the food. This problem I had already experienced during my Singapore-Jakarta sea journey. When I saw condition in the kitchen of the Russian ship, I came back disgruntled. On that journey I just ate the bread I had brought with me. If I had known the conditions on board this ship I certainly would have brought my own food aboard; this rest I could manage. Giving up the benefit of free travel and sight-seeing certainly appeared to me foolish but the difficulties of food and shelter I was to encounter also appeared formidable. So before the ship sailed I bade it Fateh with a heavy heart and disembarked with my meager belongings. I back tracked to the Gurdwara. Later on I came to know that the Captain had on an earlier occasion to deal with another two free travellers who made his life miserable. So he had no love left for the likes of them. “Kitian dulle dian pesh aian ladhi de.” Mistakes of son suffered his mother. So I had to buy an air ticket from the local airline Merpati and I landed at the city of Medan in Sumatra Island. Getting down from the aircraft I headed for the city Gurdwara, in keeping with “the Mullan has only the mosque to run to”, and the Giani the Gurdwara. How I travelled from the airport to the Gurdwara I don’t now remember, but the young Granthi who had been born and brought up on that Island, greeted me warmly. He took me to the President of the Gurdwara, to the office of the school run by him. Before going I had asked the Granthi if it was at all necessary to meet him, and upon hearing his answer in the affirmative, I went with him. During my travels abroad I used to go unhesitatingly to any Gurdwara I found and considering my meeting with the Granthi to be sufficient. I never expressed the wish to meet the management. In the 1970s decade there was not any Gurdwara in the whole Europe continent. Only one Ashram of European Singhs at Amsterdam city of Holland. There were a few only Gurdwaras in England, America and Canada. But ‘thanks’ to Indira Gandhi, now there are Gurdwaras at many places and they are full of bustling devotees. Guru Nanak Patishah’s glory shines everywhere. However I couldn’t drive much inspiration from my meeting with the President. He was man of rich means and had influence in political circles in Indonesia. I was obliged to stay for a couple of days at the Gurdwara. The love and respect the Granthi Ji showed me is worth the mention. After changing clothes I ran to the Indian Consulate to get news of the mother country. I had been cut off from any news for a number of days by then. While going through the bundle of recent ‘Ajit’ editions, I found then the media to be dominated by the danger of something falling from the sky. It was mostly gloomy news. Even the pronouncements of the then Indian prime Minister Mr. Morar Ji Desai were uninspiring, and did not seem to match his stature and the position he held. Such an exalted and great leader should say something inspiring to the people, but in keeping with his dry and rough nature, his pronouncements were also of that nature. Though later with Indira Gandhi’s cunningness, Chowdhry Charan Singh had succeeded in outplaying Mr. Desai and occupying his chair that had not happened just yet. It was clear that the people were filled with dread from this danger from the sky. I had been blissfully unaware of it. Whoever said that ignorance is bliss was fully right; even the great Kabir Bhagat Ji confirms it. After a few days the news came that the space craft had fallen into a desert in Western Australia and no damage had resulted. After four and a half years when I went back to Amritsar, I was told that the danger had indeed raised a world wide alarm and dread. However I attended the Sunday Diwan at the Gurdwara and Sri Narain Ji came to attend Sunday Diwan too. After Diwan, Sri Narain Ji took me to his home along with my belongs. His house was on the upper floor of a huge building, I don’t know which floor. All house hold work including cooking was done by his maid servant because his wife was pregnant. Narain Ji persuaded me stay till the next Sunday. He had an Akhand Path going at another Gurdwara. At the Bhog of this Akhand Path, I gave an address to the Sangat and also performed the Ardas, at which on request from Narain Ji I beseeched the Almighty Waheguru Ji to bless him with a son . I later learnt that Guru Ji indeed had blessed him with a son. During this stay a good gentleman, and nephew of the President of first Gurdwara, took me for sight-seeing to other local towns where he had some business commitments to meet too. During day I roamed the beautiful country side with him and each evening he would drop me at Narain Ji’s house. Sometimes we spent night at other towns if unable to return to Medan. During these travels I spent one night at an hotel on an Island surrounded by a vast natural lake. The lights twinkling all round the hotel and trough water too, was a wonderful sight. At seeing this beautiful constructive power of the nature I burst out, “Subhan Teri Kudrat!” What a wonderful nature! I had an interesting talk with a man after the Diwan. The gentleman was tall and straight and his thinking was also very straight. He was wearing white shirt and pants and a white turban; all died in blue. The beard too was white and tied. His eyes were some what small but he has Surma in them. He looked to me like rural Majhail Singh. He belonged to area of village Jhabal. He told me in the beginning of our talk, “I am a thief and I take opium.” Recounting the main features of this narcotic he said that the pleasure one gets after having opium for the first time is never repeated; and looking for that pleasure again and again one becomes an Amli and can never then give it up. His telling me all this without any enquiry from me looked strange to me. Another such incident took place with me many years after this one which I think I should mention here. It happened at the Singh Sabha Gurdwara in Sydney during the hot month of January. I had gone to the Gurdwara to attend the Sunday Diwan. One gentleman gave a beautiful speech there. He too was wearing a white dress and turban but had a trimmed beard. but his body was a bit smaller that the person in Medan. I went to him after the Diwan as we were standing out side the Langar Hall. He told me that his name was Dharam Singh and he lived in America. After giving me this information he said of his own accord, “I am a Chamar.” I said, “Whah, whah! I know of only two persons who have the courage to say that they are Chamars. One was Bhagat Ravidas Ji and the other one is S. Dharam Singh Ji.” Bhagat Ravidas Ji had said in laud voice, “ Keh Ravidas khlas chamara” Ravidas says he is pure Chamar. Though Guru Sahib Ji had taught us to rise above the caste considerations but thousands of years of influence of the ‘Mannu Simriti’ still binds us. In the Sikh society mostly the not-Jatts try to hide their caste. Perhaps they do it to avoid injustice that the majority in every society try to do to the minority. Though I go by the Guru Ji’s teaching regarding the caste system, I do not like when a Jatt boasts of his caste or a non-Jatt tries to hide it. As it is not good to boast of one’s caste so it is not good to unnecessarily hide it. This gentleman, S. Dharam Singh had come to visit his daughter here. For many days we met and talked to each other. The house of his Daughter Baljit Ji and my own not far apart. After going back to America he sent me some Ambedkari literature. This opened another door of knowledge for me. It answered some questions I had in my mind. Dharam Singh Ji told me that he had been a Patwari during the Kairon rule in Punjab. Kairon had had him suspended 13 times; but each time he had succeeded in being re-instated. At present he was politically aligned with Sri Kanshi Ram’s party and was engaged in activities for the upliftment of the Dalits. I also knew from him that we cannot say word ‘Harijan’; instead we should say ‘Dalits’, He told me that this amendment was made by Indian Parliament long ago. Come again at Medan. I wanted to go by ferry for Penang from Medan but Narain Ji arranged for me to go by air, against my wish. From Penang I again went to Singapore, via Kuala Lumpur by bus. after getting visas for Australia and New Zealand from there, we both went via New Caledonia to Sydney. But my bong-held desire to see all the lands up to the Islands of Bali and East Timor remained unfulfilled. From East Timor I wanted to travel by boat to Darwin in Northern Australia. This city of Darwin was the newest city in the world. A Cyclone at the end of 1974 had completely destroyed it but it was built anew. But all these travel plans came to nothing because my brother could not get the Indonesia visa. But my desire to see this city did not end. During annual leave in August 1983 while doing service in the Bank, in route to Punjab, I took a bus from Sydney and seeing other places on the way reached Darwin. Stopping there for a few days I bought a one way ticket from Indonesian Garuda airlines and landed at Bali. From Bali I went by bus to Jakarta. At Jakarta some young men of Panthic ideology had organised a function for enhancing the glory of the Panth. They persuaded me stay for the function and also to give a speech at it. On completion of the function I travelled by a Japanese plane to Singapore and from there flew to Delhi by a Russian aircraft. From Delhi I went by rail to Amritsar where I reached in the middle if the night and gave a pleasant surprise to my family. The surprise was for the reason that when my younger brother S Harjit Singh went home after bidding me good by at the Sydney bus stand, where I boarded a bus for Brisbane, he wrote a letter to home that he had seen my off on my way to Amritsar. He had not told them that I had boarded a bus and not an aeroplane. The family thought I should be reaching Amritsar in a day or two but when that did not happen they got worried. Those days oppression of the Sikhs was at its peak. Therefore Bhaia Ji met Sant Jarnail Singh Ji and expressed the fear that I may have been nabbed by the police. Those days Sant Ji was greatly feared by the government officials and especially he police. Sant Ji told them to wait for a couple of days more and said that then he will do something; but that did not become necessary because I surfaced before that. It was thus a small innocent mistake of my younger brother which caused so much worry to our family. The conditions in Punjab those days were very bad, Dharamyudh Morcha was going on while Indira Gandhi was making up a conspiracy to attack Sri Darbar Sahib. There was a rift between the Hindus and Sikhs which the Congress not only desired but was actually fomenting it. Some of Some of my old friends were in jails or in hiding and others were busy in their own work. After an absence of five and a half year, who had the time to sit and listen to the talk if a Pardesi? So this visit did not give me much happiness; on the contrary the atmosphere depressed me. During this journey at Guru Nanak Niwas Srai, I met my old friend Bhai Amrik Singh Ji and thanks to Bhaia Ji, I got an opportunity to see and talk to Sant Jarnail Singh Ji. I also saw a sample of Sant Ji’s humourous nature. One important thing which happened to me on this visit was that my illusion of considering Amritsar as my permanent residence disappeared, which I had been nourshing for the last 10-11 years during my wandering in different countries the world. I realised that I had now become a misfit and did not feel comfortable living here. I knew that. I should now begin to consider Sydney as my home and if God kept me in good financial conditions I would be able to visit Guru Ji’s Nagari from time to time and meet friends and relatives. I give thanks to the Almighty Waheguru Ji that he has made it possible. Whenever occasion arises I am able to visit Amritsar. When One is in comfortable condition the occasions are not wanting. The children have now settled down in their own homes and professions, after completing their education. Due to my age I have become eligible for an old age pension also. My Tour of the world in 1990 This so called tour of the world was undertaken without any purpose, without any means and with borrowed money. It was over four years when I had last visited the home country when in March 1990 I thought of doing so and show my face to old friends and relatives. I had no money of my own. The mother of my children had a job and it was her salary which paid the monthly installment of home loan and other expenditures. I had one fiend’s money for safe-keeping. I borrowed 2500 dollars from this amount. I thought this time I will travel around the world through the Southern Hemisphere and tell Bibi Ji (mother) about it and astonish her. She would say ‘how could you do it?” And I would say “but I have done it.” I also thought I would meet again the friends I had made on earlier journeys, “to kill two birds with one stone,” so to say. So I bought a ticket for 2500 dollars with stay at fourteen places and started from Sydney. Members of my household were some what sore at me as they thought it was no wise to travel on borrowed money. When I talked to the travel agent regard Visa of India, he advised me not to apply from Sydney, as rather than get it I could lose my passport. One also had to fill in the dates of arrival and departure which I did not then know precisely. Therefore I thought I would do it from London. From Sydney I travelled to Auckland. Stopping two nights with S. Harjinder Singh Dhillon (Billa Ambrsaria) I boarded the flight to Honolulu. I had hoped to reach there on Saturday and meet the Sikhs living there. The main reason for visiting this place without any specific commitment was that when I was in Patiala in 1965, a member of the Ragi Jatha of the famed Ragi Bhai Bakhshish Singh, Bhai Mohinder Singh (Surma) had said that he had heard in the morning radio news that Mr. Lyndon Johnson, the then President of America, had gone to Honolulu that day. At the same he was laughing jokingly about the strange name of this place. It is actually 5oth state of America situated in the middle of Pacific ocean. None could then tell including me where Honolulu was. I thought I will now show that I has not only him that I had not only found it but had visited there also. When I now landed there, the immigration officer separated me from others and made thorough inquiries about my bone fides. This officer was of mixed American and Japanese blood. He asked me about my work. Those days I was editing a Punjabi newspaper from Sydney named ‘Sikh Smachar.’ He looked closely at copies of the newspaper I handed him. He looked at the dates of publication and also matched the name with the one given in my passport. He also read the English articles published in the newspapers and took a long time to satisfy himself that I was eligible to enter into America in all the respects, though I already got Visa from Sydney before leaving for America. At the completion of his enquiries I expressed my surprise to him, “when in 1978, I had an Indian passport; my beard was black; I did not have my ticket beyond from London to New York; I had no work; I was able enter and leave America and Canada a number of times. I then used to get a multiple Visa whenever I asked for it; no one then asked me anything; why such inquiries now? Now my beard is white; I have an Australian passport; I am the owner/editor of a newspaper; and I have ticket for world travel why all this now?” ”It is a matter of time,” he said and smiled. I picked up my Jhola and walked out. Out side, I tried to ring a few Singhs taking phone numbers from Directory of Phone numbers, but it was Friday instead of a Saturday there. Because from Fiji the date line brought us back one day from Australia. Every body was busy in the respective department meetings of Friday. There weren’t labour class Sikhs living there, only highly qualified working on responsible office jobs. A Fijian ‘Singh’ told me on the phone when I rang him that he could come and pick me up from the airport but when I knew that his house was quite far-away from the airport I declined his offer with thanks. I roamed the Island for a few hours on a bus then come back and took a flight to Los Angeles. When I got down at Los Angeles I looked for the diary containing phone numbers and addresses of acquaintances but could not find it in my bag. It had disappeared like horns from the head of a donkey. These addresses I had noted down during my stay there in 178/79 but I found that the conditions were much different now. I rang up a few numbers from the telephone directory but there was no reply. Then my eye caught a historical name: Singh Binod Dr. This name belonged to Baba Kahn Singh’s father Baba Binod Singh. 10th Guru Ji had dispatched both the father and the son with Baba Banda Singh Bahadur as part of the contingent of twenty five Singhs when guru Ji had sent him to Punjab to punish the cruel Mugal rulers there. Guru Ji had instructed Banda Singh Ji to go by the advice of five Singhs. Two were among those five were on Baba Binod Singh and another his son was Baba Kahn Singh. Baba Binod Singh was also a descendant of Sri Guru Amar Das Ji. I asked him on phone if he could speak Punjabi. He replied in Hindi, “I am not what you think. I am a Fijian Singh, not Punjabi, but tell me what I can do for you?” I told him that he could pick me up from the airport and drop me at some Gurdwara that or the next day. He came to the airport in a few minutes with his wife and a cousin as his house was not far from the airport. At home when they knew that I ate no meat, his mother made Dal Roti for me. After eating we sat down and all five members of the house-hold listened to me talk till early morning, most of it being about the attack of Indian Army upon Sri Darbar Sahib and the present situation in Punjab. They all agreed to my views. Dr. Binod Singh was a specialist doctor in some branch of medicine and his wife was also in a similar profession. The doctor and his wife left early for work and on my request his father dropped me at a Gurdwara in Hollywood. This Gurdwara he had found after extensive inquiries from a Sikh Shop-owner. I set up my Dera at the Gurdwara. That day was Saturday. The management allotted me fifteen minutes in the next day’s Diwan. Next to me was to be Kirtan by Bhai Jaspal Singh Ji Ragi. I had made his acquaintance during my first visit to London in July 1975. He was then serving as a Ragi at Gurdwara Sri Guru Singh Sabha Southall. He was a nephew of the noted Ragi Bhai Dharam Singh Zakhmi and the eldest son of his younger brother Bhai Gursharan Singh Ji. Music and Kirtan he had naturally inherited from his forebears. He also had a desire to learn Vikhian while doing Kirtan. He gave me the honour of asking me about my opinion. I had advised him according to my understanding at the time to read books of Prof. Satbir Singh Ji. I had found during my second visit of London in May, 1977 that he learned something from those books and began to do a little Vikhian. But hearing his Vikhian now I was filled with admiration for his skill. The listeners were fascinated with his Kirtan and Vikhian. The Sangat, as a token of respect was offering money during his Kirtan in huge volume; we call it Shabad-Bhet. After the Diwan, talking to him in my room, I came to know that the management of the Gurdwara paid him $500 to do Kirtan one hour Kirtan at the Sunday Diwan for a month. He gets additional thanks from the management if he exceeded one hour. He and his wife at talking to me for quite some time and then asked me to accompany them to their home, which I had to decline with thanks because I had earlier promised to go to Dr. Arjinder Pal Singh Sekhon’s house. Doctor Sekhon was then a serving colonel of the US Army. We met first time at New York in April 1978. From the Gurdwara next day I went by bus to the airport. My next destination was Houston but the flight to Houston was to depart after a few hours; so I boarded the New York flight via Denver, which was ready to depart. At mid night in Denver when I stood in line for the flight to New York, the girl at the counter could not find my name on the computer and in exasperation asked me, “how did you come here?” “I came on an aeroplane of yours,” was my reply. “But I am not able to find your name in the passenger list,” she said. “That is not my problem,” I told her. In the end she allowed me to board the flight. After some time on the plane, I started to feeling cold. I looked for a blanket but could not find any. I called the hostess but she too could not find a blanket. The previously boarded passengers had appropriate all available blankets. At last the hostess asked me to sit on a rear seat and switched on the heater over my head. I fell into deep sleep. I woke up as the flight was landing at New York. From the airport I took a bus and went to the Gurdwara at Richmond Hill. At this Gurdwara my old well-wisher Giani Gurdip Singh Ji, whom I met first time in London in 1975, was the Head Granthi. My colleague of the Shahid Sikh Missionary College days, Giani Tarlok Singh was also a Granthi there. Both these gentlemen are no more now in this world. After the evening Diwan I kept sitting and listening Katha. Also in the hope of meeting Giani Gurdip Singh Ji; but there formed a long line of those wishing to touch his knees. So I desisted from increasing their numbers and came back to my room without having a word with him. As for his Darshan, I had already got that on the stage during his Katha. The next three days I spent sight-seeing in the city and also did a round of the United Nation. That day there was some special function. The audience at the function were asked a number of questions about the UN. When it came my turn to answer I gave the correct answer as to its year of establishment 1945; but got the month wrong, October instead of September. I also bought a booklet giving information about the UN. One of the pieces of information given in it was it had dropped the word ‘Organisation’ from its name adopting a resolustion and was now only the United Nations, but some how the Punjabi press still sticks to the old name: the United Nations Organisation. During my stay at the Gurdwara I discovered something interesting. One day I visited the room where The Ragi Jatha staying. This Ragi Jatha’s duty to perform Kirtan every day for a week or so in the Gurdwara while some other Ragi Jathas were in line waiting for their turn. This Ragi Jatha was of Bhai Avtar Singh Ji Bombay Wale. I was amazed at the neatness of their room. Usually if you go to a room, where Ragis, Dhadis, Pracharks, Katha Vachics and other religious scholars have stayed, after their departure; the sight would worth a look. You can see dirty dishes with left-overs in them, waste papers, scattered hairs, from in the combing of their head and beards, old dirty clothes Siropas, used phone cards etc. But seeing the cleanness of this room I could not help praising it. The assistant Ragi whose beard was, said, “the first rule for keeping a room neat and clean is to replace a thing where you have taken it from; then the room never becomes untidy.” Hearing this the Mukh Ragi, with a white beard, said, spreading his body on the bed, “this body I had lifted from here in the morning, now I will keep it back here.” Every body laughed at his sense of humour. Going here and thither I did not find the tie to visit Giani Ji at his home. On Saturday evening he himself came to meet me in my room he said in a playful manner, “I thought that now Santokh Singh has become a big man; if he has not come to meet me then I should go and meet him.” When in the same tone I said how I had come back from the Diwan without getting chance to meet him, he said laughing, “Santokh Singha, you have not given up your old habits.” After talking about various things he asked me whether I had talked to S. Pargat Singh, in whose room I was staying during my 1978 visit that place and he is considered my friend, about the next day’s Diwan. He was now stage secretary of the Gurdwara and organising all the programmes for Gurdwara stage. On hearing my reply in the negative he expressed his surprise, “I had thought since you are friends, you would have talked to him about it.” Then he left the room after we talked some more. In the evening Giani Tarlok Singh told me that I was given thirty minutes time in the next day’s Diwan. Fifteen minutes Giani Ji had given from his own time for his Katha and another fifteen minutes were taken from the children’s programme. The readers need not get surprised. At busy Gurdwara Sahiban the programme of Ragis, lecturers etc. are booked years in advance and it is not easy to fit in a visiting speaker. It was like a compliment paid to me by Giani Gurdip Singh Ji. I attended the Sunday Diwan and from applause of the Sangat I could make out that they had given their blessings to me at my speech. On completion of the Diwan a few gentlemen asked me about my next programme. I told them, “I am departing this evening here for visiting another country. I telephoned my friend S. Hardial Singh Johl living in Vancouver that I was going to him by bus and he said “Come.” I took a bus and went to the bus-stand. The bus to Vancouver was to leave after quite some time but when I came to know that it was to reach Vancouver after many days. I changed my mind. I took another bus and went to the airport. Taking a flight from there I landed at London’s Gatwick airport. Getting on and off trains, I went and called Fateh at Southall’s Park Avenue Gurdwara. After paying my respects to Guru Ji I went to the office and among other found the General Secretary S. Beant Singh sitting there. He was delighted to see me and said, “Santokh Singha, I have been thinking of you for a number of days; the situation here is such that we need you.” He set me up in a room of the Gurdwara and after telling about the bathroom and Langar etc., had a basket of apples sent to my room because he had earlier seen me bring four apples from outside. Among others, S. Beant Singh too had become my friend during my first visit to England in 1975. Seeing some of the qualities of Giani Kartar Singh in him, I had named him ‘Vailaiti Giani Kartar Singh’. He had become an admirer of my views and the way of my expressing them in my lectures.. During my second visit to England in 1977, the Akalis had celebrated the birth anniversary of Sri Guru Nanak Dev Ji at the town hall of Ealing. At that time too I had been given thirty minutes for my speech. After the Diwan, S. Sampuran Singh Cheema Advocate had spoken some words of praise about my speech. Hearing these words he said at once, “leave oi Cheema, leave it; if Giani Flana Singh heard this, he will make him lift his tail and force him to leave from here. Let him live in peace in England for a few days.” Those days Sri Guru Singh Sabha Gurdwara Southall was the greatest Panthic stage out side India. Every writ of Amritsar was obeyed here. The rundown and needy Panthic workers like me too got asylum, honour and other help from here. During all Panthic Morchas busfuls of protesters used to go from here and agitating in front of the Indian High Commission made the life of official there miserable. In 1984 when the policies of Hind Sarkar did a naked dance against Sikhs, it became like a day of Purlo for them. Some zealous youth tied saffron colour turbans and shouting, “Sant Jarnail Singh Zindabad, Khalistan Zindabad” and drawn swords in their hands, had started snatching off Gurdwaras from the Akalis. This Gurdwara too fell to them. The management of this Gurdwara had borrowed money from a bank to build new building. The saffron turbaned youngsters took over the Golak and stage and made the blue-turbaned run. The installments to the bank stopped; the debt began to pile up and increased like, “the moustaches overtaking the beard in length.” Then S. Beant Singh brought the empty plot at Park Avenue into shape and started holding Diwans there, so that the Gurdwara received some income and the installments could be paid to the bank. Seeing Sangats gathering there, Dr. Jagjit Singh used to a Ragi Jatha of the Damdami Taksal and occupied this place too. But Beant Singh acting courageously had made Dr. Jagjit Singh to give the occupation of the site and the Sangat came in large numbers here. But the situation was still delicate. There were few scuffles now and then. Even a murder had taken place here. The shock of the murder had brought some sanity to all concerned but there was still a lot of tension. Bhai Pritam Singh, when sitting there for making out receipts of money offerings, would keep a large Japanese sword within reach. In connection with the said murder he had had to eat jail food for a number of days. Beant Singh used to put on a steel helmet under his turban. He had a revolver hanging at his side and his stick had a hidden Kirch in it. Once or twice he had his turban knocked off his head and was given a Chahta. The press had printed a photo of his with his fallen turban and scattered hair. After a few days stay, I went to the Indian High Commission and submitted form and fees to get an Indian Visa. An additional 12 pound had to be paid to get the required information from Sydney by telex. The reason I had given in my form to visit India was that ‘my mother was sick’. One woman clerk looked at another woman and said in Punjabi with a satiric smile, ‘the reason is quite convenient,” She had implied that I had given a bogus reason but mother was really sick and had been staying with her daughter in village Feruman instead of Amritsar. Another surprising thing happened with me here. One gentleman had been among the prominent leaders, at Gurdwara Singh Sabha. He had a beautiful flowing beard. I had made friends with him during my 1975 visit. After Indira’s assassination he had been shown on TV around the world distributing Laddus. This film was shown repeatedly in the world TV network. Now I saw him here in the office of Indian High Commission. After exchanging greetings with me he said I should not tell anyone that he was here. I was surprised at this request as I thought if he was here on visit like me, what he had to fear, but I did what he had told me. Now he is no more in this world and I’m no disclosing his name. At the given time when I went to the High Commission to collect my passport, I was told that there was still no reply from Sydney. After a couple of days I went again, I got the same rely. I went to a high official, a Mr. Tiwari. He politely told me sit in a chair in his office and he called a clerk “why don’t you give visa to Sardar Ji; bring me his papers.” He gave me a cup of tea as a token of respect in the interval the clerk came with the file. He read the file and told, “sorry Sardar Sahib till the reply to our telex doesn’t come from Sydney we cannot give visa.” Coming back from the office I rang my wife in Sydney and told her to contact my friend ‘Flana Singh’ and tell him to request Mr. Sharma Ji in Indian Consulate, whom he had good relationship, to have a reply sent. Next day my wife told me that ‘Flana Singh’ told me that Mr. Sharma had been transferred from here to some other country. I was staying at the home of my friend S. Kuldip Singh Ji. (He is not more now in this world) I thought I should visit some other city till the reply came. The friend’s wife Bibi Sharanjit Kaur arranged to tour of Birmingham on telephone for me. There, at the Gurdwara Sri Guru Har Rai Ji, I gave a series of speeches. It being the auspicious occasion of Vaisakhi, I was called to other Gurdwaras also to give speeches. Sardar Shergill took me to Smethwick Gurdwara where he was the president to recite the Sakhi of Vaisakhi to the Sangat. An event took place in Gurdwara of Sri Guru Har Rai Ji. Three of us were sitting in the room of Bhai Tarlok Singh, the Granthi. Apart from both of us there was another young man in the room. The talk turned to Sant Jarnail Singh Ji On the basis of mu knowledge and judgment happened to comment that Sant Ji will be known for his deeds and not because of his physical presence, that young man burst out in angry voice, “we cut off the head of anyone who says that Sant Ji had become a Shahid; they are all government agents who say he has become Shahid. I assumed a hasty silence to escape being made a ‘Shahid’ by the youth. Thinking that the reply from Sydney would have come by te, I started for the Southall by bus. At the High Commission I got the same reply that there was no reply from Sydney. I came to know that the High Commissioner Sri Kuldip Nayar Ji, who had gone back to India for a visit, had come back. Determined to make one last try, I approached the receptionist and said I wanted to talk to Kuldip Ji. She asked me about appointment. I said no and told her that I was a journalist and recently come from Sydney and I have urgent business with him. She told me to talk to his secretary and contacted him on phone. The secretary too asked me about the appointment; I repeated what I had said to the receptionist. He told me wait a while and the said, “please come up to the office.” Upon going up I found that the waiting room full of those who had appointments, but the secretary took me straight to Sri Nayar. Nayar Ji got up from his chair and shook my hand, and told me to sit in a chair. After our briefly personal and Punjab problems talk, he asked me what he could do for me? I requested him to tell his office to return my passport with or without the visa. After only a few minutes he handed me my passport with the visa, saying “now I have a lot to people waiting to meet me. Please come again then we will have more time to talk.” Next day I went to the office of French airlines office for booking my seat for Paris. When the lady at the counter asked me about my French visa, I replied carelessly, ”I do not need visa for France.” She believed me and booked my seat. When at the Paris airport, I was not allowed to go out without a visa, I knew that I had made a big mistake in the pride of having Australian passport. The hostess of the airlines ran here and there. At last she succeeded to get me a visa for 24 hours. It was that lady‘s innocent mistake who booked my seat to Paris without confirming about my visa for France. According to rules, the airlines had to take me back to London free, if the authorities of Paris denied me visa. All this tension and running here and there exhausted me and it being the night time, I fell asleep on a bench in the waiting hall. After spending the night next day I took flight for the German Lufthansa airline and landed at Frankfurt. After making inquiries at the air port, I went to the Gurdwara Sahib there. I ha earlier visited this city in 1975 and 1977. There was no Sikh permanently living there, let alone a Gurdwara. There are some youths living there on temporary basis or illegally and on both the occasions after staying with them for few days, I used to proceed to my next destination. Now a regular Diwan was being held at a place there. An Akhand Path was in progress at the time in memory of Bhai Tufan Singh Shahid (S. Jagraj Singh). I too marked my attendance at the Bhog for a few minutes. A da before the Bhog an Anand Karaj of a couple took place on Saturday. On this occasion the Dhadi Jatha of Bhai Kewal Singh Pasla from England, performed Anand Karaj and Bhai Satnam Singh Babbar from Germany, spoke on that occasion. To board the plane for my next destination, Rome, I went to the airport, and there met a clean- shaven Sikh Young man who was in utter panic. He narrated his story to me thus: I had a seat booked for Delhi, had even got a boarding pass, and my luggage had been loaded in the plane. There was still time for the flight to depart. I went to sleep on a bench here and did not wake up till my flight had already gone. Not finding me in the plane, they unloaded my luggage fearing something dangerous in it. To find my luggage they had to unload a huge amount of other passengers’ luggage. Upon my waking up, I ran here and there and found out what happened. Now I am trying to get my luggage back and asking the airline people to send me to Delhi on the next flight, but they do not listen to me, accusing me for all the mess and chase me out of their office. Please help me. Hearing his tale I decided to help him. Taking him with me, I went to the Airlines office. It is our misconception that every one in Europe can speak or understand English. They have no love of English and avoid speaking it even if they know the language. Even when they take the trouble to speak it, it is difficult to understand it. With great difficulty I was able to make myself understood and was able to convince them to give back the youth’s luggage and give him a seat in the next flight to Delhi. But before agrying to this the Airlines people had given us good tongue lashing. On the young man’s persuasion I too gave up my idea to go to Rome and instead decided to accompany him on his flight to Delhi. This youth belonged to London, a city in the Canadian province of Ontario. As per his suggestion we were to go from Delhi onwards by rail up to Ludhiana together. On getting down from the plane I had to deal with a thin, dried up immigration officer, who frightened me with a single question. I began to recite the name of Rabb in my mind. He did not ask me any more questions and I walked out remembering my Rabb. I had some one’s golden Karha in my keeping. Apparently the custom officials thought that I had smuggled it and was to make a profit selling it. They expected their share of the profit, but I kept stressing for writing it on my passport. At the end they openly demanded so much money from me but I declined it out rightly. Seeing no other way at last they wrote down it on my passport and let me go without getting anything from me. I had only my shoulder bag ad luggage and did not have to wait long before coming out of the Delhi airport’s immigration and customs formalities. The bag had zip which had stopped working during some time in the way. I had its mouth closed by tying it with my belt. He was coming home after many years and had as much luggage with him as he could carry. There fore after waiting him some time, I decided not to wait for him any more. Then I got cheated by a sweet talk of Sardar Ji cab-driver and missed my but to Amritsar. I rushed to the Delhi Inter-state Bus Terminal and caught a bus for Ludhiana. When the bus stopped at a traffic light near the Ludhiana Railway station as some said,” there is standing the train to Amritsar,” I opened the door and jumped out form the bus and ran to the Railway station. Going to the ticket window I handed the Babu a hundred rupee note for the ticked to Amritsar. the ticket cost 39 rupees and the remainder the Babu handed to me. Without counting the money I rushed to board the train. When I caught my breath a little I found that I had brought the money but forgotten to pick up my ticket from the counter. I looked for a ticket checker or any employee of the railway to tell him about it but could find none. I did not dare to go back to the ticket counter lest I miss the Bhutani. In that sort of fear and worrying circumstances, I landed at Amritsar without a ticket. At the gate I related the whole story to the ticket checker and he asked me forty rupees. Handing him the money when I asked for a receipt, he laughed, “Hee, Hee, Hee.” Thus, I lost Rs. 79 to Railway Babus at both ends of the train After being harassed by the custom and immigration officials at Delhi Airport, I was in succession cheated by a cab-driver and the Railway Babus. I took a rickshaw from the station and started for home. Before Uchapul I got down as was usual to relieve the strain on the rickshaw-puller. While we went up the slope two military vehicles passed us from the opposite direction running in full speed, with horns blowing. They had red lights flashing in front of them and big guns mounted. I asked the rickshewala, where they are going?” He said two bombs exploded at Shiwala Bhaian Just some minutes before; they are running to there.” Oh, they have fired only tow and saved the rest 19,” I said in jest (I had referred to the gun salutes). The poor man looked at my face with puzzled eyes. The fire that had engulfed the whole of Punjab in those days had not yet touched me. It is rightly said that so long as we are unaware of the danger, we are unafraid. Once some one had set fire to newly built building of Baba Amar Singh Ji’s ‘Thath’ at Melbourne. When S. Gian Singh Ji of Melbourne asked me whether it made me afraid because I was staying very close to that place alone in those days, I replied, “When I do not know that there is something to be feared, how will I feel the fear?” The English men say, “Ignorance is blessing.” On 29 April, 1990, at midnight I knocked the door of our house near Sri Guru Ram Das S.S. School. For a long time the door did not opened. After some time my younger brother, S. Sewa Singh, whose face clearly showed the sign of fear, opened the door and I entered the house. The excitement I had expected on the arrival of some body coming from overseas, after more than four years, did not materialise on the faces of family members. Next day I went to my sister’s village Pheruman to meet my Bibi Ji. When I told Bibi Ji ( my mother) of my just concluded world tour, she told me of the prophecy made by the Granthi Ji at her village Uddoke that I would one day roam the world when he one evening came to their house for his routine collecting Roties and saw me sleeping on a charpoy at my very young age. During my stay at Amritsar, the main heading of newspapers one day was that a bomb had exploded in the train going from Amritsar to Delhi. After a couple of days it was that a bomb had exploded inside a bus standing at bus stand and three buses had been destroyed in the process. Another day there was stampede of passengers inside a train when the presence of bomb was suspected in a compartment and many passengers had got injured. Such news were a daily feature of the newspapers. One surprising piece of news was that a car coming from Chandigarh towards Amritsar was hit by a truck, going in the opposite direction some where near Raya town. The car had overturned and pushed off the road with the same truck towards a ditch. A police S.P. was reported to be inside the car. This S.P. had been in-charge of operations against the ‘extremists’ and his main job was to kill unwanted Sikh youngsters in false encounters. The in-charge of such operations were usually the anti-Sikhs officers. The men at the truck had got down from the truck and ensuring that the S.P. had indeed been killed. They didn’t harm other passengers of the car. After that they quietly went to their own way. In that sort of two types heat: one by season and another by the atmosphere of Punjab, I spent three weeks in Amritsar. The relatives I visited were all restrained in their talk; there was no openness. I did not understand why all this was taking place in Punjab! The tension between India and Pakistan was at its peak. It occurred to me that if fighting erupted on the border, the police will get the chance search and of search and harrass people travelling by and rail to Delhi; and I would be a prime candidate for such treatment, with a foreign passport on my person and roaming in Punjab. I therefore thought it advisable to leave Amritsar immediately. I did not dare even to say a good bye to Bibi Ji at Pheruman village, due to this hurry and worry situation. This was to be my last meeting with her, because before my next visit she was dead I could not attend even her funeral. I made up my mind to leave for Delhi by train as soon as possible. I decided to catch train on Friday morning. My friend S. Kuljit Singh tried to persuade me to catch evening train of that day so as he could help me in boarding the plane from Delhi. For very important reason he could not accompany me by the morning train. But I left by the morning train, and by noon reached Gurdwara Sri Rakab Ganj Sahib’s Gurmat Vidiala to stay for the night with Principal Dial Singh Ji. The next morning I left for the airport very early though my plane’s time was late afternoon because I wanted to complete all my formalities at the airport well in time. The most of the officials at the airport were very arrogant and rude. After completing other formalities well in time, I stood in queue at the immigration counter. I saw that the officer at the counter who put stamps on the passports first looked at the police constable on duty and stamped the passports only at his nod. This was signal to the officer that the demanded bribe had been received. The young man ahead of me had not paid it so the officer harassed him by making him to remove his turban and then matching the photograph in the passport with his face. this went on for quite a long time. Perhaps the young man knew about the bribe but was trying to ignore hints from the official. The all at last the officer stamped his passport, left his seat and disappeared somewhere. I couldn’t find out if that young man paid something or not. The next turn was mine. When I saw the chances of his returning to his seat were dim, I went and stood in another queue. When My turn came I handed mu passport to the officer. He said arrogantly, “why did you leave that queue?” I replied in all humility that the officer had left his seat and didn’t come back to his seat, so I had to go to his queue.” He left his seat and went in search of missing officer, bringing him back after sometime to his seat. I went back to the previous queue and the officer told me to show my passport to him. When I did that he asked me very very arrogantly two questions repeatedly while shuffling the pages of my passport, then stamped my passport and handed back to me. I think he left his seat because he thought he wont be able to get any bribe from me. I breathed easier now, went in side, and did some window shopping, as I had plenty of time at my disposal. I felt I now did not have to fear the rulers Hind, though it was only a false sense of security as I shall presently relate an incident to prove it. But the rest of the progress on my journey was uneventful and I reached Sydney via Singapore. A few days after I reached Sydney there was news of a young Sikh of England, who boarded a flight from the Delhi airport go to London. After the plane took off and flying in the sky, the authorities got some information and recalled the plane back to Delhi. On landing the plane, the young man was made to disembark and the plane flew off again without him. His relatives had already gone back to Punjab after seeing him off at the airport. I do not know what happened to him after that. From this news I realised that the sense of security that I had felt after crossing the immigration line in Delhi was false. So long as the aeroplane does not go beyond the reach of Indian authorities, one is never safe. When I again went to Amritsar on October 9, 1994, I learned about the cause of indifference shown by my family during my earlier visit. My sister Satwant Kaur told me some what like this: Bhau, when last time you came here we were dumb with fear. We thought we had no other choice but to continue living in this hell. But did the Bhau have to come and jump into this inferno! Those days it rained fire here. During the day it was men clad in police uniforms who came to beat and loot the people; at night it was the turn of those clad in Cholas. No one’s life, property or honour were safe. On one pretext or another they had made the lives of well to do Sikhs in the villages a hell. they were everywhere. One could not distinguish between the policemen and the robbers. To give extremists a bad name, the government had introduced hired thugs into their ranks and they looted the people in their names. We had burnt your letters, photos and all other signs to hide the fact that we had some one living abroad. Those out for loot, with or without a uniform, think that such families have sufficient money for them to loot. (February 2010) To See The Swans Swim According to Gurbani, “In vain did herons try to copy the styles of swans seeing them gracefully swimming in a lake. So was the case with me. Seeing others going abroad and settling there – which appeared easy to me. I too nourished a strong desire to emulate them. I was like this: I was at Patiala after being transferred from Jind in the May of 1964. I had in mind to undertake further academic studies. Pandit Jawahar Lal Nehru died on 27 May 1964. The meeting to mourn his death had been arranged at the edge of the lake on the Mall Road, near the statue of Gandhi. Bhai Jodh Singh Ji, the vice-Chancellor, spoke at the meeting. At night Sardar Kairon spoke from All Indian Radio Jalandhar and said. “The flame of my life is extinguished” which became literally true after few days. This Hindi Film ‘Sangam’ was very popular those days. A part of the story took place in a foreign city where all travel was by boat on the waterways. That linked different parts of the city. Beautiful scenes from the mountainous country of Switzerland were also shown in the film. An idea occurred to my mind: why not to go and actually see those places? But I had no money. My salary was barely enough to pay the Dhabas and Halwais. The question was: how to finance the try abroad? I also did not have any one abroad, with whose help I too could g there. Then I read an advertisement in a newspaper which asked for a Granthi Singh with the following qualifications: 1. Should be able recite Gurbani form Sri Guru Granth Sahib and teach others to do it. 2. Should be able read, write and speak Punjabi, Hindi and English. 3. Should be able to do Kirtan and also teach others. 4. Should be able to do Katha and Vikhian in all three languages. 5. Should be above 40 years of age. 6. Should be married. 7. Should be Giani pass from a University. and there were some other such qualifications in addition to these. I thought this was the only way for me to go abroad. T so some such job abroad, save money and then to go on a world tour. Now I set about acquiring these qualifications. The could be attained only with time, s I was then only 20 or 21 years old. As far as marriage was concerned, it wasn’t a problem. I was ready as soon as I read the advertisement. The only thing was to find a girl. So along the preparation for the Giani examination , I also began to learn English. to practice public speaking, I took over the duties of Stage Secretary of the Students Council. The Kirtan I could not only do but according to some could teach it to others too. A couple of women of respectable families of Patiala then came learn it from me. Between 1964 and 1972 I was busty acquiring these qualification, along side my job, and was successful to some extent. In 1967, then was a rush to go to Canada. Visa to that country was not then necessary and after going the and finding a job, and application for a permanent residency was made. The case would go on for more that five years, after which it was legally possible to get a citizenship. So anyone who went to Canada returned only after five years. If he was married his wife had work at the home of her in- laws for five years; if he was not married already, then he got married and take his wife to Canada. The story of Bapu Arjan Singh Kamalpura throws further light on immigration to Canada/America which he related as follows when I was stay with him in his home, in 1978: We four, myself, and there others, S. Partap Singh Kairon, S. Kirpa Singh, and Dr Anup Singh came to California for study. After working in fields for some time we thought of working in car manufacturing factory at Detroit City, close to Canada border. S. Kirpa Singh had found employment as Granthi in Stockton Gurdwara, and we three drifted to Detroit to find work. We went to a car factory to find work, but a Hindu who was on a senior position there, did not allow us to find a foot hold there. They turned us down saying we could not work there with our beards and turbans. We fought a court case and winning it were given jobs in the factory. Dr. Anup Singh and Sardar Kairon went back after studies and eventually became an M.P. and Chief Minister respectively I remained here. I spent 30 years in America without gaining a citizenship. I had to hide from the law enforcement agencies and find casual work here and there. When John Kennedy became the President of America in 1960, he gave us amnesty to all illegal immigrants, including me. I was only then I could go to visit my family in India. It was after 30 years. I had left my wife, and a son and a daughter behind when I came to America. On return I found that my children had become parents of children by then. My wife did not come with me to America but I was able to get immigration for my son and daughter, bring them to America so that their children could later join us. My village Kamalpura is near Tarn Taran and I go visit it every year. One day I went to the office of a travel agent in first floor of the Hall Bazar Amritsar. Upon my asking, “How can I go to Canada?” He replied. “ Bering such and such money amount for the air ticket; I will send you there.” In reply to my next question. “What about a job there?” he said, “that you will have to find yourself.” That gave me food for thought: suppose some how I manage money for the air ticket by borrowing and catch the flight and abroad, when I get down from it, where will I go? What will I eat? Where will I sleep? How will I find a job? Pondering these questions in my mind I walked out from the office and came down. If the agent had not spoken the truth and said, “don’t worry; my man will be at the airport to receive you with a car; he will take you in his care and arrange your boarding and a job,” it is possible that I would have gone to Canada in 1967. If I had a friend abroad, who said, “Come, I will manage everything for you,” I would have run to him. Those days when Jathedar Trilochan Singh Ji of Babbar Majara’s friend, Giani Budh Singh Dhahan came to Amritsar to meet Jathedar Ji before going to Canada, I too had met him. My heart had cried out in pain seeing the Giani Ji, going to Canada. At last my long hold desire saw its fulfillment when I received as offer from the Sikh Association in a small country of Africa, Malawi. They had offered me a job of Granthi/teacher on a work permit o two years. I started from Amritsar on 7 March 1973 and I reached there on 9 March. Since then I have been on the move to various parts of the earth. My mind resided at home in Punjab, while the body travels and resides abroad. It is as the Gurbani says, “Dubidha mein dono gae maia mili na Ram.” (The two minded man caused the loss of both: wealth and, the Good” The desire had arisen in the summer of 1964 after seeing the film ‘Sangam’ to se Switzerland and the city over water, found its fulfillment in the summer of 2004 when, beginning with the polar circle in the North, where the day and night both last six months each to Barcelona in Spain, my feet travelled that part of the globe. This also included the fertile green belt containing Sweden, Denmark and the land right up to the German city of Hamburg which, unbidden, had appeared in my dreams. Though Switzerland is well-known, no one seemed to know where Vince was. The reason was that the city is known by the name Venetia in Europe, where as I had been asking for Venice. At last I found and saw it one day, the city of boats. Wandering through the city the whole day, I became tired by the evening and instead of spending the night at some expensive hotel , I caught a train and spent the night with a known person in another city. After few days a friend took me to Venice again and I saw it again. During my European tour of 2008, I got more time to enjoy the beauty of Switzerland. I visited the Dabbo Zoo Since my early childhood I have always been found of domestic animals such as buffaloes cows, dogs cats, cocks etc. Now when I am nearing to grave my fondness for animals has increased instead of decreasing. My fondness remained a mere fondness only because lacking of family support, encouragement and means I could never give it any practical expression. I remain content seeing them from a distance. The sight of wild animals and birds roaming in their God-given natural surroundings fascinates me. I am delighted to see natural sights: rives, seas, jungles, bushes, green crops, lakes, water falls, wetlands, canals, etc. Perhaps I was a wild animal in my past life. No doubt those with a scientific bent of mind could consider this idea as a superstition (not necessary as their hearts). I am neither scholar nor a scientist, but whichever city or country I visit, I go the zoo if there is any, after visiting the Gurdwara and the library. While sitting idle one day, I thought why not to visit the largest Zoo in the Southern Hemisphere at Dabbo. Some friends who came to know of my ‘plan’ remarked in jest, “ Be careful lest they keep you there.” One Bibi spread a rumor in Sydney, “Giani Ji has got a job at Dabbo Zoo.” Now hear about the train by which I was to travel to Dabbo. A kind friend got me a first class pass for the journey. After booking the seat when I went to No. 1 compartment. The set up was so superb that I thought the seat could not be mine, “Such ugly mouth, and a Dal of lentils!” I thought. It was not that I had not travelled in first class before; I had not found much difference between the first class and the economy class, but here it was a totally new picture, a cup board to hand clothes, and attached bathroom and much else. After a few rounds of the train to find an officer to whom I could tell m predicament, and not finding any one, I came back and sat on my seat thinking that if any one came and told me that I was sitting on the wrong seat, I would ask his pardon and request him to tell me about my real seat. But nothing of this happened. After many years a friend told me that that No. 1 bogy of the first class indeed had all those comforts. During my journey, a lady with her infant boarded the same compartment, so make more comfort for them, I went to another similar compartment. On reaching Dabbo, against my nature, I had to spend the night in a hotel room. The season was summer; there was no fan in the room; nor I could find any window apposite to the door to allow the winds to cross and cool the room. A window was there but on the same side as the door. according to my habit, I closed the door and slept. The information regarding how to reach the Zoo, I had gathered before going to sleep. Getting up early and completing my morning ablutions I came to the road leading to the Zoo and started walking. I saw a but stop but continued walking thinking that I will take the bus from the next stop, but by then I reached the Zoo gate. I was early: there still was time for the Zoo to open, but after waiting only for a short while, the Zoo officials allowed me to enter the Zoo. I decided to hire a bicycle which cost $10to roam inside the Zoo; the Zoo covered a vast area, which made it difficult to cover it o foot. From the Cycle-stand I picked a cycle that had quite a high seat, thinking that my height was more that an ordinary man. Where as I have an illusion that I was inferior to others in education and mental powers, I also have and illusion that I am taller than some ordinary individuals. Why it is so, I do not understand. Now hear about the cycle: Its handle is some-what different from that of the Indian bicycle. It is like the horns of a bull turned outwards. My suspicion that k that it was somewhat taller proved true, but, but in instead of rectifying that mistake. I jumped on the bicycle and started riding it. The lane pointed down slope; the cycle reeled without paddling and began to speed down slope like and unwieldy horse. The only thing was how to stop it. the brakes were not where they should have been; on the handle. From this I remember another incident that took place in 1963. On that occasion I rode a horse at Dhamdhan Sahib (Haryana). The horse has no seat on its back. When it began to gallop I did not know how to stop it. My began to toss up and down as the horse ran; my buttock hurt; before the horse could throw me down, In jumped and landed on the ground. The onlookers thought that the horse had thrown me over and ran to pick me up. When the horse saw that the rider had fallen down, it stopped on its own; I ran and caught its bridle. What happened to a Nihang Singh on one such occasion may be of interest to readers: A Nihang Singh too rode a bare-backed horse and was as louse a horse rider as I. With each leap of the horse, he Singh Ji drifted backwards and at last fell down the horse’s hind quarters. When some one said to him, “A warrior and born rider like you has also fallen down from the horse!” The Nihang Singh answered with elan, “It was not Foujan that fell, but the horse’s back that fell short.” Now let us come back the bicycle: I looked every where but could not find the brakes. Every second the cycle increased its velocity. I began to run out if ideas how to stop it. I even thought of running it into a bush to stop it. As a small boy when, In his absence, I took out Chacha Ji’s bicycle to ride it with one foot placed on the paddle through its frame, I used to stop it by hitting it against a cart or a drum. Now I could find no such object to stop it. Then it occurred to me that the Australia bi cycles have their paddles as brakes. When I drove the paddles in the reverse direction the cycle Ji Maharaj stopped. I breathed a sigh of relief – I thought, “Har Har Ganga . Kahnu lia panga.” Now relaxed, I began to enjoy the sight of God’s bounty, but hen a naughty hippo pointed his hind quarters towards me and squirted a jet of urine at my head. I narrowly missed a head bath. At last the tour made me tired and I decided to give Zoo a good bye. Trying to find a short cut to railway station, I came to green bank of a stream. Walking along the bank, I found my way back to the station. On the way another good thing happened. My eye caught a sign boards on the front of a restaurant which had the words, “Darbar Indian Restaurant”. Eagerly, I went inside. There I entered and found some Punjabi boys who received me with warmth. I sat and we talked. They asked for lunch but I only accepted a cup of tea. They told me they knew mw and ‘Raula-Rappa’ also. I said, “ Oh kehrhi gali jithe bhago nahi khali.” They offered me to stay with them for a few days in that city but I thanked them and said I was returning back to Sydney that night by train. I also said, “ If had known you people are here, I had no need to stay at the hotel. Here I could have stayed with you and filled your head with my gossips; but let it wait for another time; this time you have escaped hearing the pearls of my ‘Gian’. On return to Sydney, a good friend asked me, “Did no one retain you there?” there was a ‘no vacancy’ sign-board hanging there,” I replied. Knowledge of Domestic staff More than the leaders their domestic staff: the servants, secretaries, aids, cooks, drivers, gunmen and Garhawais know more about the day to day historical events taking place before their eyes. It is a different matter that they do not take the trouble of recording them on paper in order to be so called the learned. This way be due to their lack of education, lack of means, lack of time or just because they think it a futile exercise. The BBC documentries Yes, Minister and Yes, Prime Minister amply demonstrate this fact, though in a funny way. A few years back, Father Desmond Tutu, the Archbishop of South Africa, who has been active in bringing an all round development of his country, was to come to lecture at Sydney. Watching a part of this news on TV I tried to find the time and venue of his lecture. After making enquiries at many places, I was at last able to get the information that hi lectured will at Seymour hall, but I found that by then all the tickets had been sold. I decided to go under any circumstances. With great difficulty I was at last successful in obtaining a 25 dollar ticket from a person who couldn’t attend that lecture, but had to stand in the gallery like many others as all the available seats had been occupied. But got my heart’s desire, to listen to this great man’s lecture. Before going to actual subject matter of his lecture, he told a joke at which there was great laughter form the audience. The joke was some what as follows: Just like me, he began, a great scholar embarked on a world tour to read out his research paper. After a number of readings at different places, his driver just memorised the contents of the paper by repeatedly listening to it, as he always sat behind the stage on a chair. One day the scholar was somewhat unwell he told the driver that he may not be able to deliver the lecture that day. “Don’t worry Sahib Ji, I will do it”, the driver told him. “But will you be able to read it?” the scholar reminded him. “Do not worry sahib, I will speak it aloud”, the driver reassured his master. The professor was greatly astonished but he did what the driver told him. They changed places: the driver wore the Professor’s gown and went on stage, while the Professor sat back stage on the driver’s chair wearing his cap. The driver successfully delivered the lecture and drew great applause from the audience, because he was young and energetic moreover he spoke the lecture by heart instead of reading from the papers. Thus it became more forceful than Professor’s reading from the papers. Now came the time to answer questions from the audience. Some one got up and shot a question at the speaker, who said, “what a simple question; even my driver can answer it,” saying this he signed the Professor to come on stage and quietly went and sat on his chair. The professor answered the questions from the audience and session went on beautifully. The point of the joke was that even a less learned person knows a great deal if he sees or listens to what is going on repeatedly. It should serve as a object lesson from the leaders. They should be careful about what they speak in the presence of their servants or assistants. They are not all dullards. They see and understand a lot. Sometimes the solution of a problem is more obvious to the servants than their masters; but they do not speak out. Their eyes, ears and understanding are not guaranteed to be inferior to their masters. On the contrary, by serving a number of different masters and without being responsible for the consequences of any action they are more clear-sighted. They are capable of understanding and restraining in their memory what they see and hear. I escape robbing by Tanzanian immigration officers While ‘playing round’ with computer one day I had a brain way that I should go to Malawi and meet old friends there. Despite living in Malwai I had not been able to visit two famous countries in Africa: South Africa and Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe). Now I purchased an air ticket for a round trip from Sydney to Perth, Johannesburg, Harare, Perth, and back to Sydney. Landing at Johannesburg, I took a bus for Durban and came back to Johannesburg again. From Durban I travelled by car to te capital of the neighbouring country, Botswana, called Gabrone. From Gabrone I went to Bulawayo, the second largest city of Zimbabwe, making many stopovers en route. After staying two nights at Bulawayo, I went to the famous tourist destination, the Victoria falls, on the river Zambezi, and then enjoying the scenery on the way I went to Lusaka, the capital of Zambia buy bus. despite my best efforts to travel by road, I had to fly to Malwai by air. At Malawi I spent a week, sight-seeing. One night while waiting for dinner at the home of Dr. Pritam Singh, a scottish lady teacher, also a guest at the house with her husband and a teen ager daughter remarked to me, “you are an Indian; live in Australia; roaming in remote areas of Africa; you do not have a camera or a note book; what is your purpose for roaming like this!” I said, “I get cooked food and washed clothes at home, but no audience to hear my rambling talk; I travel to find an audience. There was a big laugh at my answer. After laugh she told me the reason of my travelling and serprisingly that was true. From Malawi I flew by air back to Lusaka. From Lusaka a special train runs a distance of 1950 km to Dar-es-Slam, a city on the coast of the Indian Ocean, in Tanzania. This railway line had been built with Chinese help. It takes about two night ad one and half a day to run this occasion it took two full days and two nights. the engine gave a Kharhach sound at midnight in the middle of the jungle; only at daybreak the train resumed its journey. I was travelling in a first class coupe. There were two other passengers travelling in the same coupe. The coupe had four berths. The lower berths were occupied by me and a young Christian priest trained in Switzerland. On one of the two top berth was a Tanzanian citizen. they both were African men. Suddenly three uniformed immigration officers with stars on their shoulders came barging into the coupe. I knew from my inner voice that they had come only to rob me. The senior of them stood in the doorway and other two came in side. The senior of them asked us, “Passport please”. After cursorily looking at the papers of the other two passengers, they addressed me. I hand over my passport. Taking passport from me, the senior most, began to torment me. One of them was a lady officer who sat down on my berth during our conversation and two other were standing. The senior most in the doorway and other inside the coupe. I knew I had committed no offence and my Guru will support me. They find nothing wrong with my papers but were bent upon fleecing me with their ugly tricks. The said that I was travelling in Tanzania without a visa, but knew that I did not need a visa to enter Tanzania. During our talk the young priest came to my help. He spoke openly and convincingly in my favour. Another one kept quiet during all this talk. Seeing that I would not yield to their tricks and hearing my most potent argument that had I needed a visa the immigration officer who had stamped my passport at the Tanzania border would have sent me back, they felt a little bit embarrassed ad the senior most said, “I am senior officer to that ; I have the power to cancel his stamp.” “You may be the senior officer now, but at that time, for me, he was the senior officer”, was my cool reply. After a long conversation among three of us: the senior most officer, the priest and me, because two officer and one passenger kept quiet, seeing them weakened in this argument, I gently took my passport from the lad officer and put it into my inner pocket. They had no choice but to leave the coupe disappointed. I think if I had no support from the priest, they might have succeeded in fleecing me, as they had clearly wanted a hefty bribe. First of all my Guru saved me. It so happened that at the Tanzanian border the immigration officer had erroneously written my profession as a businessman in the column of my papers and thinking this just a formality, I did not bother to correct it. He had also entered that I had $1000 on my person. Now, reading that I was an Indian businessman and was burdened with so much cash they had thought of relieving me of it. When converted into the cheep Tanzanian currency, he money made a goodly sum because one US Dollar was equal 600 Tanzanian shillings. It was natural that their mouths watered at such a juicy prey. Before this incident, I had thought it was only the Indian officials of police, immigration, custom departments, who robbed people, but now I knew that others too did it this was the first occasion when I had come close being robbed of my money. My First Visit to Pakistan One Friday evening in March 1999 I received a phone call from Bachi Jaspal Kaur, the daughter of my friend, S. Mohan Singh Sekhon Ji. Jaspal Ji said that here father told her to tell Giani uncle that Harpal Singh’s marriage will take place on this Wednesday and he has been invited to attend. I rang back to Sekhon Sahib and expressed my regret that I would not be ale to come at such short notice, but he reminded me of my promise, when once I had said to him in jest, “You are now going to the country; get Harpal Singh married; I will also attend his marriage.” Besides, I had been thinking to enjoy the 300th birthday of the Khalsa Panth on the Vaisakhi and also to visit Pakistan which had long separated from the mother country. During my this journey to Amritsar I was thinking to go to Pakistan as well. I rang up the Pakistani Consulate. They agreed to give Visa if I would pay double fee. I rang up my daughter Ravin Kaur and told her to enlist my name for a seat to Mumbai. After getting the visa for Pakistan by 10.30am on Monday and having a light breakfast at a Chinese restaurant, I went to my son Sandip Singh’ office and taking some money from him, caught a but and went to the airport. The flight took off at 1.15pm and landed me at Mumbai just before mid night. From there at morning I took a flight or Air India for Delhi and from Delhi I travelled by train to Ludhiana. I did not asked where the marriage will take place, but luckily I had Sekhon Sahib’ phone number in my pocket. The was attended by Sister Surinder Kaur Sekhon Ji from Sarabha who said, “Bhra Ji, come. The marriage will take place here.” By evening I reached there, at this historical Pind Sarabha. The marriage took place on Wednesday. It was a simple ceremony which gave me great delight. In the glow of this happiness, I travelled to Amritsar by bus and reached there at 11pm. I wished to visit Pakistan for long time. Once, earlier, I had tried to go with Jatha of the Shiromani Gurdwara Prabhadhic Committe but couldn’t go for the want of a passport. Then in 1975 while travelling to Dara Salam (Tanzania) by ship, it made a halt at the port of Karachi but we, the Indian passengers, had not been allowed to leave the ship. And now I could not summon courage to go to Pakistan – I do know why? I tried to reassure myself that they are our own people and spoke Punjabi; what can happen? My mind! you never turned a hair while travelling lonely jungle paths in Africa, where they can eat human being alive; why are you afraid now? Seeing such fool hardy boldness of mine, the Indians there considered me a fool; though they did not voice it opening, their faces tell it all. I told myself that when roaming in Europe, America, Canada and Asia, no one had touched me and will the people here in Lahore put me in their mouths now? Amidst all this double mindedness, one day I saw an old friend and Canadian resident Giani Balbir Singh Changiarha. After exchanging greetings, he told me that he is going with a Jatha to Pakistan. I eagerly told him I am also going to Pakistan. I can join him. He said,” We are going there sponsored by the government to go with the Jatha.” This put cold water on my suddenly awakened hopes. One day I gathered my courage and after breakfast, walking out of the mouse, I said to my Sister-in-law,” Most probably I am going to Lahore, but walking to the bus stand I happen to change my mind, instead of coming back home, I will go to Patiala.” Coming down stairs, I found my brother Subedar Dalbir Singh coming towards me. I said, “Where are you headed?” He said, “Yesterday we had made a program that I will accompany you up to the Wagha border, on your way to Lahore.” I then remembered but hid my forgetfulness, and we, brothers went to Wagha. A boy there got after me and persuaded me to buy some Pakistani currency from him. He took me to an office, and taking the Indian currency from me, as white-bearded Sardar Ji handed me a thousand rupee Pakistani note. When I asked him for smaller notes he said, “No, Sardar Ji, there is no need; there is high inflation in Pakistan; you will have no problem.” My brother left me there and went back. After completing immigration and custom formalities etc., when I walked out, the coolies surrounded me. I said, “ In only have this bag hanging from my shoulder; would you like to carry it and follow me?” A white-bearded Kulli said, “ Sardar Ji, what for we are standing here? If all the travelers are like you, how will we eat?” By the time I made up my mind to give him some money, he had gone. Slipping out of the hands of money-changers on the Pakistani side when I came out the road I found it quiet. Seeing such contrast between the activities on the Indian side where it was all hustle and bustle and on the Pakistani side which was quieter and more peaceful. (In 2008 All this changed a lot. No more quiet like 1999.) I remembered the contrast between the Zambian and Zimbabwean sides of the border. On the Zimbabwean side of the world famous Victoria Falls there was much movement but on the Zambian side was more calmness. I came to a tea-shop booth and the owner said that the bus going to Jallo town will arrive soon. A few taxis passed me but finding me an unpromising customer, the drivers ignored me. After a short while the bus to Jallo, the next town on the road, arrived and I got inside. When I took out the thousand rupee note to but the ticket, every one laughed. “ Sardar Ji, the ticket costs only three rupees, and you are giving a thousand rupee note!” remarked the conductor. When I told the conductor the story behind the note, he gave me the ticket and after seating me in the in the Lahore bus at Jallo, he took three rupees from its conductor and told him about my situation. Stopping at a petrol pump in route the bus stopped and the conductor exchanged my thousand rupee note for smaller currency. He handed me back 991 rupees and keeping 9 rupees for the ticket up to Lahore from Vagha. Upon my request, he dropped me at the door of Gurdwara Dehra sahib at Lahore. In Lahore the place in known as the Marhi of Maharaja Ranjit Singh, because next to the Gurdwara is a vast smadh of Maharaja Ranjit Singh. The royal fort and Vaddi Mosque, as well as the Kabar of poet Sir Muhamad Iqbal are also here. Opposite, across the road is the Mazar-e-Pakistan, which is situated in a vast park. I noted a lot of hustle-bustle in the Gurdwara from the out side and also saw a familiar face. In side the Gurdwara there is a police check-post which records the names and addresses of all visitors to the Gurdwara. Finishing with them when I went in side the Gurdwara, that familiar face turned out to be Giani Harjinder Singh Ji of Canada, who had visited my home when came to Sydney, and I had begun to treat him as one of my friends. He did not sow much excitement at meeting me; may be he was in a hurry. “I will come back soon; you sit and relax,” saying these words he left the Gurdwara in hurry. I kept waiting thinking that he will return soon, but he come back at night and said that he had gone for a Darshan of Gurdwara Kartarpur Sahib, at which I said that if I had known it, I too would have gone with him. During the wait for his return, I had occupied a Manji and pretended to read. A rain too came during the wait and I pulled the Manji inside the Veranda. The Granthi Ji’s wife had given me a glass of tea to drink. I happily accepted that. The incharge/Sevdar or the Gurdwara, S. Sahib Singh Ji, extended Giani Harjinder Singh Ji, a Sardar Ji from America and I occupied the same room. All three of us got a car ride to Sri Nankana Sahib, where we did the Darshan of the Gurdwara Janamsthan. We took lunch at the home of one of the Gursikhs living in the houses belonging to Gurdwara Patti Sahib. Some Sikh families live at the Nankana Sahib, though there was no arrangement of Langar at the Gurdwara, the Sikhs take the foreign visitors to their homes and give them the Parshada. About the non availability of the Langar as Sikh told me an interesting story. We spent night in Gurdwara Sri Nankana Sahib. In the morning The American Sardar Ji and I set out for Gurdwara Sacha Sauda at Chuharhkana. We could not find any conveyance going towards bus stand and were worried and were worried that if we walked we will late for the bus leaving for Chuharhkana. Seeing a Rehrha coming our way, we stopped at and when the owner gave a nod we jumped on board and sat on it. The Rehrha was pulled by a donkey. We must have been a sight; two well-clad and white-bearded Sardars riding a donkey driven cart. The Rehrha was the one which is used to transport soil and was very dirty. We sat on our hunches to avoid soiling our clothes. The road was rough and he riding jerky – there were no had holds visible in the cart. But we two with colorful turbans, clad in shining white clothes, with full beards were in Charhdikala and the people were enjoying the sight of us. Reaching the bus stand, we caught a bus and reached the Gurdwara Sacha Sauda. After the Darshan Gurdwara Sacha Sauda, we were waiting for the bus to go to Lahore when a police Havildar called us and seating us on a Manja, had tea brought for us despite our polite refusals. This was a dilemma for me because I had been trying for the last 18 ears to give up the Punjabi tea and to develop a taste for the English tea. Though I have failed in the latter, I have succeeded in the former, and now the Punjabi tea doesn’t go down my thought. Besides, the bright red color of oranges displayed on a near by cart were bringing saliva to my mouth and I had a strong desire to eat a few. Now if I took tea, I could not then have the oranges. I tried a middle way, to avoid the tea while not offending the Havildar Sahib, but that was not to be. Both of us came back to Lahore, Next day we started by bus for Gurdwara Panja Sahib. The bus was air-conditioned and the road was like the ones in Western countries. We learnt that the road had been built by a foreign company and its control was also under that company for twenty years. It was as if we were on an Australian road. We enjoyed that journey to the full. All the passengers showed us great respect. But then an unsavoring thing happened: a stout young man was also in the bus. He was totally blind. He was accompanied by a small boy for assistance, whom he now at once started slapping violently without any visible reason. Next he addressed us, “Why are you still Kafirs? Why don’t you become Muslims?” With great patience we got rid of him. Perhaps, the childhood stories I had heard were correct! People said those who are blind are usually bolder than others. We reached Gurdwara Panja Sahib. As at other Gurdwaras in Pakistan, the police stood on guard here also. It was reached through a narrow bazar but is very spacious in side. We got a room for our stay and there was arrangement for eating too. Next day we took a bus and went to Pishawar. There is a large Gurdwara there in memory of Bhai Joga Singh Ji. People call this area as ‘Mahalla Jogan Shah’. Travelling from bus stand to the city, on the let side of the road is large fort called Bali Hissar. It is written in history that Sardar Hari Singh Nalwa lying ill at this fort when from the Jamrod fort Bibi Harsharan Kaur had come with an emergency message for military help; and Sardar Ji had not cured for this illness and set off for Jamrod at once. In this Gurdwara was arrangement for boarding and lodging. Upwards of two hundred and fifty Sikh Families live in Pishawar. They had left he tribal dominated villages around Pishawar and settled in the city. twice daily the Dewan and the Langar were held at the Gurdwara. We met many Sikhs. From the stores read in Kissas in boyhood, a desire had arisen in my mind to see the historic fort of Jamrod. Sardar Hari Singh Nalwa had got his fort built in the mouth of the Khyber Pass to stem the fide of invasions from the North-West. This is not very far from Pishawar city. The Sikhs with whom we talk about seeing this fort all discouraged us from this dangerous mission. There reasoning was some what like this: that is a strange place; every one there is armed; they kidnap people and sometimes even kill them; the writ of the Pakistani government does not run there. The land at the border between Pakistan and Afganistan is dominated by Pathan tribes. Nominally the area belongs to Pakistan but it is semi-independent. No one has ever been able to rule them. These are all violent and warlike tribes; even the British were not able to rule them. Only Sardar Hari Singh Nalwa had been able to control them for a time. The area has been divided into seven semi-autonomous agencies. Each agency has a Panchayt called a Jirga. Some of these agencies are Khyber. Waziristan, South Waziristan etc. Though these areas are recognized as part of Pakistan and the Pakistan army has a few cantonments there, but there are frequent clashes between the authorities and the tribal people. The Granthi of the Gurdwara. Bhai Sona Singh Ji, saw that we were bent upon going to Jamrod, so he introduced us to a young man who had come to the Gurdwara to pay his respect. He had left Afganistan for the fear of Taliban and come to Pakistan. He had a flourishing cloth shop in a town between Pishawar and Khyber Pass. I do not now remember the town’s name, but its location is somewhat like the Chheharta situated between Amritsar and Atari. Next day the young man took us by a hired taxi to see the fort. Before starting I opened my pass port to see whether, as in India, there was any entry regarding any place I was not permitted to visit in Pakistan. It had happed to me once in February 1986 at Amritsar. We had all gone, including all my family, to catch a flight from Amritsar to Delhi, the luggage had been checked in; but then a Sikh Havildar with flowing beard created a problem. He said we had no visa to visit my home city Amritsar; the visa and other things were to be checked at Delhi. All friends, family members and relatives got in panic. thank God with the help of a senior officer we were able to get my luggage back and then travelling by night train to Delhi, I was able to catch the flight from the Delhi Airport. I did not want to something to happen now. When I now saw the pass port, I got a shock. It so happened that I had requested the Pakistani Consulate in Sydney to give me one month visa with multiple entries. They had promised me to give me one month visa with two entries. Trusting their word I had thought that the two entries of two weeks each must have been put in my passport, but that was not the case, The visa was for two weeks instead of one month and there was only one entry of one week each. That meant that I could be in Pakistan only for a week. I had already promised my companion that I will go with him to visit his birth-place, the town of Sargodha but that was not now possible. He tried to reassure me that a few days stay did not matter, but as I had already burnet my lips with hot milk, I was now cautious of even drinking the butter-milk (Lassi) without first cooling it by blowing my breath into it. I did not want any petty official to threaten and rob me because of any minor discrepancy in my papers. The companion became a little disenchanted with me due to m refusal and became gloomy. He returned with me to Lahore. Perhaps he did not have the nerve to go to Sargodha alone. Now, to talk about the fort: the two us set off for fort From Pishawar with the young man in the taxi. We passed through the ceremonial gate of the Khyber Pass itself a short distanced from it, is the gate of the fort to the right. The young man talked to the guard who allowed us to take the car inside the fort. We were then presented to the Acting Commander of the fort, Janab Aziz Bhatti Sahib. he sent a Havildar with us to show the fort and asked us not to go back without meeting him. While showing us the fort, the Havildar pointed to a mosque and told us that it had been constructed by Sardar Hari Singh Nalwa for his Muslim soldiers. Then he pointed out the place where some trucks stood at the time was the place where the soldiers of Sardar Nalwa used to be mustered. We were also shown a place which no one including the commander knew what it was. But we could tell that it was the Smadh of Sardar Nalwa. It was made of bricks and had a small dome at the top. The floor was unpaved. There was a marble slab at the entrance that said this Smadh had been built by the men of the First Patiala Sikh Regiment in 1944. Since the writing was in Gurmukhi letters, it was not understood by the staff there. I told them that the Smadh had been built over the place where the Saskar of Sardar Nalwa had been done. I also gave them a brief account of the battle that had taken place there in 1837, in which the Sardar was killed fighting the Afgan invaders. After seeing the fort we presented ourselves in the Darbar of the Commander Sahib. There were chairs placed at an open space of the fort ad tea ad refreshments awaited us there. This warm hospitality on this good gentleman’s part we could ascribe too natural magnanimity, good sense, as a curtsey to that Sardar Ji who had come with us, good times or all of these. A long chit-chat ensued, during which Janab Bhatti remarked, “Sardar Ji, most of our social ceremonies on occasions of happiness and sorrow are similar to those of the Sikhs.” “Similar to those of Punjabis, not Sikhs, Bhatti Sahib Ji!” was my comment. “And Sikhs are the real Punjabis,” was Bhatti Sahib’s next remark. I delivered a long discourse which contained hard facts about the Punjabi Kaum, at which Bhatti Sahib and his fellows were somewhat astonished. this information given by me was some what like this: Janab Bhatti Sahib Ji, Sikhs are not the only Punjabis; all those who live in the land of five rivers are Punjabis. Even if we muster Punjabis on the basis of their religions, the majority of them are Muslims. The second place goes to Hindus. I suspect that the third place goes to Christians, as most of so called low caste Punjabis of Pakistan have become Christians as is the case in Indian Punjabi also. But giving them the benefit of doubt, we can say that the third place based on numbers goes to the Sikhs. You Bhatti Sahib, also are Punjabi since your birth place is near Nankana Sahib which is part of Punjab. Except in he marriage ceremony where is Sikh couple goes around Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji, Your Maulwi recites words from Paki Kuran, Hindus go around a Vedi and the Padre pronounces a man and women married, all other ceremonies are alike in all four religions of Punjab. Despite the above facts there is general impression throughout the world that only the Sikhs are Punjabis. A popular Punjabi poet Prof. Puran Singh had written nearly a century ago: Punjab is neither Hindu, nor Muslman. Punjab lives by the name Guru. From this conversation I remember my four of Fiji in June 1980. The Sikhs were called Punjabis there, not Sikhs. the Maulvi Ji of the mosque at the Capital Suva complained during over our conversation, “Here every body calls Sikhs Punjabis but not us. I come from Sialkot, but no one calls me a Punjabi.” during my childhood, I once browsed a text-book of a friend (I myself attended no school). It had a chapter where brief information regarding people living in different parts of the world was given. It also had a picture of a Sikh, under which was the caption: Punjabi Sikh. During the British rule only 13% of Punjabis were Sikhs. I had a question about the fort. I asked Bhatti Ji whether Hari Singh Nalwa had himself got the fort built of whether he had occupied an already built-fort. He said that Sardar Hari Singh Nalwa had got the fort built, largely by the labor of captured Afgan invaders. It was built in short period of 54 days. Due to the visa requirements I had to rush back to Lahore the next day. Bhaia Ji (my father) had asked me to bring a Kilo of almonds from Lahore. I had thought I would by this commodity from Amritsar and give him, because I believed the adage: Carry the minimum luggage on your journey and you can march ahead of others. Due to closure of the banks that day I borrowed some Pakistani currency from S. Sahib Singh Ji and settled the account with the American Sardar Ji as it was he who had been paying the taxi fare etc. When I went to the bazar to buy almonds, every shopkeeper there called aloud it me. I entered a shop selling dried fruit. The shop keeper was over-polite. Seeing such politeness on his part, I ended up buying two Kilos each of almonds, Chhuharas, Khaskhas and sultanas. The shopkeeper had said, “Sardar Ji, those lying out side are covered in dust, I will give you from the stock in side.” He also embraced me with affection. Later, at home, I found that these things were actually much inferior to the ones displayed out side the shop. There was enough dust in this dry fruit. Next day I went by bus to Jallo, to take a bus for the Wagha Border from there. A Gentleman sitting in the bus asked me, “ how come your are here. Sardar Ji?” “I have to come here to take birth.” was my reply. Every one was stunned by my answer. I explained, “ there is an old saying that he who had not seen Lahore was not yet even born.” Every one burst into laughter. Not to be outdone, the gentleman too related a story: A Mirasi once to came to Lahore to see the city. It was summer. He took off his clothes and got into a canal to take a bath. Some one took his clothes and fled away. The Mirasi came walking naked on the city road. Some one asked him, “Oi Meerzadia, where are your clothes?” I am newly born, Prabha! If some one gives me clothes, only then can I be clad.” In such happy and laughing atmosphere, the bus reached Jallo. the gentleman did not let me pay the bus fair but did it from his own pocket. The Hindustani Customs objected to the Khaskhas that I carried. Bhaia had asked me to bring only one Kilo almonds; I thought I had unnecessarily bought this trouble for me. I resolved not to pay any bribe to the customs officials. They sent my passport to an immigration office nearby, while I waited on a chair. After some time a messenger came and said I was wanted at the immigration office. When I was walking towards the office, I saw a clean-shaven mature looking gentleman standing out side the office with my passport in his hand. “I thought Sardar Santokh Singh Ji shouldn’t leave without giving me the privilege of meeting him. Here is your passport.” I was surprised by such gentlemanly behavior of an Indian bureaucrat, but also delighted. When I entered the Indian side of the border the taxi-walas surrounded me and began haggling over the fare. One of them came down to Rs. 75 from his initial demand of Rs. 250. I said I did not believe in such wasteful expenditure as the taxis. When from the Shop-Keepers there I inquired about the bus, they all said there was no more bus going towards Amritsar that day. I said I will walk to Attari. The taxi-wala said if I wanted to walk, I would have done that by now. I headed towards Attari and started walking. after walking only a short distance, a bus passed by me. the Shop-Keepers had lied to help the taxi-walas to hook a passenger. A cyclist gave me lift up to Attari, and from there I took a bus and came to Amritsar. From the bus stand I walked to my brother’s home. This was the brief account of my first visit to Pakistan. The Cannon of Bhangis My Second Visit to Pakistan During the earlier stay at Lahore I had come to know that a Pakistani author, Janab Iqbal Kaisar, Had written a book called ‘Pakistan Vich Sikhan De Itihasak Pavitar Asthan’. But due to paucity of tie I could neither meet the author nor obtain the book. Therefore I went on another tour of Lahore. Like the Jamrod Fort I had developed a fascination for the ‘Bhagian Wali Top’ since childhood. How could I miss seeing this Top and then talk to other people about it. From the ‘Mahan Kosh’ (The Great Encyclopaedia) I came to know that this cannon now graces the entrance of the Lahore Museum. For many years I did not know that museum and a Zoo are not the same thing. Only later did I come to know that the two are different. I talked to a three-wheeler driver out side Gurdwara Dehra Sahib. He demanded Rs. 25 as fare. I said I had travelled from India to Pakistan spending just Rs. 21 and he was demanding Rs. 25 for travel within the city. “This is a reasonable and correct fare,” he replied politely but in a business tone. However he took me to the museum. I saw it was closed and rite to asked a few people about it but no one had the time for such an idle person like me. After walking round for sometime, My eye fell on a large cannon. I guessed correctly that it must be the Bhangis Cannon, but looked for a board to confirm. I saw a neglected and half hidden board with faded Urdu and English letters. I could read English a little, though not the Urdu. It was indeed The Bhangian Wali Top ( Now, in 2008, a large and beautiful board has been put up there) This historic cannon had been built by the order of a famous gun-maker named Shah Nazir; it had been made out of the metal of looted utensils from Hindu homes. Abdali had not been able to carry the cannon to Kabul. The cannon was captured by Sardar Hari Singh Bhangi from Sudedar of Lahore, Khawaza Ubed Beg in 1962. From the Bhangis the cannon passed to Sardar Charhat Singh, the grand- father of Maharaja Ranjit Singh. the Pathans of Chatha then snatched it away from the hands Sardar Charhat Singh; but then Sardar Jhanda Singh Bhangi won it from the Pathans and named it the ‘Bhangian Wali Top.’ Before this it was called the ‘Zamzam;. From the Bhangis the cannon again passed to Maharaja Ranjit Singh. The British became the last masters o this cannon when they defeated the Sikhs in the battle of Ferushah. The gate of the Lahore Museum became the last resting place of this famous cannon. It is fourteen and a half foot in length and has a bore of 9 inches. After seeing the cannon, I reached Gurdwara Dehra Sahib on foot. At the Dehra Sahib I met my old fired from Vancouver, S. Hardial Singh Johal Ji, who had come from there to visit Sikh Gurdwaras in Pakistan and also to participate in the Jaloos that was to start from Lahore on the occasion of 300th anniversary of the birth Khalsa. The Jaloos was sponsored by S. Gurcharan Singh Tohra and Bhai Ranjit Singh, in rivalry to the SGPC and consequently the Indian and Punjab Governments. S. Hardial Singh requested me to take his Jatha on a guided tour of Gurdwaras I had already visited in Pakistan. this was a task which appealed greatly to my mind and I agreed at once. We went by bus, which they hired already for this purpose and took them to all places except the Jamrod fort. I also narrated to the Jatha, a brief history of each place they saw. in the end all visitors went to the Anarkali Bazar of Lahore for shopping. I too went with them, From there I bought an Urdu Kaida for 30 rupees – I have never since read it; it may be lying forgotten some where. This was about all I bought in Pakistan during my second visit: a Kaida of 30 rupees and a book that cost rupees 2000. S. Hardial Singh ordered me to be one of the Panj Piaras and lead the Jaloos. I am used to wearing Pants/Pajamas but now honoring the tradition I had to join the other four Piaras with bare legs, and a drawn sword in hand. The Chola, Kamarkassa and Gol Pagg were not new things for. I had difficulty about tying this style of turban but this problem I solved with help from another Singh. We, the five Panj Piaras including England Vasi Giani Amolak Singh Ji, led the Jaloos, to the Wagha Border, riding an open vehicle. From here S. Hardial Singh went back because he had no Indian Visa. I was pleasantly surprised seeing the elderly Giani Amolak Singh Ji standing on the open vehicle with a drawn sword in hand, and in Charhdikala while passing through the streets of Lahore, he remarked, “ it seems the Khalsa will yet see some good times ahead; it is after long years that a Jaloos of Singhs has passed through the streets Lahore. At the Wagha Border we were subjected to a thorough body search. Perhaps it was done by orders of the government as the Jaloos had been sponsored by the Tohra group which was in political opposition to government. I just had my usual bag containing my Kachhehra, a towel two vests and shirt, The Kaida bought from the Anarkali Bazar and Iqbal Kaisar’s book on the history of Sikh Shrines of Pakistan but a good looking young Sikh of the Customs gave my bag a thorough scrutiny. on the 10th of April this Jaloos ended at a hotel in Amritsar. Some people went to stay in the hotel rooms but I came back to my brother’s home. Next day, on the 11th April the Jaloos was to depart for Sri Anandpur Sahib from Sri Akal Takhat Sahib. The management of the SGPC had made thorough security arrangements to prevent Bhai Ranjit Singh Ji, who was to lead the Jaloos, from doing anything unfavorable to it. Many of the officials of the SGPC including S. Ajaib Singh Ji Manger, Secretary and S. Kulwant Singh Ji were my old friends, but now I was part of Jaloos of their opponents. The speaker was not allowed. Giani Amolak Sing Ji spoke without the loud speaker in his roaring voice and also sang Shabad. the stage secretary was S. Major Singh Ubboke. A devoted gentleman got up from the and handed S. Ubboke a large bundle of Currency notes and requested that the money be used to meet expenses of this Jaloos. Without any unpleasant event the Jaloos set out for Sri Anandpur Sahib. At Sri Anandpur Sahib a huge conference had been arranged under the name of Sant Smaj; it was a living testimony to the organizing ability of the aged leader S. Gurcharan Singh Tohra. I too sat on the stage. Among the main events of this conference was a speech in Charhdikala by Sri Chander Shekhar Ex PM of India, which he called “the clash between political power and a Sant.“ which he delivered after the tying of a saffron colored turban by the hands of Sardar Tohra Ji. Because almost all the ‘Khali Dals’ opposing Badal’s ‘Kali Dal’ were present there. Their leaders got time to speak on same stage. Once, a party of martyrs, the ‘Shiromani Akal Dal’ was not seen anywhere in these days. With the temporary alliance of Sardar Maan and Sardar Bittu, a hope had revived that perhaps a pro- Panth Dal will again begin to play leading role in Punjab politics, were dashed to the ground when their alliance broke like, “Tut gai krhak karke.” Two speakers of Maan Dal, Bhai Ram Singh and a Professor Sahib gave impressive speechs. Then in his simple style Mann Sahib spoke on stage, “Bhrao, you give me support, but not vote.” Hearing these words, the audience burst into laughter. After him S. Sucha Singh Chhotepur said in his roaring Majhaily voice, “Maan Sahib, the people had given you not only their support, but also notes and votes; and two in record-breaking numbers. They wanted an alternative to Badal; you have not been able to provides them an alternative to Badal.” The time was approaching 3pm. Considering the intense heat and my delicate health, I got down from the stage, and thought it better to leave the scene. So I caught a bus and returned to Amritsar by 2am. A Gurdwara Library In 1990, the Russian President Mr. Brezhnev was in the news. While walking on the George Street in Sydney I thought , this Brezhnev had perhaps held some high post in Russia before! I had a hazy recollection of having read in the ‘Preetlarhi’ Magazine that he had been the President before. T clear this doubt, I went to the vast library of the Sydney Council in the Victoria building. The librarian, an impressive looking woman, received me and before I could say anything, She Said, “may I help you, Sir?” I told her that that I wanted a book titled ‘Who is who in Soviet Union’. She expressed her regret about not knowing about any such book. I said it there were books like, Who is who in Australia, Who is who in U.S. etc. then possibly there would a book ‘Who is who in soviet Union’ too, and requested her to have a closer look. She thought for a moment and then with a smile asked me to wait a while. Then she went inside and brought a thick volume. She placed it on counter in front of me, and looked at the wall clock. Only about seven minutes remained for the library to close. That good lady asked me what information did I want from the book. I said that I wanted a brief account of the life of Mr. Brezhnev. Within no time she made a photo copy of the relevant chapter and handed it to me. Such professional conduct and polite behavior of officials in the western societies impressed me greatly. My memory proved to be correct. Mr. Brezhnev had indeed be the President of the U.S.S.R. up to April 1964, but during the leadership of Mr. Khrushchev he was merely a rubber stamp president like Giani Zail Singh, constitutionally and not in reality. Then in October 1964, the triumvirate of Mr. of Mr. Brezhnev, Mr. Kosygin and Mr. Podgorny unseated Khrushchev from power, and taking mercy on him did not send him to Jail or to another world; they let him live in retirement. As a result Mr. Podgorny became President, Mr. Kosygin the Prime Minister, and Mr. Brezhnev became the Boss, the General Secretary of the Communist Party. Later he took all political power into his own hands; Kosygin died and replacing Mr. Podgorny he himself became the President; slowly slowly, at the end the ‘real’ President. Now let us see the conduct of one of our own librarian. I went to a Gurdwara Sahib in a city on the invitation of its Committee. One day, the Committee also honored me to let me visit another Gurdwara in that city. After paying my respects to the Guru Ji, according to my habit, I sent to the Gurdwara library. This library was larger and much better organized that the average Gurdwara libraries, I found a well-dressed modern looking Sardar Ji sitting on chair there; he had a scowl on his faced, which is a trade mark of Indian bureaucracy. It seemed that he was the librarian. At my entry his behavior seemed to say that he was very busy and had no time for any visitors to the library. Looking at books in the cupboards I saw Bhai Veer Singh Ji’s book ‘Subhag Ji Da Sudhar, Hathin Baba Naudh Singh.’ I needed some information from this book, but thought I will have the book issued and read all of it again. With this thought in mind I went to that Sardar Ji who had a handsome face, but had turned it a bit ugly with the scowl. I asked him politely if he was in librarian. Shuffling through some papers with his hands, without even making at me let alone making any eye contact, he said in a grave voice, “what is it?” Treating it is a Yes on his part and staying well within the limits of polite behavior – though with a unwilling heart – I said, “I want to read this book for few days.” “We do not issue books to that people from that Gurdwara.” ( He named that Gurdwara.) From this dry and rude answer I came to know that he knew who I was. This perhaps was also the reason for dry behavior towards me. I tried to convince him that being a Sikh I belonged as much to that Gurdwara as the other one. “If you have had some bad experience from the people of that Gurdwara, I am willing to deposit money as security for the book,” I said to him. But he was adamant and did not budge an inch from his stand. Otherwise I had really been impressed with the good sense of that Gurdwara’s management which had provided a library along with the Diwan and the Langar. Rome was not built in a day. What ripes slowly, is sweeter. According to this Gurbani teaching, the things that are done in a proper manner, at a proper time, see a fruitful completion. The haste makes waste, it is said. In Zafarnama which the Tenth Master wrote to Aurangzeb, he refers to what the poet Firdausi had said: that do something in haste is the work of Satan. The great works of public welfare take a long time to see completion. Considering these things I have neither mentioned the name of the city nor named any organizations because my aim is only to praise the good deeds and to point to weaknesses so that they could be made good. Still if some wider head thinks that by naming the place and the people that improvement is more likely, I can do that also. In civilized human societies both the governments as well as non-government organizations, give great importance to libraries. Gurdwaras of the Sikhs, which from the time of Sri Guru Nanak Dev Ji up to the time of Sri Guru Arjan Dev Ji was called a Dharmsala and from the time of Sri Guru Hargobind Sahib Ji has been called a Gurdwara, should have a Diwan and Langar, but library is equally important. According to the writings of Bhai Kahn Singh Nabha: for the student a Gurdwara is a school; for those seeking spiritual guidance it is a preacher-scholar; a hospital for the sick; a gadders of food for the hungry; and a fortress or the protection of women’s honor. This means that the Guru Sahiban had established this institution not only for the conduct of religious worship but also for an all- round development of the society. During the times of the Guru Sahibans and later, rare books were kept with great care and had wide readership. At a time when cruel invaders destroy the educational and religious fountain heads of those they conquered, or carried them off, the Sikhs were especially careful about the preservation of their own as well as their enemies’ religious place and scholarly works. For instance we read in history that when in 1817 Maharaja Ranjit Singh had dispatched his general, Sardar Hari Singh Nalwa on a campaign to conquer Pishawar, he had instructed him not to touch any religious place or library. He had told him to be especially careful about it. As against this when Islam’s second Khalifa, Hazarat Omar, who was the father of Hazrat Mohamed Sahib’s third wife, had in 642 conquered Alexandria, a famous city in Egypt, had stood before the opened gate of the world famous vast library and had ordered it to be burnet down, saying that the books that did not contain what was written in the Pak Kuran should be burnt; not the he spared the ones that did contain what was written in the Pak Kuran, saying those too should be burnet as they had become unnecessary since what they contained was already in the Pak Kuran. This library was then the largest and the most famous library in the world. It had contained over four lakh books, called scrolls at that time. There was no book in the world of which the organizers of this library knew and was not brought in original or as copy to this library. This treasure kept burning for months. Before the Alexandria library was burnet down, The Aryans, after conquering the original inhabitants of India, the Dravidians, had destroyed their literature. Later the Hindus burnt down the Budhist monuments and libraries. The British robbed the Sikhs of their treasury. All these events are old but what id the Indira’s armies did in 1984? They looted the five centuries old literature of Sikh Kaum from ‘Sikh Reference Library’, later declaring that the terrorists had burnt the library before fleeing. During S. Gurcharan Singh Tohra’s Presidentship of the SGPC, as number of letters were sent to the Hind Sarkar that during Operation Blue Star, before the army set fire to the library building, all the volumes had been carried to the military headquarter at Amritsar. Lists of books were prepared, the books were packed in 20 trunks, and then loaded in trucks and taken by the army to some unknown place. The letters said that they should be returned. The government did not consider it necessary even to send any reply to those letter. No notice was taken of even a speech by the Congress member of Parliament, S. Jagmeet Singh Brar, in the Parliament; he had demanded that the Sikh Reference Library is kept by the army in the Meerut Cantonment should be returned to the Sikhs with an apology. Some time back, in reply to a letter of the SGPC, the then defense Minister George Fernandes, perhaps by mistake, replied that the library was indeed with the government, but not with his ministry; but said it was in another department. Then there was a rumor that the books which had inflammatory material in them had been burnt down and the rest had been returned to the SGPC. A reliable official of the SGPC at Amritsar told me personally that everything has been returned. But an ex-official of the Punjab government, now living in a foreign country, is adamant that there was nothing that the government had take away from Amritsar. It is difficult for me to swallow. What is the truth? Who is responsible for telling the truth to the Sikh? According to my poor understanding, this responsibility rests wit the SGPC. They should give the Sikhs a true picture. Only the two institutions know the truth: The government of India and the SGPC. As for the government, suffice it is to say: Dushman bat kare anhoni. In the end the needle stops at the SGPC. Let us see when it throws light on the truth. Mana ke tgafal na karoge lekin khak ho jaenge ham tum ko khabar hone tak My First visit to Belgium Over politeness: I have been hearing a folk-tale since childhood, with some difference in local color it is somewhat like this: A traveler was in the habit of travelling with a quantity of flour so as have it cooked into Roti whenever he felt hungry. During his passage thought a village, he requested a housewife to cook him some Roti with this flour. The house wife with her sense of hospitality asked him to sit on Manji and going to her kitchen, began to kneed the flour in a Prat. While looking around, in the meantime, he visitor saw a healthy, fat buffalo tied in the courtyard. In an over flow of over politeness and over solicitousness, he said, “My, you buffalo is very wide but you door too narrow; suppose, unfortunately, the buffalo dies, how will you then take it out?” that woman got disgusted; she removed the half kneaded flour from the Prat and throwing it into the lap of the visitor, threw him out of the house. While he was walking in the street as passerby asked, “Bhai Gumukha, what is it that is leaking?” “The sweet juice of my tongue,” he said, continuing walking. All too often these sort of things happen to me also. In a bid to seem all wise and solicitous, I some times create the contrary impression. The current event is this: In 2004 while travelling European countries I went by buss from Paris to Brussels, the capital of Belgium, one of the most beautiful countries of the world. Four or five decades back, I had gleaned only this information about this country from the Punjabi newspapers I read that it was a small country like the foot of a sparrow, but it ruled over a huge chunk of Africa. This land was Congo (now Zaire). Then during my stay in Malawi I had seen a colored picture in a thick English book, which showed that despite all the security arrangements, an African youth had been able to run away with the sword of the King of Belgium when he was on a visit to Congo – the sword was hanging by the King’s side in harness. Not only the youth’s audacity note worthy, the smartness of the photographer in capturing the picture on a camera film was a remarkable feat too. Taking a train from the main Station of Brussels I went to another town Sint Truiden, where I went to the Gurdwara Sangat Sahib. this town is on the side of Netherland, so the language spoken in that part of the country is Flemish. Half of the population of Brussels speaks French and the other half the Flemish. The chief occupation in this area is agriculture. A number of Sikh youth live here; hence there is a Gurdwara. (Now there is a second Gurdwara also Built) The Gurdwara has a leaned Granthi, Bhai Kewal Singh Ji and the president of the managing Committe is S. Mohinder Singh Ji, who conduct all worship and religious rites at he Gurdwara, according to the Sikh Rehat Maryada established by Sri Akal Takhat Sahib. As per the wishes of Granthi Ji and the management committee a week-long program of religious lectures took place. I expressed a wish that a similar program of lectures should be held at the Gurdwara in the capital, Brussels. The people who knew the area said, “no, Giani Ji, that is not a suitable place to do it.” Asked about the reason, they said, “they are all pro- Indian government there ad your views being Panthic, they will not listen to you.” To this I said, “that is precisely why I want to go there; it is necessary to tell the truth to those affected by the anti-Sikh propaganda. Those who already know need not to be told again.” To make it short: a young man Kweeshar rang up a Guru’s beloved Sikh at the Brussels Gurdwara Sahib and upon his saying yes, I started for Brussels. The Granthi Singh said that upon reaching the railway station I should telephone him and he will pick me up from the station. At the station when I was looking for a telephone booth, I met two Sikh young, complete in all respect. When I asked them about the telephone booth they said, “come, we will leave you at the Gurdwara.” When we three reached the Guru Nanak Sahib Gurdwara, we found the doors closed. When I contacted the Granthi Singh on phone of those Singhs, he said he was in the city and had been waiting for my call. He said he will come straight away to the Gurdwara now. Those two youth expressed some unhappiness at he Granthi Singh’s absence, but I told them, ”Bhai Sahib Ji, I have come here at his invitation. and he was waiting for me. Please do not be angry with him on my account.” They silently nodded their heads in agreement, showing curtsy to a foreigner. Soon the Bhai Sahib Ji also arrived. Those good youngmen left me in his care and went off. Bhai Sahib Ji gave me an upper story room to stay. He also informed the management about my arrival. Beginning Monday, Diwan began to be held in the evenings, at which I gave lectures. Now a days these have come to be called Katha. Under influence of the heaven-dweller Giani Sant Singh Maskin Ji a religious lecture is now called Katha. According to my understanding the Katha is one where after each line of the Gurbani or Itihas is read out, followed by its interpretation, This week-long series of lectures had great impression on the religious-minded Sikh youngmen and they also requested me to postpone my departure by a few days more. The chief among hem was S. Resham Singh, a successful businessman. He had invited me for sight-seeing tour on Tuesday as he had some unavoidable business commitment on Monday. I forgot that S. Jagrup Singh had earlier invited me to join him on the day. During the seven days stay at Brussels, a committee member, S. Jarnail Singh had taken me to see historical sites of that country. Granthi Singh Ji also showed me some places of interest and accompanied to waterloo with us. S. Jarnail Singh Ji also took me to the famed Waterloo. Seeing this famous site of a great battle, I too had a feeling of being among the ‘five riders’. Due to some minor misunderstanding with the Granthi Singh Ji, I had a to leave the Gurdwara the next morning on an empty stomack. This misunderstanding had occurred during my religious lecture in the Sunday’s Diwan Granthi Singh had taken exception to some words I had spoken. This resulted in exchange of some unpleasant words between the two of us which did not enhance the Granthi’s prestige. This was the reason for my leaving the Gurdwara without eating anything. Hence the story of the beginning of this chapter. I was now like that over solicitous gentleman who had to leave with the half-kneaded flour, without eating the Rotis. It was now I who had to leave the bounteous Gurdwara, my empty stomack crying out: Teri chuck na masit lijani rahian ne rat katni. From the Gurdwara I walked to the railway station to take a train to another city when it occurred to that many rumors will spread by my thus leaving the place suddenly, ad I should at least inform S. Resham Singh on telephone; but as always, out of laziness, I had not taken down anyone’s telephone number. Reaching the main railway station I looked for some Indian eating shop to satisfy my hunger and also to eat my sugar controlling pill that the doctor had advised me not to take on empty stomack. But I couldn’t find any such shop. Then I thought why not go back to the Gurdwara at Sint Truiden from where I had come. I thought I will eat from the Langar there and also telephone S. Resham Singh about my leaving Brussels. So I took a train and wet there. My position was somewhat like the Jrhawanwala Sadh. When he set of one day on alms-collection , the wind blowing from his rear direction his long licks were repeatedly blown and covered his face blocking his eye-sight. Twice he pushed his locks in place and cleared his eye-sight. When it happened the third time he stopped and reversing his line of march said, “there is no aunt of mine is the direction I was heading, cooking Pranthas for me; I have set out to collect alms; this I can do in this direction as well as the others.” So he walked in this direction from which the wind blew. Reaching the Gurdwara at Sint Truiden I ate two Rotis and drank a glass of water which gave me some relief from the hunger. Apart from being a diabetic and old in age, and not having taken a cup of tea since the morning I was indeed in a poor sate. I could not take the pill for diabetes being on empty stomack. When I came to myself, revived by the food and tea, I rang up S. Resham Singh Ji. I got his phone number from some body there. S. Resham Singh told me that S. Jagrup Singh had gone to Gurdwara to pick me but had found you gone. The then said, “Will you now return by rail to me, or should I come and fetch you back?” I said, “not today; I will come for your Darshan tomorrow.” I also wrote down his phone number, contrary to my habit. When the next day I got down at the Brussels railway station to the old problem of telephone confronted me again. Not finding a pay phone, I started walking after inquiring about S. Resham Singh‘s business address from a taxi driver. Walking on the road, to reconfirm, I asked two middle- eastern looking youth about the way. They told me that I was going in the right direction, and started walking with me. Walking the road up to the next turning, they put me on a different road from what they had previously told me was the right one. Against my better sense I started following the road they now put me on. The ‘gentlemen’ kept walking beside me, on the other side of the same road, keeping an eye on my movement. Then I saw a white woman dropping letters into the mail boxes by the roadside. I asked her the way to confirm whether I was heading the right way. What she told me was totally different what the youths had said. Now they came to me and said, “This road too joins the one she has told you to take, some distance away from here.” I said with firmness, “ This lady is a resident here and she knows the roads better then you. I will take the road she has told me.” When thee lady walked off these ‘gentlemen’ decided to use their last weapon. “Your jacket has a dirt stain, just remove it, we will clean it.” they said, and started to help me take off the jacket. At first I agreed to avail of their ‘kind help’ but the becoming somewhat suspicious of their real motive I said, “no, I will clean it after reaching my destination.” When hardening my voice I told them not to remove my jacket, they left me. When after reaching the service station of S. Resham Singh, I related the whole story to him. He said that it was a favorite ploy of theirs to rob the strangers. They frequently use this trick and many visitors become their victims. They first trick the stranger into removing his coat and then one of them runs away with it. When the owner runs to catch him, the others run away with his other belongings. So far as I was concerned my life’s whole capital was in the pockets of that jacket, on of which I roamed about in the world and did not care about any ‘Tunda Lat.’ It contained my passport, money, tickets and other tit bits. S. Resham kept me as his guest for four days and took me for sight-seeing. Then on my request he took me to the bus station to catch a bus for the Netherland’s capital Amsterdam. A Langar of Tea? My Visit to Spain This event took place during my visit to European countries in 2004. From Paris I reached by flight the city of Barcelona in Spain. Why? I do not know. Take it as, “Blind dogs hunting deers.” On the invitation of an influential friend S Ranjit Singh, I went to the branch office of his business. In the bath room at he office of his representative I took a bath and also had a lunch that he got from a Chinese restaurant upon my request. I had stated at midnight from Paris and had reached there at the three in the afternoon. The air ticket was the cheapest one available and no refreshments were provided on board the flight. So a diabetic patient like me had t spent about 20 hours without eating or drinking anything. Though the food was vegetarian as I had desired but was not to my liking. My idea of a meal is two hot Rotis and diluted Daal. Then on my repeated requests he dropped me at he Gurdwara. First he had tried to persuade me that he will leave me at the Gurdwara only after talking to the management and had suggested an alternative that I should stay with him for a few days, but I did not agree saying, “Mein na manu.” So we came to the Gurdwara and handing me to the Sevadar he left. The poor Sevadar said welcome to me and gave me place to spend the night in the corner of a room next to his bed, like a bat friends of the bats. From the childhood I had observed that not tea was made in Gurdwaras. It may have been due to the rule that nothing should be served in the Gurdwaras that was against some one’s faith. All have equal claim on the Langar in the Gurdwara. So as a rule no item of food is made and served in the Gurdwara Langar that is prohibited in religion. The use of intoxicants is against the teaching of Gurus. The Gurmat teaches that a Guru’s Sikh should be addicted only to Parshada. In the Punjab of old days in edition to the Roti-wela, Lahuda-wela and raat-wela, there was chhah-wela, a time in the early morning when people had Lassi (butter milk). Depending upon a family’s financial; situation or taste, either a left over Roti from the previous night’s meal, or a fresh cooked one, or Parantha went with the Lassi. The rich and mighty ate/eat Omelette, bread etc. in the morning meal. They call it breakfast instead of chhah-wela. Now the tea has replaced the Lassi. Almost all households now have tea in the morning. Up to 1960s no tea was made for Langar in the Gurdwara Sahiban, managed by the SGPC, though its employees had tea at their homes. Whenever any VIP or high official come to visit any Gurdwara, he was served tea, brought from Halwai shop. At Amritsar the places visited were usually two; the Information Office at Ghantaghar and the office of the president of the SGPC. In the account book the expenditure on tea was entered under the head Jal-Paani. I still remember 1955-56. We then lived in Tarn Taran. I studied at Khalsa Pracharak Vidiala, run by Chief Khalsa Diwan. Sant Baba Gurbachan Singh Ji Bhindranwale like every year was camping at Tarn Taran to do Katha. My Dadi Ma Ji had come to visit us. The talk one day turned to the subject of tea. To something the Dadi Ma Ji said about tea. Bhaia Ji said, “Sant Ji will say I still take teas. From today no tea will be made in the house, but the Sant Ji should not know that we have only now Given up tea.” There was a rumour those days that the tea was flavored with tobacco, and to have tobacco in any form in against the rules of Sikhism. The Gursikhs therefore urged not to have any tea. Even today, the Namdharis, The Damdami Taksal, Akhand Kirtani Jatha etc. abstain from tea. Instead of tea a brew called Saunfa is served in their Langars Today almost at all Gurdwaras the tea is served as an item of the Langar and I am afraid, is probably included in the ‘Bhog’ ceremony. New board displayed out side of Sri Guru Ram Das Langar gives timings when the teas is served in the Langar: about eight in the morning and three in the afternoon, I think! Now even a Roti-making machine has been installed there, making the preparation of Langar for the visitors to Sri Darbar Sahib much easier. Seeing such fine arrangements for Langar my mind is filled with joy. Now the Langar is available to all without any distinction 24 hours a day, In my childhood this Langar was in a very poor shape, and it was open only for a few hours each day. Only the very fortunate used to be able to avail of the Langar, and the vast multitude of the really needy were denied his privilege. We owe it to the Guru Ji’s grace or the prosperity of Sikhs, or surplus of foodgrain in Punjab, or the management skill of the management or all of these, that the Langar is so bounteous. Some special days, apart from the Gurdwaras, the Langar is also served to travelers on the roads by stopping the vehicles etc., and at times this becomes less of a service and more of a coercive exercise. On 16 March, 1999 when Bibi Jagir Kaur became the President Of Shiromani Gurdwara Prabandhak Committee, the made and important arrangement that the employees of the SGPC will now be able to sit like the other Sangat and take Langar without any restriction or money deducted from their salaries. During my childhood, I had seen that the poor employees, after four hors of duty, went back to their rooms and had to cook their own food. Then time almost come to get ready for their other part of duties of four hours, as they were not allowed to eat from the Langar. The salaried being very modest, the employees usually left their families at their villages and lived alone in he city. They therefore had to do the cooking themselves. This was among the best decisions taken by the committee’s head for the welfare of its employees, but in the course of time this privilege too began to be misused by some employees and the management had to issue stricter guidelines. Anyway the talk was about what happened to me in a Gurdwara at Barcelona. I have been long used to having a up of tea without sugar in the morning. Now, after spending the night in a corner of the Sewadar’s room and completing my morning ablutions I looked around for means to satisfy this craving for tea. The Granthi Ji had returned to the Gurdwara from his shop only late at night. I had therefore had not opportunity to meet him. Now clad in a white Chola and a Sant-like turban he was sitting in the presence of Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji and reciting Sukhmani Sahib. I paid my respects to Guru Ji and went towards the Langar hall. I saw some gas stoves there but didn’t know how to light them. A clean-shaven Sikh appeared there and helped me to light one of these. I made a cup of tea and drank it. I did not know that Granthi Ji had watched all what I did from a corner of his eye. On completion of the Path, changing into everyday dress he asked me if I had had tea, though he had seen everything. I replied at once, “Ji, I had it when you were reciting Path,” rather enthusiastically. Perhaps he waited for my such answer. He burst out on me, “we do not touch anything here, without the Bhog ceremony, and you had the temerity to make and drink tea.” I asked a pardon from him for this ‘dire’ mistake. But this not satisfy him. He fired another salvo, “and what kind of Matha takena did you do? Is this the manner to do it?” I accepted this lapse also, and explaining that after travelling the whole day and spending night on the floor, I had a little bit temporary problem between my shoulder blades; There for I was unable to assume a proper posture for rubbing my head on the ground in front of Guru Ji. I again begged his forgiveness. But this again failed to mollify his anger. He said, “all you Pracharks commit these lapses. You have not learnt a Maryada of the Guru Ghar despite your long association with it. You have not learnt it from some Sant. You even eat and drink without a Bhog ceremony.” Now I was unable to restrain myself any longer, and gave him a piece of my mind in words to this effect: For one thing, I am a visitor here. I do not know what Dera’s Maryada do you follow here. If you are so particular about your own Dera’s Maryada, you should have told me by yourself or your Sevadar to tell me about it. If then I did not abide by it, I was guilty. Now that you told me about it, I will not repeat my mistake. So far as having tea before the Bhog is concerned, I do not think that if Parents find a child eating or drinking before them have done so, they will not be angry with their child, but will feel happy about it. Our Guru Maharaj Ji is Shabad Sarup; He is formless; He is not an image of a statue of stone; it is not hat you have to satisfy His hunger by a Bhog ceremony, before you yourself can eat or drink; The mouth of needy person is the Guru’s Golak; The food in a hungry person’s mouth satisfies Guru Ji’s desire for food etc. Some such hot words were exchanged between the two of us. Granthi Ji kept murmuring to himself and wearing his pants on top of his Kachhehra and re-arranging the top folds of his turban, left for his shop. I had felt a bit hurt at his behavior that I went to inquire about any train or bus leaving for Paris. I had before thought of staying there until the following Sunday and meet the Sangat of that area. Walking through a bazar I met a Gursikh. I regret that I do not recall his name now. He took me to his home and gave me Parshada. He offered to become my host for a few days but I declined politely. On my request they took me to another Gurdwara and left me there. There was a young Granthi Ji at that Gurdwara. I stayed the night with him and the next day he introduced me to other Sikhs there. A young Gursikh took me to an internet cafe ad I satisfied my crave for newspapers and E- mail. They told me to stay there till the Sunday to mark my presence with the Sangat but my mind had got totally alienated with the place. On my insistence they took me to board the train leaving for Paris that evening. On the morning of 11 September 2004, I reached Paris’ main railway station. How the officials at the Paris railway station ‘welcomed’ me there is another long story. The name of this young Granthi Ji too I do not remember – this height of ingratitude! My Visit to Amritsar of November 2006 One day while sitting, a thought occurred to me that I should write a letter to S. Rajinder Singh Aatish, thank him and tell him that my fondness for reading had developed through reading his humorous column, the ‘Aatishbazi’, in the ‘Akali’ newspaper and that I have achieved my present stature drawing inspiration from his writings. Then another thought come to me that I should also thank the person who enabled me to read the Astish ji’s column. That person was my Bhaia Ji (Father), Bhai Gian Singh Ji, the ex-Mukh Granthi of Sri Akal Takhat Sahib. He now lived in his old age with our sister Satwant Kaur. We could provide financial help from here but his physical care cannot. With the help of our sister’s husband, S. Sadhu Singh Ji, served him with love and dedication We would forever be in their debt. Besides good physical care, the doctors had also advised that he should live outside the city in an open environment. Though our sister’s actual village is Peruman, keeping in mind our father’s need for the medical facilities and the nearness of an historic Gurdwara, they had shifted their residence to the historic town of Baba Bakala. Flying from Sydney, with halt at Singapore, and reaching Amritsar, the first thing I did after paying my obeisance at Sri Darbar Sahib, was to have Bhaia Ji’s Darshan at Baba Bakala. During this stay at Amritsar at my younger brother S. Sewa Singh’s house, we brought Bhaia Ji to live with us at Amritsar and I began to spend time in the morning and evening sitting with Bhaia Ji exchanging our thoughts and feelings. His monetary requirements which meanly concerned donations towards religious works I tried to meet as per his wishes. During this stay at Amritsar I also got the chance to recite Katha at Gurdwara Manji Sahib Katha of the Mukh Vaak from Sri Darbar Sahib. This was by the grace of Guru Ji and through the help and inspiration of the learned Granthi of Gurdwara Manji Sahib, Giani Jaswant Singh Ji. Four days here and the fifth at the Shaheed Ganj, Baba Deep Singh Ji, at the Shadeedi Smagam, I was given time to do Katha, with the grace of Guru Ji. At both the places I was honored with Siropas. At Gurdwara Manji Sahib Giani Jaswant Singh Ji and at Shaheed Ganj, the Guru J’s beloved, and able manager and a lover of Kirtan, S. Harbhajan Singh Ji did the honor of presenting the Siropa to me. As on other such occasions, my long-time friend Dr Jasbir Singh Sabar under his able guidance, gave me an opportunity to take part in the Seminar held at the Guru Nanak Dev University to me meet eminent Sikh scholars. Long familiar to me through his writings and the long-admired, the honorable Dr Jaswant Singh Neki Ji too gave me the privilege of meeting him with along side his wife. It was Dr Jasbir Singh Sabar Ji who introduced me to him. Next evening at the Singh Brothers, in the office of S. Gursagar Singh, I met him again. A new facet of his personality was revealed to me: this was his humorous nature despite his age and learning. He cracked a couple of jokes that I had not heard before. During the Seminar, I met Giani Joginder Singh Azad Ji, an eminent Gurmat Scholar and Kathakar, and a friend and classmate of my younger brother, S. Sewa Singh. This chance meeting turned into a close friendship. More than once I had the occasion to visit his home on the Valla Road. He is a scholar not only of old Gurmat education but of the modern one also. I presented him with a set of my books. He not only read them in a record time and gave me encouragement, but came to our house and giving me Rs. 105 and said. “I had actually decided to present you with Rs. 101, but having no change with me, I am giving you Rs. 105. Please do not think I am giving you the price of your books, they are priceless. Treat it as a Shagan like on the birth of a son.” I accepted that money with great gratitude. Then he took some more of my books to give them to his interested and learned friends. I also met there Dr Suba Singh Ji, The Principal of Shaheed Sikh Missionary College,. He invited me to address the students of his College. Next day he himself came to the Seminar and took me to the college. Thus I got he privilege of addressing the students of my old college. I had got the same honor in 2001 when S. Harjit Singh Ji was the Principal of the college. After that since the commissioning of the new building it was the first opportunity to me to address the able teachers and promising students of this great historic educational institution, that had enabled me to live and act in this world through the knowledge it had given me. At S. Jassa Singh Ramgarhia Bhawan in East Mohan Nagar, the release ceremony of a collection of short stories of Sardarni Jasbir Kaur, wife of the founder-organizer of Amritsar Vikas Manch, Prof. Mohan Singh Ji, took place. The soul of the Amritsar Vikas Manch, Dr Charanjit Singh Gumtala, by his kindness, gave me the opportunity to address a gathering of prominent social workers and writers of literatures. I had got invitation to speak at a religious seminar to be held at Chandigarh and had promised to take part in it. I had thought that I will have a lucky opportunity of meeting eminent national scholars but due to unforeseen reason: I could not do so. Besides this I had also thought of visiting Patiala, Delhi and Ludhiana exc. and meet old friends there. I had planned to go to these places with my books then in the process of publication so that they could be handed to them when we met; but the Murphy’s law applies here too. According to this law: everything takes a bit longer than we think. So the books took time in publication and in a hurry to return to Australia, I left Amritsar, leaving my friends with promises to return and meet them soon. Election of the President of SGPC Long ago, the famous Akali leader S. Jagdev Singh Talwandi, while addressing an Akali conference had said, “at first everyone is unwilling to become the president of Akali Dal, and when we make some one the president then he is unwilling to give up the post. The Sangat runs after him with Lathis in their hands to make him give up the presidentship and he runs away clutching the presidentship in his bag to save it. Whoever is able to sustain the pace during this race wins it and the other loses it. God’s ways are beyond comprehension. During the election of the SGPC’s president in 2006, I happened to be in Amritsar. I listened to the proceedings like some others standing on the roof of the Jorha-Ghar near the Manji Sahib. Bibi Jagir Kaur was managing the stage. at intervals she cracked jokes at which the audience laughed, making the atmosphere more lively. It was almost pre determined who will win the election as the supremo of all Sikh institutions then was S. Prakash Singh Badal. Every Sikh institution is under the control of Sardar Badal in these days. In the afternoon that day I was walking from Jallianwala Bag towards Ghantaghar when a large car with flashing red light passed me at full speed. Many other cars were also speeding in front and behind that car at much speed which cannot be considered right in the crowded bazar. The large car had the president of SGPC inside it. Watching such glorious arrival of the Pradhan Ji my mind went back to the past history. This great Sikh Parliament (not mini Sikh Parliament) was once presided over by great leases like Baba Kharhak Singh and Master Tara Singh. I do not know about the time of Baba Ji but the waxing and waning of Master Tara Singh as the supreme leader of the Sikh Panth I observed with my own eyes. It was said that Master Ji used to travel from his home near the Shaheed Sikh Missionary College to his office by Tonga when he was the president of the SGPC. It was also said that once when his pen exhausted the ink, he declined to fill it up from the ink pot lying in the office This is what I have heard. What is the reality I do not know. This I know that when Sant Fateh Singh Ji’s candidate Sant Channan Singh Ji, after defeating Master Ji’s candidate, S. Kirpal Chakshera by two votes on 2 October 1962, took over the presidentship and then went to his residence at Gurdwara Budha Joharh, he had travelled by bus from Amritsar to Ganga Nagar and then to Rai Singh Nagar on another bus and from there he had borrowed a bicycle from an Akali worker and rode it to Gurdwara Budha Joharh on it. However S. Kirpal Singh was from a rich farming family and maintained a royal style, Whenever he came to Amritsar to preside over the meeting or for any other purpose, he stayed at the Grand hotel in front of Amritsar railway station, and all the expenditures for refreshments for members and visitors to him he used to pay from his own pocket. On the other hand Sant Channan Singh Ji was of Saintly nature and was quite austere. He would neither spend the committee’s funds for any illegal purpose himself or would allow anyone else to do it. The flour for his Rotis and oranges he used to bring with him from Gurdwara Budha Joharh. A jeep of the SGPC had been refitted with a larger body and Sant Ji would lye with legs folded on its seat and go to sleep. During travel he would meet his requirement of sleep lying in the jeep. Whenever he travelled beyond Mukatsar for Budha Joharh, he paid for the extra petrol from his own pocket, and not from the Committee’s funds. Though in the office there were other Secretaries and P.A., during travel he always entrusted this job to me. Apart from the driver and a gunman a Sevadar also accompanied him during the travel. One day while staying at the Kothi of a minister, S. Sohan Singh Bassi, he said to me, “Santokh Singh, if you are able to take over these medicines etc. from the Sevadar, we need not carry him with us, and he could be employed on some other duties in the office.” Upon my consent he thus count down one person from his retinue and gave these duties to me along with my duties as P.A. Now see what a glorious style the President enjoys! The budget of the SGPC at that was less than rupees one crore, ie half the budget of Amritsar municipality, but now it exceeds 500 hundreds crores. It is right that, “Khuda jab husan deta hai to nazakat aa hi jati hai.” About the income of the SGPC the ordinary Sikhs have many misconceptions. I have many times requested responsible officials of the Committe to remove these misconceptions. I have also told them the way the budget of the Committee should be presented so that the common people could also understand it but so far nothing has been done toward it. In the form the budget is now published in the Committe’s paper ‘Gurdwara Gazzette’ is not understood by the common people, including me; and those people who have had no association with the Committee and those affected by false propaganda, how will they understand it. This much I can tell that in 1960 the committee’s budget was about half that of the Amritsar Municipal Committee. The common Sikhs believe that the committee’s budget is larger than even the Punjab Governmet’s budget. I suggested that the Sangat should be told about the number of schools, hospitals, medical colleges, Dental colleges, Engineering colleges, paid employees, other institutions, Langars. Srawan, etc. being managed out of the income of the Committee. People should be told about the total income and its percentage wise expenditure on various things such as salaries and expenditure on education etc. The details published in the ‘Gurdwara Gazzette’ are not understood by the ordinary people. At against this I have found it much easier to understand the details of the Punjab Government’ budget. In the beginning my Bhaia ji’s duty was that of Granthi at the Gurdwara Santokhsar and the residence in the quarters behind Sri Akal Takhat Sahib. This duty was for four hours in the morning and four hours in the evening. He had called me from our village to live with him so that I could get some education. He used to cook our meals both time the mornings and evenings. I used to hear of Panth Prakash Katha at every evening Gurdwara Manji Sahib and read Sikh historical books, apart from taking lessons of Gurbani. I had even so impressed with the Katha that one day I took an iron rod and engraved these words on the wall of our room: Bhai Santokh Akali. When Bhaia Ji noticed this ‘great deed‘ of mine he went out and called some neighbors to see my handiwork. He said, “look at him, he claims to be a Bhai and an Akali’, just ask him what time he gets up; ask him if he has ever got up at Amritvela.” Those days food being scarce in Punjab, It was issued on ration cards. It was very difficult for most people to make both ends meet on that ration. Now everything is available in Punjab in plenty. On special occasions Langars are served on the road sides. Now the Guru Ram Das Langar is also open 24 hours and one gets even tea there. In the days of old only the lucky few were able to get Prashada from Langar. The first time witnessed the hustle bustle on the occasion of the election of the president of the SGPC was in November 1958. I did not understand much what was happening there that time, but like others I too was roaming in the premises of the Committee. Some one pointed at a man and said, “that is Giani Zail Singh.” I saw a tall and thin gentleman in a white cotton Kurta Pajama, white turban, and wearing spectacles. A thin man usually looks taller. To me his legs appeared very thin and some what outwards. I am not certain but I think he was then member of the Raj Sabha, and before that as a favourite of the home minister of India, Sardar Patel, he had been a minister in the PEPSU government. All this show of the election had been staged to snatch away the Presidentship of the SGPC from Master Tara Singh Ji. Giani Zail Singh had come there to vote as a member of the congress party against Akali Dal. He was a nominated member of the SGPC and represents the now defunct PEPSU state. During this election a minster of the Punjab government, Giani Kartar Singh, with the government support, defeated Master Tara Singh by three votes and S. Prem Singh Lalpura elected the president, who remained the president for about a year and a half till the general election of 1960. Then the Akali Dal fought this election without alliance with any other party and won 137 seats out of 140. The congress supported Sadh Sangat Board could win only three lame seats. Bit of information regarding the factional fights in the SGPC reached my ears but I did not have much information about the Committee’s politics. During the ‘great battle’ on 2 October 1962 for the election of the committee’s president I was in the far distant Jind, and again during the another ‘great battle’ on 2 June 1964 I was at Patiala. The information regarding these ‘great’ events I used to get from newspapers. This information might be half a propaganda. By the election of 1967, I had become interested in this subject. On this occasion the general house called for the election of the committee’s officials was being presided over by Sant Channan Singh Ji and the stage controller was the then Minister of Education, Electricity, Irrigation and many other departments, S. Lchhman Singh Gill. S. Harcharn Singh Hudiara by then had lost the race for the chief ministership of Punjab and pushed out of the party, He had been the senior vice-president of the committee since 2 October 1962. In this meeting he was now sitting in the opposition. In his place Jathedar Mohan Singh Tur was elected as the senior vice-president. Later, talking to Sant Fateh Singh Ji in an informal chit-chat I said, “It is a very good thing that you have made Jathedar Tur the senior vice-president of the committee.” Sant Ji, in his inimitable humorous manner quipped, “haven’t I done a good thing by making Bhai Ji (Sant Channan Singh) the president?” Some readers may be knowing the process by which the president of the SGPC is elected, but it may no be out of place here to give a brief account of this process. According to the Gurdwara Act passed by the Punjab Assembly in 1925, the Punjab government has been entrusted with the responsibility of holding SGPC election every five years. All adult Sikh men and women are eligible to vote in this election, After 1947, this election took place after an interval of eight years; after the further division of Punjab in 1966, the election was not held for 14 years; and then after 1979, the election took place after 17 years, in 1996. Before 1996, the general house was made of 140 elected members: 15 nominated members, 4 Jathedars of Takhats, and the Head Granthi of Sri Darbar Sahib. 160 members in total. These members then gathered under the presiding authority, the Deputy Commissioner of Amritsar, and elected their officials. In the beginning of 1960, the four Takhat Jathedars and the Head Granthi voluntarily gave up their right to vote, but they still attend the meetings as members. Before the election of 1996, the government included another 30 seats reserved for women. Thus now the committee has 140+15+30+6=191 members. The Jathedars of the now five Takhats and the Head Granthi do not vote during the election of officials. The remaining 185 members elect a president, a senior vice-president, junior vice-president, a general secretary and 11 executive members; a total of 15 officials. These officials are elected for a period of one year. They do not draw any salary. People had thought that now Badal Ji and Tohra Ji will have no cause for querell, as they used to fight on earlier occasions. The reason for their hoped for amity was: Tohra Sahib had now come to realize that he could not become the chief minister so long as Badal was there, Badal Sahib had realized that without Tohra Sahib’s support he could not become/remain the chief minister of Punjab; so considering their mutual need for each other, they would be compelled to pull together. And for a time this amity worked well. As a result the Akali Dal won a splendid victory in the committee election 1996, despite stiff opposition; and then it won the 1997 assembly election with record number of seats and forming an Akali government, recovered their supremacy of 1977. But a curse on the sycophants, thanks to whom these two leaders again come in the open against each other and there old clash resumed. But the victory of Sardar Badal in this fight was a fore gone conclusion because not only had he a personal friendship with the then prime minister, Sri Atal Bihari Bajpai, the whole power of the Punjab government was at his disposal. The neighboring state of Haryana too gave support to Sardar Badal who was himself then the master of Punjab. I was then Amritsar to take part in the celebration of 300th anniversary of the birth of Khalsa. One day sitting in the Information Office of Sri Darbar Sahib when I read news on the front page of the ‘Ajit’ newspaper, I was astonished. Sardar Tohra had said that if Sardar Badal had a paucity of time then he should make someone, like S. Gurdev Singh Badal as the temporary working president of the Party and reduce his workload so that he could devote more time to the work of government. As an example he had given his own example; he had appointed a young leader S. Sukhdev Singh Bhaur as acting president of the SGPC and this reduced his own workload. Those days an Akali candidate had lost the bye election of the Adampur assembly seat by a margin of only 6 votes, and the reason given was that due to the lack of time Sardar Badal had not been able to do campaigning on his behalf; and it was in this context that Tohra Sahib had given this advice to Sardar Badal. Knowing a little of the internal power struggle within the Akali Party, it gave me a jolt, “Hain! such open statement advising the president of the party to give up his post!!” The howls of protests from the Badal supporters were not long in coming; they came thick and bart. As a protest after a few days, six ministers of the Tohra group to put pressure on Sardar Badal, tendered their resignations. Sardar Badal lost no time in having their resignations accepted by governor. This scared the others intending to resign and put a stop to further protesters from the Tohra supporters. This started a great hullabloo. Out of the 15 executive members, 10 went to Sardar Badal and got cars with flashing red light, security and other privileges. The decisions taken by the remaining five in meetings at the committee office were invariably rejected by the ten sitting the circuit house. During one such meeting of the five I too happened to be present there. When Sardar Tohra was talking to me he received a phone call from Chandigarh. From what Sardar Tohra spoke on the phone, it seemed that he was ready to give way. But his rivals were bent upon pressing their advantage further. Sardar Tohra’s letter in defense of the charges leveled against him was not even opened and a notice was served to him about no confidence motion against his presidentship of the SGPC. Tohra Sahib gave way further and even accepted his lapses but his rivals had decided to rid themselves of this challenger to their leadership – like the Jatt who decided to immaculate his bull when it had fallen in a ditch. Bhai Ranjit Singh, the Jathedar of Sri Akal Takhat Sahib advised that a status quo be maintained and any action be postponed till 15 April so that he 300th anniversary of the Khalsa be held in a peaceful atmosphere, but Sardar Badal made him to give up his Jathedari. The election of the new president of the SGPC on 16 March 1999, I saw with my own eyes, observing the proceedings with arid interest, without taking any part in it. What I saw was as follows: The day of 16 March came when Sardar Tohra was to sacked from the presidentship of the SGPC. I was wondering as to why Sardar Tohra had continue to fight his loosing battle as the whole power of the Indian government supported Sardar Badal and he himself the CM of Punjab. On the afternoon of 15 March Tohra Ji‘s resignation letter was received on the Committee’s fax. I had decided to go into the meeting hall at all costs. I wanted to avoid reading about it in the newspapers which give a distorted and half-truthful version of such news. I wanted to see it all with my own eyes. The situation being sensitive, the security was very tight. It was difficult for a ‘Lallu-Panju’ like me, to go inside. Standing in line when I reached the security staff and started to introduce myself, a tall, lean gentleman smiled at me and said, “Welcome S. Santokh Singh Ji; how are you; when did you come from abroad?” Saying these words he allowed me to climb the stairs leading to the meeting hall. I later remembered that the gentleman was S. Harbhajan Singh Patti, the Chief Gurdwara Inspector. It was difficult for me to recognize him after two and half decades but he had recognized me. At the door of the meeting hall there was another check point which I found difficult to cross. I found S. Harbhajan Singh Bajwa, photographer from Batala, struggling to get inside. I followed him and some how pushed myself into the meeting hall, after him. The scene inside was this: In the absence of the president, the meeting was presided over by the junior vice-president, S. Kewal Singh Badal. The stage management was in the hands of Prof. Kirpal Singh Badungar Ji, the Chief Minister’s Officer-on-special duty. At the very beginning of the meeting, S. Simranjit Singh Mann, with his six members walked out, saying, “as per the directive of the Jathedar of Sri Akal Takhat Sahib, this meeting is illegal; therefore we cannot take part in it.” The proceedings started. I was thinking: now that the resignation of Tohra Ji has been received, the process will begin with words to the effect that the house accepts with regret the resignation of Sardar Tohra Ji. The house recognizes and admires his services to the Panth, and requests him to continue his valuable support and guidance to the Panth. Now to fill up the vacant post of the president, the house requests names of candidates, etc...... But the ‘learned’ members of the house brought a motion of no-confidence against Tohra Sahib and passing it unanimously, stripped him of this post and then formally installed Bibi Jagir Kaur as the President of the SGPC. It was thus that the long reign of Sardar Gurcharan Singh Tohra over the Shiromani Gurdwara Prabandhak Committee came to an end. It was a different matter that Sardar Tohra did not sit quietly at home. He first made an attack on Sardar Badal’s Chief Ministership, but that failed due to some weakness in it. In the second attack he defeated Sardar Badal’s son in parliamentary election and seized his Lok Sabha seat and this his ministry from Indian Government as well. In the third attack he ended Badal Group’s dominance over the Delhi Gurdwara Prabandhak Committee. In his forth attack he had both the candidates of Sardar Badal for the Gurdwara Hazur Sahib Board defeated. In his fifth attack he defeated Badal’s Dal SAD in the Punjab Assembly’s election 2002. Thus, ending his rule in Punjab. In his sixth attack, he would have snatched the control of the SGPC from Sardar Badal had not the ex-Prime Minister, Inder Kumar Gujral, advised Mrs. Sonia Gandhi not to help Sardar Tohra. At that time the support of Indian government was for Sardar Badal but due to the mutual rivalry of Sardar Badal and Chief Minister of Punjab, Captain Amrinder Singh, the Punjab government backed Sardar Tohra. But on Sonia Gandhi’s advice he could not interfere in the SGPC’s president’s election. Thus, from a timely support from Mr. Gujral, Badal succeeded in retaining his control over the SGPC and his leadership of the Sikhs. When Bibi Jagir Kaur, with the blessings of Sardar Badal, became the president of the SGPC she made a good announcement: that henceforth the employees of the committee are entitled to have the Langar sitting with the Sangat and no money will be deducted from their pay. after wards some employees are probably using the vehicles of the SGPC for their personal use, but during the tenure of Sant Channan Singh Ji as president , till his death, that was not the case. By the time Sardar Tohra became the President of the SGPC, I had gone abroad. During the Sant Ji’s time the employees and members could only clam bus fare or the third class rail fare when they travelled on duty. Only S. Narinderjit Singh, the in-charge of the information office, due to his health condition and his frequent important visits to Delhi, had been permitted to claim first class rail fare. Once in 1975, I had to travel in first class, paying the fare from my own pocket, when I had to accompany him from Amritsar to Delhi return. Due to poor health he couldn’t travel in the third class and it was necessary for me to accompany him. Going into the air-conditioned coupe, at Delhi, we found that a Baba Ji of the Kar-Sewa was already gracing a seat. In wondered how a Baba Ji who collected a Roti and a bowl of milk from each house, could afford an air-conditioned travel, though I had been compelled by circumstances to travel in the air-conditioned class, yet I considered it a waste of money; but the Baba Ji enjoyed his journey to the full. No wonder today the newspapers carry frequent news of Babas, embezzling large sums of Gurdwaras’ money and huge quantities of gold. Today, when God has given me the means and my age and health condition demands that I should by a class with provision of facilities, I still regard the preference to travel in a particular class and extravagance. Even one Gursikh promised me that he will pay my travel by air in business class I travel to do Katha in different countries and cities, but I hesitate from that generous offer. From this I remember a funny incident: A member of opposition party used to be very active in criticizing every action of the ruling party. Some members of the ruling party made a scheme to silencer him. Those days a committee member while travelling on official duty could claim 2 rupees allowance per day and bus fare and third class rail fare from the committee funds, though many members did not usually claim it. This member was among those who claim that fare and allowance. He asked a clerk to fill up his claim form as usual. The clerk intentionally filled up first class fare in the form and took the member’s signature on it. To top it all no railway line went to place where he had claimed to have travelled. As inquiry started against the member. If found guilty he could lose his membership and also been barred from future elections. He also could have been made to refund the claimed amount. When the member made his submission to the ruling party, the inquiry was quietly dropped and the member there after stopped his criticism of the ruling party. Not only the president, these days even the Singh Sahibans travel in cars with flashing lights and armed body guards. In my childhood, I saw Giani Bhupinder Singh Ji, the Head Granthi of Sri Harmander Sahib and Jathedar Achhar Singh Ji, the Jathedar of Sri Akal Takhat Sahib walk from their homes to Sri Darbar Sahib through the crowded bazars. When these great persons walked, the people in the bazars stood in respect with their palms joined. I do not want that the wheel of history should rotate in reverse; I just drive pleasure by seeing the Guru Khalsa Panth in such splendid financial condition and at the same time we should use Panth’s financial resources with care as we use our own resources. Many times in the past, the government using its Sikh supporters and tempting them with government had out used to seize control of the SGPC by having its protege elected as the president. But at the tie of the committee’s general election when common Sikhs vote to elect its members the Shiromani Akali Dal invariably won the election. The leader of the Sikhs is considered one who has control of the Shiromani Gurdwara Prabandhak Committee. It is the SGPC who appoints officials at various historical Sikh Gurdwaras under its control. Eve the Jathedars are appointed by the Committee. Any one who does not toe the line of its policy cannot continue to hold his post. This is the bitter truth which cannot be ignored. These days all Sikh institutions including the SGPC in the hands of Sardar Prakash Singh Badal. He can hire or fire any one. Neglect of loud speakers at Diwan Sthan of Gurdwara Manji Sahib In the last days of November 1998, one day, while returning home after paying obeisance at Sri Darbar Sahib with my family, after collecting our shoes from the Jorhaghar, we were walking past the office of the SGPC towards Gurdwara Baba Atal Sahib, I heard the Katha of the early morning’s Hukamnama at Sri Darbar Sahib from the loud speakers of Gurdwara Manji Sahib fitted on the road side. Telling my family to go home, I stood there to hear the Katha. In order to hear the Katha better, I went inside the Diwan Sthan but was disappointed at see, such thin attendance there. Ponder the reason for the lack of audience in the hall I found that the main reason was that the people cold not make out what was being spoken through the loud speakers, as the sound was repeatedly reflected by high walls and roof of the hall. It is true that some people stood outside the hall near the speakers listening to the Katha. Sitting in the hall for some time out of respect for the place I too got u and came out. There was no point sitting there when I could not make out anything that came through the speakers. I thought that the few people who sat there, remained sitting out of a religious feeling or may be they had developed some unknown faculty in understanding what came through the speakers. So far as I was concerned the little pleasure I had got while listening the Katha out side the hall, disappeared. I remembered the time when the hall had not yet been built and the Diwan Sthan was open. In the early morning the Katha of the Hukamnama was done, and the evenings, Singh Sahib Jathedar Achhar Singh Ji did the Katha of Panth Prakash. Not having much understanding of the Gurbani, I did not listen to the Hukamnama Katha, but I seldom missed the evening’s Katha as it relate to the Singh history in which I was intensely interested. The Diwan Sthan then used to overflow with Sangat. Every Sunday Singh Sahib Giani Bhupinder Singh Ji, the Head Granthi of Sri Darbar Sahib, delivered an hour long lecture after the Katha and the Sangat used to come in still larger numbers. Being a child and not understanding much that he spoke, I was fascinated by his lovely personality, neat dress and charming speech. It is well to remember that the most important Diwan Sthan of the Sikh Kaum from all aspects is Gurdwara Manji Sahib of Amritsar. Apart from the twice of a day Katha, on all important Gurpurabs and historical occasions also took place here. At the time of Morchas, the Jathas used to march from this place; the great Panthak speeches were made here. Kaumi, Panthak, religious and political directions the Sangat took from here. During Master Tara Singh Ji’s leadership of the Panth afterwards, all important religious and political announcements were made from this stage. For a time when the government gained control of the SGPC, the Shiromani Akali Dal would hold its Jalsas at the Ghantaghar Chowk; but after the SGPC’s general elections, when the Akalis won back the control of the GPC, the venue would shift back to the Manji Sahib stage. Up to the early 70s the centre of all Panthak activities was for all practical purposes the Manji Sahib. I had the honor to participate in the Diwans here, first as a spectator and later as speaker and stage-secretary during special occasions up to 1972. At that time the problem of the loud speakers had not yet arisen and the audience was all praise for the good management of the proceedings at the Diwan Sthan. Like the Car Sewa of other Gurdwaras, the Kar Sewa of this place was obtained in early 70s by a Kar Sewak Sant Ji. The work of the Kar Sewa was delegated by the Sant Ji to an influential retired official of The SGPC, who now replaced his decades old navy-blue turban with a white one, though he still tied it in the old style. He put a halt to all Panthak activities at the place till completion of the Kar Sewa. In a short time a two storied hall was erected here. One good thing about the hall was that it protected the Sangat from the weather during heat and rain and also provided a roof for some homeless people, but the real purpose for which the place had been used for centuries was forgotten. Remember that no Katha or Vikhian are held in side Sri Darbar Sahib, so the addicts and messages are delivered to the Sangat from the stage Gurdwara Manji Sahib. Despite spectacular advances in the science of engineering it is surprising that the Sikh leadership has for so long neglected this problem. One Kathakar has told me that a special public address system is under lock and key. It is only taken out and used when some famous Katha Wachak or political leader has to speak, and goes back under lock and key. It is not used for day to day programs as the mechanic, who is an expert on this equipment has to sit by it during use. I think that inside such enclosed space as Sri Harmander Sahib this problem of sound reflection can be overcome then surely this problem that has arisen due to the lack of understanding of the part of the designers can also be overcome. Here at Sydney when the vast hall of our Gurdwara was under construction, I used to warn the concerned persons of this problem, and perhaps for this reason this problem has not come up here. The SGPC had already encountered this problem at the hall built in Mukatsar. So it should have been more careful; but if it all his problem has arisen due to someone’s mistake, it can now be solved with ingenuity. If it involves considerable expenditure, it should e no problem. this can be met within the SGPC‘s budget. If that can’t be done then each one of the Guru Ji’s Sikh has the means to contribute money for this good work from the wealth he has acquired by grace of Guru Ji. The need is only for the management to pay attention to this problem. the money, in my opinion, is not the problem. May be the management’s attention has not been drawn to this problem because they have only heard the better PA system! It is only a matter of two hours every day. It should not be difficult to obtain the services of a trained mechanic for two hours a day. As an interim measure, in my opinion, the extra Rumalas lying in the Gurdwaras can be stitched into large sheets that can be stretched below the ceiling. It will prevent the sound from rebounding from the ceiling. There is no dearth of Rumalas in the Gurdwara and the Bibis of Amritsar will gladly do the stitching considering it a Sewa. The shield of Hind, Sri Guru Teg Bahadur Sahib Had been greatly impressed by the services of the Amritsar Bibis, and had said in admiration, “Maian Rabb rajaian.” This interim measure can be resorted to till a permanent solution has been found by engineering experts. Note: The above writing should not be taken as criticism or propaganda against any individual or organization. This is an effort by a humble servant of the Panth to draw attention of the SGPC management to this problem. I have already sent this article to the management, but have not so far got no reply from them. At the end of 2004, a Granthi Singh had told me that the loud speakers have been modified to give better quality sound. But still when any eminent Katha Wachak has to do Katha from here; special PA system is hired. So apparently all is not well in this connection. The doors of the Darshani Deodi are not those of the Som Nath Temple From the time when the then Prime Minister of India, Sri Murar Ji Desai visited Sri Darbar Sahib in late Seventies, a fiction became current that the doors of the Deodi of Sri Darbar Sahib are the ones that had been looted by the Muslim invader Mahmud Gaznavi in the 11th century and later brought back by the victorious Sikh army during the Sikh rule. So far as I know this fictional story had been spread by an over jealous news reporter who was notorious for his anti-Hindu sentiments which he took no trouble to keep them to himself. From time to time this story appears on the Internet also. the strange thing is that some learned and scholarly persons too fall into this trap and believe it to be true. The reason for the strange silence of the SGPC on this issue is not understood. The SGPC can takes the services of any number of eminent scholars and clear the doubts and misconception in the minds of Sikh Sangat. (Now they did published a booklet about this subject). The vague and incomplete statements given by the President of the SGPC and the Jathedar of Sri Akal Takhat are not the solution to this problem. I am surprised at the amount of information I have been able to gather after travelling from Sydney to Amritsar. For the experts and scholars it should not be difficult at all to find the truth behind these doors. At Amritsar I tried to find out truth behind this controversy generated by the Internet. I went to Sri Darbar Sahib and inspected the doors from both side. From a young employ of the Committee who stood there I asked a number of questions about the doors but he did not know anything as I expected, but two white bearded Sikhs who were nearby made a verbal attack on me. They said they were shocked that I did not believe that the Sikh warriors had rescued these doors from the Afgans through their valor. One of them had come from a far off place, which I now don’t recall. He gave me the room number of the Srai where he stayed and said I could go and met him there the next day and he would clear all mu doubts regarding the doors. I presented myself at his room to get the proof have had promised me the day before. After a long discussion he told me that at Guru Ram Das Nagar, on Sultanwind road, lived a Hakeem called Sandhu Ji, and that he had a book that will give clear proof that he doors indeed belonged to the Som Nath Temple. Both of us took rickshaw and went to the Hakeem, but he was not at home. The next day accompanied by my younger brother I went to the Hakeem Ji’s house, and after another long talk, he had the kindness to tell us that at the Guru Ka Kotha Village in Bathinda district, lived a Giani Ji who has a written proof about the doors. My brother was a reluctant partner to this my fruitless investigation of the doors. I was still thinking about going to that village in Bathinda district when my long time friend S. Kuljit Singh Talwar I.R.S (Retd.) handed me a book, authored by Giani Kirpal Singh Ji, called ‘Sri Amritsar Ji Ka Itihas’. Giani Kirpal Singh Ji was an eminent Sikh scholar and had held the august posts of Mukh Granthi of Sri Darbar Sahib and Jathedar of Sri Akal Takhat Sahib, for very long time. Who should know better than him regarding these doors? That book gave me this information: During the reign of Maharaj Ranjit Singh, Giani Sant Singh was the Mukh-Granthi at Sri Darbar Sahib, when the doors of the Darshani Deodi were built by a carpenter named Yar Muhammed Khan. The money spent on them amounted to rupees 60000 at that time.( I do not have that book now and there fore cannot give the page number) Bhai Kahn Singh Nabha on page of his ‘Mahan Kosh’ has given the following information regarding the Som Nath temple: Som Nath is a town on the sea coast of Kathiarwar in the former state of Junagarh. It is also known as Prabhas and Veraval Pattan. A famous Shivling has been installed in a temple here. the temple also had a five yard tall statue of Lord Shiva. This statue had been broken up into four pieces in 1034 by Mehmud Gaznavi. Two pieces he sent to Gaznavi, one of which was buried beneath the stairs of the Masjid. The other beneath the stairs of his court. the other twp pieces were sent by him to Mecca and Medina to be similarly used there. The Som Nath temple had no equal in India. It had 56 jewel encrusted pillars in its hall and a two-hundred mounds heavy chain hung from its ceiling with a heavy bell at the end. Bhai Kahn Singh Nabha writes that this temple was looted in 1024, when the Sikh religion was still not in existence. About the looting of these doors he has made no mention. A Sikh young man, S. Amandeep Singh of Sydney has done research regarding these doors and he writes that the doors of the Darshani Deodi has nothing to do with the doors of the Som Nath temple, which have been installed at the Gopal Mandir in Ujjain, The doors had been brought back from Gazni either by a British officer, Sir William Nott, or the Maratha leader Mahadji Sindhia. We should understand it clearly that the doors at Sri Darbar Sahib have no relationship with the Som Nath temple. If the doors have become too old and cannot now be repaired, they can be quietly replaced by new ones. There is no need to raise any hue or cry about this subject. There must have been doors at the Darshani Deodi before these were installed. Where those doors have gone? If these doors are beyond repair and can pose danger to visitors by suddenly collapsing then these should be changed and if considered necessary then they can be preserved as historical relics. The opinion of experts can be obtained in this regard. My only concern is that this unnecessary controversy should be settled in right way. It can have dangerous consequences. A mischievious person or organization can exploit this issue and cause discord between communities in Punjab. It can set the waters of Punjab on fire again. A demand could have made that if these doors did indeed once belonged to the Som Nath temple, then they should go back there where did they come from. Some mischievious crowd can dare to come and get it. The Sikhs then will defend. Then the Punjab could then become a field for communal clashes. During my meeting with the Hakeem Ji, another interesting thing happened which may be of interest to the readers: A young man sitting with the Hakeem Ji, without any relation to my talk with Hakeem Ji, loudly complained that certain man wore shoes while carrying Sri Guru Granth Sahib on his head. I wished I had a sword so that I could cut his head. I should have kept quiet but the young man’s talk was continued with so much anger I could not kept my mouth shut. I kept my out ward calm and tried to reason with him. Among other things, I said that in certain circumstances, it was permissible to walk with shows on while carrying the Sarup of Sri Guru Granth Sahib on our head, and even the Guru Sahiban whose Bani it contained must have worn shoes in their life time. But the youth seemed unconvinced. During all this argument the Hakeem Ji did not deem it necessary to say anything for or against the issue under discussion. I too had to pay bribe Sri Guru Nanak Dev Ji said that a mere meeting one another is not enough; without giving and taking, it is not possible to live in this material world. After reading the comedian Jaspal Singh Bhatti’s humorous column in the Tribune I thought of sharing some of my experiences with my readers too. Actor Bal Raj Sahni Ji has written in his Safarnama that once during his Pakistan visit he was travelling by Tonga through a city of that country, I think Rawalpindi, the Tongewala remarked, “the only two ‘Alis’ left in Pakistan now are the Sifarash Ali and Rishwat Ali.” When Sahni Ji asked him to explain this, he said, “because the Liaqat Ali has been shot dead.” Those days some one had shot the then Prime Minister of Pakistan Liaqat Ali Khan, dead. I have been hearing and reading in the newspapers that there is such an officer in the Punjab government who ha put a complete stop to the taking of bribes in his office. How such an impossible thing could happen, I have failed to understand. This is like ‘Satyug’ in the ‘Kalyug’. A cog of the government and such audacity! A country whose prime minister had been accused of taking commission in a defense purchase of Buffer guns! where there are news of a scam in the purchase of coffins for dead soldiers killed in war for defense of the country. A country where according to the Tehlaka.com every one including the top political leadership could be bought with money! In that every country the Deputy Commissioner of a district had not only banished bribe in his own office but had also made his administration responsive to the people’s needs, as in western countries. All this looked like wishful thinking about how an administration should function. This also called a Utopia. It was beyond belief but everyone talked to confirmed that it was true. The wonder of wonders that this officer kept his chair for five years at the same place during the rein of a ruler against whom unbelievable charges of corruption had been leveled. A country where bribe was needed to get a child admitted to a school; a bribe in the form of tuition money, a bribe to pass examination, a bribe to get employment, a bribe to get transfered to a place where there was Upparly Kamai, a bribed to get promotion was required, a government servant had the courage to run a district administration without this lubrication of bribe money. In a political atmosphere where to get a ticket to stand in election a bribe had to b paid to the party boss, the voters had to be bribed to get a lush ministerial portfolio, at every level a bribe being necessary, a mere bureaucrat had turned everything upside down, was not believable. A bribe does not always have to be in terms of cash money; it has many forms. It is said that this wonderful man was the Deputy Commissioner of the District of Nawa Shehar, Sri Krishan Kumar, who kept his post during the Raja’s (Captain Amrinder Singh) rule, but on Badal Sahib’s arrival as the Chief Minister was transferred elsewhere. And now my own true story: It happened in 1972. Giani Zail Singh then was the ruler of Punjab. My younger brother S. Atma Singh got arrested in a case of robbery. We had to obtain a report of the identification parade. Father of a co-accused who was retired police inspector, said that the magisterate’s reader will take five rupees for this purpose At the magisterate’s office on thee reader’s chair I found a smart clean-shaven young man who behaved very well. It seemed as if the pride of office had not yet reached his head. I told him frankly the purpose of my visit. He said, “I am about to type the report. I will make an extra copy for you. Please come and collect it after 30 minutes.” When I went him again he handed me a envelope with report in side it. Acting on the advice of the retired police inspector I dropped a five rupee note in the draw of his table and came out, hearing him saying, “Sardar Ji, Sardar Ji, what is this? what it this?” But I didn’t turn back. On the second occasion I was compelled to pay bribe, Indira Gandhi had then imposed emergency rule on the country. The press and the people abroad believed that now government offices were running properly, trains ran on time, administration worked well etc. etc.. On October 1975, I was to go abroad a second time with my family. There was a requirement regarding immunization injections. I went to the office of the Civil Surgeon of Amritsar with my wife and my first son of 11 months old. For many hours no one even inquired as to why we were there. A doctor whom I knew too passed the place where we sat ad merely exchanged greetings and went on his way. The concerned official came at his leisure, and when I approached him commented, “first go, pay 30 rupees and bring a red cross slip.” I did what he told me but did not get any receipt for the money even after demanding it. However upon getting the relevant notations regarding immunization made in our papers we breathed a sigh of relief. Coming to Bombay while booking tickets for the ship, it was found that the entry regarding immunization made in the papers of my son was made on the wrong page. The booking clerk refused to book our seats. We had to do a lot of running around. A gentleman doctor helped us to cross this obstacle. On the third occasion I had to pay bribe, was during the rule of S. Darbara Singh in September 1983. I had had give a Mukhtarnama for my property in the country to my Bhaia Ji (father). Bhai Ji, younger brother and I went to the Tehsil office for the purpose. The Vasika Nawis filled up the relevant papers and we stood in the queue to get the Tehsildar’s endorsement on the papers. We had to stand in queue for a considerable time as the Tehsildar was not on his chair. I was feeling angry at such dereliction of duty on his part when looking at reader I thought that the man might have been an employee of the SGPC once, as I vaguely recognized his face. My memory proved to be correct. We had few minutes of chit chat. In the meanwhile the Tehsildar too came to his chair. He wasted no time in putting his signatures on the papers and the queue disappeared. Now the assistant of the Vasika Navis, his own son, grabbed all the papers and brought us back to his father who was sitting under a tree in the Tehsil premises Now a total of the money that was to be paid was made. It included ten rupees towards some unstated purpose. To my inquiry regarding this 10 rupees, the Vasika Navis said, “this we take from everyone; you will also pay it.” I had thought that the bribes are paid in secrecy and the taker has fear of being found out. But this was day light robbery. I was greatly surprised. I said in some anger, “I will not pay it; had you done this work and come to my home to hand me the papers, I would have given you even a hundred rupees as well as a cup of tea, but now that we three people have spent half a day standing in queue to get complete legal work done, why should we pay the bribe?” I thought that hearing such open defiance of this practice from me, he would feel ashamed, but he drew a long face and in almost weeping voice said, “then I will have to pay this sum from my own pocket.” I burst out, “go tell Faqir Singh that I am not paying this money.” He said, “then tell him this to his face.” To go to the bottom of this matter, I accompanied the assistant, who wet to the reader and said, “This Sardar Ji is not willing to ;ay that 10 rupees.” “Okay. then don’t take it from him,” he said quietly. I was astounded, “Oh, Faqir Singh, the things have come to this pass; now even the bribe is being included in the other expenses,” I expressed my surprise to the reader. He said, “Sardar Ji, the expenditure son parties and other expenses during VIP visits such as he Chief Minister, ministers etc. and on transfers of other officers we meet out of this money. We cannot pay for all this from our own pockets.” “I’ll not sell then my acquaintance with you for tem rupees,” saying this and throwing ten rupees in front of him, I came out of his office. He kept calling after me till I was out of sight. This is what happened in 1986. Those days the Sikhs were considered legitimate targets in Hindustan and were often beaten and robbed. The people who did this during the day were the policemen and at night those wearing Cholas. A good friend of mine S. Kuljit Singh said that in such conditions to pass though Haryana was to invite insult and injury, nay, even to stake one’s life. Hearing this I started to buy air tickets from Amritsar to Delhi because I didn’t want to my family would into any trouble. Doing much running around I some how arranged myself and my family, six persons, get tickets to board the flight from Amritsar to Delhi. Just before boarding the flight, a Sikh Havildar with a flowing beard created trouble for us. He could not obtain the bribe he wanted from me but we had to return from the airport without boarding the flight and incurred considerable loss of money on refunding the ticket money. It was not his duty to check our papers at Amritsar; It was to be checked at Delhi airport from where we had to board an international flight. But he checked there just to create trouble for us to get bribe though senior officer a Hindu gentleman saying, “it looks all right.” The friends and relatives who had come to see us off also had to suffer inconvenience a lot. We some how reached Delhi by train in time to catch our flight to Singapore and from there to Sydney, the tickets for which got with great difficulty, Just when we were sighing with relief at having escaped the clutches of the Punjab police, another trouble confronted us. To clear the immigration requirements we stood by mistake in a queue ‘served’ by a Sikh officer with full beard. He cleared my other family members but sending my passport inside to another office and told me to stand out of the queue. By now I had prepared myself mentally to face every trouble. I was aware that I spoke as well a wrote against the injustices done to the Sikhs by the Hind government. I told my wife to go ahead on their journey and instructed her to started sending the children to school after reaching our home in Sydney, and also inform the Australian relevant authorities there about the situation and do not worry about me. Now it was all between the Hind government and me. It was necessary to inform the Australian government so as the living allowance to my family could get in my absence. But after some time my wife came back from inside and said that the younger son had too started vomiting. The elder son had already been sick and we had had to take him to a doctor a little earlier. Hearing this I lost my patience as well and temper. I started denouncing the government and its system in loud words. A police constable came and whispered in my ear, “Sardar Ji, it will just take a hundred rupees.” “Shame on you,” I said, “for this paltry some you have created all this fuss! go and call my wife from the inside; she has the money; I will give it to you.” My wife came and handed over me one hundred rupee and I gave to that constable. He called out to a Havildar. “Ram Lal, bring Sardar Ji’s passport from inside.” Ram Lal immediately brought my pass port and handed over it to me. Then the policemen lifted our luggage and loaded it in the plane, which was waiting only for us. The Sikh officer did not look at me. He had got his share of bribe money. This was what that Sikh officer with three stars on his shoulder was really worth! From my long experience in dealing with Sikh officers in India, I have concluded that if you are a Sikh then you should avoid any dealing with the Sikh officials as far as possible. Being in the position of a sort of slaves in that country, they mete out an overly harsh treatment to their co-religionists to please their ‘masters’ and to prove their loyalty. As a result of efforts of my good friend. S. Balwant Singh Ramoowalia, the robbing of Sikh passengers at the Delhi airport has seen considerable decrease. But Sikhs have shown their gratitude by defeating him in the election from the Ludhiana Parliamentry seat and again from Sangrur. Rightly had a Raj Narayan remarked comparing S. Dhana Singh Gulshan and S. Kikar Singh, “the Sikhs are beyond comparison; they plough over a Gulshan and grow Kikars there. At the time of getting the marriage certificates of my daughters and nephew an advocate friend had been with me and I quietly paid the money that he told me, but according to his own calculation the certificates which were supposed to be issued free had cost us 2300 rupees each, It is a different matter the friend did not take the spent 46oo rupees from me in cash but had ‘adjusted’ them in some other account. My nephew’s friend had got his marriage certificate for a mere 1300 rupees. In November 2001, came the news of the death of respectable Bi Ji (my mother-in-law). It was necessary for my wife to go but due to some reasons she had asked me also to go. So we went. All the funeral and other arrangements were done by my wife’s elder sister. When I offered my services, I was given the job of obtaining a death certificate of the deceased from the municipal committee. When agreeing to do it I did not know that it was like, ”come oh bull, kill me.” It was the rule of Akalis in Punjab and I considered myself nothing other than an Akali and was proud of my personal acquaintance with Badal Sahib. When I set out on this task from Sri Darbar Sahib’s information Office, I met my younger brother S. Sewa Singh on the way. He told me that certificate was issued from the health centre at Chowk Krori near our home. We walked to that place. The clean-shaven shrewd doctor sitting on the chair at the health centre told us to go to the office of the municipal committee and got rid of unwanted visitors. On the way brother told me, “It is this very doctor who has to issue the certificate, but he has not done it because he thought we will not pay him the bribe money. I had on earlier occasion came to have the name of my new-born son registered here and had not given him any bribe even when he had asked me to do so. that is the reason he has now avoided us.” But I did not believe fully my brother; I thought why a responsible person like that doctor will tell us a lie. Anyway we wet to the municipal committee near the Kotwali. We had to pay 10 rupees for the form to an agent, The form was supposed to be free. I did not like it but there was no choice. After getting the form we went in search of the concerned clerk. We found a tall well-built Sardar walking briskly. We asked him politely about the clerk. Without interrupting his walk he arrogantly pointed towards a room. Going inside the room we found a somewhat older Sardar Ji on the chair. when we showed him the form, he pointed to room of the first Sardar Ji. Walking up to the first Sardar I said in some anger, “the person to whom you had sent us has told us to go to you; now tell us what to do?” He took the form from and said, “go to the Deorhi and deposit the fees there.” After we paid he fees, we were told to come after Ten days. On the Tenth day when I went to that office an official pointed towards an empty chair and said “the occupant of this chair can only tell you what became of the form or what has not become of it; and if anything will at all become, then how will it become. Upon my asking as to when the owner of the chair will come, he said, “perhaps after 3pm!” It was not the certificate was required go win any law suit regarding property or inheritance. It was needed merely to stop the pension that Bi Ji had been drawing since the death of my father-in-law was getting for his Army service, after his death. I was livid with anger but did my best to calm myself there and came back home. I told my sister-in-law,” Sister, either I will break someone’s head or some one mine; this work is beyond me.” She calmly handed a hundred rupee note a servant and sent him to get the certificate. He not only went and got certificate but returned 50 rupees to his mistress. Seeing all this I remembered an incident that took place in 1968. On the Diwali night after delivering a lecture at the Diwan Hall of Gurdwara Mani Sahib, after mid-night I went back to my quarter ad fell asleep. On the morning I got up with acute pain in m stomack. My neighbor and friend Giani Darshan Singh Shaheed, took me to a doctor who administered an injection to me. He then dropped me at my parent’s house at Bibeksar. After a few days of local treatment I had to be admitted to a hospital. Sant Channan Singh Ji, the President of the SGPC had told Dr. Harcharan Singh about me. Now when I went to him for help, he said in some exasperation, “this blue turban that you tie o your head, is a great handicap; seeing it no one ask you for a bribe, and without a bribe no one will do anything for you.” Then he told me about own bitter experience, “my own father was once seriously ill. I brought him to this hospital, where I am a professor of medicine and a head of department. When getting my father out of the car, I had to put him on a stretcher. I saw that the hospital staff was merely looking on; no one came to help me; they were all expecting bribe. Then how do you expect you will be able get anything done here?” It is a different matter that sent his capable assistant And student Dr. Gurjit Singh with me who conveyed his message to the doctor in-charge of the ward where I was admitted. But did not help matters. At last the organising Secretary of the Blood bank, S. Banta Singh Rai’s intervention helped me. Then in December 2006, my younger brother S. Harjit Singh went to collect the death certificate of Bhaia Ji. He remembered what happened with me in 2001. He paid Rs. 50 and got certificate without any problem. I was surprised only at the information that the rate of bribe for this purpose had not changed during these last five years, when the price of everything had gone up so much! The Babus’ poor wives! how did they managed their Chullah-Chowka with the rate of bribe fixed five years ago! This fills me with wonder; the same amount of bribe during Badal Sahib’s rule, as well as Captain Sahib’s rule. Now after Badal Sahib’s assuming the reins of power for the fourth time whether the rate of bribe money has changed, I have not yet had to find out! Accident In today’s world, the vehicular traffic has increased to such an extent that accidents have become an every day occurrence. A friend told me that in Punjab some speed fanatics have got these words written at the backs of their cars, “escape me if you can. From this I remember that once when I was travelling in November, 1978 by bus in the California state of America from San Francisco to Los Angeles, I had seen a large hoarding on the road side. It had these words, “ Be cautious. You are not the only fool on this road.” I remembered two incidents: in 2006, I went to Patiala. The purpose was to pay tribute to Sach Khand Wasi, the respectable Sant Giani Niranjan Singh Ji at his Guru Nanak Ashram. His grand son Baba Mohinder Singh Ji bestowed the honor of a Siropa on me. His mother, the respectable Biba Harinder Kaur Ji arranged a lift for me in the car taking two Malaysia returned a mother and a daughter to Amritsar. The both ladies sat on the back seat, while I rode with driver on the front seat. While going on the G.T. road, the driver increased his speed to over take the vehicle ahead of us. We were then over a bridge. A bus was coming from the front. A car suddenly came out from behind the bus. It too was trying to overtake the same bus in front of it. The road over the bridge was narrower. It was touch and go situation and a head-on collision seemed imminent. But the two car drivers kept their nerve and with luck, and partly due to their skill and courage, the accident was averted. Had one of them panicked the Siropa sword lying in my lap would have drawn its first blood. I asked the driver to stop the car on the side of the road and then gave him the needed up- braiding, saying that there was no hurry. He had no need to overtake any vehicle over narrow space of the bridge. I told him not repeat his mistake and by the grace of God, we reached Amritsar safely. Another accident that had happened in 1970 was more serious. Sant Channan Singh Ji the president of the SGPC was travelling from Gurdwara Budha Joharh (Ganganager) to Chandigarh, as he often did. He had had a special body made for his jeep to ease his travel. the body of the jeep had three sections: in front section sat the driver, a gunman and a Sewadar; in the middle Sant Ji sat or slept with his legs folded; and the rear seat was occupied by me. Passing through Sangrur or Bathinda, the jeep suddenly swerved, went off the road and its left side hit a tree on the road side. The jeep then toppled turned its front in to its back. The windscreen had had completely shattered and all three occupants of the front seat fell out of the jeep and their backsides graced the road. They were lucky to escape with some bruises, nothing serious. In the course of this accident I thought that in such accidents the occupants generally got killed; why then I was still alive! Then I thought: may be when the roof of the jeep will collapse, I will then die. But I realized with wonder that I was alive and kicking and felt a little pain in my secret parts. All was well with everyone though they had all got their share of Gupat- Sewa, During all this melee, Sant Ji kept saying, “Oi, where is my turban?” The Sewadar said in some irritating, “we will find it Baba Ji, are you in a hurry to attend a marriage ceremony, fearing you will be late!” After some time when we had all safely come out of the vehicle, the driver told me in confidence the jeep had been running at 120kmph. Its tie-rod had got loose which was the cause of the accident. We did not let the Sant Ji know this for fear of his scolding the driver. While we were still recovering our wits from this unexpected mishap I stopped passing mote cyclist and requested a lift up to the next town to seek assistance from the police station. Reaching the police station when I told the about the accident, the whole staff immediately rushed to the accident. The reason for such prompt action on the part of the police, was obvious. Though S. Prakash Singh Badal was then the Chief Minister, Sant Channan Singh used to be referred as the Super Chief minister of Punjab by the English press. One news item began thus: the Super Chief Minister of Punjab, the SGPC Chief, Sant Channan Singh said ...... followed by the Sant Ji’s statement. The police picked us up the accident site and converge us to the nearby hospital. the we were all declared fit and discharged. We went on to Chandigarh. My third visit to Pakistan Before starting from Sydney I went to the Pakistan consulate here to get visa. The youth at the reception counter asked me some odd questions that I had not expected. However I answered all questions to the best of my knowledge. He accepted my papers but did not promise a visa. When I raised eyebrows at so much interrogation, he said that the Indian consulate too asked such questions to Pakistanis asking Indian visa. However next week I received a phone call from him that my visa was ready and I should go and collect it from the consulate. I saw that the visa was for three months though I had requested for one month only. Last time I had requested for one month but was given for 15 days. As it had happened with me the last time, this time too I could not gather enough courage to under take this journey from Amritsar to Lahore and kept postponing it. This time I had got only one entry where as the last time I had got two. However I took courage and started for Atari on 2 November 2008. The bus conductor lied to me that the bus will go to Wahga, but it stopped at Atari and refused to go further. From Atari I took three wheeler and went to Wahga. At Wahga the money changers surrounded me. I exchanged three thousand Indian rupee notes, as the last time, when bus passengers had laughed at my handing a thousand rupee note to the conductor for the three rupee bus ticket. Now the coolies rushed at me. This time I had a small bag and also a big bundle of books. So I had to take help from a porter. The one who lifted the bundle of books was Sarpanch of a nearby village. He was an elderly man with a white beard. A young collie with black beard came and attempted to take over the luggage from him, Saying, “Oi, you are a Sarpanch; you should not lift others luggage.” “I am only doing labor, not a robbery,” saying these words he did not let go of my bundle and the youth drifted away laughing. A Sikh immigration officer, seeing my Australia passport said in a humble voice, “Sardar Ji, please show me some Australian dollars, so that I can see how they look.” I said I did not have any, which was the truth, any way, When he could not find anything wrong with my papers, he put the stamp on my passport and handing it to me , gave me shame faced smile, “Sardar Ji, we expect a little tip from foreigners like you; please let me have something.” I gave him a hundred rupee note that he slipped below the table giving me an understanding smile. I paid hundred rupees to the Indian collie who then handed me to a Pakistani collie. After completing immigration formalities on both sides of the border, I crossed over to Pakistan. Unlike in 1999, there was quite a hustle bustle on that side also. A number of new shops had come up. Rows of trucks were running here and there carrying goods. In place of the earlier narrow and torturous road, there was a beautiful four lane highway that ran up to Sri Nankana Sahib. At Wahga I found Bhai Gobind Singh J, the head Granthi of Gurdwara Sri Kartarpur Sahib. He was waiting there for his younger brother S. Ramesh Singh who was returning from India. I asked him what should I pay to the collie. e said that not more than 40 to 50 rupees. I gave the collie a hundred rupee note but saw that he expected more, standing there in a humble attitude. I gave him another 100 rupee. Bhai Gobind Singh Ji mildly rebuked him telling him not to rob foreigners, but he and his companions said that the Sardar Ji was giving the money of his own fare will. I said that it was his Kismat, so he got the money, and I was not unhappy. The last time in 1999, I had gone from Amritsar to Gurdwara Dehra Sahib Lahore with only 21 rupees but this time, in 2008, crossing just the border, I had ended up spending Rs 430. But I was still happy as I had not been forced to do anything against m will. In a short while. S. Ramesh Singh also came. He was a well-educated gentleman and had served on high government post of Pakistan, but now ha had given up his post and was building up a large office at Narowal in front of the Deputy commissioner’s office. He represented a non-governmental International Organizations that was working to raise the standard of living of the Pakistani people. Many other international welfare institutions had also pledged to give monetary support to his organization. Bhai Gobind Singh Ji took us from Wahga border to Sri Kartarpur Sahib in his own cat. On the way we stopped in Narowal at S. Ramesh Singh’s office. The building was undergoing renovation and also met his family. They were all gentle and loving people. At the 17th km road sign, on the road running from Narowal to Shakargarh is as sign board pointing to Sri Kartarpur Sahib. This Gurdwara is three km from the road on the bank of the river Ravi. The road leading to the Gurdwara had been built on the orders of the Chief Minster of West Punjab in 24 hours time. From this I remembered Sardar Lachhman Gill’s rule in 1968. During his rule he had connected each village of Punjab to a link road. Some people used to tell a story that he was t visit his sister’s village on some family function, he called the senior most officer of the concerned department and told him, “I have to go to so and so village and so date. I desire that a road to the village should be ready that time. “Sir, it is not possible to build the road in such a short time,” the officer is said to have replied. “Then you go and sit at home. I will replace you with an officer who can build this road,” Sardar Gill told him. “What you desire shall be done Sir,” the officer submitted. The road was built in a record time. The building of Gurdwara Kartarpur Sahib is ancient and stout. At the death of Guru Ji, his Hindu devotees wanted to cremate his body, while the Muslim who treated him as their Peer insisted that he should be buried as per Muslim rites. But a devotee and non-partisan disciple of Guru Ji observed: Baba Nanak Shah Faqir Hindu ka Guru Musalman ka Peer. During this tussle Guru Ji’s body disappeared. The cloth with which it had been covered was then divided equally by the devotees of both communities. The Musalman buried their part and erected a Kabar over the spot. The Hindu devotees cremated the other part on the place where now the Gurdwara stands. Near by in circumambulation of the Gurdwara Sahib, a raised platform symbolizes the Kabar. It remains covered by a decorated Chadar. The village Kartarpur that Guru Ji had founded and lived in, is no more there. A small village is nearby called Kothe. It had been a land-owner of Dode village, Bhai Doda, who had gifted land to Guru Ji for building the Dharamsala and village Kartarpur. It is fortunate the eyes of the Kar-Sewak Babas has not yet fell on this historic place and the ancient land marks are still intact. There is a well that has been in existence since the Days of Guru Ji’s life. A Khuhi which was used to draw water by Guru Ji’s family is also in the vicinity. The manger of the Gurdwara Bhai Manjit Singh taking good care of this place. He told me that in 2000 when the Gurdwara came to his charge it had 3 acres of land in its possession, but now, with monetary assistance of the Sangat, he had bought additional land and it totals about 43 acres. The land is being farmed under his supervision. He has also raised milk cattle. All ration for the Langar comes from this land. S. Manjit Singh is the elder brother of Bhai Gobind Singh Ji and S. Resham Singh Ji. I spent only one night there and the next day, S. Manjit Singh took me to Lahore by his car, and there at lunch introduced me to some other gentlemen. In addition to other discussion, I was urged by them to undertake the work of arranging visits of Australian Sikh Jathas to Pakistan for visiting Sikh Gurdwaras. I promised to do whatever I could towards this project. In the evening S. Manjit Singh handed me over to the management of Gurdwara Dehra Sahib according to my wish. Janab Asgar Ji, the care-taker appointed by the Pakistani Waqaf Board, gave me a suitable room to stay and promised other help. At Lahore I met an eminent scholar Dr Jafar Cheema, the director of Dyal Singh Research and Cultural Forum. He arranged a program for an informal discussion at the Pakistan T.V. studio Lahore on 10 November. I had a few days at my disposal, so I arranged another visit to Sri Kartarpur Sahib, in company of a young Sikh Scholar S. Rajvir Singh who is resident of Pakistan. On return from there I spent a day at the Lahore Museum. I was in the hall containing Sikh artefacts, when a group of school girls came in and surrounded me at first in twos and threes and then enmass. They directed a shower of questions at me. I wondered why they considered me such a novelty when large number of Sikhs came to that place on pilgrimage. There were also some Sikh families who lived in Pakistan on permanent basis. I think the reason was that the Sikhs often came in large Jathas and remained confined to the Gurdwara premises. They do not roam about alone like me. The children seemed to belong to some rural area where Sikhs were seldom seen. Probably they did not got opportunity to see them. They called me uncle Ji and spoke with affection treating me as venerable old man which my flowing beard and dress proclaimed me to be. They also took autographs from me. Seeing all that, a teacher with a trimmed white beard came to the girls a number of times and said, “come children, come on, we are getting late.” but the children would not leave till every one of them was able to obtain my autograph. At last he spoke in some anger, “he is one of those who had massacred Muslims!” “It was the others, Sir, not he,” came prompt reply from a girl. He murmured some angry words and went away. After I got rid of the children I looked for that teacher. Catching up with him in the premises of the museum, I extended my hand to him, but he came and ambrased me. I said, “every one had turned mad then; neither my people gave any quarter to yours, nor did yours spared mine.” He uttered some such remark, “you were wrong then, now you are alright.” and went on his way. Unknown to me, two youths also visiting the museum like me, had observed this exchange between the teacher and me. The two were relatives; one was a Baloach and the other a Punjabi, called Shameer. They now came to me and condemned the behavior of the teacher in strong words. Despite my polite refusal Shameer dropped me at Gurdwara Dehra Sahib on his motor cycle. The Gurdwara gate is always guarded by police and they do not allow an ordinary Muslim to go inside, but on my request the guard allowed Shameer to come up to my room. He asked me about my next day’s program. When I said that the next day I had intended to visit the Zoo at Jallo. He said that he would take me on his motor bike lest I meet some one like the teacher at the Zoo. That young man appeared to belong to a respectable and prosper family and was well-educated. But next morning due to a change of program, I rang him up and politely declined his help with thanks. For the next two days I visited Gurdwaras in Lahore with the Sangat from abroad and exchanged information on the historic importance of each Gurdwara in Lahore. Then the day of 10 November approached when I was to participate in talk at the Lahore studio of Pakistani T.V. A gentleman sent b Fr Jafar Cheema came and took me to his office at the Dyal Singh Liberary. This library is in a vast building near the Lashmi Chowk in Lahore. This building also contains the Dyal Singh Research and Cultural Forum which works under the directorship of Dr. Cheema. It is doing admirable work in the Punjabi literary and cultural fields. I was given a tour of the liberary and was told about the history of the forum. This institution with its vast liberary, the Tribune news paper had been founded with money donated by Sir Dyal Singh Majithia. This Sardar Ji belonged to the celebrated Majithia family of the days of the Sikh rule. Sir Dyal Singh did not have any children. He wanted that his wealth should be used for the welfare of mankind. When the Khalsa College was being established, he had offered to build it with his own money. The only condition being that it should be named ‘Dyal Singh Khalsa College’. But the then Panthak leaders did not accept this. When the other community leaders came to know about it, they all rushed to Sardar Ji and got him to donate money for many institutions: liberary, college, the Tribune etc. Now we went to the T.V. studio. Dr. Cheema acted as the anchor during the show and with his comments kept it lively and interesting. The panel consisted: apart from me Maj. Gen. Mohammed Javed, the Chairman of the Waqaf board, S. Lashwinder Singh Dalewal from England and Madam Dr. Dilshad Cheema. Dr. Dilshad Cheema was then the only lady in Pakistan who did her Ph.D. in Punjabi on Babu Firozdin Sharf’s life and his literature. Dr. Jafar Cheema’s scholaship, ability and agility of mind, was largely responsible for the program’s success. Dr. Dilshad Cheema asked me some relevant questions in order to explain something that I said in the program, making it more colorful and lively. Dr. Dilshad Cheema was the first lady in Pakistan to do a doctrate in Punjabi. The subject of her thesis had been ‘The life and writings of Babu Firoz Din Sharaf.’ I later heard many favourable comments about the program from the global audience. Though I myself was unable to watch this show, many people in different parts of the world did so and expressed their appreciation. On 11 November I went to Sri Nankana Sahib with a Jatha that came from England. This place was full of people. The condition was like the proverb, “even the mothers could not take care of their children.” In such a multitude of people who care for a nobody like me. I could not find any place there to spent a night. When I tried to go in side the Gurdwara hall to pay my obeisance to Guru Ji, seeing me lugging a large bag and holding the bundle of my books, the security guard politely but firmly stopped me from going inside. I looked around for a familiar face. But a guest many hosts often remains hungry. So it happened with me. I had thought that spending a night would be no problem. Most probably I will meet my friend Rajvir Singh, or I will stay with the SGPC Jatha, or make some other arrangement. Before leaving Lahore for Sri Nankana Sahib, the management of Waqaf board at Lahore had offered to give me shelter for he night but due to my careless nature I had not bothered to tell them so. Then I saw a Langar run by some Canadian youngmen. From their dress and manners of speech, they seemed to belong to the Damdami Taksal. I requested them o mind m bundle of books so that I would go and pay my respects inside the Gurdwara. A young man enquire about the subject matter of my books. I took out book and gave him to read. Anyway they agreed to look after my bundle till the time I came back from inside. Inside I also the famous Palki which had been in news for so long. About the Palki I will share my thoughts with my readers in a separate article. The members of the Jatha from England with I had come in the bus from Lahore saw my plight but offered me no shelter for the night in the veranda of the building occupied by them. I went to Gurdwara Tambu Sahib Ji. The next day there was to be Seminar in the vast maidan of the Gurdwara, in which I too was to speak, I had thought S. Avtar Singh Sanghera of England who had had an inn built near he Gurdwara with money donated by the Sangats abroad, knew me and he will give me place to sleep in the inn. We had met earlier in July 2004 in Italy. He did not recognize me, though he talked politely with me. Seeing this I thought it better not to tell him about my problem. An Akhand Path was going on at Gurdwara Tambu sahib. At night I set up my ‘camp’ in a corner of the hall and my things I slipped below the bed of the Sukhasan. Thus I spent the night at the feet of Guru Ji. In the morning I took a bath in the bathroom of the inn. The weather being not too cold, I had not worry about a place to sleep, but like always I had been worried about my belongings. I thought, If someone made away with them at night in this Mela, whose mother would I call a aunt, or say to the Bibis, “whose uncle I am, girls?” As for food, there was no problem. Langars were running at many places near the Gurdwara. The Seminar which was held the next day under the auspices of the Waqaf Board had as speakers many religious scholars and prominent Sikhs. Many high status Pakistani citizens were present there. Dr. Dilshad Cheema too spoke at the Seminar. Her speech was about Bebe Nanaki Ji the elder sister of Sri Guru Nanak Dev Ji. the first speech at the Seminar was my own. Dr. Jafar Cheema, the Chief organizer of the this Seminar had requested me to speak on the subject of ‘the female foeticide and the place of women in Sikh Society’. He had also requested to given a written copy of my speech so that he could publish it is ‘Punj Rang’ magazine. But in keeping with my lazy nature, I could not do it and spoke it directly from the stage. Audience applauded my speech. I presented a set of my books to the Waqaf Board’s Chairman, Maj. Gen. Javed and I too was presented a bundle of books and a momento by him. I had made a commitment to the management of Gurdwara Baba Deep Singh Shaheed at Amritsar that I would speak at the Shaheedi Diwas of Baba Ji to be held there. For this it was necessary for me to return to Lahore the same night, from where I could go to Amritsar the next day. Before the Seminar, when I inquired at the bus stand at Nankana Sahib about bus timings for Lahore, I was told that as per the orders of the Pakistan government, no Sikh was allowed to leave Nankana Sahib before the 14 November. When I suggested travelling incognito, I was told, “Sardar Ji, the police will unnecessarily stop and harass passengers en route, so we cannot do it.” I was in a delimma. I feared that will miss my appointment and this lose the trust of the management of the Gurdwara at Amritsar. At the gathering after the Seminar. during tea and refreshment, I fell into talk with a tall Sikh young man, who like others admired my lecture and, then asked about my further program. I told him about my problem and he immediately offered to take me in his car to Lahore the same night. “ Can a blind man look for anything better than two eyes?” All my problems disappeared. He took me the same night to Gurdwara Dehra Sahib Lahore. This good young man is called S. Gurmeet Singh Layallpuria and he comes from Faislabad (once called Layallpur). En route to Lahore upon my asking about his family, he told me: My ancestors came from a village of Gurdaspur district in 1901, like many others, obtaining land here and did the farming. But a mob of Muslim robbers and killers attacked our family during that holocaust of 1947. All the male members of my grand-father’s generation were killed by them, but the women and children of my father’s generation took shelter in a Christian Church and saved their lives. The Christians at the Church immediately cut short the hair of my father, his bothers and cousins, and said they were Christians. Thus, our family became Christian, which they still are. When I came to know about my family background in 1999, my wife and I became Sikh. My wife is the first woman in Pakistan who is a Ph.D. I too was fortunate in meeting that good lady. She wears all five Kakars and ties a Keski over her head, and has an impressive personality with her rich sweet voice and powers of speech. She is an M.A. in economics. The family had bycotted us both because of our conversion to Sikhism. They jeer at us when they see us. My father has disinherited me. but we are grateful to Guru Ji that he bestowed Sikhi Daan on us. I work for the Pakistani media. For the welfare of the Sikhs of Pakistan, we young men have set up an institution known as ‘Lok Vihar’. I am going to Rawalpindi tomorrow to deliver a speech at the Interfaith Seminar to be held there. If you can come with me and speak there, I shall be grateful. Missing such an opportunity I felt regret but I wanted to keep my appointment at Amritsar, so I declined his offer with thanks. Staying the night at Gurdwara Dehra Sahib, the next day I took a three- wheeler and went to village Jallo. From there I caught a bus and came to the Wahga border. The immigration formalities on the Pakistani side did not take much time but on the Indian side they took quite a long time. After finishing with Indian immigration when I came out, an officer ran after me saying, “Sardar Ji, you have left your passport behind; don’t you need it?” This gave me rude shock. Had this not told me, I would only have known after reaching Mumbai that I had no passport. On the 8 October, 2008, I had forgotten to pick up my mobile phone at Heathrow Airport in London, when I was running to and fro to catch plane to Mumbai, but I had not considered it a great loss but an inconvenience. But the loss of passport was a serious thing. This time the coolies did not rush to me. Perhaps it was too early! A young Sikh coolie approached me casually. I gave him a small denomination note without getting any help from him but he said that they were celebrating a Gurpurab that night at their village Gurdwara and he would give that money there. Then I got back that note from him and gave him 101 rupees as donation. Towards the end of the formalities at the immigration counter, I had found familiar face standing in the line to enter in to Indian side. He was wearing simple pants and a shirt and a some larger than an ordinary turban. On inquiring my guess proved to e correct. He was a well-known writer and a farmer Deputy Commissioner, Sardar Gurtej Singh. We had met in 2003 in London at a Seminar. I asked him the reason for being there so early in the day and whether he came from Lahore. He replied that he did not come from Lahore but had been prevented from going to Lahore by the ‘mercy’ of a Sikh official. He was to go to Nankana Sahib on a visit. A senior Hindu officer had cleared him to go on but a subordinate Sikh official had found a minor mistake in his passport and asked him to go back to home. He said that he would try again the next day to go on Pakistan and would pray to Guru Ji that the same Sikh officer should not be on duty, so that he would go to Nankana Sahib. Hearing his story my bitter experiences of Sikh officials proved to be well-founded. Sardar Ji hired a taxi and dropped me at the Crystal Chowk Amritsar in front of the hotel. He was to spend the night at the Crystal hotel near the Chowk. Big men have big hearts. The taxi drive asked him 550 rupees, which he handed him without a demur. I waited for a bus. On the way I had asked him why he was staying at a hotel when he could get a suitable room at the inn near Darbar Sahib, but he said it was much more convenient and hassle-free to stay at a hotel. I tried to reach the bus stand by a rickshaw but the rickshaw driver told me hat the passage to he bust stand had been closed due to the rush of People, it being the occasion of the Gurpurb. He dropped me at the railway station. From the railway station a free bus service had been started for Sri Darbar Sahib. Taking that bus I came to the Srai, and from there reached my brother’s home, near the Shaheed Gang by a rickshaw. This bus service has been started by the management of Sri Darbar Sahib for the convenience of visitors to Sri Darbar Sahib. This act is praise worthy. But like all good works, this too has room for improvement. Considering my old age and getting impression that I might be some body in SGPC from my dress, the bus driver let me enter the bus by driver’s window. But as for the other passengers, the driver and conductor made not distinction for age or sex. This impartiality too is a good thing. But I found that young boys, none of them a Sikh, had rushed into the bus and occupied all available seats, leaving none for any women and children waiting for long rime to get into the bus. There was no apparent feeling of devotion in their conduct and behavior. There was only naughtiness in all their talk and behavior, Many deserving passengers did not get a chance to board the bus. A woman with two small children was not able to get inside the bus due to the rush, In my view she was the most needy person requiring the bus service. I could extend no help to that poor woman as there was no place in the bus even to stand. I was trapped in a nook of the bus from where I could not move my body. It is my humble request to the capable management that the bus conductor be given the responsibility of maintaining a proper queue of the passengers while boarding the bus. The more needy persons like visitors from out side, women, children and elderly people should get preference. The next day, according to the commitment, I attended the Diwan at the Gurdwara Baba Deep Sigh Ji, spoke the to the Sangat and was bestowed a Siropa by the management. (16.12.2008) The Golden Palki Some times devote Sikhs donate Palkis to Gurdwaras. We often see that when Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji has to be taken to led a procession, a Palki is usually used. In the days of old, Kings and nobles too rode in Palkis which were borne by their slaves. When a bride after her wedding went for the first time to her husband’s home, she was usually taken in a Palki, called a Doli or Dola. The men who carried the Palki were called Kahars. Because Sikhs consider their Guru Ji a great emperor and a Sacha Patshah as against the temporary rulers of this world, it was given the honor of riding in a Palki. At At-Vela (early in the morning) when Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji is taken to Harimandir Sahib from Sri Akal Takhat Sahib, it is done with full splendor. Talking about a Gurdwara in Sydney, at the time of inaguration of the Gurdwara Sikh Centre Glenwood, a successful businessman and a devote Sikh, S. Mohinder Singh Minhas, has brought a costly Palki from Katarpur (Punjab) and got it installed at the Gurdwara Sahib. After some years newly arrived Ragi Singhs from Punjab, who were somewhat forward in their views, removed that Palki and put it in a separate room of the Gurdwara. When I asked them the reason, they said it was improper for Sri Guru Granth Sahib to be resting on a Palki inside the Gurdwara Hall. While agreeing with their views in Principle, I told them that the person who had got the Palki built at such cost and got it imported from Punjab, would not bear to see it thus cast aside and they would have to re-installed it in the Gurdwara, whatever argument they might advance. Perhaps they understood what I told them, they restored the Palki to its original place. They also forward an excuse for their earlier action saying that the Palki had needed some repairs so it was taken out temporarily. From this I remember an incident that happened in 1973 at a Gurdwara Sahib in a small country of Africa called Malawi; when I was there as a Granthi. During a Sunday Diwan, a devote Sindhi brought a statue of Sri Guru Nanak Dev Ji and placing it in front of Sri Guru Granth Sahib, touched he is head to ground and paid abeiance. No one said anything to him. In my view we Sikhs have already been burdened with any fake pictures of Guru Sahiban make by imaginative artists, ad this new addition was uncalled for. After some weeks I quietly removed the statue from in front of Guru Ji and first placed in above the cupboard containing old Rumalas and later removed it to the store. No one said anything. But here I want to talk about another Palki. Some years ago, this Palki had got wide coverage in the Indian media. This Palki was said to have been made of 15 kg gold along with other precious metals, and was to sent to Sri Nankana Sahib on the occasion of Sri Guru Nanak Dev Ji’s birth anniversary. The Palki started its journey from Delhi with great pump and splendor getting a grand of honor provided by the government of Delhi. At the Haryana border the Palki was again given a grand of honor and was received with great ceremony. When the Palki entered Punjab, it was honored at a great Smagam. The SGPC and SAD were sharply criticized for not taking active part in all this ceremonial. A political rival of Badal Sahib had given a statement that by bycotting the Palki, Badal and SAD had blackened their faces. A spokesman of the SGPC said in a statement that all facilities at the disposal of the SGPC, including living arrangements at Srais, Langar etc. had been made available for the Sangat which came for Darshan of the Palki, but if it was expected that the committee members and employees should stand in sun, collecting dust in their beards and heads and wait on the road side to bow their heads to 15kg of gold, they could not do it. The organizers of this procession knew the Sikh psyche well. They installed Sri Guru Granth Sahib in the Palki so that they could claim that the people did not pay obeisance to the Palki but to the Guru Ji. This had the added benefit of colleting a large sum of money in offerings. It was a great success. Only the organizers can say where and for what purpose the money was spent and how much it was! So far the respect and honor of Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji is concerned, there can be no two opinions about it. It is the duty of every Sikh to respect and honor Guru Ji. If a Sarup of Sri Guru Granth Sahib installed in a golden Palki can be honored on such a large scale, then why not a number of old and retired Sarups which came to India from Pakistan! The media said that nothing was done to honor them. It seems that all that show and splendor was only for the golden Palki. And the Palki was obviously used as a tool to make some political milage in view of the approaching assembly elections. The anti-Badal parties succeeded in capturing a number of seats in the Akali stronghold of Malwa, though they did not succeed in forming the government. All the above information I have glanced from he news media, sitting here in Sydney. Only I am trying to use my own words in describing this event. I have tried to give an unbiased view of this event and my aim is not after praise to some or criticism to others . If some one from the readers has more information that differs from my own, he is welcome to correct me. The ‘dust’ raised by the Palki, settled when from across the border news came to this effect: that the Nankana Sahib Sikhs had refused to install the Palki inside the Gurdwara saying why they should break up the old Palki which had served there for so long! Advancing the argument that if tomorrow some richer Sikh/s present a Palki encrusted with jewels, instead of the gold, should they then again replace it? There was another surprising news that the gold used in making the Palki was not 15kg. but a mere one and half kg. For quite a while the presenters of the Palki kept quiet, and did not refute this allegation. The one of them opened his mouth after some days that the Palki had been made under the care of certain Sant Ji and only he could tell how much gold had been used. Later that Sant Ji gave a press statement saying that his Chief disciple had runaway with so much cash and so many kg of gold. Initially I had thought on hearing the news of the golden Palki being presented to Nankana Sahib that a country where even the brick of our Gurdwaras had been dug up and carted away, and where hundreds of historical Gurdwaras and thousands of other Gurdwaras and institutions had been demolished, why should it be sent such a costly gift there! Then thinking that no one had asked my views about it, not had I been asked to subscribe to its cost, I shut my mouth, such as people say, “who are you?” “I am Khah-Mkhah.” and also “no one invited me to the marriage, but I am the bridegroom’s aunt.” The readers may want to know that when I had remained quiet at the time of this event, why am I now heating up a stale curry! The reason is that in November 2008, I got an opportunity to see the same Palki at Gurdwara Sri Nankana Sahib. On that occasion I had placed my bundle of books with some Taksali young men there and they had told me that an Akhand Path was being held by them (the Taksali Sangat of Canada). They also said that Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji installed in the golden Palki. So after paying my obeisance inside the main hall of the Gurdwara, I went to bow my head to the Guru Ji gracing that Palki. The Palki Had been enclosed with glass walls and an Akhand Path was in progress there. Coming back, I sat and pondered, “Bravo to you oh you Sikh devotees! There are Lakhs of poor Sikhs from the Sikligar and other poor communities all over India, who do not have roofs over their heads; had no drinking water, no books. But to present 15 kg gold to a belligerent neighboring country, thousands of Sikh Bibis had deprived themselves of gold ornaments and donated them for this cause. But why should I bother, like, ”Master gives alms, the servant burns with jealousy!” But Waris Shah was right when he said, “ Waris Shah na wadian jandian ne, Bhaven kattie porian porian ji.” (Oh Waris Shah, the habits cannot be given up though we cut a person into small bits.”

From the time when the then Prime Minister of India, Sri Murar Ji Desai visited Sri Darbar Sahib in late Seventies, a fiction became current that the doors of the Deodi of Sri Darbar Sahib are the ones that had been looted by the Muslim invader Mahmud Gaznavi in the 11th century and later brought back by the victorious Sikh army during the Sikh rule. So far as I know this fictional story had been spread by an over jealous news reporter who was notorious for his anti-Hindu sentiments which he took no trouble to keep them to himself. From time to time this story appears on the Internet also. the strange thing is that some learned and scholarly persons too fall into this trap and believe it to be true. The reason for the strange silence of the SGPC on this issue is not understood. The SGPC can takes the services of any number of eminent scholars and clear the doubts and misconception in the minds of Sikh Sangat. (Now they did published a booklet about this subject). The vague and incomplete statements given by the President of the SGPC and the Jathedar of Sri Akal Takhat are not the solution to this problem. I am surprised at the amount of information I have been able to gather after travelling from Sydney to Amritsar. For the experts and scholars it should not be difficult at all to find the truth behind these doors. At Amritsar I tried to find out truth behind this controversy generated by the Internet. I went to Sri Darbar Sahib and inspected the doors from both side. From a young employ of the Committee who stood there I asked a number of questions about the doors but he did not know anything as I expected, but two white bearded Sikhs who were nearby made a verbal attack on me. They said they were shocked that I did not believe that the Sikh warriors had rescued these doors from the Afgans through their valor. One of them had come from a far off place, which I now don’t recall. He gave me the room number of the Srai where he stayed and said I could go and met him there the next day and he would clear all mu doubts regarding the doors. I presented myself at his room to get the proof have had promised me the day before. After a long discussion he told me that at Guru Ram Das Nagar, on Sultanwind road, lived a Hakeem called Sandhu Ji, and that he had a book that will give clear proof that he doors indeed belonged to the Som Nath Temple. Both of us took rickshaw and went to the Hakeem, but he was not at home. The next day accompanied by my younger brother I went to the Hakeem Ji’s house, and after another long talk, he had the kindness to tell us that at the Guru Ka Kotha Village in Bathinda district, lived a Giani Ji who has a written proof about the doors. My brother was a reluctant partner to this my fruitless investigation of the doors. I was still thinking about going to that village in Bathinda district when my long time friend S. Kuljit Singh Talwar I.R.S (Retd.) handed me a book, authored by Giani Kirpal Singh Ji, called ‘Sri Amritsar Ji Ka Itihas’. Giani Kirpal Singh Ji was an eminent Sikh scholar and had held the august posts of Mukh Granthi of Sri Darbar Sahib and Jathedar of Sri Akal Takhat Sahib, for very long time. Who should know better than him regarding these doors? That book gave me this information: During the reign of Maharaj Ranjit Singh, Giani Sant Singh was the Mukh-Granthi at Sri Darbar Sahib, when the doors of the Darshani Deodi were built by a carpenter named Yar Muhammed Khan. The money spent on them amounted to rupees 60000 at that time.( I do not have that book now and there fore cannot give the page number) Bhai Kahn Singh Nabha on page of his ‘Mahan Kosh’ has given the following information regarding the Som Nath temple: Som Nath is a town on the sea coast of Kathiarwar in the former state of Junagarh. It is also known as Prabhas and Veraval Pattan. A famous Shivling has been installed in a temple here. the temple also had a five yard tall statue of Lord Shiva. This statue had been broken up into four pieces in 1034 by Mehmud Gaznavi. Two pieces he sent to Gaznavi, one of which was buried beneath the stairs of the Masjid. The other beneath the stairs of his court. the other twp pieces were sent by him to Mecca and Medina to be similarly used there. The Som Nath temple had no equal in India. It had 56 jewel encrusted pillars in its hall and a two-hundred mounds heavy chain hung from its ceiling with a heavy bell at the end. Bhai Kahn Singh Nabha writes that this temple was looted in 1024, when the Sikh religion was still not in existence. About the looting of these doors he has made no mention. A Sikh young man, S. Amandeep Singh of Sydney has done research regarding these doors and he writes that the doors of the Darshani Deodi has nothing to do with the doors of the Som Nath temple, which have been installed at the Gopal Mandir in Ujjain, The doors had been brought back from Gazni either by a British officer, Sir William Nott, or the Maratha leader Mahadji Sindhia. We should understand it clearly that the doors at Sri Darbar Sahib have no relationship with the Som Nath temple. If the doors have become too old and cannot now be repaired, they can be quietly replaced by new ones. There is no need to raise any hue or cry about this subject. There must have been doors at the Darshani Deodi before these were installed. Where those doors have gone? If these doors are beyond repair and can pose danger to visitors by suddenly collapsing then these should be changed and if considered necessary then they can be preserved as historical relics. The opinion of experts can be obtained in this regard. My only concern is that this unnecessary controversy should be settled in right way. It can have dangerous consequences. A mischievious person or organization can exploit this issue and cause discord between communities in Punjab. It can set the waters of Punjab on fire again. A demand could have made that if these doors did indeed once belonged to the Som Nath temple, then they should go back there where did they come from. Some mischievious crowd can dare to come and get it. The Sikhs then will defend. Then the Punjab could then become a field for communal clashes. During my meeting with the Hakeem Ji, another interesting thing happened which may be of interest to the readers: A young man sitting with the Hakeem Ji, without any relation to my talk with Hakeem Ji, loudly complained that certain man wore shoes while carrying Sri Guru Granth Sahib on his head. I wished I had a sword so that I could cut his head. I should have kept quiet but the young man’s talk was continued with so much anger I could not kept my mouth shut. I kept my out ward calm and tried to reason with him. Among other things, I said that in certain circumstances, it was permissible to walk with shows on while carrying the Sarup of Sri Guru Granth Sahib on our head, and even the Guru Sahiban whose Bani it contained must have worn shoes in their life time. But the youth seemed unconvinced. During all this argument From the time when the then Prime Minister of India, Sri Murar Ji Desai visited Sri Darbar Sahib in late Seventies, a fiction became current that the doors of the Deodi of Sri Darbar Sahib are the ones that had been looted by the Muslim invader Mahmud Gaznavi in the 11th century and later brought back by the victorious Sikh army during the Sikh rule. So far as I know this fictional story had been spread by an over jealous news reporter who was notorious for his anti- Hindu sentiments which he took no trouble to keep them to himself. From time to time this story appears on the Internet also. the strange thing is that some learned and scholarly persons too fall into this trap and believe it to be true. The reason for the strange silence of the SGPC on this issue is not understood. The SGPC can takes the services of any number of eminent scholars and clear the doubts and misconception in the minds of Sikh Sangat. (Now they did published a booklet about this subject). The vague and incomplete statements given by the President of the SGPC and the Jathedar of Sri Akal Takhat are not the solution to this problem. I am surprised at the amount of information I have been able to gather after travelling from Sydney to Amritsar. For the experts and scholars it should not be difficult at all to find the truth behind these doors. At Amritsar I tried to find out truth behind this controversy generated by the Internet. I went to Sri Darbar Sahib and inspected the doors from both side. From a young employ of the Committee who stood there I asked a number of questions about the doors but he did not know anything as I expected, but two white bearded Sikhs who were nearby made a verbal attack on me. They said they were shocked that I did not believe that the Sikh warriors had rescued these doors from the Afgans through their valor. One of them had come from a far off place, which I now don’t recall. He gave me the room number of the Srai where he stayed and said I could go and met him there the next day and he would clear all mu doubts regarding the doors. I presented myself at his room to get the proof have had promised me the day before. After a long discussion he told me that at Guru Ram Das Nagar, on Sultanwind road, lived a Hakeem called Sandhu Ji, and that he had a book that will give clear proof that he doors indeed belonged to the Som Nath Temple. Both of us took rickshaw and went to the Hakeem, but he was not at home. The next day accompanied by my younger brother I went to the Hakeem Ji’s house, and after another long talk, he had the kindness to tell us that at the Guru Ka Kotha Village in Bathinda district, lived a Giani Ji who has a written proof about the doors. My brother was a reluctant partner to this my fruitless investigation of the doors. I was still thinking about going to that village in Bathinda district when my long time friend S. Kuljit Singh Talwar I.R.S (Retd.) handed me a book, authored by Giani Kirpal Singh Ji, called ‘Sri Amritsar Ji Ka Itihas’. Giani Kirpal Singh Ji was an eminent Sikh scholar and had held the august posts of Mukh Granthi of Sri Darbar Sahib and Jathedar of Sri Akal Takhat Sahib, for very long time. Who should know better than him regarding these doors? That book gave me this information: During the reign of Maharaj Ranjit Singh, Giani Sant Singh was the Mukh-Granthi at Sri Darbar Sahib, when the doors of the Darshani Deodi were built by a carpenter named Yar Muhammed Khan. The money spent on them amounted to rupees 60000 at that time.( I do not have that book now and there fore cannot give the page number) Bhai Kahn Singh Nabha on page of his ‘Mahan Kosh’ has given the following information regarding the Som Nath temple: Som Nath is a town on the sea coast of Kathiarwar in the former state of Junagarh. It is also known as Prabhas and Veraval Pattan. A famous Shivling has been installed in a temple here. the temple also had a five yard tall statue of Lord Shiva. This statue had been broken up into four pieces in 1034 by Mehmud Gaznavi. Two pieces he sent to Gaznavi, one of which was buried beneath the stairs of the Masjid. The other beneath the stairs of his court. the other twp pieces were sent by him to Mecca and Medina to be similarly used there. The Som Nath temple had no equal in India. It had 56 jewel encrusted pillars in its hall and a two-hundred mounds heavy chain hung from its ceiling with a heavy bell at the end. Bhai Kahn Singh Nabha writes that this temple was looted in 1024, when the Sikh religion was still not in existence. About the looting of these doors he has made no mention. A Sikh young man, S. Amandeep Singh of Sydney has done research regarding these doors and he writes that the doors of the Darshani Deodi has nothing to do with the doors of the Som Nath temple, which have been installed at the Gopal Mandir in Ujjain, The doors had been brought back from Gazni either by a British officer, Sir William Nott, or the Maratha leader Mahadji Sindhia. We should understand it clearly that the doors at Sri Darbar Sahib have no relationship with the Som Nath temple. If the doors have become too old and cannot now be repaired, they can be quietly replaced by new ones. There is no need to raise any hue or cry about this subject. There must have been doors at the Darshani Deodi before these were installed. Where those doors have gone? If these doors are beyond repair and can pose danger to visitors by suddenly collapsing then these should be changed and if considered necessary then they can be preserved as historical relics. The opinion of experts can be obtained in this regard. My only concern is that this unnecessary controversy should be settled in right way. It can have dangerous consequences. A mischievious person or organization can exploit this issue and cause discord between communities in Punjab. It can set the waters of Punjab on fire again. A demand could have made that if these doors did indeed once belonged to the Som Nath temple, then they should go back there where did they come from. Some mischievious crowd can dare to come and get it. The Sikhs then will defend. Then the Punjab could then become a field for communal clashes. During my meeting with the Hakeem Ji, another interesting thing happened which may be of interest to the readers: A young man sitting with the Hakeem Ji, without any relation to my talk with Hakeem Ji, loudly complained that certain man wore shoes while carrying Sri Guru Granth Sahib on his head. I wished I had a sword so that I could cut his head. I should have kept quiet but the young man’s talk was continued with so much anger I could not kept my mouth shut. I kept my out ward calm and tried to reason with him. Among other things, I said that in certain circumstances, it was permissible to walk with shows on while carrying the Sarup of Sri Guru Granth Sahib on our head, and even the Guru Sahiban whose Bani it contained must have worn shoes in their life time. But the youth seemed unconvinced. During all this argument the Hakeem Ji did not deem it necessary to say anything for or against the issue under discussion. the Hakeem Ji did not deem it necessary to say anything for or against the issue under discussion. I count the small change This happened in 1978. I was wondering at the Chicago Bus Terminal to gather information about buses going towards the west coast of USA. I had am[le time at ,u disposal. No one was waiting at the destination for my arrival and no one missed me back at the place of departure. Time is one commodity I never lacked while every one around me complain. “I have no time.” From this I remember that at the time of the Census of 1971, I was given duties at Firozpur district and my place of residence at the time was Mukatsr. One night I stayed at the Gurdwara Sahib at Firozpur cantonment. In the morning I took a bath and paid my respects at the Guru-Darbar. Then I remembered that I had to eat a breakfast, but money like the younger sister-in-law usually eluded me. I thought it better to count the money in pocket before going to Halwai. The money amounted to one rupee and some paise. With this money I could either have a cup of tea and a couple of slices of bread or I could buy some newspapers and read them. As always the newspapers won. Had I wanted to travel to Mukatsar the money was not sufficient to buy a bus ticket as it cost Rs. 1.95, and I had only one rupee and few paise; otherwise at Mukatsar I would have been able to have free food from the Guru Ji’s Langar and the required sum of money I could borrowed from the manager S. Gurdip Singh. As a bonus I would have had all the newspapers I could read from the Gurdwara library. I went to the Bazar and whatever newspapers could be bought with that money I bought and brought them in my room and began to read them. I fell asleep while reading and got up only in the after noon. After refreshing again with shower but not taking any water fear of it might hurting my empty stomack I walked to the bus station to catch a bus for Mukatsar; but I had no money with me for the bus fare. I barged into the office of the bus station and found there a young man pondering over a register. I called out ‘Fateh’ and said, ”my name is Santokh Singh and I am a Pracharak of the SGPC.” “My name is also Santokh Singh and I am an accountant here; how I can be of service to you?” he replied. “This here is the monthly magazine of the SGPC, the Gurmat Prakash. The yearly subscription is Rs. 5. I wish you to become its reader”, I told him placing a copy of the magazine on his table. “Yes, with pleasure; this here is Rs 5.” He first searched the front pocket of his shirt but not finding any money in it did the same with the hip pocket of his pants and handed me a 5 rupee note. I filled up the subscription receipt and handing it to him came out of the office. That good gentleman called after me offering me refreshments but I just walked off. I now had Rs. 5 with me. I walked to a Halwai shop and did the Pet-Puja and then took a bus and reached Mukatsar at night. The subscription money of the magazine was not required to be deposited cash in the office but was deducted from our monthly salary. But the talk was about the Chicago Bus Terminal. While wandering through the vast complex of the terminal, I thought of calling some Indian on the pay phone and thus pass some time chit-chat. I went to a nearby news stand and handing the shopkeeper one dollar, asked him to exchange it with ten dimes – one is equal to ten cents. He obliged me immediately and I was happy that he had done it without demurring. I had had a different experience earlier at Vancouver in May 1978. I had then stayed at the home of my friend S. Hardial Singh Johal. From there I was to go to another town of B.C. Johal Ji told me that on return from there to Vancouver I should telephone him so that he could pick me up from the bus stand, as otherwise I might find it difficult to find his home. I had said, “if Vancouver can be found from Amritsar, why your home cannot be found from Vancouver?” Upon his saying, “it is easier to find Vancouver from Amritsar but difficult to find a house in Vancouver,” I had agreed to do it, though in my mind I did not want he should leave whatever he was doing and come to pick me up. When I came back to Vancouver after a couple weeks, as per my promise, I wanted to telephone him, but I had no small change with me to use at the pay phone. Even after making a around of a number of shops, I could not find small change for one dollar. It is rightly said, “Bin mange moti milen mangi mile na bheekh.” As against this I had got small change at Chicago in the first try but did not bother to count it. It is not out of a sense of superiority or bravado; call it laziness or carelessness, I had never counted small change. Whatever a shopkeeper handed me I put it in my pocket, thinking that people were not inferior to me in wisdom or honesty. I had also read somewhere that the Americans do not count small change. May be I had been unknowingly influencd by it. I do not know what compelled me to count the coins when I was finally successful in exchanging my one dollar for them. Instead of the ten coins I counted only nine. At once going back to the shopkeeper, I asked him about the missing one coin. “That’s service charges,” he barked at me, and quietly I walked off to the telephone booth. The Melodious Granthi Singh of Canada In the summer of 1978, I was on a tour of Canada and America. My friend S. Hardial Singh Johl had fixed a week long programme of my lectures at a city of British Columbia. I do not remember the name of the city now. Whenever I abroad I always try to stay at Gurdwaras so as avoid inconvenience to house-holders. But a young man S. Randhir Singh Aulakh, despite my polite refusal took me to his home to stay. After he left for work for the day, I would walk to the Gurdwara Sahib, spend there the whole day and in the evening he would pick me up from the Gurdwara in his car and take me home. His wife was a white Canadian but had become Sikh and wore all five Kakars as well a Keski on her head. Their two little sons were handsome and gentle and they too were baptised Sikhs. After their baptism, during my stay there when they went to school the first day, she went with them and explained to the teachers as to why her sons were dressed as Sikhs and what was the meaning of the Kakars that they wore on their bodies, so that there was no misunderstanding. Before leaving for school she also instructed her sons how they should conduct themselves at school. During my stay at their home, I learnt the truth the salaried Punjabis abroad were just about able to make both ends meet and were not fabulously rich as we had thought. Because they live frugally and save money, and during visits to Punjab make a display of their riches. We get the impression that they must be very rich there. This Bibi did not go out to work; she stayed at home and looked after her house hold work, which she did herself, and also care for her two young children. She also looked after Sikh religious persons who visit in their town as the guests of the house with great love and devotion. S. Randhir Singh worked at saw-mill which was considered among the more lucrative labour jobs in Canada. One evening, during a chitchat after the evening meal S. Randhir Singh remarked casually that they were barely able to manage their house hold expenditure with their present income. I was gretly surprised and thought if they earn barely enough to live so frugally, what was the need to live abroad; why not live in Punjab then! Randhir Singh then gave a rough account of his income and expenditure and when he said that $400 went every month to pay the instalment of the loan they had taken to buy the house. I at once commented, “that means you save at least $400 evey month.” Randhir Singh further explained that only $50 went towards payament of the principal, the rest $350 payed for the monthly interest. This we can say that they saved only $50 every month. And their monthly expediture did not include any expenses on liqure, meat, cinema, restaurants or parties. They lived very simple and inexpensive lives. The lady of the house made only vegetarian food and did all washing, cooking and cleaning herself. I learnt this truth after five years of world travel. There was another interesting thing. The Gurdwara where I went to do lecture had Granthi, who was tall, well-built man with a black beard, wheatish complexion, and liked to be Singh of Charhdikala. He too was an avid listener my lectures. During the day we would engage ourselves in religious discussions and the mid-day meal we had together in great amity and friendship. He told me that my lecture was full of jeal and energy like the Dhadis, so why dont I join us and we form a Dhai Jatha, where my lecture would be a great asset. I took htese prainsig words only as a complement ad said that I spoke continuously without a break and did not know the art of stopping in the mid-sentence like the Dhadi Jatha leaders. To this he said that it was all easy to learn. He would signal me by touching my foot with one of his toe when to stop and let them start to play their Sarangi and Dhads, and sing the Vaar. He said that my voice would be a fitting companion to their singing prowess. But I did not take all this talk seriously. On the Suanday, my last day of leture at that Gurdwara, when we went there, he was doing Kirtan playing on a harmonium. I sat spell bound hearing the Asa Di Vaa in this sweet melodious voice. I wondwred that he had been quietly hearing my lecture throughout the weak but had not let me know that he hismself was such a good Ragi. I was greatly impressed his prsonanlity. Some one told me a strange thing about him. It was that he could not read the Punjabi script. He had few Shabads written on card board pieces in Urdu script. While reading out the Mukhvaak, he would open the pages of Sri Guru Granth Sahib and pretend to read the Mukhvaak from it, but in reality he read from the card board pieces kept in his lap. At the time I just took it as a joke because he read out the Mukhvaak in a loud and clear but in a melodious voice. After spending a week in this city I came back to Vancouver, and from there wandering through other places came to Yuba city in California. One day Bhai Balraj Singh, Granth Ji or that Gurdwara, told me there was a telephone call for me. I thought it may be my friend S. Hardial Singh Johl from Vancouver who had rung up to ask my well-being, but it turned out to be the President of the Gurdwara from the city where I had stayed for week in British Columbia. After asking my health he asked me whether their Granthi Ji had come to meet me here. When I replied in the negative I detected a note of disappointment in his voice. Upon further inquiry from me, he hesitatingly told me that the Granthi Ji had often talked about me after my departure and they thought he might have gone to meet me. I asked in surprise, “tell what had happened”? He said that Granthi Ji had disappeared with some costly things from their Gurdwara. I was greatly shocked but could not suppress my sense of humour, “you should also take a head count of the women in your houses, lest one of them be missing.” From his tone I thought there must be a smile on his face when he cut the connection after saying, “well, if you meet him some where , please let us know on this number”; and he gave me the telephone number. By now you must be thinking, as I then thought, why such religious persons do such irreligious deeds! But we must remember that the Granthis like other people such as scholars writers news reporters policemen, politicians, doctors, businessmen, teachers government servants, manual workers etc. are members of the society in which we live; and as there are evil persons in these section of society, so there have to be evil persons among priest class also, in about the same ratio. Only we come to expect better behaviour from them because they preach good things to others. Their actions are watched more closely than that of others. They have the same temptation as others have to go and find better living conditions abroad. Just think what we do to go abroad: fake marriages, fake divorces, no respect for relations whether of sister or brother, father or daughter, leave alone sister-in-law or cousins. Young boys go abroad in the guise of students. Another reason why unworthy men come to occupy the position of Granthi is that the management does not take the trouble of knowing the bona fides of persons seeking this position while appointing persons to these important posts they should inquire into a person’s antecedents: whether he is adequately trained to be a Granthi or whether he has served as Granthi before, and if he has served as Granthi before whether his employers can vouch for him etc. Just an influential person’s recommendation should not be taken as qualification for this post. It some times happens that the position of Granthi becomes vacant because management dismissed a Granthi for some reason and did not find a suitable person to fill the vacancy. In such cases who comes first is served first. The management keeps a person as Granthi whoever available at the time of need, on ad hoc basis thinking that when they get a more suitable person they will replace the previous one. But with time the temporary Granthi gains the friendship and sympathy of a part of the committee and Sangat and then it becomes very difficult to replace him. Some times rival groups form on this issue. The temporary Granthi may indeed actively promote this rivalry in the name of religion. S Partap Singh Kairon used to say to his followers that in every village there usually are two factions among the Jatts, and in case they are not already in existence, then are easily created. To get a majority of votes, a congress candidate does not have to brother about the number of people in a group. He can try to winn over one of the groups. You will then surely get votes of that group and so far non-Jatt communities concerned, they always vote for congress. thus, a congress candidate’s victory in election is almost guarantied. Once during the 1972 Punjab Assembly elections, S. Gurcharan Singh Galib had told to me this Sardar Kairon’s philosophy. Using this philosophy some Granthis also end up as successful politicians if they are clever enough to exploit religious sentiments of the Sangat. A Granthi who is not a good politician cannot stay long as a Granthi at one Gurdwara. In the 1970’s when I went on my first visit to Western European countries, I was surprised to see that in London a retired Principal was serving as Granthi in a Gurdwara there. He did not know how to do Katha, Kirtan etc. He was Granthi merely because the management favoured him. At Barmingham I found a double M.A. professor doing these duties. When I went to New York, I found that a younger brother of Maharaja Patitala, Raja Mirginder Singh Ji was a Granthi at the Gurdwara. It is a different mater that he was a scholar of Gurbani and knew classical and Gurmat Sangeet very well, and was well-versed in many languages including the Sanskrit. At Toronto I found a retired colonel doing the job of Granthi and at Washington a retired major was the Granthi. Majority of them gentlemen were working as Granthis because they were waiting out their time to get immigration. It is my view that some of such persons actually are not qualified for the post of Granthi and also consider the job of a Granthi below their dignity and do it only out of compulsion. They just wait for the time when they can get their immigration and leave this job, making no effort meanwhile to learn their job. Some times the wait becomes so long that the age considerably and lose all interest in doing any thing else and thus continue to be Granthis. The management some times have to take drastic action to get rid of such undesirable Granthis; the factions form in Gurdwaras for and against firing these Granthis and vitiates the atmosphere at the Gurdwaras. Where did I get my motivation? different people get their inspiration from different sources. The question is where did I get it from? For many years my children had been pressing me, “Papa, you should get a laptop.” My nephews who are to me, like my own children, too, said to me, “Taya Ji, why don’t you buy a laptop? though I considered the children’s concern for me to be genuine, I lacked the motivation to do it and kept postponing this decision. Every one had thought I should have a laptop but no one had the sense that they should buy one and gift it to me. And when I bought one and lost it to thieve/s, again no one thought that at least then they should buy a laptop for their elder and give it to him as a gift. One of my nephews let me know that my younger brother had advanced the idea that they should all collect money and buy me a laptop, but his idea not finding favour with others was quietly dropped. (After some time, my elder son Sandip Singh bought one for me as birthday gift) It was 11 September 2004, that I finally got my motivation. Taking an evening train from Barcelona (Spain) On 10 September, I reached Paris (France) on the morning of 11Sepember. You may ask why I went there! To this I have no convincing answer. It was like “the blind dog hunting deer.” At the main railway station of Paris I did my best to get information on train service to Brussels, the capital of Belgium, which is now gradually turning into the capital of 27 countries of European Union. I knew no French, and it seemed as if the French people had taken a woe to answer all my in the French language. I had been under the impression if we knew English, we could manage to converse with people of many European countries, and this is what most people in Punjab still believe. This impression of mine had already got some what shattered during my earlier three visits to these countries but thinking the people of Paris, thinking I’m a foreigner on their country, they’ll help me. And being a neighbourer of England will knew at least working English, but I resolved once again to see how far the French people will go to speak nothing but French with me. After a few hours of ‘struggle’ from pillar to post to get the required information from officials and ordinary people of the Railway station, I at least got convinced that he French people had entered into a ‘conspiracy’ to harass me with their French. I had read somewhere that in the countries of the European Union, English had now begun to be taught as the second language, but here I could find no one who spoke English. At last giving up, I tried to ask the way to the underground railway station but in that too the success eluded me. I made a wild guess about the direction where I thought the station should be and started walking in the direction. After climbing down a long succession of steps of a vast stairs, to my surprise, I found myself in an underground railway station. After buying the ticket when I went to the plat farm my eye caught large and beautiful picture engraved on the wall opposite the railway track. It was mural depicting a beautiful mountainous landscape complete with trees, bushes and large boulders. A herd of snow-white sheep was grazing on the slope of the mountain. An elderly man sitting on a large boulder was abviously the sheep-herder. He had a laptop computer on his knees and was using it with full concentration. A thought cane to my mind that if a man who looked older than me could use a laptop, on fields when grazing sheep, why I not use in my home! Immersed in those thoughts, I casually touched my pocket and not finding my eye glasses there I was greatly alarmed, because without the glasses I was almost blind to the written or printed word. I decided to go back and visit all the office counters I had earlier gone to in the reverse order. At about the fourth counter I found my glasses lying there. While returning to the platform I was worried that an African looking man on duty standing at the entrance will ask me for the ticket, but he let me go in without asking me any question; probably he had earlier seen me go out. He pressed the button that opened the door and I rushed and boarded the train about to leave for Bobini, a Suburb of Paris. On reaching S. Gurdial Singh Ji’s home, where I was staying then, I sent an E-mail to my son Sandip Singh and asked him what brand of laptop should I buy from Paris! He sent me the information but also advised that I should buy the laptop after coming back to Sydney. I came back in October, I did not but the laptop but the idea of buying it did jot leave my mind. Then I had to go out of Sydney for some work. After coming back a few unpleasant events took place with me, and the buying of laptop got postponed again In the end, S. Satinderpal Singh Ji the General Secretary of Gurdwara Sri Guru Singh Sabha Bangkok bought me a beautiful laptop through his manager, during my stay there for Katha. It is a different matter that when in the month of June I went to attend a seminar regarding marriage celebrant, a thief Ji did me a favour. He broke into the front door of my home and made away with the laptop, finding nothing else to steal. as my belongings are pitifully few like a Merassi. I would have lost all the information stored in this had not my nephew Hardip Singh taken out a copy of it, saying “Taya Ji, you have a lot of interesting material work worth reading in your computer; can I make a copy of it and keep with me!” I had gladly agreed saying, “do not ask my permission for doing a Neki.” So thus was saved all my labour of many years. Only a few articles that Hardip could not copy were lost. I remember a story, though it may not fully describe my situation at the time: One day the people of a village were surprised that a Merassi of their village went about distributing Gurh. The people asked him saying, “Oi Meerzadia, what is the happy occasion; has your son been betrothed?” “No Prabha, my mere has been stolen,’ He answered. “Is this a thing to be celebrated?” they asked. “Indeed Prabha, this is a good thing; had I been riding on its back I too would have been stolen,” was the Meerzada’s reply. My first visit to Berlin During my tour of Europe in 2004 when I reached Berlin I was struck by the difference between two parts of Berlin. Though I had already visited Germany thrice but my visits were confined to the West German city of Frankfurt. This time I reached the German city of Hamburg via Norway, Sweden and Denmark. From the Danish capital Copenhagen I had travelled by bus to Berlin, The Berlin wall and the threats of Russian Prime Minister Mr. Nikita Khrushchev reported in the press in the 1960’s were also in my mind. Some of the readers may know that Hitler had taken a Panga with the major powers in the second world war and had ruined both himself and his Germany. The absolute dictator and the great butcher had met his end in a bunker, from where the corpses of his beloved Eva and his dog had also been fished out. Now Germany had become a slave of four nations who ruled from different parts of Germany which they had invaded and conquered. The German capital Berlin too had been divided into two parts. One part was occupied by Russia and the second by the other three powers France U.K. and U.S.A. The area of Berlin which had been occupied by Russians was surrounded by the one occupied by the other three. Many of those living in the Russian part tried to flee to that ruled by the western democracies. There was security police and a barbed wire fence between the two halves, but that did not fully stem the flow of deserters, though the security police had orders to shoot them at sight. The bold ones took their lives in their hands and tried to flee the Communist ruled East Germany. Some of them would drive their vehicles at top speed into the barber wire fence and few succeeded in breaking the barrier, the rest just perished. At last Prime Minster Mr. Khrushchev had a strong and high concrete wall built between the two halves of Berlin and gave stricter orders to the security police. But still the attempts to some how cross the wall continued. Some people jumped from high-rise buildings near the wall into West Berlin. Most of them died or were crippled for life. Some even dug tunnels below the wall from their homes and tried to escape. A few succeeded. In exasperiation Mr. Khrushchev said that Berlin was like a bone stuck in his throat that he had to one day spit out. This wall at last ended in 1989, when Soviet Union broke apart into 15 different republics and along with the Eat European countries behind the iron curtain. The Germany too breathed in free air. The Hindi Weekly ‘Dharamyug’ had published an article which predicted in 1960’s that after 50 years The Russia would break into 15 small countries; but this prediction did not wait 50 years to fullfil and it just took 30 years for Russia to break apart. How this came about is a big subject and demands more time and space. The people took whatever came to their hands and within days demolished this wall. Seeing the demolition of this wall on television I remembered what happened at Sri Akal Takhat Sahib on 26 January 1986. The building of Sri Akal Takhat Sahib too had been demolished that day. The readers may remember that in the first week of June 1984, the Indian government had attacked Sri Darbar Sahib and all the historical Gurdwara of Punjab and along with other damage of life and property had bombarded the front part Sri Akal Takhat Sahib with tanks caused grievous damage to the Takhat Building. Then the government had Sri Akal Takhat Sahib repaired at its own cost and restored it to its farmer condition so as to deceive the Sikhs the world over that nothing untoward had happened at Sri Darbar Sahib complex and the government had just sent its forces to free it from the control of terrorists. Being a politician, the SGPC Chief S. Gurcharan Singh Tohra, after coming back from prison, gave a political statement that the government repaired Akal Takhat was not acceptable to Sikh nation, and that it would be rebuilt with the Sikhs’ own labour and resources. He may not have meant his statement to be taken so seriously, but the Sikh Student Federation and the Damdami Taksal did, and after a Sarbatt Khalsa on 26 January 1986, raged the building to the ground. The people there using swords, spears, hammers exes or whatever else they could lay their hands on. Within a matter of days the building was levelled to the ground. Indira Gandhi had destroyed and rebuilt only the front of Si Akal Takhat Sahib but the unruly crowd of youngsters demolished the whole of it. I had begun to tell something else but I have digressed into a different topic. Like the other rural youth of Punjab, the Marxist literature had had a deep impression on my mind through reading Punjabi literature at that time which mostly written by Marxist writers. The noted journalist Kuldip Nayar had even written that during the 1960’s if a youth had not been influenced by the Marxist ideology he needed to be taken to a Phsychatrist for mental treatment. In the years between 1950 through 1970’s, the Marxist propaganda was at its peak. All Punjabi writers coming from the rural background, and especially the Sikhs all exposed to its philosophy. The few who did not were labeled as reactionary and backward looking. You may be surprised that the few Punjabi writers who had escaped this communist contamination were all non-Jatts, though Giani Hira Singh Dard and Giani Kesar Singh and a few other non-Jatt writers too were ardent communists. Though my field of action was the religious but through reading newspapers and other literature I too had been deeply affected this communist propaganda. I too then thought that I should take active part in the movements then in progress to bring about socialism in our country and do something great, but due to family constraints and financial situation I could not give practical shape to these ideas. I even met and had discussions with some red-hot communists of the day but it remained confined only to talk. I feared that if I left the Panthak arena and went on the path of communist politics, I would lose the support of my family, Dadi Ma Ji, Bibi Ji, Bhaia Ji and all others whom I loved; and I did not dare to make this sacrifice. Though financial constraints too played a part in my not taking up the communist line of action. The main consideration was the fear of losing the love and affection of my family. The religious service gave me my bread and butter, so how could I leave it! But my spare time I spent in libraries and reading rooms perusing communist literature. It was like a hen making clucking noises here but laying its eggs there. In indulged in the mental luxury of living in a communist paradise. The Naxal movement too was then at its peak, and though I did not join it, my sympathy was with them. The people close to me could also sense it. So much so that our small group came to known as the Naxalbari Group by some senior members of the SGPC employees. In March 1999, at a family function in our village even my cousin S. Sukhwinder Singh, who was the stage secretary introduced me to the audience saying, ”he has had connections with the Naxalbaris.” “Wah oi karma dia ballia. Ridhi Kheer te ban gia dallia.” After the function I asked my cousin, “could you find nothing else to say about me other than this irrelevant remark?” It was a good thing that instead of getting angry with me he accepted my view calmly and promised to be more careful in future and he did that. In the 1960’s when I was in this mental turmoil, the Shiromani Akali Dal split into two groups. A new group under the leadership of Sant Fateh Singh Ji came into being, pushing the one lead by Master Tara Singh Ji’s long-held leadership of the Panth. The Sant group became dominant in Sikh politics. The political agenda of this group contained much of what the communists wanted to bring out in India. When I read it I became convinced that the Akalis too wanted to do what te communists did, and I need not leave the Akali Dal. For some reason Shiromani Akali Dal President Sat Fateh Singh Ji had confidence in me and used to friendly talk to me about whatever was weighing on his mind those days. It may have been due to the interest with which I listened to him, or because he considered me more knowledgeable then others. or due to my unselfishness, or finding no better sounding board than me. When he was in a depressed mood due to excessive selfishness shown by some members of his party or due to some other setback, he would open his mind to me, and sometimes even talk about things which were best kept hidden in mind. At times he said that knew what was best for the Panth and the state of Punjab but was unable to do it because of political compulsions. At that time the President of Shiromani Akal Dal’s president was a very modest one. The youngmen of to day may not believe it by he lived in a small segregated part of the Srai close to the office of the SGPC. It was a walled space with two rooms, a veranda and small compound. One room was the bedroom of Sant Ji and the other contained his books. His Sewadars ate at the Langar, but Sant Ji being a diabetes patient, his food used to come from the house of Dr. Bhagat Singh Ji. After Sant Ji, S Gurcharan Singh Tohra too used to reside there. Before Tohra Ji, the SGPC President Sant Channan Singh Ji used to sleep in a small room of first floor of the committee offices. When the then Chief Minister of Punjab S. Lachhman Singh Gill began to plan Sant Ji’s arrest by framing false charges against him. Sant Ji moved to a room adjacent to Sri Akal Takhat Sahib. This room was above the office of Sri Akal Takhat Sahib which along side the whole building got destroyed in 1984, thanks to Indira Gandhi. One day during casual talk I told Sant Ji that I had thought of joining communist movement but after reading Akali Dal’s political agenda, under the leadership of Sant Ji, I had found that the Akali Dal too had a similar programme as the communists had, and therefore decided to remain within the Akali fold. From S. Gurbakhsh Singh Preetlarhi’s writings it had seemed that communist Russia and China were veritable heavens on the earth and the India a hell. The American group on nations was the home of all evil, while the Soviet Russia was the benefactor of the whole mankind. Sardar Ji’s grandiquent Punjabi language was having deep impression on the minds of Sikh youth and it lasted two decades. Why I say the Sikh youth is because the most of the people of other sections of Punjabi society had taken to believing the Hindi and Urdu languages are their mother tongues. The resentment against Sikhs who claimed Punjabi as their mother tongue had long been smouldering but burst into full light during the census of 1951, when the cat finally came out of the bag. The Arya Smaji press and educational institutions exhorted the Hindus to record Hindi as their mother tongue. Not only this, Lala Jagat Narain who controlled the Punjab Congress offices as its General Secretary, too committed a grave crime of turning not only Hindus but other backward classes communities also against Punjabi. Under this influence they also discarded Punjabi and recorded Hindi as their mother tongue. Even Pandit Nehru the then Prime Minister of India had refused to accept 1951 census data on language to be trustworthy. Through out the human history the dominant communities have tried to obletrate the history, culture, traditions, languages and scripts of the subordinate communities. This was done by Aryans to the Dravidians, the Hindus to the Budhists and in the middle of 18th century the Diwan of Lahore Lakhpat Rai (Lakhu) tried to do it to the Punjabi alphabet (Gurmukhi), the Punjabi language, Sikh scriptures and the Sikh religion, though in the end, he had been killed and sent to hell by the Khalsa with the help of the sagacious and loyal Diwan Kaura Mall. About Russia the world only came to know when during the days of political and social reforms of Gorbachev, the actual conditions inside Russia came to light. Hearing about abandoning my idea of joining the communist movement after reading the Akali manifesto, Sant Ji gave me the background of the Akali Dal’s adoption of this manifesto ad the gist of it was as follows: When I went to England in 1966 on invitation of the Sikh Sangat there, I got an opportunity to visit Germany also. I saw that eh difference between the two parts of Germany was like the difference between earth and sky. The west Germany like a garden, with the hustle and bustle of people everywhere; there was laughter and playfulness, colour and spender, an atmosphere of freedom, and the people well-fed and cheerful. In east Germany which the communists rule it was all quiet as in a cemetery, the people full of fear and suspicion, ill-fed ad destitute, so pen talk or laughter, there face drawn and without colour, Such a contrast! A prayer instinctively came t my lips: Oh God! Plese keep mu Sikh Kaum and my Punjab away from such plague! The land of my Gurus should not e inflicted with such oppressive government. Then I thought why the Sikh youth got attracted towards the communist ideology! I found that it was mainly the communist manifesto that fascinated the youth in all countries. So I decided to have everything that attracted the youth towards communism included in the Akali agenda, to save Sikh youth of Punjab from this plague of communism. The readers Should not think that I am for or against any political theory of government in particular. “A Mulla’s reach extends up to the mosque and a Giani’s up to the Gurdwara.” Such is he reach of my philosophy. My ideology does not go beyond the frontiers of Akali thought and philosophy. So far as religion is concerned I admit that I am biased in favour of my own the Sikhism, though I respect other religions. Despite all its weaknesses I believe that the good which the Akalis can do for Punjab, the Congress party cannot. Though the political history of Punjab for he last more than four decades may not testify to this assertion, I honestly think that this view of mine would prove to be correct in the long run. The form of government may be any, but it should care for its people’s welfare. According to Gurbani, “only the one who is worthy being a ruler should sit on the throne.” An impartial ruler who rules without any prejudice is fit to be a rule, whether he is an autocrat or a dictator, whether he is an autocrat or a dictator, or an elected by the people. If his aim is to work for the wl being of those he rules, the form of government according to which he rules. The form of government is not important. As for as Punjab’s concerned, though I am an admirer of S. Balwant Singh Ramoowalia and do understand him, but I am still of the view that the people of Punjab are not yet ready to give the reins of government into the hands of any other party than the Akali-BJP or the Congress. A miracle can always happen. God knows the best. I saw the city of Berlin from both sides. Despite 15 years of constant efforts of the German government the difference between the two Berlins has not disappeared. It can still be clearly seen. A major part of the German budget is spent on the Eastern part of Germany, but during the communist rule the East Germany was so misgoverned that it will perhaps take many more years to bring it on the level of West Germany. Though the Berlin wall had been demolished, a small portion of it has been saved as a momento. To preserve the memory of the divided Germany, a museum has been built that houses the historical artefacts, and photos and films of that era. The Long change with the times Recently Bhai Ram Singh Ji, who has worked for inculcating Gurmat Spirit in the Sikh youth through computer all over the world talked about ‘exposure’ while doing Katha at Keysbrough (Melbourne) Gurdwara Sahib. He said if there was some machinery used in any house, the children born there soon learnt to use it; such as in Punjab, among prosperous farming families, the children learn to drive and use a tractor at an early age. One day I was fiddling with a computer, as my son and grand son also were using their computers on the same table, when y son remarked ,”three generations on computer.” He also said, “if my Bapu Ji (his grandfather) was here, we would have given him a computer and then there would have been four generations of computer users simultaneously.” Hearing these words from my son my mind went back to my childhood. There then used to be only two bi-cycles in our village; one with the Bhai Ji of our Gurdwara ahd the other with my Chacha Ji. I often surreptitiously took out the bi-cycle and tried to ride it. My legs were too small to reach the pedals then. I use to turn the pedals crossing one of my legs through the frame. I often hurt myself as the bi-cycle often overpowered me. When my grand-mother saw the bruises on my legs and knees I often got a free gift of slaps and a tongue lashing as a bonus. Slowly but surely I finally mastered the art of riding a bi-cycle. A few years back my son shocked me with a news of his adventures with our old car in his childhood. He said whenever we went for shopping on Saturdays to Blacktown Marketing Centre, he would take the keys of the car from me or his mother on some pretext such as something left behind inside the car, and then drive it in the parking space of the centre. Though I made a pretense of rebuking him for this dangerous prank, in my heart of hearts I really felt no anger as I did not consider his act to be more blatant than my own. I had a bi-cycle to undertake my adventures; he had a car to play with. He said he had even accidently banged the car with another vehicle and caused a big dent on its body, which at the time we had ignored as caused by some one else in the parking lot. My mind goes back to another somewhat more serious action of mine during boyhood. Once my uncle was plowing a field at the Tootan Wali land. The family by then had already split into three parts. the plow was pulled by a bullock and a he-buffalo. Chacha Ji asked me to mind the animals (and not plow) while he went to have a drink of water from the nearby well. You may ask why I did not go and fetch water for him from the well. It might have been because we had no handy drinking vessel there or the fact that I could not work the well being too little to do it. Anyway, in my uncle’s absence I prodded the animals and the started pulling the plow. But I did not have the skill to keep the sharp end of the plow from hurting the animals’ feet, and ended up hurting both animals. Luckly the animals soon stopped and their injuries were not so serious. Even now after all these years when I remember this incident goose bumps rise up in my skin. One day I saw that mu son sat behind the steering wheel of his car with his little son in his lap who had his hands on the steering wheel while they slowly drove the car, the child thinking that it was he who drove it. I remembered the days of my childhood when my grown up friends swam in deeper water of the Dhab (village big pond) while I had both my hands resting on the bottom in shallow water at the edge of the pond and pretended swim with both my legs thrashing the water. I thought if I could learn to swim thrashing mu legs in water, mu grand-son too would one day learn to drive the car when his legs were long enough to reach the gears of the car. At that time mu grand-mother used to always give a scolding whenever she learnt that I had been trying to learn swimming in the pond. Now people take their little children to the swimming pools and pay hefty fees to teach them to swim. My own children take my grand-children to swimming pools to teach them to swim and pay hefty fees for it. I still remember the thrill I got when for the fist time I succeeded to keep my body afloat for few seconds, while trying to swim in the pond called Patla Chhapparh, which was not very far from the road coming from Nath Wali Khuhi towards our village. I shouted with joy and tried to tell the other boys swimming in the pond but no one listened to me in their own excitement. There was also a small room built near that pond, very close to a tree of Kikkar, by the boys as a shelter against the rain when they grazed their cattle there. A small platform had also been built there which the people of village called the Jathere. All newly-wed couples of our village went there to pay respect to the memory of our ancestors. I remember an incident that took place when we were once bathing in the Dhab of our village. Some boys under took the adventure of wade through the water to a small island in the middle of the Dhab we called it Dhorha. They included Jailo (now S. Jarnail Singh) who is a cousin of my father. Jailo fell into a deeper hole below the surface of water and was about to drown when another boy pulled him up by his hair and saved his life. The boy who pulled him out of water was one among those two either Sucha or Kailo. When the news reached Jailo’s mother she scolded him and told to my grand-mother this happening. When she told to my grand-mother that I was also among those boys, at that time she was combing my hair. I too got my own share of slapping in my face from her. The modern gadgets such as a TV set are a part of my childern’s homes as they are of other families. But I have never been able to learn to use them properly. I was greatly annoyed with the fact that a TV should have three remotes instead of one, that could be mastered by an ignoramus like me. So to switch on the TV or to change channel or to increase/decrease the volume, I have to shout to my children/grand-children to do it for me. But I now rarely go to my children’s homes without purpose and try to return to my own house as soon as the work is completed. I seldom sit there to idle away the time. The main reason for this, I think is, the so-called generation gap. The older generation wants the younger to benefit from its experience. They want them to learn without suffering any loss which they themselves had to suffer to get experience. But the young people do not like to learn this way. They want to live and learn through their own experience. The two generations do not wish evil on each other. There is merely a difference in out look. Due to this difference disputes often arise in families. The blame cannot be ascribed to only the one or the other generation but is shared between the two. We, the old generation still like to live in the 20th century when the 21st century had become more that a decade old. In my youth I too believed that I could change the world as the following couplet clams: There are those who change as te world changes, but real men are those who change as the world. but the very have the courage to swim against the tide, most people just do what the others do and the few who make half-hearted attempts to change the world, only succeed in making their own lives as well as lives of those around them miserable. Here I remember what happened to a wise and kind-heated friend of mine, as told to me by our mutual friend when at his house in London I asked for welfare of that friend, when I was staying there for a night. That friend is very hard-working and an outstanding sportsman. He lead a successful life and earned a lot of money by honest means. He had a son whose life he has modeled after his own. Both were excellent sportsmen and even represented their country in the commonwealth games. They had settled abroad and built up a successful business. Both had such intimacy with each other that in the evenings they drank together. One evening during such a drinking session the son said to his father with tear-filled in his eyes, “it is too much, Dad, now please let me live my own life the way I want to live it.” The father, our friend, was a wise man. He knew it was time to part company with his son. He left whatever he had abroad to his son and had a small house built at a pilgrimage centre and began to live there. He is lucky that his wife decided to live with him instead of her children, as most wives do in such circumstances. One day after dinner when my own son was taking me in his car to drop me at my own house, he said, “Papa, it is not your food which is a burden for us to bear. but your interference in our affairs that we cannot bear. You should give us advice only when we ask it from you and do not meddle in our affairs unnessarily. But I was not as wise as my friend and could not follow his example. The surprising thing is that I axpect from my children to follow my examples. So one day that happened which I did not want to happen. I still regret what I did then, and am still suffering mental punishment. I am sure my children too would not be happy with what happened. Seeing my grandson using computer to paint ABC, I told my son about my tine: I had learnt my Punjabi alphabet writing on the ground dust of our village Gurdwara and then in 1954, at the Dera of Sant Mastan Singh Ji at Mukatsar, I learnt Hindi alphabet writing on ground dusted with ash. And you my son, you and your siblings learnt to write your letters sitting in chairs/tables. Now your son Josh Singh is learning his alphabet on a computer screen. It seems that during the time of his children, chips may come into being for each subject. May be the chips would be fitted inside the brain, ending all learning by mental effort. The rods and scolding of teachers would become mere legends. The story of my invitation letters People keep getting invitations and the occasions are numerous: marriages, Bhogs held for the deceased, inauguration of new houses, other functions etc. But here I will talk about two invitaions recieved by me to attend special functions. The SGPC a few years ago used to send me invitation cards to attend their special functions. One such invitation card invited me to attend a Wishaw Sikh Samelan. Thanking them for the invitation, I wrote them a letter and also offered an unsolicited advice: I told them that they had taken an unnecessary trouble in using the Hindi term ‘Wishaw’; a better Punjabi term ‘Sansar’ could have been used for better effect, for the ‘Sansar Sikh Samelan’ should have certainly sounded better. Need less to say they must have taken offence at this criticism/advice, and after that their invitations to me totally stopped. I do not know why I ca not give up my habit like the old woman who would burn Sehra. For a number of years the Punjabi University Patiala too used to send me invitation letters. I do not know where they got my address from. The invitation had the offer that the University would pay rail/bus fare from any Indian Airport to Patiala, and also arrange the boarding and lodging during the days of function. It was a big temptation to me, for I always hankered after fame and ever looked for a opportunity to rub shoulder with the great writers. But, “palle na dhela te kardi mela mela ( not as cent in pocket, but wants to go the fair). I also thought that was not equal to the ordeal of first travelling by air from Sydney to Delhi and from there by bus or rail to Patiala, and then by a rickshaw ride to the University, and like a lost camel, then roam the campus to find a responsible official. So I sent my thanks in a letter and said I could not attend due to other commitments, hiding the real reason: the lack of money. But when I got such an invitation in 1992, I made my mind to go, thinking that the meeting with great ‘Bidmans’ (scholars) is not an everyday affair. I was determined that what happened to a bachelor Taya could not happen to me: when one of his many nephews pressed him for an answer to the question, ”Taya why did you not get married?” had to answer, “I became a little tardy, oi nephew,” he had to reply with a long and sad face. Thinking this I immediately sent the reply, “I am coming.” The response from the University was immediate: do not come. It was a telegram which also promised that I will get a letter also. At last the letter came and when I opened it with trembling hands, it said that due to the approaching assembly elections in Punjab, the function had been postponed and the new date will be intimated to me. From that day till today the University has not had the audacity to send me any invitation letter. They do not even let it out through media that a function is to held; perhaps they think that I will go and show my face there. Only after the function I learn from media that it was successfully held. At few years back I got an invitation letter from Dr. Mahip Singh Ji from Delhi, inviting me to attend a function called ‘International Punjabi Sammelan’ to held by some outfit in America also to read a paper there. I was well familiar with Dr. Mahip Singh’s name and fame, as I used to read his articles in Hindi Weekly ‘Dharamyug’. Receiving a letter from such an eminent writer gave me thrill. I felt I was now ‘somebody’. I at once began to plan my journey, though for some years I had been without work and was hard up for cash it is great irony that the Maya (money) like an old time’s younger brother’s, wife always draws a veil from me, though my real younger brothers’s wives never do so and are modern enough to show their faces and call me ‘Bha Ji’, but I am happier if they call me ‘Bhau”. I was in the air after receiving this invitation. In my mind’s eye I saw myself walking with great writers. I saw myself addressing that august assembly as the Doctor Sahib’s letter had suggested. The famed writers from India, America, Canada, England, new Zealand etc were sure to be there. I would get the opportunity to meet friends from abroad and exchange ‘Waheguru Ji Ki Fateh’ with them - a bath in the Ganga, as well a trade in bamboos. On reading the invitation more closely I found that to reach the Venue, I would have to spend my own money but once there, all expenses on boarding and lodging, sight-seeing etc. will be paid by the organisers. I could also take another person with me. I was delighted at these generous terms. I asked my family members whether one of them would like to accompany me, but no one paid the slightest attention to my offer; they must indeed be happy in their minds that for few days at least they would be rid of my pointing out their flaws and mistakes. Day and night I would remain immersed in those thoughts: how splendid will be the time when I would walk among the great scholars, the ‘Bidbans’ without saying anything I would still make them feel that I was second to none and was one of their brotherhood. Do not see from my dress that I was a ordinary ‘Bhai’. I too have been invited here like you. I made my travel plans: I will fly from Sydney to Vancouver. From there I could find some cheaper means of travel to Los Angeles. From Los Angeles I would go to Milwakee by bus or train. A car or truck could also be used if it was cheaper. I was up in air. I told every one that I have received this invitation. My daughter took prompt action and even booked an air ticket for me out of her visa account. The ticket had my route entered as follows: Sydney – Auckland – Honololo – Los Angeles – and back to Sydney. One day while taking dinner in the kitchen-cum-family room my younger son Bali (Gurbal Singh) remarked to his brother and sisters in English , thinking that I could not understand this language, “didn’t I tell you before that Papa is not so dumb (Budhu) as he looks; he has even managed to secure an invitation from overseas. He must be wise.” Who ever heard about my going overseas, felt relieved in his/her mind. My children were happy that now no one will criticise all their actions at least for a few days. To be fair to them at first they had become somewhat worried that in my absence who will peal the onions, knead the flour, and eat the edges of the bread etc. But on weighing all the pros and cons they must have found that my absence was more preferable. They resented that through out the day I kept finding faults with them: Oi, don’t waste water in the bathroom; why the T.V. is not switched of if no one is watching it? Instead of eating bread with cold juice, why don’t you eat Roty with Daal or Sabzi, Oi, get up early, finish breakfast and catch the school bus in time, oi. Oi, come straight home back from the school. Do not do mischief on the way etc. etc. Wife thought she will have less clothes to wash for a few days, and less food to cook. As for the pealing of onions and the kneading of flour that could be managed for a few days. So far as the edges of bread were concerned, they could be thrown in the bin – who would be there to watch it. The ‘leaders’ of the community were also happy at the prospect of my absence. They must have thought: no one knows what will he speak on what occasion, and bring up the account of seed on a day of marriage; he is ever keen to give unsolicited advice. I then attended a District Community College to pass the time and also to improve a bit my English. They too must be happy: he always wastes the others time asking silly questions; now they will be able to ask a few relevant questions to the teachers. The teachers too felt happy; instead of learning he tries to teach us; he chokes our nostrils by his talk. My approaching absence delighted every one. One Sunday at the Gurdwara, I eagerly spoke to a young man about this invitation. He said that function had been cancelled. I could not believe it. On my asking how he knew this, he said that his brother too had received this invitation. He now says that the function has been cancelled. I immediately came home and at once rang up the organiser of this function, S. Darshan Singh Dhaliwal at Milwaukee. He confirmed that that function had to cancelled due to the unexpected death of an important person and the new date will be intimated to me. After all the bathing and washing she got left behind and a fly came and sat on her face. So it happened with me. The others who were eagerly waiting for my departure overseas too got disappointed. I kept waiting but no other invitation from that institution came to me. Later I learnt through media that the function had been held with great success. Among other scholars, my friend, the noted short-story writer, Dr. Waryam Singh Sandhu had also played a prominent part in the function. Doubts about the Placing of Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji in multi-storied building A few days back on the website Gurmat learning zone a Guru Ji’s beloved Sikh had asked a question: Can Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji installed on the lower floor of a building, on the upper floor of which people lived or walked? Te answer sought was ‘yes’ or ‘no’. according my limited knowledge I had replied that the questioner should go to Sri Darbar Sahib at Amritsar ad see what is being done at the Darbar Sahib and Sri Akal Takhat Sahib to know the answer. I do not know whether the person was satisfied with my answer or what is the answer from other knowledgeable people. In this regards I remember an incident: I received an invitation from Gurdwara of an European country to go there for few days for the propagation of religion. It had been sent by a committee of youngmen who were baptised devoted Sikhs and followed the customs and traditions of the Damdami Taksal. I obeyed their command and went there. On a particular day they were to begin an Akhand Path to celebrate a historic day. Granthi Ji finished the morning Nitnem and had placed Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji on its seat. The Chola of the Nishan Sahib which was on the upper floor was also to be replaced that day. The old Chola was removed and Nishan Sahib bathed in a solution of thin curd called Pakki Lassi. So far I had seen that Nishan Sahib was bathed in a solution of milk and water, which called Kachi Lassi. It was a new thing for me to now see it being bathed in Pakki Lassi. I too stood there and watched the operation with some others, as there was no room for any more people to take part in this service. I have not yet found out how the practice of bathing Nishan Sahib in Lassi had originated. In my younger days I had watched the changing of Cholas of the two Nishan Sahibs, in front of Sri Akal Takhat Sahib. A Sewadar Bhai Charan Singh Khara used to perform this Sewa. In this he was usually assisted by a Nihang Singh, who used to take the old Chola with him. We boys too used to take eager part in this Sewa. But bathing of Nishan Sahib never took place there. When and why this practice began I do not know. After this Sewa was completed and the new Chola had been put on the Nishan Sahib, I too came down with the other Sangat. when I went to the hall where the Akhand Path was to take place. I saw that Granthi Ji had already uncovered Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji and was ready to begin its Prakash Sewa. Then we heard a noise on the roof as some people were still there. Granthi Ji asked me whether we should wait for them to come down. I told him that it did not matter mush; Guru Ji is like a father to us; so he will not be angry at us. So Granthi Ji continue the Prakash Sewa. Seeing that some members of the Gurdwara committee had still no arrived in the hall, I took up a harmonium and began Kirtan. An elderly committee member came and got a Dholki and joined me in Kirtan. After some time I saw the prominent members had still not come. I thought that they might have gone down to the Langar hall for some refreshments. After Anand Sahib I asked the Granthi Ji to do the Ardas. He did and then started the Akhand Path. The Path had just begun when three members came to the hall and asked me and the Granthi Ji to accompany them to a separate room. The Akhand Path was started by a Sant Ji and he continued it. I saw that they were very angry. They started chiding us for beginning the Akhand Path when they were still on the upper floor of the building below which the Path was taking place. They said it was a great insult to Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji. They also reproached the elderly member for not stopping us from doing this. Both of us repeatedly appologised to them for our ‘blunder’ in order to pacify them, though in my mind I failed to see that we had really committed any breach of Guru Ji. I saw in my mind’s eye that at Sri Akal Takhat Sahib and Sri Harmandir Sahib no such rule was observed. When Sri Guru Granth Sahib was installed at the ground floor, the people could usually walk on the upper floors. At Last the young man who led the other two in this verbal attack on us, said that only Guru Ji would punish us for this crime. A verdict we gladly accepted, saying that we will ask pardon from Guru Ji and now they should accept our apologies and be calm. The next day looking at a large photograph of Sri Harmandir Sahib hanging from a wall in the Langar hall, I remembered that the ground floor where Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji is installed has its roof on the second storey, and above that was the dome. The devotees do sit in the galleries at the second floor and listen to Kirtan, as well as see the sight below. Thus they remain on the upper floor, while Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji is below them on the floor. The dome on the third storey has glass walls and an Akhand Path is always in progress there and the Pathi sits and reads from Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji. Some other Singhs also remain in attendance. The Sangat are also permitted to go to the space above the Har Ki Pauri, which also is above Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji. At other places where there are no domes the people can freely come and go to the floor below which the Akhand Path is held. Now let us come to Sri Akal Takhat Sahib. On the side where a tamarind tree stands, where we climb the stairs and turn right there is Kotha Shi to the left. According to history this room had been built by Sri Guru Arjan Dev Ji first to use for himself and after used resting place for Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji. Till this day Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji is brought in a golden Palki from Sri Harmandir Sahib ad is placed here for te night. In the early morning it is again taken out fro here and carried to Sri Harmandir Sahib with full ceremony. This Kotha Sahib has no dome on top. Above the place where Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji is placed at Sri Akal Takhat Sahib, there also is no dome. Both these places are out side the space covered by the central dome. On the third storey of Sri Akal Takhat Sahib Amrit Sanchar takes place. At that time apart from the Panj Piaras and those seeking baptism, some other people too gather at the place. There used to be house abutting Sri Akal Takhat Sahib which had a wall common with the Takhat Building. The Head Granthi of Sri Akal Takhat Sahib used to live in this house with his family. The access to this house was through stairs from the side of Jhootha Bazar. During the 1960 Punjabi Suba Morcha, the ‘dictator’ of this Morcha, Sant Fateh Singh Ji, lived in this house to evade arrest by the police. It was given out to the Public that he lived inside Sri Akal Takhat Sahib. Through out the day he remained on the third floor managing affairs of the Panth, and only at night did he go inside a room of this house to sleep. The access to the house from the Bazar had been closed and he walls were topped with barbed wire. A small door had been built in the wall common with the Takhat Sahib building to connect it with Sri Akal Takhat Sahib. So this came to a part of the Takhat building. Below this house used to be the office and liberary of Sri Akal Takhat Sahib. Then in 1967 when S. Lachhman Singh gill deserted the Party and became Chief Minister with the help of Congress Party, and had tried to have the SGPC President Sant Channan Singh Ji arrested on false charges, Sant Ji had taken shelter in this house. All committee employees, leaders workers, members and the public came here through the main stairs of the Takhat to meet Sant Ji. The focus of all meetings and Panthic activities was this house, actually the third floor of Sri Akal Takhat Sahib. The reunification of two faction of Akali Dal in 1968 also took place here. When on the orders from S. Lchhman Singh Gill, the both personal assistant of the SGPC Chief got arrested by police, I was given the duties of personal assistant of Sant Ji. All that time I remained in this place he house and the third floor of Takhat Sahib. Before this when mu Bhaia Ji (father) was Head Granthi of Sri Akal Takhat Sahib, in my childhood, the keys of the liberary usually were kept by me and I used to spend quite a bit of my time in the liberary reading books in the dim light of on electric bulb. The layout of Sri Akal Takhat Sahib the time before 1984 has become a part of my memory; it may remain there so long as I am alive. After the construction of the new building of Sri Akal Takhat though I have visited Sri Darbar Sahib many times and have also gone to pay obeisance at Takhat Sahib during my every visit to Amritsar, the new layout does not leave any imprint on my mind. The new generation will not have this problem. A large well called Akalsar built by Sri Guru Har Gobind Sahib Ji, was got buried under the foundation. During my one visit when I could not find that wee, I mentioned it to my long and respected friend, the then Jathedar of Sri Akal Takhat Sahib Ji, Giani Joginder Singh Ji. He sent an assistant with e saying “go and show the well to Giani Ji.” That gentleman opened a locked door at the level of Parikarma and pointed the well to me. I could see the outline of the well in the dark. It reassure me to see that historic well had so far escaped the attention of the Kar Sewak Babas, and though it was hidden in the confines of the foundation it was still in existence. At the time of construction new building, the well could have been kept open with a railing around its mouth but it seems that its historical importance was not fully appreciated. This is the beginning of 1984, Sant Jarnail Singh Ji too had found sanctuary on the third floor of Sri Akal Takhat Sahib when ha had shifted his camp from the roof of the Langar building. Below the third floor, there were more than one Sarups of Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji, but no one had paid the slightest attention to this aspect and thought it to improper. The activities on the third floor continued without interruption. I hold no grudge against those enthusiastic youth and do not doubt their sincerity and devotion. While talking to the next day their leader gave me an impression that the regretted he previous day’s rash behaviour on their part and had realised that they had gone beyond the limits of just criticism, of our action. This I guess from his face and way of talking, though he didn’t said it verbally. I pay tribute to the zeal and abundant respect they have to protect the honour of Sri Guru Granth Sahib, and wonder why I lagged behind in this task! This article I have not written in resentment of those youngmen but draw the attention of Sikh Scholars and leaders towards this issue so as the truth could come out. A similar situation could arise in future also. Note: Now there is much change in the layout of Sri Akal Takhat Sahib, as described above. All the houses behind it have now been demolished and two-storied rooms and Verandas have been constructed there for the holding of Akhand Paths. But there is no restriction on going to roofs where Akhand Paths are going on below. The President of India’s election - 1969 Finding some free time after two months and the Punjabi font on computer, I had a keen desire to write on many subjects but was not able to decide in what sequence should I approach them. Yesterday when I read Dr. Sangat Singh‘s 99th (April 5, 2008) installment in the columns of ‘Rozana Spokesman’ I found a new led. Doctor Sahib’ book ‘The Sikhs in history’ is being published in installments in this newspaper. Among all the books on Sikh history I have read so far, this seemed to me the closest to the truth. I wish every Sikh would read this book. Before this I had read this book in Vancouver when I went there in 1996, on the invitation of the Khalsa Diwan Society for propagation of Sikh religious history. President of the society, late S. Hardial Singh Johl Ji had presented me the English version of this book. Though I cannot read English well The joy I get in reading Punjabi I do not get while reading English because I have probe and feel to understand it. For the reading of English is like sampling English tea while that of reading Punjabi has the delightful taste of the Punjabi tea. For this I blame no one because I had first started learning the ABC of English only when I had begun to grow my beard and that too with an eye to going abroad. The Punjabi version of the book had not yet came into existence though now through the energetic young man of ‘Singh Brothers’, S. Gursagar Singh, a Punjabi translation of the book is now available. This the first English book that I read completely. This too became possible, as according to my habit I started reading it from the end chapter backwards, that is: I read the last chapter first and then the one before the last and so on to the first. From this book I got a hint of the connection the Gangu and the Nehru families. In order to know more about this connection I had to read the whole book. Now let us go to the real issue: The government propaganda in the 1960’s decade had made Indira Gandhi very popular. Many forward–looking youngmen adored her as against the backward- looking old leaders of congress party. I too was among these ‘Teesmar Khans’ who admired Indira Gandhi. Though the congress party had not as yet been formally split into the two groups Syndicate and Indicate had already formed. The so called pregressives, the socialists, communists and the Akalis, led by Sant Fateh Singh, who too had begun to call themselves the forward-looking, favoured Indira Gandhi while the Syndicate group consisting of Kamraj, S.K. Patil, Morar Ji Desai, Nijlingappa, Dr. Ram Subhag Singh, Neelam Sanjiva Reddy etc. were called the backward looking and reactionaries. Till 1984, I too was an admirer of Indiar Gandhi. Among the most ardent Indira supporters was a group called the Young Turks, who went to extreme in supporting Indira Gandhi and denigrating her rivals. The leader of this group was Chander Shekhar and it included Mohan Dharia, Krishan Kant, Sat Pal Kapoor, Arjun Arora etc. Those days I admired Chander Shekhar and continued to do so till I read in newspapers that at the time of Indiar Gandhi’s assassination, he had gone to Rajiv Gandhi to mourn his mother’s death but had done nothing to dissuade him from taking his revenge on innocent Sikhs of Delhi and other cities. He stated much the same in newspapers and said at the time he did not do so for the fear that Rajiv Gandhi would take offence. And when later he toppled V. P. Singh and became the Prime Minister with the help of Rajiv Gandhi, he further fall in my eyes and came to the level of ordinary politicians, otherwise I had expected great things from him. Dr. Sangat Singh is very near the truth. Though the anti-Congress parties had made mutual seat adjustments to defeat the Congress, only the Akali Dal and the Jan Sangh had joined hands to form the government in Punjab under justice Gurnam Singh’s leadership. They had not sought a coalition with other parties as they had done in 1967. The Akali had won 43 seats in the election and two independents had also joined them to take the total to 45. These were S. Darbara Singh from Nakodar and Beant Singh from Payal (the same Beant Singh who later became the Chief Minister and had rivaled Zakria Khan in committing atrocities on Sikh youth). They made up the required number to form a ministry by including 8 Jan Sangh (not 9) members. S. Darbara Singh was made the speaker of Assembly and two of the Jan Sangh members were given ministries. These were Dr. Baldev Prakash and Sri Balram Ji Das Tandon. In the mid-1969 presidential election the split in the Congress party had become public knowledge. The official candidate of the party was Neelam Sanjeeva Reddy; even his nomination papers had been lodged by the hands of Indira Gandhi, but after that she had given her blessings to V.V. Giri who stood as an independent candidate. She wanted put the Congress’ old bosses in their proper places. She declared that the vote should be cast according to the voter’s concience. It became a life and death battle for Indira. Every vote became precious. Dr. Sangat Singh wrote that even if the Akalis remained neutral, Indira’s candidate V.V. Giri would have lost the election and it would have proven to be Kirtrn-Sohla of her political career. I did not then knew that the Akali votes were that important but was happy that thy had been cast in Indira’s favour. Though Sant Fateh Singh JI too wanted the Akali votes go to Indira Gandhi’s candidate, he also wanted a quid pro quo in return. I knew that S. Gurnam Singh had gone to Delhi without consulting the party Chief and promised Akali votes to Indira Gandhi. One day in the evening twilight Sant Fateh Singh Ji was sitting on a Manja in very small courtyard of his residence; a part of Guru Ram Das Srai, as was his wont. Sant Channan Singh Ji sat on a chair opposite him. Be it remembered that Sant Channan Sing Ji never sat as a co-equal with Sant Fateh Singh Ji. Only when he had touched his forehead to Sant Ji’s feet would he straighten up and call out the Fateh. He held Sant Ji in great esteem. The bulb being a low watt one the courtyard was not lit brightly. Except both the Sant Jis the only third person present there was I. The gist of the conversation held there in my presence was that it was wrong for S. Gurnam Singh to promised Akali votes to Indira Gandhi without consulting the Party high command. It was an opportunity from which full benefit should have been derived. Some of the injustices done to Akalis and state could have been remedied by exploiting this opportunity. The political anvil of the country was hot and with a wise strike a lot of benefit for the state could have been achieved. But as was usual with Akali leaders they preferred their own good to the good of the party and the state. This was the point which Dr. Sangat Singh had made in his 99 th installment. The self- proclaimed wise and learned leader like S. Gurnam Singh had sacrificed the interests of the state and the party for his own selfish ends, while the semi-literate known leaders of the party had a different thinking: they wanted to use this opportunity to get some concessions for the state. But Sant Ji did not take the drastic action of calling a meeting of the party high command and chiding S. Gurnam Singh for his lapse. In fact by that tine S. Gurnam Singh had already made a hush-hush agreement with Indira Gandhi, in exchange for Akali votes. This Sant Ji did not know. My friend S. Kuljit Singh Talwar, had told me about this secret agreement and advised me to apprise Sant Ji about it but I had then not given much credit to this information thinking that a mere ordinary clerk could not be privy to such important piece of information, though he was an employee of the Central government. I was later to regret my lack of understanding. The secret agreement that S. Gurnam Singh had made with Indira Gandhi was that he would help Congress to topple the Akali government of which he was the Chief Minister, and then hand over the Chief Ministership of Punjab to the Congress. He would then be rewarded by Indira Gandhi with the post of Lokpal that had been ‘mooted’ by ‘the Desai Commission’ set up to bring about administrative reforms in the political machinery of the government. (The same Lokpal which is now well publicised by Anna Hazare’s agitation) The Khichrhy (hotchpotch) that had been cooking between S. Gurnam Singh and Indira Gandhi became known to others on March 25, 1970. The cat came out of the bag when during that election for two Rajya Sabha seats S. Gurnam Singh backed a rebel candidate Giani Bhupinder Singh, against the official candidate of Akali Dal, Jathedar Santokh Singh of Delhi. He asked openly his supporters to vote for Giani Bhupinder Singh. Seeing such open treachery on the part of the party leader Sant Channan Singh Ji instructed the minister of finance, S. Balwant Singh, not to present the budget (which was going to be presented in that day in the Assembly) and tell the speaker that the party had lost confidence in its leader, the Chief Minister. Balwant did as instructed and refused to present the budget saying what Sant Ji had told him to say. Hearing this Gurnam Singh got up and said, “if my finance minister does not want to preset the budget, then I offer too present it in the capacity of a Chief Minister.” But the speaker rejected his suggestion and the budget could not be presented that day. The government reduced to minority after majority of Akali members withdrew their support. Thus, this learned Chief Minister, perhaps more learned than was good for him, instead of pushing the two Sadhs out to the Budha Johar, lost his Chief Ministership. He stuck out for two more days. The Akali Dal members undertook a Dharna at the Raj Bhawan. At last Dr. Pavte the governor seeing no other way, had to sworn in S. Prakash Singh Badal as Chief Minister. All this happened before my very eyes. In this way S. Gurnam Singh tried to use the same tactic on Sant Ji to deprive him of the leadership of Shiromani Akali Dal as was used by Indira Gandhi to rid herself of the old bosses of the Congress party; she with complete success, Gurnam Singh with disastrous result. Deep conspiracy behind the present unrest in Punjab Reading of history should teach us but the same history tells us that instead of learning we prefer to teach others. The context of present day situation in Punjab, we can say that under the garb of secularism the communal congress not only took over political power from the British it also took over their political ideology of ‘divide and rule’. The hard won freedom through sacrifices made by the Sikhs has been used by the congress for its own selfish ends. Untill 1966, the congress used to win elections in Punjab exploiting the religious sentiments of the two main religious communities of Punjab: the Hindus and Sikhs and it also controlled most educational institutions, the press and other institutions. It would give posts to pr-congress Sikhs more than their numbers, in central and state organisations to show that the Sikhs suffered no discrimination at its hands. This was done to appease the Sikh community so that he government would not have to fullfil the promises made to Sikhs before independence. When in 1960 Sant Fateh Singh Ji assumed the Sikh leadership he realised that the anti-Sikh elements should be given no opportunity to dub the Sikhs as communal. So Among his other slogans he included these two also: Azad Bharat Zindabad and Hindu Sikh Ekta Zindabad. Due to a number of Political compulsions, the congress government had at last to bow to the demand of Punjabis for the delineation of a state on the basis of language. Though this was doe under compulsion, still the congress did not give up any opportunity disrupt the lives of Punjabis. After the formation of Punjabi Suba, during the first election in 1967, the Akali Dal, lead by Sant Fateh Singh Ji won 24 seats out of 104 and the congress 48. After desertion to congress of an Akali member it was left with 23 seats while the congress seats increased to 50 because one independent also joined the congress. While the 50 stared, Sant Ji formed a coalition of all anti- congress parties and made a government with S. Gurnam Singh as Chief Minister. Dr. Baldev Prakash of Jan Sangh became the finance minister. Thus the communal turmoil of decades came to an end for the time being in Punjab, and a new vista of communal harmony came to seen in the state. This lasted from 9 March to 21 November 1967. But this was not to the liking of congress, and it waited for chance to disrupt it. It tempted S. Lachhman Singh Gill with the Chief Ministership who deserted the party with 16 other members and toppled S. Gurnam Singh’ government. He himself became the Chie Minister with the congress support. With him went Dr. Jagjit Singh Chauan, the deputy speaker of the front government, who now became the finance minister in the new government. This farce went on for a few months. When the congress found that Gill was of no use to it, they put an end to his government and declared governor’s rule. After six months another election and a coalition government of Akali Dad and Jan Sangh came into being again. The communal atmosphere of the state again improved but how could the congress sit quietly? It continued its efforts for stir up trouble in the state. These events took place in 1969; when 500th birth anniversary of Sri Guru Nanak Dev Ji was being celebrated through out the country: Dr. Jagjit Singh Chauhan who had lost the election held in 1969, He wanted to disrupt Akali leadrship and Akali goverbment in Punjab. In this direction he got hold of an Akali worker of Khadoor Sahib Bawa Jagdish Singh Chooha, to undertake an immolation against Sant Fateh Singh. But the police caught him going towards Kotwali with a bottle of kerosene oil. (Once I asked him why his nik name was Chooha. He replied that his face was like Chooha. Thus people call him Chooha) Then Dr. Chauhan found another Akali worker, this time from Kartarpur, Harbans Singh Bagla. But Sant Channan Singh persuaded him and pulled him out of the trap. Failed in these two attempts, Dr. Jagjit Singh Chauhan at last found Jathedar Darshan Singh Feruman. He had been a will-known Akali leader of his day but was now living quiet life at his village, being an old man of 78. He was a former congress M.P. and had been a freedom fighter and a fearless warrior. He had once been an Akali but later joined the congess party along side his group known as ‘Nagoke group’ and later in 1960 became vice president of Punjab Swatanter party along side his leader Jathedar Udham Singh Nagoke as its president. Dr. Chauhan successfully persuaded him to undertake a fast unto death, and this old warrier found a glorious death after remaining hungry for 7 days. This hurt Sant Fateh Singh Ji’s leadership a little. But this Doctor did not get much out of all this drama and finding no other alterative made up his quarrel with Sant Ji who made him a member of the working committee of Shiromani Akali Dal. He announced to the press that he had become general secretary of the Dal. Thus he encashed Jathedar Feruman’s sacrifice to his benefit. During this period, the Akali Chief Minister S. Gurnam Singh made secret agreement to become the party supremo by pushing out Sant Ji from the state. He had tried to gain complete control of the Party as position at present held by Sardar Badal. For this he used Indira’s support and a played the same trick as she had, but where as she was fully successful in her aim, S. Gurnam Singh failed miserably in his. As a result he lost his Chief Ministership on 25 March, and on 27 March S. Prakash Sigh Badal became Chief Minister for the first time. The congress could not make any head way, but soon it found a new issue to torment the Akalis. It made the Jan Sangh members to quit the government on the issue of Guru Nanak Dev University. After the eight Jan Sangh members left the government, the government still did not fall. Then S. Surinder Singh Kairon disappeared with six Akali members. The Badal government was reduced to a minority but during this crisis Sant Channan Singh made a deal with Indira Gandhi through S. Swaran Singh and succeeded in saving the government. Seeing that the government was still in existence, S. Surinder Singh Kairon reappeared with his six members and S. Gurnam also returned to Akali Dal with his members. But the congress was in the habit of tormenting Akali government and found one or another excuse to spoil the communal atmosphere of the state. On occasions it would ask some gullible Sikh group to tie blue turbans and declare that at a particular place near a Hindu temple a Gurdwara will be raised. A Nishan Sahib would be erected at the site and the Hindus would become incensed with anger. Some times it would incite the Hindus to raise a temple on the land belonging to some Gurdwara. Some how the Badal government lasted till the middle of 1971. The Akalis had started a Morcha to free the Gurdwaras in Delhi from the government controlled trust when the Congress again brought S. Gurnam Singh with the promise that it will make him the Chief Minister, and he deserted the Akali Dal again with 17 members, but before he had the chance to go to the governor to press his claim to form a new government. Sardar Badal, on instructions from Sant Channan Singh, went to the governor and tendering his own resignation advised him to dismiss the state assembly. For Gurnam Singh it was like, “all the bathing and washing in vain, a fly came and sat on the nose.” When this Morcha was still going on, India had to fight a war with Pakistan to free Bangla Desh from its clutches. During all this turmoil some how Dr. Jagjit Singh went to Lahore and from there started broadcasting that the Sikhs wanted Khalistan. He also exhorted Sikh soldiers not to fight against Pakistan, but against the Indian armies. It gave a golden opportunity to the communal press of the country to revile Akalis. The propaganda was that when the country was fighting a war with Pakistan, the general secretary of Shiromani Akali Dal was inciting Sikh soldiers to mutiny from Pakistan. Fearing this propaganda, the Akalis were compelled to withdrew this Morcha without achieving anything. After Six months of governor’s rule, the elections were held again and as expected the Congress won it and Giani Zail Singh became the Chief Minister of Punjab. This government had no problem in completing its full term of five years. No one demurred and the Congress had no need to spoil the communal atmosphere of Punjab. When Indira Gandhi declared emergency rule in the country during this period it was only the Akalis alone who continued a peaceful Morcha against her dictorial rule when all the so-called great leaders sat quite. Indira Gandhi kept this in mind and after regaining political power in 1980, in an attempt to teach Akalis a lesson taught a lesson to the whole Sikh Kaum. This black period of two decades is well-known to the readers. In the elections held after the emergency rule the Congress was swept off the board and a hotchpotch coalition government of numerous parties came into existence. It was lead by Sri Morar Ji Desai. After dismissal of the Punjab government, the elections were held in the state, along with election for some other state assemblies. After a splendid victory a coalition government of Akali Dal and Janta party was formed in Punjab with Sardar Badal as the Chief Minister. How could the congress sit quiet? It brought the Nirankaris to Amritsar on the auspicious day of Vaisakhi, a festival of the Sikhs. Prodded by the Congress the Nirankaris challenged the Sikhs. What happened there after was for everyone to see. I do not have to remind the readers that the policy of every Cogress government in the centre has been to encourage the break away one sect of Sikhs to fight the main Sikh body and thus to weaken the unity of Sikh nation, so that it could then be immersed and become lost in the vast sea of Hindu religion. It feared that a united Sikh nation under the Akal Takhat guidance could one day pose a challenge to the corrupt and communal government of the country. So it encouraed division among Sikhs devided in the form of small Deras, Sects, groups etc, in order to keep it weak and divided. Falling into a trap set by Indira and Rajiv, some Sikh youth took up arms against the corrupt administration to avenge atrocities committed on Sikhs. To tackle this problem, the congress supported S. Surjit Singh Barnala during the election of 1985 and he became Chief Minister of an Akali government. Later when they saw that it did not need Sardar Barnala, they made him to commit the blunder of sending commandoes to Sri Akal Takhat Sahib, which split the Akali Dal in two, and left Sardar Barnala in the power of the Congress. After making a full use of him, they left him stranded. Rajiv Gandhi had more than one motive in sending commandoes to Sri Akal Takhat Sahib. Firstly he wanted to prove to the world that his mother was right in sending troops to Sri Darbar Sahib complex, and secondly he wanted to cause a split in the Akali ranks. These two motives were partially achieved in the short term. Rajiv knew it well that there were no militants in Sri Darbar Sahib complex. On the previous day some youth had handed a note to new reporters at the parkarma and left the complex. The note had demanded Khalistan. This not was used as the reason for sending commandoes into Sri Darbar Sahib complex. For a whole decade Punjab kept burning in this cruel fire while the Nero played his harp in Delhi. At last the Punjabis got the opportunity in 1997 and they handed the rule to an Akali-B.J.P. government in Punjab. This government had to fight vested interests and the ever present hostility of the Congress party and could complete it full tenure with great difficulty. It spent its time amidst turmoil created by Bhaniarewala and Ashutosh. It was the first time that an Akali government had been able to complete its full term, mainly because in Delhi sat as Prime Minister Sardar Badal’s personal friend Baba Bajpai. After Akalis, the congress came in power and since then it has become a routine affair, of one replacing the other every five years. Khaftan Sahib (Capt. Amrinder Singh) complete his five years without a hitch. During his rule, the mischief-makers did not need any Nirankari or Sirsawala to stir up trouble. But now as soon as Akalis took over reins of government, they were not given time for any ‘honeymoon’ and the hammer of Sirsawala banged against Akalis scull. There is nothing new in this; the Congress is just repeating its past history. It couldn’t care less about what the Nirankari episode did to Punjab, and what havoc another such game can play with the state. All it want to do is to pull the government down, whatever the youth of Punjab or its mothers may have to undergo. Supposing that the Sirsawala episode was not the work of Delhi, couldnt it have happened two months before! And couldn’t it take place in Haryana where a congress government is in power. Sirsawala could have played his drama in another state also. Why did he find the Sikh-majority region of Malwa to enact his drama! This mischief is sure to have originated from Delhi, because to communal harmony in Punjab is repugnant to congress. The congress thinks that the country belongs to their father and no one else has a right to rule over their own lands. Even a village Panchayat belonging to a rival party is considered by them a thorn in their rib. After the constitution of India came into force when the general election was held first in 1952, the Akalis won a majority in PEPSU state and joining hands with some other parties made a government there, but Pandit Nehru only after a few months had this government dismissed and governor’s rule imposed in the state. Seeing the constitution flouted in this way the drafter of the constitution Dr. Ambedkar had said in anger, “I wish I could set fire to this constitution.” This constitution contained article 356 according to which, in unusual circumstances the centre government could have a state government dismissed. Dr Ambedkar had never thought this provision will be so misused. The PEPSU government of Akalis was the first non-congress government came in any state or centre. Later a communist government came into existence in Kerala in 1957, but that too got dismissed by the centre. After 1967 so many non-congress governments began forming that the congress could not dismiss them all. The congress by then had become so weakened that it did not have the strength to do so, but so far as was possible, it still could not tolerate non-congress rule anywhere in India. You can even at present see what tricks are being played in Punjab to topple the Akali-BJP government. The Sirsawala ‘Baba’ had a number of cases being investigated by the C.B.I. His masters in Delhi tried their best to save him but the cases ere so serious that there was no way around them. It is quite possible that some devilish brain had thought of this ploy and suggested it to the ‘Baba’ that they should do something so shocking that the people’s minds could be turned away from these cases, and at the same time the authorities too will get the fore-knowledge what will happen if they lay their hands on this ‘Baba’. Beware! Punjabis, do not allow the calm waters of Punjab to be set on fire again!! Remember what the history teaches you!!! (May 26, 2007) Hype regarding resolutions for making Punjabi the official language These days there is a lot propaganda in the press regarding making Punjabi the official language of Punjab. Such hue and cry was also raised in 1968 during the Chief Ministership of S. Lachhman Singh Gill, who had had a bill passed in the Punjab assembly in this regard, using a Congress member Prabodh Chander to introduce it. The press had showered praise on Sardar Gill saying that the Akalis had not been able to do, was done by him. But what happened to that bill and to the Punjabi which it claimed had become the official Language? Why is the same cry heard now? Before this in 1962, S. Partap Singh Kairon too had announced that from the first October of that year the Punjabi will become the official language of the Punjab at district level. but the same thing happened then. The Punjabi politicians are not sincere in their declarations of love for their mother tongue. All their announcements and declarations are only meant to put dust in the peoples eyes. As for the bureoucracy one cannot expect them to honour the common language of the people they rule. For as long as I have been able to read the Punjabi letters, I have been reading these cried, “Punjabi Oi! the mother tongue Oi! We have been robbed Oi!” Akalis undertook a number of Morchas in this regard. Many went to jails. Some even sacrificed their lives for this case, so that a line could be drawn around an area within which the people living could say that here Punjabi is supreme and the Gurmukhi letters are used to write it, and all educational and official work is done in this language. This task was even achieved o first November 1966. But the position of Punjabi has not changed since that date. It is like, “what the Panches say is right but the drainage pipe will remain where it is now”. One gets to read much about: the mother tongue is the most important thing in one’s life; the medium of education should be in the mote tongue etc. I too have been of this view from the beginning. The people of those countries where England has not ruled can do pretty well without English. Why then we Punjabis cannot do without English? These thoughts always weighted over my mind. A war of words was fought between the Hindi and Punjabi press. the words written in the summer of 1967 in and editorial in Hindi daily ‘Vir Pratap’ by Mahasha Virender are still in my memory, “we accept that Punjabi is our mother tongue, but it is no our language; if it had been permitted to write Punjabi in the Devnagri script it could have become our language.” these words I have mentioned in one of my articles under the title ‘Samajhdar’ Di Daleel (suggestion of the wise). It is the bitter truth that no child goes to school only for te alleged purpose of the enhancement of literary and cultural understanding. No child will sacrifice his/her love for home and the companionship of his/her playmates for those imaginary goals. The parents compel the children to go to school, so that by gaining an education they could find an employment. So the education becomes related to employment and only the employment; and when the two are so deeply related the parents will give their children only such an education, that could enable them to cash their living and become successful human beings. This is the truth’ all else is mental luxury, the views of arm-chair intellectuals. A for apple or a for aeroplane are related to bread. I remember a long heard joke: A farmer was plowing his field; a Mirassi walked behind him, flattering him with sweet talk, but after some time revealed his real purpose, “Prabha, music is diet for the soul; I could teach music to you son; all you have to do is give me a couple of Chapatis every day.” The farmer understood that the crux of the matter was the Chapatis. “Meerjadia, what you say is true; but I want my child to learn only that by learning which he would not have to beg Chapati from others,” was the farmer’s laconic answer. All this education, all this struggle is only and only for bread. During the Muslim rule only those who were well-versed in Persian used to get jobs. Even during the Khalsa rule only the Persian was used for all official business and it was necessary to learn this language if one had to find a job. The following proverb belongs to that period: Parhe Farsi veche tel. Vekho ih karma da khel. This meant that one who has learnt Persian but could not find a job and sold oil, salt etc. sitting in a shop was afflicted with ill-luck. Then came the British rule, which brought English to India. The generation before our own had to learn English by compulsion but this language has stuck to us even after the independence. The education minister of the previous Akali Government, Jathedar Tota Singh went to the extent of even introducing English from standard one. One could ask him that the present teachers which cannot teach even Punjabi alphabet properly, could they be expected to teach English? But no one dared or wanted to change our Jathedar’s decision though many ‘scholars’ making hue and cry against this decision in Punjabi press. The white-clad Congress Government too has not taken any steps to change this. Our Jathedar has proved the fact that as regards education, he is the wisest of them all. When my family first came here to live in Australia, a good lady, a family friend advised us that to gain mastery over English we should speak only in English with our children at home. A suggestion we readily agreed with but on cooler thinking at home we concluded that though it would help us learn a bit more English, how will or children learn to speak Punjabi! So we decided to speak only Punjabi in our home, a decision to which we have stuck to the present day. During the last more than three decades living here I have found that the Punjabis living here are in the habit of speaking three languages: English, Hindi and Punjabi during conversation. Thus if they speak to their friends and white persons, speak English, change to Punjabi while addressing me, and talk in Hindi at the same time to their children. I wonder which language they speak when talking to their spouses! Though I’m somewhat impressed with such dexterity in languages I failed to understand why Hindi becomes necessary when the conversation could be carried out in Punjabi and English. At first I thought only the people who came from Delhi may be doing it; then I thought that additionally those who came from Chandigarh may be doing it; but I got a shock in December 1998, at Amritsar when I heard my niece who is a M.A. in Punjabi speaking to her little daughter in Hindi. I cried in surprise, “Babbu, you too? Speaking Hindi instead Punjabi to your little daughter at your home? That too in Amritsar?” The reply was, “what should we do Masarh Ji? If a child speaks Punjabi in school, it is fined. The school being an English medium one the teachers tell the children that if they cannot speak English they should at least speak Hindi. Speaking of Punjab in the school has been banned. We speak to children in Hindi so that they should learn to speak it well at school.” Such is the situation at a school in Amritsar, run by a Sikh institution and not by any orthodox Hindu organisation such as the Arya Samaj. Now here another interesting thing: During February this year, itself I was sitting in the office of my friend. He called his secretary to give her some briefing, and spoke to her in Hindi. After she left I asked the friend whether the girl belonged to some other state. He said that the girl came from the Amritsar city itself but it was the management’s policy to speak to subordinate staff in Hindi or English, to keep them in their places, and to maintain proper discipline. May be my friend was sight! To cut the long story short, the parents would like their children to learn only that language which would help their children to find job/employment. Only if the Punjab Government does something to make Punjabi more respectable and useful for employment would the Punjabis learn and speak Punjabi without any religious considerations. (April 2008) My Inquiries From the word ‘inquiry’ please to do misunderstand that I have great social standing and people keep inquiring about me, nor am I about to define this word as it occurs in Gurbani. This inquiry is only about the ‘favour’ done to me by my ‘friends’ who instigated the government officials to do inquires about my alleged misdeeds. Here in Sydney in 1981, I got employment in a bank named Bank of Wales which became Westpac after merging two banks into one. It was like a gowl unexpectedly falling beneath the feet of a blind man. For a few years every thing remained well with me, from the view of financial situation, mu feet at last got firmly planted in the soil of Australia. Then I lost that job for many reasons. But according to the practice in this country that if a person loses his/her job, the government gives him an unemployment allowance till he/she be able to find another job. So I too get this allowance from the government, but barely enough to make do so that my family could eat, till I found a new job. It was near the end of 1984 that some one knocked our door. When I opened the door I found two government officials standing. I invited them inside ad they came and sat on sofas. When I asked them the purpose of this visit they opened a file of my doings. The essence of which was that I did lectures at two Gurdwaras and illegally drawing unemployment allowance from the Government. They said I had $20000 stacked away in bank; I had clothing factory at home which was run by my wife. There were some other alleged minor offences which they laid at my door. My answer was somewhat as follows: You can see that my wife is sick and still lying down in her bed room; her sister has come from India to look after our children. The dollars which you say I have, you can look for them and take them away if you can find them. You can go and ask the Gurdwara managements as to what they pay me. If they pay me anything you can deduct that much money from my allowance. I said if I had $20000 dollars as you claim, I would have left for my own country long ago. Yes, my wife’s sister did sometimes sew her friends’ clothes. If it is an offence you can charge me for this in court. They said they did hot care for anyone else’s doings but those of my wife and mine. They wrote all this in their note book and went away. That was the end of this matter for the time being. This stale curry of theirs again came to a boil in March, 1986. One day two other gentlemen favoured me with their visit. After sitting down they opened mu file once again. They said I had bought a new property. I drew unemployment allowance when I was away in India on a visit; I had $10000 in bank. Thank God this time they had come down to half of the previous amount. My reply was the same: you can check my passport and travel record, ad if you can find some discrepancy there you can tell me. This I had come know the first time itself as to who was the person who had done me this ‘favour’ but now my suspicions got confirmed, because on of the relatives of that person had seen me at the airport boarding a flight for India. It is fortunate that when I had made a visit the office which paid the unemployment allowance, before leaving for Amritsar, and I read on a notice board there that one has to inform that office in case one left the country to go abroad. So I had already done this action. So the person’s this move also failed. Had I not gone to that office and done the needful, that person’s move could have met with success. But, alas, due to his ill luck that was not to be! This time told the officials plainly that all I had was the time. You can favour me with you visits as many times as you wish, but I know that your time is quite valuable. I know that the so and so person has some grudge against me and it is he who is bestowing these ‘favours’ on me. So you have no need to waste your time on me. You will get nothing from me. Their reply was that if I knew about the person who was making these complaints against me, I could send him a notice through an attorney and shut him up. I said I did not want to waste money in legal procedure because I did not care a whit about that person. He would shut up when he is tired of these futile attempts to harm me. Now, this is up to you how much time you want to waste on this. For many yeas after March, 1986, I remained undisturbed. No one came for any inquiry. This time I received a letter on a Friday. I found that it was summons from a high official from Sydney. The letter said that on the next Thursday I should present myself at his office with my passport, because he had to do some inquiry about me. When I rang up on the number given in the letter, it was picked by a lady. I told her that I could not go to their office on the given day as I was going out on Wednesday, and if they wanted I could go to their office on Monday or Tuesday. She told me that I could go to them on a day of my choice. When I asked about what time, she told me to come at my convenience. I told her that I would come after lunch the same day and hung up. On the same day when I went to the given office, I found that the lady was a high government official and had an imposing office. She showed respect for my age and asked me politely to sit down on the chair. The she got my passport first and went to photocopy some of its pages. After handing over me back my passport to me, she went inside again and brought out a thick file ad turning its pages asked me whether I had gone to Norway the previous year. I said I had not only visited Norway but had gone to thirteen other countries also. then she asked me whether that year I had gone to Thailand, to which I replied that not only Thailand, I had gone from there to India also. She widened her eyes in surprise as to how did I manage so much travel with my pension. When I told her about my style of travel, she said, “I see!” I also told her that my daughter worked for the Qantas Airlines. She seemed to be satisfied with my answer, and I did not have to tell her further that I could travel on less than even a half-fare. then I told her further, “ I don’t go for holidays like your people, I spend nothing on taxis, hotels, restaurants and gifts; I sleep either in a Gurdwara or some friend’s house. To her question as to where had I stayed in Norway, I said. “at the Gurdwara,” and about India?” she asked me further. “At my brother’s house”, was my answer. I told her about my stay at the Gurdwara in Bangkok also. She asked me a number of other questions, to which I gave satisfactory answers. Then she asked me in great surprise, “here we have this thick file of complaints against you, and I am amazed at your indifference to all these; you are resting your back against back of te chair and are calmly with smile replying to my queries. We have been keeping you under surveilance for a long time now and have spent a large amount of money on all this.” To which I replied, “I have not deliberately try to cheat the government; if I have unknowingly drawn any unauthorised money as pension I know you would recover it. Has any one been ever hanged for killing a sheep?” After our interview when I got up leave the office, she told me to keep mu seat and said, “ we have inquired into your affairs as much as we wanted all that now remains is to reconcile what you have said with the dates given in your passport. If they tally everything is OK. If we need any further clarification we will let you know. If we do not contact you again then you can take it that all is well. I asked, “how long will you keep me hanging up side down?” She said with a smile, “there is no question of handing you up side down; every thing seems to e alright to me.” Before I thanked he and left my chair she asked me “let me know before you go whether you suspect some one’s hand in all this?” I said in a teasing tone, I suspect all those who know me”, “Why is that?” she asked in great surprise. I now explained to her at length. “for many years now I have not done any paying job; I am a confirmed diabetic for last more than two decades; my right year has been deaf for many years. I can barely hear by mu left; I have artharitis; the doctors say that I have cataract in my eyes and I have been to feel it while seeing with them. Inspite of all this I couldn’t careless about unjust criticism from any one and consider myself second to none. I consider myself to be blessed by my Guru. When and wherever I feel hungry I eat. I sleep whenever and wherever I feel like sleeping. I go wherever I please. I travel by whatever means are at hand, be it by air, rail, car, truck, bi-cycle, bus or walk. I have neither any concern for the place I leave nor the next one where I am going. Now tell me can any one afford to do this in my age and condition of the ‘rat race’ of this new world of 21 st century?” That is the reason some of them who know me are jealous of me.” “You can include me also among those who are jealous of you,” she said with a smile. “Then leave this job and come along with me”, I said laughing. She smiled at me, and I got up and walked out of her office. With the Guru Ji’s immense kindness, I have had no further enquiries from that quarter. The news of Bhaia Ji’s death published in newspaper The Akal Chalana of Bhai Gian Singh Ji, former Mukh Granthi of Sri Akal Takhat Sahib. The true lover of Guru Ghar the religious scholar, the knower of Gurmat, a true follower of the ideology of ‘Naam, Daan and Ishnaan’, Bhai Gian Singh Ji, a former Head-Granthi of Sri Akal Takhat Sahib went to sit at the feet of Guru Ji, according to the will of Akal-Purakh. He breathed his last at the house of his son S. Sewa Singh at Amritsar. He was nearly 90 years. He left his physical body in the morning of seven December 2006, while engaged in Ardas and completely at piece. He spent his whole life reading and teaching Gurbani, Katha, Kirtan and Path. Untill quite recently, at his residence on Sri Bibeksar road, he gave lesson about Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji to Sikh youth. It is interesting that Singh Sahibans who tested the Pathi Singhs of their competence would often remark half-seriously; those who have learnt their Path from Bhai Gian Singh need to be tested for the competence and purity of reading Gurbani; Bhai Singh. He himself is an example in purity so those taught by him ought to be pure also. Because of his repeated stress on the purity in reading of Gurbani, the Pathi Singhs and other scholars used to call him ‘Jathedar Gian Singh Sudh’. Sudh means ‘the pure’. This sobriquet was added to his name by his peers and his students. He was born to S. Amar Singh Ji, his father and mother Sardarni Inder Kaur Ji, at a small village of district Amritsar, Suro Padda. He received his basic Gurbani education from the village Granthi, while doing farming work with is family in boy hood. Further Gurmat he learnt from the Yug- Purash, Sri Man Sant Giani Gurbachan Singh Khalsa Ji Bhindranwale, living with the Jatha. After this training with the Jatha, he came back to his visit to do his parental farming work. After some years he joined the AGPC service and was appointed a Granthi at Gurdwara Santokhsar at Amritsar. After a long service as Granthi, Jathedar and Katha-vachic at in different Gurdwara Sahiban, including Sri Akal Takhat Sahib, he retired from the service as Jathedar Gurdwara Sri Ramsar Sahib, with honour. He was respected and admired by the Sikh Sangat. But he continued to give training to the Sikh youth in pure reading of Gurbani till his health allowed. He has left behind him a large extended family living here and abroad, that including sons, daughter, grand-sons, grand daughters, great–grand sons and great-grand daughters, and has gone to the Guru Ji’s feet. An Akhand Path and Shardhanjli Samaroh followed by Kirtan and Langar was held at Gurdwara Sahib Sri Guru Teg Bahadur Sahib Ji, East Mohan Nagar, Amritsar. Eminent religious personalities spoke in that Diwan about his life and work, including respectable Jathedar of Sri Akal Takhat Sahib, Head Granthi Sri Darbar Sahib, Damdami Taksal, the SGPC etc. and bestowed turbans and Siropas on Bhai Gian Singh Ji’s eldest son, Giani Santokh Singh of Australia. This function was held on 16 December and in January also held Langar and Diwan at his village Suro Padda. Beside turbans from relatives, Dastars and Siropas were presented by Singh Sahib Giani Joginder Singh Vedanti Ji, Jathedar Sri Akal Takhat Sahib Ji, Singh Sahib Giani Gurbachan Singh Ji, Head Granthis Sri Harmander Singh Sahib Ji on behalf of Si Akal Takhat Sahib and Sri Harmander Sahib Ji respectively. The others who presented Dastars including Bhai Mohkam Singh Ji from Damdami Taksal, S. Gurbachan Singh Ji from the SGPC, Giani Bhagwan Singh Ji a former Head Granthi Sri Akal Takhat Sahib Ji, the well known Sikh scholar Giani Joginder Singh Azad Ji, representative of Bunga Baba Sunder Singh Ji etc. Those who presented their Shardhanjlis included the current Jathedar Sri Akal Takhat Sahib, Singh Sahib Giani Joginder Singh Vedanti Ji, the Head Granthi of Sri Darbar Sahib, Singh Sahib Giani Gurbachan Singh Ji, Bhai Mohkam Singh Ji Chief Spokesman of Damdami Taksal, Former Jathedar Sri Akal Takhat Sahib, Singh Sahib Giani Puran Singh Ji, former Head Granthi of Sri Akal Takhat Sahib, Giani Bhagwan Singh Ji etc. They paid tributes to Bhai Gian Singh Ji‘s scholarship, religiousity and service to the community. Due to the paucity of time, many others could not be given time to speak, so the family asked their pardon In the end, the eldest son of Bhai Sahib Ji’s eldest son thanked the whole Sangat and the eminent Religious personalities who had spared their time to pay tribute the departed soul. A ‘loss’ of eleven hundred dollars While chit-chatting with friends one evening in Amritsar which included S. Kuljit Singh Talwar, S. Gursharan Sachdeva, S. Gurpinder Singh, S. Parduman Singh etc, the successful businessman S. Parduman Singh narrated the following story: One businessman went to another for a chit-chat and find him sitting dejected, with a long drawn face. “What happed to you, my friend, you are sitting as if you just come back from burying a dead daughter,” he asked. “What should I tell you “ This year I have incurred a loss of full 50,000 rupees,” the friend replied. “Oh, that is very bad indeed; but you are such a shrewd businessman; how this came to be?” the visiting friend said consoling him for his loss and asking the reason. “Last year I had earned a profit of two lakh rupees, but this year I could only make one and a half Lakhs so I have lost fifty thousand rupees, haven’t I?” Why did I remember this story after more than four decades? The reason is that a similar thing happened to me. I had returned back to Sydney after about month and half, and had not withdrawn money from my account during this period. So I had some more money than usual in my account, but a number of bills were also waiting to be paid. The branch of the bank near our home had closed down long ago, and the new ATM machine that the bank had installed was also gone on other side of the railway station some distance away. The limit on the amount that could be withdrawn from ATM one day was $700. So I began to withdraw the required amount and clear the bills one by one. During the first two withdrawls no balance chit came out of the ATM machine. At the third withdrawl, the balance chit came out but fell to floor. While I counted the money, a Punjabi young man nearby picked up the chit from the floor and handed it to me. I wanted to see the balance in my account but did not have my glasses on my eyes. So I requested the young man to read out mu balance from the chit. He said that I had $1400+ dollars in my balance. This gave me a great thrill. I got into an upbeat mood, speculating the uses I could put this money into. First I thought I could go to a tour of Fiji and the Phillipines; then I thought that I should deposit this money with my daughter for my future travel expenses. But I could not make up my mind. So I postponed this decision for the time being. Next day when I went to withdraw money, the screen said, “No sufficient funds.” I thought there may have been some mistake on my part in pressing the required push buttons of the machine. So I tried again but got the same response. I thought that the machine may be defective, because I had more than $1400 in my account but machine is not ready to give even $700. I did not try third time in the same day for the fear of that the machine may swallow my card and then I would have to run around to get a new one. The next day I went to Mount Druitt branch and tried there, but the answer was the same. Then next day I went to the Blacktown branch, stood in queue and made an inquiry from the counter. The girl who dealt with me was Indian and could speak Hindi. After some exchange of talk she turned computer’s screen towards me and asked me to read the details of my account on it. I had taken the bank statement, the balance chit from the machine etc. with me. The wise say that if you go out to hunt a jackal, you should have the where withall to hunt a lion. One never knows when one would encounter a lion instead of a jackal. After a lot of head-bashing the girl made me understand that expectation of enjoying $1400+ were at last dashed to the ground. But this did not fully satisfy me. According to the statement I had $2400+ in my account in the beginning. I had made $700 withdrawls three times, making the total withdrawl of $2100. So the machine should have shown my balance to be 300+. Why had it shown it to be $1400+. The balance chit I had with me said that I hah made a withrawl of $500 where as all my withdrawls were for $700. The card number printed on the chit did not match my actual car number. So what was wrong? After hard thinking I concluded that the balance chit picked up by the man at the ATM and handed to me was the wrong one. It belonged to some one else, and it was that some one else who had a balance of $1400+. So I had sit dejected like that some one else who had a balance of $1400 plus. Thus all my bright hopes got extinguished. The money I had thought of enjoying was some one else’s. So I had sit dejected like that businessman who had incurred a loss of fifty thousand rupees. I too had incurred a loss of exact $1100. The man who had helped me by picking up the balance chit had at least dine me the favour of making me the owner of 1400+ for a few days and the delight it had given me. The thieves steel the owners wake up The title of this article may be jarring to the serious readers but I was unable to find a more appropriate title for this article. The great martyr of the twentieth century, who has been accepted as the great Sikh by the whole Sikh Nation, had given his life fighting bravely against those who wanted to hurt the honour of Sikh community by an attack on Sri Harmandir Sahib (Golden Temple). It is now 23 years since Sant ji became martyr. His Picture should have hung at the Sikh Museum 23 years ago; why should it have to wait 23 long years. Some gentlemen will advance the view that due to a conspiracy of the government, an excessive number of Sikhs died and that is why the management of the museum had not had the courage to display his picture at the museum. If due to confusion in 1984, the Sant Ji‘s picture could not be hung then, why was it not done in 1995, when his family members had been honoured at Sri Akal Takhat with Siropas, accepting him to have become martyr. Why was there no demand then put up his picture in the museum? Then Sant ji‘s out fit Damdami Taksal including its two groups had also accepted that Sant Ji have become Martyr. It is now over a year since that happened. Why had the demand not been raised then? The reason was that then the Congress ruled Punjab, and no such demand is ever raised during the congress government which could become a headache for it. Such controversial issues are only raised in Punjab when it is ruled by non-congress government. In my previous article called ‘Deep conspiracy behind the present unrest in Punjab‘, I had mentioned the Sirsawala incident in this context. In that article the question that why this incident had not happened a few months before, was answered. Why this incident happened in the Sikh dominated Malwa region of Punjab only after the people had rejected the congress in a recent election? The facts given in that article had been agreed to by knowledgeable sections of society and a number of newspapers had given space to this article in their columns. Consider it Sardar Badal’s good luck or political acumen that he was able to overcome that conspiracy. So this shot of the anti-Badal government elements too misfired. But it is matter of Dharma for the Akali opponents not to sit quietly. They have to raise one controversial issue or another to stir up problem for Akali government, which has the potential to bring it down . No person or institution had demanded during the congress rule in Punjab that Sant Ji‘s portrait should be put up in the museum, though it should have been done at the time when the portraits of Bhai Amrik Singh, Baba Thahra Singh and General Subeg Singh were put up there. This issue was only raised when the congress govt. no longer ruled in Punjab. Then certain group announced that on a certain date, they would themselves put up Sant Ji‘s portrait in the museum. But the Shiromani Gurdwara Prabandhic Committee to avoid trouble from these unruly elements, put up the portrait before that date and foiled this move. Thus the anti-Akali elements could not achieve their purpose: to stir up trouble in the state. Then some topi-wearing sections started a campaign against Sant Ji‘s Portrait. It declared that a person who removes this picture and bring it out of the museum will be rewarded with three Lakh rupees and a kilo of gold. A Punjab-Bandh was announced to be held on 14 December. In opposition to this move, a section of turban-wearing announced that they will celebrate Fateh-Diwas on that day. But it appears that Sardar Badal‘s stars are still in ascendant. For the time being he has foiled these moves to oust him. It also seems that he will take his time to put his son on the Chief Minister’s throne and retire at his leisure. And I don’t think it very improper, when there is a race all over the country for sons’ to succeed their fathers, why should the Badal family not do it? No one gives a throne to another on a platter. It has to be seized. When the elder Badal had come to the Chief Minister’s chair on 27 March, 1970, his beard was then black; the younger Badal has some grey hairs in his beard; so there is not a question of his being too young for this post I say it is our Sant, our Gurdwara, our museum, and we who have the authority to put up portraits. Why should anybody has any problem? We have the authority to put up some one’s picture, and we have the authority to remove some one’s picture. Yes, if they want they can have the butchers Indira’s and Rajiv’s pictures put up at any of their religious places or museums; they can go ahead. The pictures of these killers of the Sikhs are already defiling the common institutions of the country such as the parliament, and jeering at the Sikhs. The pictures of Sikh warriors, Bhai Amrik Singh General Subeg Singh, S. Kehar Singh, S. Harjinder Singh, S. Beant Singh, S. Sukhdev Singh and many other Sikhs are already gracing the walls of the Sikh museum. They will act as a source of inspiration for the future generations of Sikhs. Can’t these blinded headed fanatics see them? The acts of these Sikh martyrs are well-known to all. Some of them had declared that they had sent such and such killers of Sikhs to hell. Some of them were hanged by the country’s courts. No one had raised any objection to their pictures because the congress then ruled in Punjab. All hue and cry was raised only at Sant Ji’s picture. Okay, tell us what is Sant Ji accused of? Has any complaint been made against him at any police station, or has any court issued arrest warrant against him? Yes, he had fought the invading Indian Army openly at Sri Darbar Sahib and become a martyr, but this is a duty enjoined on every true Sikh. And he had done all that with due warning: that so long as he was alive no army or police would be allowed to enter Sri Darbar Sahib. That manly Sikh had fulfilled his promise, though he lost his head. To make an issue of his picture, and spoil the communal atmosphere in Punjab, is nothing but an attempt to topple the Akali-government and bring back congress rule in the State. (December 2007) Hai, my mobile! In 2008 wandering here and there I went to Europe. From the Belgium’s capital Brussels I travelled by but and rail to the city of Longonthal in Switzerland. One evening the president of the Gurdwara, Master Karan Singh Ji was taking me in his car from Longonthal to Zurik to meet my nephews Hardeep Singh and Gurdip Singh’s friend, S. Gurbir Singh. This Master Ji is a fascinating personality; To protest against the arrest of Sant Jarnail Singh Ji he had hijacked a airliner to Pakistan and as punishment he had completed his full jail term in Pakistan and was now living in Zurik, Switzerland, with his family and some friends. He now serving as the president of the Gurdwara that had been built by well-known businessman and Panthic sympathiser, S. Ranjit Singh Ji. Master Ji is child-like with children, learned with the learned and had an upbeat thinking. Spending much of his life in Jails (about quarter of a century) and having a few grey hair in his beard, he is more young at heart than the really young. With well-defined sharp features, fair complexion, a brown beard, a cheerful face, he is ever ready to help the needy. Though some-what short in height he is smart and intelligent. Perhaps the children feel the same comfort and warmth that they get lying in their mothers’ laps as they get lying close his shoulder. I have seen children enjoying his love and affection. On the road to Zurik though it was not yet night, but the light was fading. The car was running at 120 km/ph. Mater Ji had his right hand on the steering wheel and the left was holding a mobile phone to his left ear. Without any visible care, he drove the car at such high speed and was merrily talking away with the person at the other end. When he finished with one the mobile immediately rang again and he started talking again. This happened a number of times again. He was talking with such ease as if he was sitting in his living room at his home. I trembled in my mind at such care-free attitude while driving at such high speed. It is true that a person doesn’t remember death much in his youth, because then he has so much else to do. He is more concerned with efforts to enhance his fame, to do progress in his work, and to give expression to his sense of honour and courage, generosity and greatness of spirit. As one advances in age, one knows more, and fears his mortality, though the reverse should happen. So my eyes went in turns to the speedometer and Master Ji’s face, but he performed both the tasks simultaneously: driving the car and talking on the mobile, blissfully unaware of the fear eating at my vitals. The speed of his speech and the speed of the car were equally high. Since the time I have learnt to drive a car, though I may not have been able to achieve much, this I have achieved: to read the speedometer. According to a verse of Bhagat Kabir Ji that has some what this meaning in prose: those who know little, sleep peacefully; I who have a fuller understanding of things, is bedevilled by this knowledge. So this ability to read the speedometer has plagued my enjoyment of a ride by car. the one who has the steering wheel knows what is he doing while I unnecessarily worry about speed of the car. Whenever a mobile rings mu life is gripped by a trap. The driver keeps performing the dual task effortlessly while I am undergoing a mental torture sitting on the seat. Finding a gap Master Ji’s talk on the mobile I brought up the unpleasant topic of this talking on mobile while driving. I opened my basket of knowledge and dispensed some pearls of knowledge in the se words, “Master Ji, we are driving in darkness on this road full of traffic. Our speed is my view is more that the legal limit. In such circumstances, we may have to pay a fine, or even meet with an accident From your conversation I can see that there is nothing important to be discussed that cannot wait till you reach home. The chit-chat with friends you can do when you reach your home.” Though a young man and doing me a favour of giving me lift in is, he accepted what I said, he reduced the speed of the car and in response to calls on the mobile he said curtly, “I am driving, pleases ring later.”

From the matter of Master Ji’s car I remember an event of an earlier time. At that time the mobile phones had just appeared and the government restrictions on its use while driving had not yet been imposed. Going towards the Rooty Hill railway station from our home there are traffic lights halfway. Here the Eastern Road merges with the Francis Road and thus a crossroads is formed. One day while I was driving to the station from home the light turned red here. From the right a very long and big Trolla was approaching. Its driver held a mobile phone to his left ear with this left hand and with the right he turned its steering wheel as if it belonged to a toy-car. My small and low car looked very fragile before this monster. My heart trembled at the thought of a collision between the juggernaut and my frail small car. I thought that a small error of judgement on the part of the driver, a little carelessness could cost me my life. But due to the grace of God the Trolla missed my car by inches. I sighed with relief. Life save is like millions earned. As far as my own record of driving is concerned that a government department here is Sydney recruited me a trainee bus driver seeing my license in 1981. They did not know that I had obtained the driving license by showing mu license issued in Amritsar. My knowledge of vehicles was such that when the instructor asked me whether I drove an automatic or a manual vehicle, I did not know the difference between the two The instructor helped with the helpful hint that I may be driving a manual vehicle, to which I nodded my head in affirmative. He became satisfied and said in that case I would soon learn to drive a bus. The observing my driving skill in action, on the third day of my training, he presented me to the depot manager who demoted me to a conductor duty and forwarded a report to his superiors. Soon the answer from the superiors was received and I was ‘retired’ from this employment in a short time. Some one asked me, “ what happened?” I said, “they say that I am too good to drive.” On repeated advice from my life partner, I reluctantly bought an old car in an auction in 1982, After buying the car I remembered my days in Patiala, 1964, when I bought an old bi-cycle. Some times I rode the bi-cycle and sometimes the bi-cycle rode on me. Then I ‘retired’ the old bi-cycle and bought a new one because in Patiala it was difficult for me to manage without one. I resided at Gurdwara Dukh Nivaran Sahib, and had to go to Moti Bag for Kirtan in the morning and evening. During day I had to go to attend classes in the city. So to do without a bi-cycle it was as difficult as to do without a car for a working person here. In my opinion, without a car in Australia it is of no use to live here. Hearing the news of my buying a car, an old friend who knew me well asked my younger brother in my absence in a hushed voice, “Does Giani Ji drive the car sitting inside, or standing outside the car?” I some times wonder: how did people manage their lives when there were no telephones! When I came to Patiala in May of 1964, first time used this. I rang up some one from the office Gurdwara Dukh Nivaran Sahib. Those days there was not dialing system. After lifting the handset one told the receptionist the telephone number of wished to call. She/he would then dial that number for you and allowed you to talk when she/he got that. The store-keeper sat in the office when I was using the phone. He placed his hand over my chest to feel my heart beat. When I later asked him the reason he said he wanted to feel my heart beat when I used the phone. The phone not being in wide use those days, the likes of me did not know how to use it. in last months of 1967, S. Lachhman Singh Gill overthrew Justice Gurnam Singh’s government and himself became the Chief Minister in the new government. He then had false cases registered against Sant Channan Singh Ji, the SGPC president to keep him tied up so that Sant Ji should not get free hand to run around to overthrow him. Coming from the ranks of Akali Dal Gill knew that only Sant Channan Singh had the ability to disrupt his political career. Sant Ji shifted his residence from the office of the SGPC to a house adjacent to Sri Akal Takhat Sahib fearing his arrest. Both of Sant Ji’s personal assistants, S. Major Singh Ubboke and S. Abnashi Singh, had been put behind bars by Sardar Gill’s police and there was not else to replace them. Then this job was given tome. Those days I did not know how to use a telephone, Sant Ji himself taught me how to use it. Isn’t it strange that an elderly man coming from a rural background taught city young man in his early twenties who considered himself educated! The present day situation is that now almost everyone had a mobile phone; even the small children play with them. Now every young man thinks he should have latest model of mobile and a car better than others. I have recently read in the ‘Rozana Spokesman’ (13 August, 2009) that a Pathi at a certain Gurdwara was caught watching movie when he was supposed to be doing Path. My son Sandip Singh had a phone that had a dual hand set. One of them was used to be with him and the other with my daughter-in-law ie his wife. It was of an old model. When he bought a latest model mobile, he gave one of the old one to me and the other to my grand son Josh Singh to play with. It took quite a while for me to learn to use this phone from my grand son, though I am blissfully unaware of how to find someone’s number or to call back, or to read SMS. Many friends had complaint that I did not call them back Some said I did not attend their calls, and the others complained that I di not respond to their text messages. So there were complaints and complaints from everywhere, but no one was prepared to believe that Giani Santokh Singh who plucked stars while talking did not know how to use a mobile phone. Though the mobile phone has helped me to make acquaintances with many, the majority of them have turned into my critics due to my lack of skill with the mobile phone. The critics justly think: how could a person who claims to have visited the world flying around in aero planes not know the full use of a mobile set! I remember an incident. I was to go by plane from Sydney to Melbourne. An experienced and wise-looking lady at the security searched my bag by using a hand-held gadget. Before starting search she asked me whether I had laptop in my bag. I gave a negative reply. Then she asked me about a camera or a mobile. Hearing my no to each of these inquiries she looked with wonder at my face. I answered her, “Good lady, you are asking me about such big things, I do not have a wrist watch or a pen.” She said with wonder in her eyes, “are you living in the 21st century?” I said, don’t you see from my face that I am a bit backward-looking?” She smiled and I walked on with my bag. Coming back to the mobile, I could sense suspicion on the faces of friends about my inability to make full use of a mobile. Then it so happened that at a station en route while travelling to Griffith by train, I had to go to the bathroom while waiting for a bus for Griffith at Cootamundra railway station. Inside the bathroom the mobile slipped from m pocket ahd fell on the floor. I immediately picked it up and putting it under a running cold water tap gave it a good bath. Mobile Ji Maharaj became angry at such summery handling by me. It refused to talk to me and fell silent. When my children knew of this wise action of their ‘mature and learned’ father, they had a hearty laugh. Then my son gave me the phone that his son had played with. He perhaps did not protest this loss out of consideration for me, or may be his interest in that old ‘toy’ had palled. But every one of friends who saw that phone with me expressed their appreciation of such fine-looking gadget. I did not have the heart to tell them that it was an old item rejected by my children and given to me as a filial duty. At last on 8 October 2008, I parted company with this fine mobile set. n the rush to catch a plane at the heathrow airport in London I lost this new friend. Later to avoid the troubles of caring for such flighty friends I stopped keeping a mobile Some of my friends keep ringing me up on the same mobile, which is probably enjoying a well-earned rest on the shelf of the airport security office in London. My friends should have no reason to complain as I have informed them about this ‘loss’ through E-mail. A few years ago at an inaguration ceremony at a Gurdwara a scholarly successful doctor was the stage-secretary. The mayor of the city, the member of Parliament and many other prominent members of the community were sitting in the presence of Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji in the Gurdwara hall. The stage secretary’s mobile was on and rang frequently. He tried but unsuccessfully to manage both: to perform the duty of stage-secretary and attend to his calls while the audience watched with amused silence. Realising his difficulty at last, his smart lady secretary came to his rescue. She got up from the Sangat and took over the mobile from him and left the hall. Some times I think that a person usually switches off his/her telephone while going into the office of even a minor functionary of the government. At hospitals courts and other places even a phone can be impounded and its owner may suffer a fine but when we entering the court of Guru Ji, who is the emperor of emperors no visitor or a member of the management think it necessary to switch off their mobile phones. Even the Granthi Singhs leave their mobile on and it some times rings when they are performing the Ardas. At most Gurdwaras even notice are displayed to switch off mobile phones but no by pays any attention to them. A person sitting in the Sangat doesn’t find it necessary to switch off his/her phone. Is it because he/she is free from the fear of paying a fine if his phone rings? One can ask him how he managed his/her business when it had not yet been invented? Even if it is necessary now to use this gadget for business purposed, it should do no harm if switched off for a few minutes or a person can go out of the Gurdwara hall at intervals to check whether any calls are waiting for him. If we are extremely busy to do so we should come out after paying our obeisances. In my opinion no one has yet became so important or indispensable that the world will come to an end if our phone dos not ring for few minutes. This world will go on without us as it went on before we arrived her and believe me it will still go on after we leave it. My speech on the 25th anniversary of Attack on Sri Darbar Sahib, in Sydney Gurdwara Sikh Centre, on 6 June, 2009 Sadh Sangat Jio, You have been created by Guru Ji himself, you are honourable and worthy of respect, you are the representative of Satguru Ji, the Guru Khalsa; you are today sitting at Gurdwara Sahib Sikh Centre Parklea, Sydney to commemorate the 25th anniversary of June 1984 The Indian army attack on Sri Darbar Sahib and all the other historical Gurdwaras; You are sitting in the presence of Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji, the eternal Guru of the Sikh Panth, ahd are enjoying the Heavenly Kirtan. Come, let us exchange the greetings bestowed on us by the 10th master, the sacrificer of his family, with full zeal and devotion: Waheguru Ji Ka Khalsa Waheguru Ji Ki Fateh. We have today gathered here to remember the terrible events that took place 25 years ago, O Guru Khalsa Jio! A lot has so far has been written about this terrible holocaust but no words have so far been able to do full justice to this cruel episode in the Sikh history. On those who have undergone the pain and suffering brought about by this shedding of innocent blood know the truth about these events. Apart from newspapers and magazines I have read more than two dozen books about this holocaust. One thing is clear about these books. The books, whose authors have tried to uncover the truth behind these events, have been banned by the government of India. The ones which bring out only the negative aspects but claim that they are describing true aspects of these events are encouraged by the government. Some of theses books have been written ostensibly to heal the wounds of the Sikh community and win its favour by implying that the government had no option but to send troops into Sri Darbar Sahib complex. What greater lies can these ‘intellectuals’ utter than that it was necessary to send the army into the Golden Temple, when an ordinary person knows it was not necessary. Even the generals know it was not necessary. They only write and speak these lies to ingratiate themselves with the government. A curse on such ‘intellectuals’ and their ‘intellectualism’. They are all for sale. They do it for few pieces of silver or for some position They have been telling these lies for quarter of a century now. The wise men know that a person who tried to deceive others are in fact deceiving themselves. To treat this attack on the Sikh of the government and so is the massacre of the Sikhs by calling it ‘The Delhi Riots’. Knowingly or unknowingly, the Sikh journalists and writers have fallen into this trap and do not try to correct their mistakes. All over the country the Sikhs were murdered, burnt alive, robbed, beaten to death and insulted. For seventy-two hours this naked dance of death was played out, but for these people it was only the ‘Delhi riots’. For the rulers of the country this saying was fully applicable: The Rome was burning, while Nero played his fiddle. “The death of sparrows is intertainment for fools.” The November 1984 massacre of Sikhs have been fully described in Dr. Sangat Singh’s book ‘The Sikhs in History’. He has given the background of this massacre and one cannot but agree with what he says. He writes that it was pre-arranged plan of Indira Gandhi to rid of Sikhs for ever. The plan was that on Sri Guru Nanak Dev Ji’s birth anniversary in November 1984, on the previous about mid night before the Gurpurab, India would attack Pakistan and then to propagate through media that it was Pakistan which had attacked India and the Sikhs had joined hands with Pakistanis to create Khalistan. The bare–footed and unarmed Sikhs, including women and children, taking part in the processions on the occasion of Gurpurab, through out India, would then be attacked by goons and other anti-social elements to carry out a whole sale massacre of Sikhs. For this cruel task the rods, oil, petrol etc. had already been stocked. The lists of addresses of Sikh houses, other properties and businesses had also been obtained. The Indian forces then would slowly withdrew and let Pakistan occupy and ransack the Sikh areas of Punjab. This area would then become a battle field and both the opposing armies would then bombard it without compunction. The Sikhs thus rendered home less. Some of them would then flee to Pakistan, and those who remained would then be put in refugee camps and be left on the mercy of Indian government. The Sikh nation should feel grateful to God that before the executioner of the Sikhs could fulfill her plan, the brave Sikh warriors killed her on 31 October 1984. The assassination panicked the goons of the Youth Congress and they could not, despite full connivance of the government achieve what the had planed for 8 November. The Sikh nation thus saved itself from full ruin. But still the killing of Sikhs was on a scale that made the previous barbarians and cruel rulers to blush with shame. During the Mugal rule the Sikhs were given at least the option of conversion to Islam to save their lives, and those who accept that condition were promised to be spared-- it is a different matter that there was hardly anyone who accepted this, rather they preferred death to the shame of conversion. But at this time the Sikhs were given no option. Even the milk-sucking infants were not spared. And all this happened before the eyes of foreign diplomats and world leaders despite the modern mean of communication in a period lasting 72 hours. No one came to the Sikhs’ support. Even the so–called courageous leaders like Chander Shekhar kept mum and did not say a word to Rajiv Gandhi to desist from such horrible crime for fear that would offend him. What can one hope from leaders such as Bajpai, Advani, etc who even now are not ashamed to accept that they had encouraged Indira Gandhi to undertake this whole sale murder of Sikhs. We are all aware that the riots take place between two, more or less evenly matched communities that clash due to some or other reason. But here the government support had been used to torture ad kill a whole community. During all this the administration and police instead of maintain peace actively helped the anti-social elements to attack and kill the members of a minority community. The perpetrators have not been punished after even a quarter of a century. It is not their crimes are unknown. A booklet called “Who are the guilty?’ has been prepared by eminent jurists of the country which gives the names of the perpetrators with the details of their crimes. The is no room for any doubt in it. If frustrated with this long drawn out force of justice, some Sikh youth takes law into his own hands and helps dispatch killers to hell, the process of law comes into effect immediately to punish him but when the ruler of the country himself insites the people to commit heinous acts, who is there to punish him! It is then like, “my own husband is policeman, why should I be afraid?” So these heinous crimes did get committed, and to call them euphemistic names such as the Golden Temple Attack and the Delhi riots are misnomers. They are fully inadequate to label such crimes. It was not merely an attack by tanks and guns on the Golden Temple but an attack to teach the whole Sikh nation a lesson. This army attack on the unarmed devotees, gathered at the Golden Temple and all the other Gurdwaras, to celebrate martyrdom day of Sri Guru Arjan Dev Ji, without any warning, was in the words of former defence minister, S. Swaran Singh a calculated plan, “Bibi wanted to teach the Akalis a lesson. In an attempt to teach the Akalis a lesson she taught a lesson to the whole Sikh nation, otherwise Sant Jarnail Singh was not a problem,” he said. No one could imagine that this modern age the government of a country can take such a wrong step. The government, including the prime minister, kept saying that Sri Darbar Sahib would not be attacked. The general secretary of the ruling party Rajiv Gandhi and the Punjab Police chief too were among those. So the Sikh Sangat had not thought in their wildest dreams that something like this could happen. They had gathered at their holiest place to celebrate a Gurpurab. So far the question of the Dharam Yudh Morcha is concerned, there was nothing new in this. Akalis had been holding such Morchas from the times of the British rule. Many peaceful Morchas had been held at Sri Darbar Sahib. The government had been running a propaganda that the terrorists had taken refuge in Sri Darbar Sahib complex from where the came our from time to time and after murdering Hindus in far- flung areas came back and hid in the complex. One should ask them that despite so heavy security forces such as the police, BSF and CRPF, if the terrorists killed innocent citizens, then who was responsible to apprehend them when they came out or went back inside the complex! Surely the government had this responsibility. First to allow such murderers to take place, not being able to stop them and then to carry out propaganda in such a way as to poison people’s minds against Sikhs, so that later their religious place could be attacked with impunity, are all shameful acts. Dr. Harbhajan Singh had fully grasped the situation when he wrote his long poem: From where the armies came? Jai Jagdamde Jai jai Ambe You make out the Sat a monster Then you crush him with tanks Now the Sant dies or a monster is killed You will have laddus in both your hands No one can plumb your depths Jai Jagdambe Jai jai Ambe. Compared to all previous Morchas, the Sikhs had to make greatest sacrifices during this Dharam Yudh Morcha. From the earlier Morchas, the Akalis used to get some results, but during this Morcha, instead of gain something the Akalis lost much. The real grudge the Indira had against Sikhs was that they had collaborated with Hindu leaders in 1975 and had held a Morcha against the emergency. Then the campaign carried out under the leadership of Sri Jai Prakash Narain had made Indira Gandhi’s throne to shake. The Allahabad High Court had declared Indira’s election victory as null and void. Instead of obeying the court’s verdict, Indira had declared emergency in the country and had shut up everybody’s mouth. All the so called great national leaders had hid in worm holes. Some of them were thrown behind bars in jails. The Akalis had not been arrested, instead it was news in media that the congress trying to make an agreement with them. In these circumstances Jan Sangh leaders such as Vir Yaggya Datt Called out to Akalis to come to their rescue as once Sri Guru Tag Bahadur had done. The Akalis did come to their rescue and started a Morcha against the emergency at Amritsar. Akalis begun to be arrested. During this emergency lasting 19 months, the Morcha continued and b the time election was declared there were more that 25000 Akalis in jails. When the elections were declared, at the Tihar Jail of Delhi, the Akali leader S. Atma Singh, told all opposition leaders there, that if they did not join hands now, the she-devil Indira will eat them one by one. They use this opportunity to get together and face her jointly in the election, defeat her and thus get rid of this demon for ever and free the country from her clutches. So the opposition parties including all the socialist groups, Orria congress, Bangla Congress, Zimidara Union, Bharti Lok Dal, Jan Sangh, Swatantar Party and all other groups merged in to one party. Name of that party was Janata Party. Later Sri Jagjivan Ram and Sri Bahuguna too left the congress party and joined them. Thus it was that this hotch-potch of opposition parties fell on Indira Gandhi and tore her political career into shreds for the time being. The beating they got in the election was so thorough that the mother and son both fell on their faces. The Akalis had kept their independent existence, but played a leading part in toppling Indira Gandhi from power. Indira Gandhi seethed with anger against Akalis and was grinding her teeth to crush them. Coming back to power in 1980, she began to play her dirty tricks against the Akalis. The murder of the innocent, Police cruelty, Hindu-Sikh discord, turmoil, atrocities on innocent Sikhs, and undue prolongation of the Morcha were all her doings. Innocent Sikh young men were subjected to police high-handedness to in cite them to commit violence so that they could then be trapped in the police net. She left no stone unturned to victimise the Sikhs. She used the press to dub the Sikhs as anti national and a threat to the country’s unity and integrity, under their leader Sant Jarnail Singh Ji. Even today many educated Sikhs, affected by the government propaganda, believe that if Sant Ji had not opposed the invading army, the attack on the Golden Temple would not have taken place. This only show how far the government propaganda have succeeded in deceiving the people. When during a function at Sydney, in memory of this holocaust a lady asked a visiting journalist from India, why Sant Ji was sitting at Sri Darbar Sahib, I was surprised. The learned journalist had given a vague answer. I had then sent a message to the stage secretary to let me answer that question, but due to some reason I was not given that opportunity. Then one lady at the house of a young man, a young college professor from India too asked the same question I am amazed that till now we do not know ourselves. Let me ask such people this question: If a Sant should not sit in a Gurdwara then where should he sit? In a pub? or in some gamble house? Our Sant was sitting in our Gurdwara. He had not attacked any body. It was the government that attacked our Gurdwaras, with an excuse to catch and arrest him. He was the one who, like Baba Dip Singh, Baba Gurbakhash Singh, had sacrificed his life to protect the honour and sanctity of our religious places. That Sant is a worthy martyr of the Sikh nation. He lives not only in Darbar Sahib but in the hearts of the right thinking Sikhs. The Sikh community has honoured him with the title of the greatest Sikh of the 20th century. It is a fact that commandoes had been training in the Chakrata Hills, on a model of the Golden Temple. If all this was not pre-planned, what was the need of training! Thus, Sant Ji who was made an excuse to do this, what crime had he committed? Was there any case filed in any police station against him? Had any summons to arrest him were issued by any court? If at all he was to be arrested for some fancied offence way couldn’t it be done when he roamed the cities of Delhi and Mumbai openly? The government itself gave him information of his pending arrest to help him evade it at Chando Kalan after which the Sikh religious students and religious books were insulted to make him angry? He could have been arrested when he lived at the placed of his residence, the Mehta Chowk. He could have been caught from the roof of the Sran or from the Langar building using a gas that causes uncounciousness. Was it really necessary to catch him from Sri Akal Takhat Sahib, and that too on the day of the Gurprab, amidst a crowd of devotees? If the nation was threatened so much by this Sadh, why couldn’t he be caught a couple of days before or after the Gurpurab? If fro a moment we accept that it was necessary to catch him from Sri Darbar Sahib by an army invasion then why were other Gurdwaras attacked? Was Sant Jarnail Singh sitting inside them? Why were the troops sent there? During the Bangla Desh was Air Chief Marshal Arjan Singh used to take journalists in his own helicopter to see what was happening in the front of war. But during this attack all newspaper reporters had been made to leave Punjab, so that these shameful proceedings could be hidden from the world. The Punjab was handed over to the army and cut off from rest of the world and the city of Amritsar cut off from the rest of Punjab. One reporter, Brahm Chelani hid in a hotel, and it was he who told the truth to the out side world: how the devotees were brought out of Sri Darbar Sahib complex with their arms tied behind their bodies with their turbans, and shot down in cold blood. According to the Geneva convention if an enemy had surrendered, not only his life but his safety becomes the responsibility of the victor. Thus we were treated worse than enemies. When Brahm Chelani published pictures of these atrocities abroad he was sued in court for defaming the country. Even such cruel men as Halaqu, Changez Khan, Babar, Nadir Shah and Hitler blushed with shame at such atrocities. Now say what crime had Sant Ji committed? Is it a crime to speak out against oppression and injustice that the Sikhs had been subjected to by the government? Is it such a big crime as to justify punishment for the whole community? Sant Ji was a sentinel of truth and rectitude. He was not an ordinary man who changes his colour like a Chamliom. What he said he never changed. He was not a politician who changes what he says every hour. It was government which is meant to protect the life and property of its citizens actively supports the goons and robbers, where should one go for justice? Indira Gandhi had two clear aims: one to teach a lesson to the Akalis and the second to win the next election and to hand over her throne to her unworthy son. Finding no other issue to fight the next election, she played the Sikh card. To a large extent she succeeded in these sinister tasks. The lesson she meant for the Akalis, was little learnt by them, though the Sikh community learnt it well. But the chance she had sought to put her son on the throne was slipped from her hands as the interval between the army attack and the parliamentary election increased. Had the election taken place immediately after the army attack, her victory and those of her henchmen would have been assured, but due to the passage of time, the people been to understand her tricks. It is my belief that if she had not lost her life she could not have won the election. Her death raised a wave of sympathy for her, which favoured her son during the election. The people voted overwhelmingly for him. It was that a unworthy person came to be master of the people’s destiny, that too after bathing in innocent people’s blood. The weak president of the country too played a large part in Rajiv fortune. If instead of a turbaned president there had been a wearing cap he would have sworn Pranab Mikherjee as the acting prime mister and it was quite possible that this great killer would not have come to wield this power of life and death. The congress party may have later chosen him as its leader but during that period of heated tempers this naked dance of death would not have take place. The wise gentlemen of this world ad especially Sikhs, listen to me and tried to understand this truth ad do not keep repeating this sentence: Why was Sant Ji sitting there? Stop this, “I will not agree.” The first thing is: what kind of Sant is he, who goes back from what he has once said? Once he had said he would fight if the army came in side Sri Darbar Sahib, how could he surrender without fighting? Even if he had done this unworthy act the government would have found some other reason to crush the Sikhs. Let us come to our senses and try to see the truth. I am amazed when well-educated Sikhs raise such silly questions and try to look wiser than others. Even if we only go by news given by the government press, we find that during these black days whether it was a militant or an ordinary person who was killed by the police, he was invariably a Sikh. If at night a person was killed h robbers, or was robed and insulted, it was an honest and upright Sikh householder. If during the short rule of Harcharan Singh Brar Government, some police officers lost their belts and were booked for their crimes, they were also Sikhs. The others sat in Delhi and kept ruling, are ruling even now. It was the Sikhs whom the government controlled news media presented as villains. The innocent Sikhs were ground between he two stones of this cruel mill, during day by uniformed thugs and at night by those without uniforms - the robbers. Every now and then the ‘wise’ preach us that we should forget these cruelties. But how can we forget what happened before our eyes? For thousands of years you have between burning the effegies of that great scholar and a proud king Ravan, who knew all four Vedas and who had only done this proud act to avenge the cut off nose of his sister. Then every year you enact the drama of playing tribute to that great killer, Indira Gandhi and yet you tell us to forget this cruel government action. How can it ever be? The 1971 election Indira Gandhi had fought with the slogan of ‘Garibi Hatao’ and by fooling the people had won it too. the 1972 assembly elections she had won on the name Bangla Desh victory. At the time of the approaching 1985 elections she had no toy to lull the people. The 1977 election she had lost badly. I 1980, she had won because of the failed leadership of the Janata party. For the 1985 election, she had no handy issue on which to fight the election, so she played the Sikh card. Sant Ji was portrayed as a demon and the Sikh youth as killers robbers, highjackers, separatists and terrorists. The traditional Akali leadership was dubbed as traitors ahd anti-national. This not only poisoned the people’s minds against the Sikh leadership but the Sikh youth too lost faith in it. It was thus that she entrapped the Sikhs in her cruel vice and they got a beating from all around. When the killers of the Sikhs, Indira, Vaidya, Lalit Makin etc. were punished by some proud Sikh warriors, they were also declared as terrorists, while those who had shed innocent blood became the people’s protectors. This miracle was a ‘great’ achievement of the media. A true Sikh of Satguru wished every one well. The one who wished everyone well including the animals, how can he think ill of anybody. The Sikh opposes those who commit cruelties on innocent people. If they still persist in their evil activities, he as per the Guru’s orders he punishes them also. If a Sikh does not punish those who do him wrong, how can he be expected to punish those who commit atrocities on others! The history of past centuries tell that hew Sikhs not only punished those who committed cruel acts against themselves, but also those who oppressed and killed others. These my views, Sadh Sangat Ji, are based on my personal knowledge and I have presented them in brief to the Sangat. It is not necessary that every one should agree with my views. For any lapses I seek forgiveness from the Sangat. Let us at the end of this lecture, again call out the Fateh that the sacrificer of his family, the Dasmesh Pita Ji had bestowed to us and end this address: Waheguru Ji Ka Khalsa Waheguru Ji Ki Fateh I and my diseases The Gurbani teaches that the happiness and sorrow, the illness and good health, are all in the hands of that Omnipotent God, and I am a firm believer of what the Gurbani teaches. When I look back into the history of my illnesses, I cannot help but believe it. I know that those who consider themselves to be enlightened and of a scientific bent of mind would consider me credulous, superstitious and reactionary but the criticism has never stopped me from expressing what I believe in. I am not a silent on-looker and do not possess the patience of Bhisham Pitama, who looked on when injustice was being done, did nothing, and kept sitting in his chair in the royal court. This may be of some interest to readers that a reputed scientist and the vice-chancellor of Guru Nanak Dev University, Dr Jairoop Sigh, in his booklet, published by the Pingalwarha, has said that we inherit about six thousand diseases from our parents of both sides when we are born, for which we ourselves are not responsible. The Saying, “Jad de jamme, bodion lamme” is exactly right in my case. My Dadi Ma Ji and Bibi Ji often said that I was a weak and sickly child in my infancy. My body looked to dried up and skeletal. This condition is perhaps called ‘Sokrha’ in Punjabi. In the neighbouring village of Jalal there then lived a gold smith whom every body called Siana (the wise). In case of any sickness it was he who was called for cure. No one at that time had heard of doctors. In case of minor illness it was a Mazhabi Puran Singh of our own village who gave medicine in a Purhi. Later he had also learnt to give injection for which he used to charge one and a quarter rupee. For the Purhi he charged a few Annas. I remember that in my childhood whenever I become sick with a cold, Ma Ji would give me a glass of tea mixed with a raw egg or a cup of warm water with a spoon of Brandi in it. Though both these concoctions were not my taste, I had no choice but to have them for fear of Ma Ji. After many years, sitting with Bibi Ji and my younger brothers and sister, my Bhaia Ji had said that once when I was sick in my childhood he had taken me to the Chhapparh (pond) at village Nangal and had inverted my body holding me by my feet and had give me a dip in water after which I had begun to recover from my sickness. These two villages of name Nangals are about one mile from our village, Suro Padda. The two villages located close together to another bigger village Mehta, are called the Mehta Nangal. This is the same Mehta, where there is the head quarter of the Damdami Taksal. Both the Nangal villages are separated by a pond. The smaller village is called Malik Nangal and the larger is Uddo Nangal. This Uddo Nangal is my younger Chachi Ji’s village. Malik Nangal had a floor grinding machine where we used to take wheat on our heads and have it ground into flour. Uddo Nangal had a primary school which I too had attended for few days pushed there by Dadi Ma Ji. There used to be a few small grocery shops also. The pond between the two Nangals may possible be still there. The trees at the edges of the pond used to have bats sticking on their branches. Bhaia Ji used to say that at the place where the pond was there must at one time have been a centre of pilgrimage which had been erased with the passage of time from the memory of the people. Bhaia Ji said that the bats were actually the resurrected souls of the priests who managed the place of worship but were dishonest in their dealings and embezzled the temple funds. In my opinion Bhaia Ji must have picked these ideas from Sant Baba Gurbachan Singh Bhindranwale, because he had implicit faith in Sant Ji above all others. From the direction of Malik Nangal a Dandi (foot-path) came towards our village along side the edge of the pond. There was a dilapidated old building at the edge of the pond, that looked like a place of Mata Rani. Such places used to be common in villages those days. I used to see grass and weeds around them in my boyhood. Bhaia Ji said that it was there that standing on a small platform he had given me a dip in the pond. Now I will talk about my illnesses that took place within my memory. I will not mention all of them, but only those that some how relate with the ideology of Gurbani as mentioned before. This would have happened around 1950, perhaps for the reason that the first time I heard anything about a calender year was in 1952, when in summer sitting in the shade of a Jaman tree, a person writing on a three paisa post card had said aloud that it was now the year 1952. I was standing near by when he said this and this somehow stuck in my memory. It was during this same year, on Diwali festival that Bhaia Ji had first taken me on his hired bi-cycle to Amritsar. He left me sitting in front of the Darshani Deorhi, Ghantaghar Chowk and went to return the bi-cycle to the shopkeeper from he hired it. It took quite a while. I felt abandoned and lonely and had begun to cry. I had this fear twice later on in my life. Once Bhaia Ji tried to reassure me when I expressed my fear to him, saying, “I have not brought you here in order to abandon you.” I do not remember if this fear caught me ever again. It was around 1950 that a fever gripped me. It came and went on alternate days. In the afternoon when I returned to our Khuh from cattle grazing, my body would start feeling a little cold. While the other boys played Gulli-Danda, I would lie down nearby on a patch of green. As the cold increased I would keeping shifting my body into the sun. Then I would become unconcious and some body would picked me up and bring into home. Those days I had been chanting by heart the Punjabi Muharni (vowels) on Bhaia Ji’s advice. I was told that even when I was unconcious, due to fever, I would keeping chanting the vowel sounds. This fever we called Taiya in Punjabi because it comes after a gap of one day. One day, on a day the fever took a holiday, my Bhaia Ji’s Taya Ji, S. Bhan Singh Ji took a strip of cloth, chanted some words, and after blowing his breath over this strip, tied it to my upper arm. He asked me, “where does the fever begin from?” “From the Khuh near the road”, I replied. At which he said, “don’t go there tomorrow.” I must have acted on his advice; I do not remember now, but after that, after a quarter of century till 1975, this fever did not come near me. In 1975 I landed in England after passing a number of African and European countries. In the African country of Malawi we used t have a tablet of quenine every day as protection from Malaria. But a few days before leaving Malawi I had stopped taking this tablet out of cereless, or perhaps in the excitement at the thought of visiting England. That carelessness now cost me dearly in England. The fever which caught me there was so high that Bhai Bhagwant Singh Ji, who lived in the same room with me, later told me that he feared for my life and trembled at the thought of losing my life in this alien country. I used to go for medicine to a Sikh doctor nearby the Southall Gurdwara. I would get better for a day but the next day faced the same torture. The medicine had not effect what so ever. Perhaps the doctor was wielding his sword in the darkness. He had no clue as what ailed me. One day I said to him, “Doctor Sahib Ji, it may be malaria.” The doctor said, “Sardar Ji, malaria here, in England?” I had my doubts but kept quiet. When another day once more I reminded him about malaria he rebuffed me in a bit anger. But hearing him rejecting the presence of malaria in England so thoroughly, I reminded him that I came from Africa. Then he gave quenine to me and I got well. I wondered that an illiterate person quarter of a century ago, in a small village of Punjab, knew by just seeing me that I had malaria and also knew its treatment but a qualified doctor here in London, despite all the instruments at his disposal did not detect that the patient suffered from malaria and despite my reminding him about it had not thought fit to have me tested. He was adamant that no one could have malaria in England. If a doctor could not detect what ailed the patient, how could he treat him? This incident happened in the summer of 1961. I lost my appetite. I neither felt like eating nor working. My health started a downward slide due to lack of nourishment. Those days though appointed as Ragi in the Dharam Prachar Committee but actually I did the work of a clerk because my handwriting was considered to be neat and clear. Whoever saw my condition would remark, “what is happening to you, oi?” I went to some doctors and hakims, but no one could tell what was wrong with me. My Bibi Ji suspected that I may be suffering from a condition called Dharan. She one day called my friend S. Harsharan Singh’s mother. After prodding my stomach with her fingers she said that I was indeed suffering from what my mother had suspected. She rubbed and massaged my stomach and tied the thumbs of my feet with threads. But there was not much improvement. People kept asking me about my week health and whenever I happened to tell some one that I had Dharan he would fall silent. The secretary of our department laughed at me, “Oi, it is only the women who suffer from Dharan and you look like quite a man to me.” I lingered on in this condition for months. At last I became so weak that I found it difficult to even get from bed and my faeces contained only blood and pus. My mother dragged me by wrist and took me to a narrow street in Mohalla Uttam Nagar, very close to our home. A very old Brahmin lived there who cannot even see, in a small dark room with a mud floor. He told me to lie down on the floor and then he pressed his hand over my stomach and said, “it is the Dharan.” He told me to passed my own hand over my stomach during his reciting something. He chanted some Mantra in a murmering tone and I kept passing my hand over my stomach. I felt as if there was something moving within my stomack and also felt a rumbling sound. After some minutes of it, the old Brahmin checked my stomach and said, now all is well; but the disease being an old one it may revive again; you should come once again tomorrow. After coming home I ate two Pranthas with a glass of milk where I didn’t like to eat or drink any thing for months. But due to laziness or some other reason, I did not go to him on the next day as advised. So after a few days I was in the same condition as before the treatment. Now out of a sense of shame I hesitated to go to him but Bibi Ji forcibly took me to him again. He again prodded my stomach and told that the Dharan had returned. He repeated what he had done the last time and I too felt the same improvement. Coming home I again had a hearty breakfast. This time I did not miss and went to him on the next day. He checked and told me, “now it is OK.” After that till today with the grace of God, I have never had that illness again. If we talk about this to modern doctors they would say ‘Rubbish!’ because this is not included in their books. The following incident took place on Diwali in 1968. On this day was to held at Gurdwara Manji Sahib, Amritsar, the largest of yearly Diwans of the Sikh Sangat. I was to deliver a speech after midnight of the Diwali after all the leaders had spoken to the Sangat. After my speech I went to my room and went to sleep. This room was at the Parkarma on the upper floor. If you walk to the Parkarma from the Bunga of Shahid Baba Deep Singh Ji, the corner in front of you have stairs going up to those rooms. Here also used to a flower shop which has now been lifted and the stairs too have been closed up. The layout of this place has undergone much change after June 1984. At one time Singh Sahib Giani Joginder Singh Vedanti Ji had his residence in one of them and now still lives there. I woke up in the morning with an intense pain in the left side of my stomack. Giani Darshan Singh Shahid who lived in a near by room took me to Dr. Bhupinder Singh at the Baba Sahib bazar, who gave me an injection and then I was dropped at my parents’ residence at Bibeksar at the care of my mother. So long as the effect of the injection lasted I slept, but on waking up the same pain came back. I was taken to some doctors. They all gave injections, but the pain subsided for only as long as effect of the medicine lasted. Later on I came to know that each doctor had administered only morphine injections to me. No one had treated the disease. One mid night seeing that my condition was worsening, Bhaia Ji took me to the Government hospital. The short and thin doctor at the hospital started filling up my documents and then I do not know when I fell asleep. I woke up in pain again. I found Bhaia Ji sleeping on ground near by my bed. He immediately went to the doctor and told him about my condition. The doctor said, “I had written down some medicines and told you to bring them from the chemist, haven’t you brought those?” Upon Bhaia Ji’s saying that he had not been told to bring any medicine, the doctor wrote Bralgon on a chit and Bhaia Ji brought them from a chemist. After I took these tablets the pain subsided. I kept lying in hospital for number of days. No doctor paid me any attention. Friends and relatives too came to visit me. The SGPC president and the supreme leader of the Panth at that time, Sant Channan Singh Ji, spoke to Dr. Harcharan Singh Ji, the Professor and Head of Medicine at the hospital. The reason Sant Ji was interested in my health was the assembly elections of 1969 were approaching and he had need of my services. Dr. Harcharan Singh Ji sent his budding assistant Dr. Gurjit Singh and he spoke to the ward doctor of special care of me, but this did not prove to be of much use. Then I was introduced by my friend Giani Darshan Singh Majbur to S. Banta Singh Rai, the Organising Secretary of the blood bank. He went to the doctor who treated me that I was his brother. The doctor began to take better care of me but as to the diagnosis of my disease, there was not real progress. Everyone guessed differently. X-rays were taken but nothing definite was found. A special type of injection given before taking the X-ray to provide a better picture of my interior but to no avail. I kept occupying the hospital bed for a long time. I wanted to leave the hospital but couldn’t dare to leave without the permission of the authority. One day there was an accident somewhere and a large number of seriously injured people were brought to the hospital. There was shortage of beds. I thought I was occupying a bed unnecessary, as buy taking the Bralgon tablets my pain had subsided, though the doctors were still trying to find the real cause of my illness. The seriously injured patients now need beds. I got jump from my bed and quietly walked out of the hospital telling no one. There after I took a Bralgon tablet whenever the pain came back and took special care to drink enough water. With the grace of God I had none occasion later to trouble any doctor about this illness. This may not go well down the throats of some readers but it really did happen. When I was admitted at the hospital a Pandit Ji from the nearby village Channan Ke had come to our village, Suro Padda and had told my Dadi Ma Ji, “your eldest grand-son is in great trouble now, but he will get alright.” This my grand-mother told me later when she came to see me in Amritsar. This too happened around that period: the thing was that my right foot started itching on its top very badly. I thought that a mosquito might have done this mischief and tried to ignore it but itching increased day by day and became visible. Proud of my connections and influence, I went to the main government hospital and the skin specialist. There told me that it was Eczema and prescribed an ointment. I bought the tube of ointment which cost ten rupees. This expenditure of then ten rupees pinched me but I bought the tube and began to apply the ointment on the affected part of my skin. Though itching halted its progress but it still did not go away. The cream attracted dust and the hem of my pyjama got soiled every day. I decided to farewell to this ointment after I finished a couple tubes of this and went to a Vaid Ji out side the Jallianwala bag who wore ochre-coloured clothes and had a long, white beard. He gave me some pills and after having these for a few days, forgot that I ever had any problem of itching on my foot. I later came to understand that Vaid Ji had ground some seeds of the Tara-Meera plant and made them into pills. My guess was based on the fact that when I had asked him what should I do if his pills finished during my travelling, he had said that I should chew and swallow seeds of this plant. I don’t find that Vaid Ji here now. This happened more than four decades ago and then after 1984, the whole layout of that area has changed. In 1983, here in Sydney, I began to feel pain in both my heels, a miled one in my right and a greater one in my left. This pain kept increasing by the day. The doctor said that the bones of my heels had over grown and there was no option but to undergo an operation to shorten them. As a temporary measure a medicine was injected into my heels in a very painful process. It was done about twice. During this period I also detected blood in my stool. The doctors said I had piles and gave me some ointment. I later came to know that piles was the same as Bwaseer in Punjabi. Finding no relief, as per my friend Dr. Narinderpal Singh Ji’s advice and efforts, I got admitted in Mt. Druitt hospital. The doctors stopped me from taking any food or drink for a few days and kept me on IV feed. Then they took a sample of my tissue and said it was not piles but a certain type of ulcer. Now I have forgotten the name of the ulcer they had then given me. After a few days in hospital, I was sent home and told to take six tablets every day. These large tasteless tablets I had to take two at a time thrice a day throughout my remaining life. But I couldn’t do it and stopped taking them after a few days. To whichever doctor I went to, advised me to have these, but this was beyond what I could bear. I kept confronting these large tablets and small illnesses. The readers will be surprised that I then decided to go to one of the quacks, the heeler. One such healer I went to, was a young lady from New Zealand, living in a Sydney suburb called Bondai. Her place was near the Bondai Railway Station. I took with me my wise friend S. Jagraj Singh, who is much smarter than me in this field. It was he who had, on my request, brought to me a book in which the names and addresses of such quacks had been given. We both went inside. She charged $25 for the treatment but from me she charged $15. Before entering inside the room, I told my friend to watch every thing with great care as to what she did. She made an exception from her rules and allowed my friend to go inside with me. She told me to remove all my clothes and lie down on a special bed made for such treatments. I requested her to let me keep my Kachhehra (underwear) on which she allowed. She covered my body with a sheet after I lay down. Then she started English instrumental music from a nearby tape. I felt my body relaxing and at ease. After sometime she lifted the sheet from my body and then performed the ‘miracle’ of tearing open my belly. I could see my torn open belly reflected by a mirror she showed me. I once again told to my Jagraj Singh to watch it carefully. She then started to remove something akin to blood and flesh she completed this task and wiped my belly with a towel, I could see nothing there but two small smears of blood on upper part of my underwear. When I told her that I had problem with my heels also, she repeated the same process with my heels and told me they were now OK. Before departure from the place, she advised me to abstain from all kinds of dairy products and sugar, the both of which I have not been able to resist. Coming out I asked Jagraj Singh what he had seen? His reply was that he saw or heard only what she showed or told to us and did not understand anything else. Then upon my asking what she did when I was covered with a sheet, he said that she chanted some words as she waved her hands over my body from feet towards the head and then shook them violently as if shaking something loose. After that treatment I have never again been affected with those illnesses, thanks to God. Had I been content with the treatment of doctors, I would still be taking six tablets a day and as side effects would perhaps have contracted many other diseases. Then I took my wife too to her but the effect of her treatment on my wife did not last for more than three months. It was then said that that white young lady had come from New Zealand. I do not know where did she practice her treatment after that. This was in 1984. The next event took place on the first Friday of November 1987, at mid night. Guru Nanak Dev Ji’s birth anniversary was being celebrated at Gurdwara Sahib Parklea. Those days the Sangat here in Australia was quite small. The Gurdwara was situated in a medium-sized old house and the Diwan was held only twice a month. The poor Granthi worked five days a week at a factory for his lively hood. Now of course, with the grace of Guru Ji and the efforts of the Sangat, this Gurdwara is one of the largest in the Southern Hemisphere from view of size and the gathering of Sangat. Almost all the Sikhs are being busy in their jobs, no one volunteered to be there at the first night of the Akhand path on Friday as Sewadar. So I volunteered for this Sewa (work). The Akhand path was in progress, and my job was just to ensure that Pathis woke up in time and to offer them tea at night and keep watching that everything goes accordingly. At the midnight my body shivered with cold and was paining. When my friend S. Ajit Singh Saini got up from his duty of Path at 2am, at my request, he dropped me home while going to his own. In the morning, I was alone in my home. I now can not remember where my wife and children had gone that day. The day had advanced when I woke up; my body burned with fever and head giddy. It seemed as if the walls of the room merged with the carpet. My right ear was filled the sound: seen, seen, tan, tan. These sounds were similar to the ones made by insects at night during the months of monsoon rains in country side of Punjab. I could not hear anything else by ear and these sounds have continued to come into this ear to this day. No doctor could understand as to what had happened with me. At last Dr. Narinderpal Singh Ji told me that some virus might have infected me. “ Which virus?,” I asked. “There are so many; no one can say which”, he replied. on the first day I went to a Chinese doctor. He said I had mumps and there was no cure for it but rest. Coming home when I told this to Dr. Narinderpal Singh Ji by phone, he advised me to go at once to the Westmead hospital. Mumps at my age were dangerous. He said that they could destroy some system of my body. I did what he said. The doctors at the hospital all tried their hand. They included Punjabis, Indians, Pakistanis, Australians, English and Russian. They all guessed but no one was certain about what cause ailed me. When I told them about mumps, as Chinese doctor told me on first day, they said the tests did not indicate this. Then they did a special test also for mumps but it showed them nothing. However there was one definite out come from these tests that I had diabetes. I do not know whether the disease had occurred naturally or was the out come of these medicines and tests. At first the medicine I took had opposite effect to what was desired. At first I took half a tablet of 500mg, then a full, then two, three; and now I take four tablets each day as advised by doctors. I take two tablets of 500mg each after breakfast and the same after dinner at night. I have no choice but to follow the doctor’s advice in this matter. Now when at times I have mental fatigue or a dejected mood due to some wrong thinking, my body starts shivering with cold at nigh time during my sleep, and then I stand before the fire to warm my body and start positive thinking. If I cannot reach to the fire then simply start jumping to get warmth. After some time I got normalcy. It happened in my brother S. Dalbir Singh’s home at Amritsar twice in three weeks, and so far the last time in 2004 at Bangkok, twice in three nights. God have mercy on me no doctor knows why it happens. In 1988 I was working at Seven Hills in a drum re-conditioning factory. One day some chemical fell on my ankle. I was wearing gumboots at time and paid no attention to this. Next day I found a wound on my ankle. The factory-owner took me to a doctor in his car. The doctor dressed the wound and bound it with bandage. He told me to save it from water. When at home I told this story my younger brother S. Harjit Singh, he said that if chemical had fallen on the ankle it ought to be washed so that the chemical is washed out from the wound. I said that his advice sounded logic and he might be right but I would do as the doctors had told me – the doctor cannot be wrong. For many days I could not go to work. I got the wound dressed a number of times but there was no improvement. At last the doctor send me to a specialist doctor in Blacktown. He too treated me the same way, but the wound wouldn’t heal nor did it worsen. The specialist then one day said I had to undergo an operation, in which he would remove some skin from my thigh and graft it on the ankle. I surprised to hear this illogic proposal. Also by then my belief in doctors’ fallibility had somewhat lessened and I had begun to suspect that they were also ordinary mortals like us. I thought it better to wait a few days more and I told this to the specialist too. In my mind I thought the first wound was not healing, what was the guarantee that the other wound, which would now arise from the operation of my thigh, would heal? The specialist agreed to what I had said. He now advised to wash the wound with soap and water every day twice. I reminded him that like other doctors he had earlier told me to protect it from water. He said that it was as an experiment. That was what I had thought of doing anyway so coming home I followed the doctor’s advice with diligence. On my next visit the doctor was amazed that the wound had started to heal with miraculous speed. After few days of this, the wound disappeared completely. In November or December1992/93, I had itching at the bottom end of my spine, and day by day it kept increasing. An old man who saw me scratching my skin told me that it was called the Seenwala Forha, and that I should have it treated at once. He told me that it was also called the Muglai Forha. My doctor referred me to the Blacktown hospital. The doctors there did an operation and after two days I came back home. The doctor put a thin and very long ball of cloth into the wound from where the ulcer had been removed. This ball of cloth was to be pulled out after a few days before dressing the wound again. The ball was meant to cleanse the wound, though the nurse gave me pain-killing injection but it did not much effect and I felt terrible pain when the ball was being pulled out slowly. The nurse gave me another injection but the pain did not lessen. She told me that another injection was not advisable. She called a hefty male nurse there, who pinned me down by force while the nurse pulled out the cloth ball. During that procedure some time pain subsided. I had watched a similar scene at a hospital in Amritsar and had been horrified. No pain-killing injection had then been administered to the patient. When I politely asked the nurse who was performing this horrible work that if a patient could be made unconcious during operation then it should be possible to do it when the ball is pulled out, but the nurse had then brushed my words aside considering them a slur on his professional competence. The similar thing had happened with my Bhaia Ji in the same hospital, but I could not bear to watch it and absented myself during this process. Bhaia Ji had later told me about the terrible pain he had to suffer when the ball was pulled out from his stomack. At this Blacktown hospital the same thing happened after more than three decades. When I told to my doctor about this painful procedure, he explained to me that the injection begins to have effect only after fifteen minutes and it was necessary to wait for this duration to avoid pain. I wondered that even some of those who work in the medical profession are not aware of this fact and do not think twice about inflicting unnecessary pain on their patients. It happened twice before: once with me during removing my tooth and once to my younger son. So it is as it should be: if a doctor would spare his patient, what would he eat - as a horse would go hungry if he befriends the grass! After a number of days I had the same complaint. I went to my doctor again. Hearing what I said he became serious. He gave me a chit and sent me to the same hospital. The doctor there who had performed the earlier operation said that the ulcer which had been removed during the earlier operation might have left some roots from where it was removed and started growing again, so this time they would have to go deeper and remove it completely and therefore my stay at the hospital this time would be longer. What could I do? I agreed to undergo another operation. At night before taking me to the operation theatre I was given an anaesthetic injection. I had already begun sleepy when I was given a farm to sign. It was in very small print and was of many pages. I had no glasses and the light also was very dim. So there was no possibility of my being able to read it before signing at the dotted line. I had not yet lost my faith in doctors, so I signed where I was told to sign. The operation was performed. I do not know when I was brought into my room at night. In the morning the nurse on duty said that at noon that day I would be discharged from the hospital. Hearing this I surprised because earlier the doctor said I will be at the hospital for many days. I asked the nurse about it. She said that I could talk to the doctor when he came to visit me. When the doctor came I asked him the reason for this early discharge. He explained that they had done a new experiment with my ulcer. If they had followed the usual procedure I could lose control over my bowl movement and the passing of urine; so this time they had tied the ulcer with a steel wire, which should cause it wither and die within. I came back and told it to my doctor. I remembered that his face turned grave when I told him the problem came back. But when I went to again on the given day for a check up, he said that the experiment was a success and my ulcer was cured. He told me that he was in a bit worry when he knew that the problem came back. He jokingly remarked that the result was not less than miraculous and I might have implied some Indian magic. Now with the blessing Rabb Ji, all is well in this regard. I have made special mention of the signing of form because a few years back a headline had appeared in a local paper that a woman of South Australia had alleged that the doctor at a hospital had tried some new procedure on her during the delivery of her child and she had become victim of some new disease which had no known cure. When a journalist advised her to sue the doctor she said that she could not do so because the doctor had obtained her signed consent to the operation. Like me she had not known at the time what she had signed. Now the same thing had happened to me. The doctor had shot an arrow into the dark, to my good luck it had found its mark. The doctor should give these sort of forms to the patients well in time; preferably a couple of days before the operation so that a patient can make an informed decision and if necessary can take the help from a friend to understand what he is asked to sign. Last time when I came back from the world tour, I found my joints and limbs a bit tired. Another complaint was that of loose motion. For many times in the past wherever I had this sort of problem, I would take some Ajwain with a pinch of salt and swallow it with some worm water and get well, but this time the loose motion persisted for may days. I took a tablet to stop it. but it worked so well that all motion stopped. Whenever I sat on the toilet seat only some blood would come out but no stool. At last after consultation with my doctor, I went to the Mt. Druitt hospital. They made me lie down on a bed in closed room and two or three nurses tried to take blood sample from my arm but they could not find the artery. Then a young Indian looking doctor came and after some struggle, he succeeded in drawing some blood from my arm. For a long time I was left alone in that room. The light was dim and so were my spirits. The doctors tried but could nothing for me. At last at the middle of the night, I was shifted in an ambulance to the Blacktown hospital, with glucose still flowing into my body. The doctors treated me for another two days but my condition got no better. At last I was given a paper to sign. The paper said that a camera will be introduced into my body through the bottom end to see what was wrong with my inside. The paper listed all what could go wrong during this process. It said even a person could die. I hesitated a bit before signing this. The reason for my hesitation was that, on children’s insistence I had begun to write my memoirs. I feared that they would not see completion. As to the rest of my worldly duties, I though I had already fulfilled them almost all though people say that one’s responsibilities never end till one’s death, but with the blessing of God, I am mostly free. I briefed my wife that in case I was unable to leave this hospital alive what it was that I owed to others and what they owed me. I also told her about my papers and what she should do with them. After doing all this I signed the paper given to me. I was then given anaesthesia and the process was carried out the lady doctor in-charge of all this process was from Phillaur area of Punjab and had been living in Australia for a long time with her family. After a day or two of this process, I was told that noting definite had been found and the whole thing needed to be repeated again, with the camera probing deeper inside my body. I gave my written consent again and did not hesitate as before perhaps thinking that I had survived the first time, I may survive again. Even with the second attempt the doctors found nothing definite. After a week or a bit more, I was sent home with a bundle of discharged papers and prescription slips and advised about what medicines to take. I was also given a date on which I should report to the lady doctor for a recheck. Coming home I threw all this into a trash bin. Then I had some Easbgol with water and slowly got better in a few days. To be sure I had enjoyed the hospitality of the hospital for week or so. The next morning, after the midnight I was brought into the hospital, two nurses came to me and asked me to get up so that they could help me for shower. I told them that they did not worry. I got shower early in the morning and no need for any help to take shower. I can do that by myself. They did not bother to ask me for that again. One day my Kurham S. Tarlcochan Singh Grewal Ji came to see me in the hospital. He was amazed to see the grandeur of the hospital and remarked “Is this a hospital or a five star hotel?” Now here what happened recently: for some days I had felt itching inside my ears. This itching persisted for weeks and then months. At first I thought it was due to dryness of the weather. I wanted to put Badam Rogan in my ears but I could not find that. The oil I did not dare to put in my ears. Then I went to a doctor and told him about it. He checked and told me that my ears have wax in them. He prescribed me a liquid and advised me to put it in my ears for three days twice a day. Though I told him that in my childhood, for this problem when I went to the hospital what the compounder used to do there. He told me that he was aware of that procedure too. But advised me to do what he told me. I bought the liquid and did as he told me. After four days I went him again. He tried his best to remove wax from my ears with a water filled syringe but nothing came out. Then he tried with a needle but he could not found anything in my ears. Even now I have itching in my ears but by using ear buds with oil I get temporarily relief. I remember the time about half a century ago back at Amritsar. During childhood, whenever I had some such problem, I would to Sri Guru Ram Das Hospital on the ground floor of the Office of Shiromani Akali Dal. Compounder S. Piara Singh would put some medicine in my ears and I used to feel as if something was boiling in my ears. After a few minutes he would use a water filled syringe and within a few moments the wax would come out. There was another way. Those days wax-removers used to come from some other state. One could easily recognise them from their style of turban. He would ask a person to sit before him and within minutes he would use a special needle and remove wax from the ears. During my visit to Amritsar, some years back, when I was walking down over Ucha Pul (high bridge) towards Hall Gate, I saw one such gentleman sitting on the kerb of the bridge. He removed wax from my ears on my request. When my younger brother came to know this ‘wise act’ of mine, he said one should not go to such people, as they used the same needle on a number of people and one’s ear could get infected; and now there was also the risk of AIDS. Hearing this I regretted my action. May be the modern doctors methods are better but this happened and is still happening. All the events mentioned above happened with me and they have been narrated as I saw and felt them at the time. My motive is not to belittle some method of medical treatment or to unduly praise another. As per my personal experience no method of treatment so far devised by human is perfect and nor is it completely without merit. According to Gurbani when the term of any human illness is completed a person gets cured by some such method of treatment. If the term of the illness had not completed even great doctors fail to diagnose or treat it. If the time is ripe even a pinch of ash given by a Sadhu can be effective and a person would then get rid of the illness taking Easbgol with plain water. Whose end has come, no body can save him. It is true that medical system, called Allopathy is more successful for dissecting the human body. As a tailor knows how to cut and sew the cloth and as a carpenter knows how to cut would and make it into a bed; so does a doctor practice his art. It is the good luck of the individual if this bed of his, the body, gets correctly fitted, but if there is some ill- fitting, the doctor tries the trial and error method to fit into properly. I travel on half fare My elder daughter Ravin works on a high post in the Australian airline Qantas, therefore I am allowed to travel by flights of Qantas on half-fare. Her husband and children can travel on less than half-fare, but among the whole family it is only me who avails of this concession. I travel on less than even what the minimum fare an ordinary passenger had to pay. But there is a hinder to this concession and it is such that sometimes I end up paying more than I can imagine. It is this: only less than 20 minutes before the departure I am told whether the flight will take or leave me. The other family members do not avail of this concession mainly due to this reason. Because I had been afflicted with wanderlust, so I eagerly avail of it and always off to somewhere; cheap travel has great appeal for me. Some interesting things have happened with me during these travels. There is one more thing: in case of a change of flights en route, in case a seat is not available on the next plane then I have to buy a ticket paying full fare and thus sometimes the mustaches out grow the beard. (Sarfa karke sutti te aata khaa gai kutti). So far I have never been able to get a seat from Delhi. In April 2003, I went to Delhi Airport from Amritsar by rail. For three days and nights I did the rounds on the airport waiting for the so called ‘next flight’, that never materialised. I do not have a robust body and also did not eat properly for three days, and the weather was also very hot. A tall well- built clean shaven man was the manager of Air India there. Whenever I talked to him about availability of a seat to London, he looked at me with mischief in his eyes, as if making fun of me. At last I caught a bus from the airport for Jalandhar and on the way I rang up my brother’s home at Amritsar that I was coming back, so that by suddenly finding me at their gate, they should not think that it was my ghost and not me. In Amritsar, my long time friend S. Kuljit Singh took me to a travel agent near the bus stand at Amritsar to book a ticket for me from Amritsar to London, which relieved me from further worry. Money he neither asked me nor I gave him, thinking that the agent was a friend of my friend. I thought we will give him the money at the time of picking the ticket. But that worthy son of his father, neither asked us for money nor did he book the ticket, and thus I had to spend another nine days at Amritsar and these nine days were similar to those Sassi had spent in the desert wandering after Punnu. At last taking money in advance from me, he booked an expensive seat for me in a flight of the Uzbekistan Airline. and I reached London via Tashkent. All my ‘money saving’ efforts thus cost me time and excessive expenditure. Then in 2007 I had to travel from Delhi to London, and from there I had thought of going by bus to Brussels, the capital of Belgium. But no seat was available from Delhi to London, so my friend Tejinderpal Singh Ji of Delhi helped me to buy an expensive ticket for Brussels via Viana. Many such interesting things keep happening to me. The Qantas flights to India do not go beyond Mumbai. From Mumbai I have to buy a full fare ticket to go to Delhi/Amritsar. But at least I have the consolation of being able to travel cheap at least up to Mumbai and about the further expenses I do not think much. Every time I think of travelling from Mumbai to Amritsar by rail but never actually did it. Soon after landing at Mumbai I become so eager to reach Amritsar that I end up buying an Air India ticket and fly to Delhi/Amritsar. In October 2008 I had to go from London to Delhi. After a great deal of inquiry at the crowded Heathrow Airport when I at last reached the right counter, the lady standing there told me that door of the aeroplane going to Delhi had just closed. Informing me further that even if I had reached in time I would not have been able to go as no seat had been vacant on the fight. When I asked her about the possibility of a vacancy in the coming days, then she said there was no vacancy for the next a month or so for Delhi and if I wanted I could go to Chenai, Kolkata or Mumbai. When I agreed for Mumbai she gave me a terminal number and said I should rush there as the flight stood ready for departure. I ran from there to the given terminal but in hurry forgot to pick up my mobile phone, at the security check in counter. Friends still keep ringing me on that mobile number. Before this I had once to go from London to Sydney. Though my final destination was to Sydney, I had learnt while staying at London that my friend S. Kuljit Singh‘s elder daughter’s marriage was taking place after a few days; so I thought I will attend her marriage on the way, At Amritsar. After three days daily trip to Heathrow Airport, I came to know that person I had to deal with at the airport, was a Punjabi young man. This I came to know when he told some one to hurry in Punjabi language. (Jaldi jaldi chalo) When I asked him, “do you know Punjabi?” He replied , “ Yes, Sir, I am a Punjabi Sikh.” I said, “Then do something and send me to Delhi.” (Mar fir koi rekh vich mekh te pucha mainu dilli) He said that he could do nothing even for his parents, so what could he do for me! I was impressed with his straight forward answer and said that if he couldn’t send me to Delhi, he should at least send me to Mumbai, Kolkata, or Chennai. But his answer was still in the negative. Then I said, “if not to India, then send me to somewhere else: Sydney, Singapore, Hong Kong, or Bangkok.” He said that I could go to Bangkok. I said, “let me leave London now, further I will see what happens!” He arranged for me to board the plane for Bangkok, where I reached in the evening the next day. Getting down from the plane when I inquired about flight to Sydney, the reply was that the flight was ready and I could go to Sydney at once. The lady at the counter hurried, completed my paper work and then I stood in a queue for the immigration formalities. I was very happy at thus getting a connecting flight so soon but my happiness proved to be short-lived. After a few minutes the lady came running and told me that she had been mistaken and there was no vacant seat available on this flight. She also arranged for the return of my bag, and got refunded the airport fees to me. She said, “please come and inquire tomorrow. Then she disappeared from there leaving me high and dry ie leaving me stranded and destitute. After making some inquiries, I took a taxi and at midnight went to the Singh Sabha Gurdwara in the city. I knocked the main gate and an elderly clean shaven guard came to the gate of the Gurdwara and asked me whether I was a Giani or a businessman! On my asking the difference in the tow, he said, “if you are a Giani, you come inside; if you are a businessman then go to a hotel.” On hearing this I said that I was about half a Giani at least. He opened the gate and sent to me third floor where I spread my mat in an open space meant for the likes of me. Next day I again went to the airport but had to return empty handed. But then I found a very cheap means of travel to the airport and back. Where as on the first day I had to pay about 500 Bahts to go to the Gurdwara by a taxi, now I could reach there spending a mare 9 Bahts. For this I had to reach the railway station by bus which cost 5 Bahts and then from there by rail to the airport with 4 Bahts. Thus the expenditure on going to airport and then coming back did not worry me much. These two expenses are the most arduous to me: the one on hotel room to sleep and another on taxi to travel. If I can avoid these two then I jump with joy and go anywhere. One day a strange event happened to me: while I was standing like others at the airport, a lady approached me and said that she was from Afganistan and had two children with her. She had got seats for Sydney but did not have $10 to pay airport fees. She told me, she had only some Pakistani currency notes with her. I quietly handed over her $10 without any fuss, though I had wondered for a moment as to why she had approached me! Then thought because wearing turban and having beard, this is why she felt comfortable to talk to me, despite all others who stood there. After some time she came back again and said that she need not ten but twenty dollars. After showing a little hesitation I gave her another ten dollars. But that was not the end; she came back again and said that she had to pay $63 for three seats. Then I got somewhat suspicious and this sum was quite a lot of money to me, and giving to a stranger seemed a folly. She told me repeatedly in humble words that she would return the money soon after reaching Melbourne. At last I handed her $65 and we exchanged phone numbers. She boarded the plane with her two children and I returned to the Gurdwara. Though if I had not given her the money there was a possibility of my getting one of those three vacant seats but I thought she would have the difficulty spending the night at the airport because she doesn’t have any where to go; as for me I had the Gurdwara to go. On the day when I was waiting to be called at the airport, the lady at the counter asked me for how many days I had been coming to the airport. When I replied that since Tuesday, she said she had one vacant seat and would give it to me. Then she addressed the other waiting passengers, “this gentleman has been trying for a seat since Tuesday, so I have decided to give the vacant seat to him. All of you may try tomorrow.” Hearing these words a white young man jumped as if worked by a spring and cried, “I have been coming here since the Saturday.” The lady decided to give the seat to him and he got a boarding pass and went towards the plane. On my asking my ticket coupon back from her, she whispered to me “the lady you see holding the telephone is a senior officer; after she has finished talking on the phone I will go to her to request her to speak to the pilot, because if the pilot agrees you can sit on a jump seat near him.” When she approached to the senior lady she agreed to speak to the pilot and did so. On getting the pilot’s nod the two ladies allowed me to board the plane. Soon after reaching home I inquired whether any lady from Melbourne had telephoned . On receiving a negative answer I thought that I had been made a fool as well as had lost my money. “To lose money and to be called pimp”, (Gharon ghar gwaia te bahron bharhua akhwaia.) as a Punjabi saying goes. I rang on the given phone number but at first got no answer. After two days when I rang up again and this time the lady’s husband answered. Knowing the reason for my call he said that his wife had gone to their shop and she will speak to me when she gets back. He said that he knew about the borrowed money. I was relieved that at least I had not been cheated. The lady given me the correct phone number, but then why had she not called my home, I wondered! When again I rang her number the next day, she herself picked up the phone. She told me that she had tried to ring on the given number but either the number was wrong or something wrong with our telephone. Then one day, my younger son Gurbal Singh told me that they were fed up with the calls about my whereabouts, they had changed the phone number and got a new one. To cut the long story short, he took my account number and deposited $65 in it. I had told her not to deposit more than that as she promised me to deposit, at the Bangkok Airport. Till the money deposited into my account I told no one about it, for the fear that I would be made a fun of. One sitting at dinner with my family, I narrated this incident to my family members and said to them as jest, “had I known that I could get one of those three seats and avoid the trouble and extra expenses, I would not have given money to the lady.” Hearing this my daughter-in-law commented, “Papa, had you remembered this, you would still have given the money.” When I narrated this incident at Adelaide to my friend, a young journalist, Summit Tandon, while he was having tea I was sitting in front of him, he strongly advised me that I should write an article about it describing what happened exactly in detail. Glossary Akhand Path - non-stop recitation of Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji Anand Karaj - Sikh marriage ceremony Akal Takhat – the highest spiritual seat of the Sikhs Achkan – a long coat Arya Smaj – a Hindu reformist organisation Ashram – a hermitage Akh Di Sharam – respect for elders Amli – an addict Ardas – prayer Anna – a quarter of a rupee Auloo – tub Avtar – a deiti Asa Di Var – a morning religious song of the Sikhs Amrit Vela – the early morning Amrit-Sanchar – Sikh baptism ceremony Amla – a berry used for pickle Akal Chalana – death Akal Purakh – the immortal being, God

Bhog – the Sikh prayer ceremony Bhog Lawauna – symbolic offering of food to God Bhai Gurmukha – O brother Sikh Bhra Ji – respected brother Bibis – ladies Babus – clerks Bha Ji – respected brother Bhau – brother Bhai – brother Budhu – a fool Bandh – a strike Bwaseer – piles Bazar – market place Bhagat - a devotee Vaisakhi – a harvest festival in spring Bhutni – a she-devil Bhalwan Ji – a wrestler Bhaia Ji – respected father Bhanja – sister’s son Bahu – daughter-in-law Barshas – lances Boski – a thin soft cotton cloth Beendi – and additional bullock yoked to a cart Balta – a large iron vessel to carry soil Baba – holy-man Bar – a track of cultivated land now in Pakistani Punjab Bazurag – an old man Baba Ji – grand-father Bhua Ji – father’s sister Bibi Ji – mother Bakra Bulauna – a cry meant as a challenge Bhagat Bani – a portion of the Sikh scripture authored by Hindu/Muslim holy-men Beas Wale – the Radha Swami sect (with headquarters on the bank of the Beas river in Punjab) Bhuri – a thin blanket Balti – a bucket Baghiarhan Wali – of wolves Bhai Ki Lugai – brother’s wife (a word of taunt)

Chacha – father’s younger brother Chachi – father’s younger brother’s wife Charpoi – a cot Chadar – a bed sheet Chowka – an open kitchen Chowki – a police post, a low stool Chakkar viehu – a battle line formation a complicated situation Chullah – a mud stove Chamatkar – a miracle Changa – good Chaubara – an upper floor Chanakiya Neeti – a clever policy Chola – a long robe worn by holy men Chhajja – a balcony Chunni – a head covering for women Chamar – a person of the cobbler caste Chahta – a beating Churidar – tight trousers with folds Charhdi Kala – an upbeat mood Changiarha – an eber Coolies – porters Chullah-Chowka – kitchen household Chola – a yellow covering of Nishan Sahib (a high pole bearing the Sikh flag) Dada Ji – grand-father Dadi Ji - grand-mother Diwan - a Sikh stage, a function at which religious songs are sung and speeches are delivered Dera – an encampment, usually where a Saint lives Deodi – a porch Dupatta – a head covering for women Dhab – a big pool of fresh water Dhadis – bards Dumna – a honey comb Dal – a group, a political outfit Dalit – a member of low caste Dharna – a protest sitting Dug-dugi – a small hand held drum to make music Daleel – a lawyer’s argument, a plea Dangans – canes Danda – a thick stick Danka – a drum used to draw attention Dhobi-patrha – a wrestling trick, a cleaver move Dhadi-Jatha – a team of bards Deredars – members of an encampment, followers Dhaba – an eating place Dadi Ma – grand-mother Darshan – seeing face to face Dal-Roti a cheap and simple food Daal – a curry made of pulses Dharamsala – a guest house for travellers Darbar – a court Diwansthan – a religious stage Dola/Doli – planquin Dastar – a turban, a turban presented to an heir as symbol of inheritance Dhudds – small hand held drums used by bards Dharan – a chronic stomachache Daan – alms, endowment

Easabgol – a vegetable product used to ease bowl movement

Faujan – armies (a name by which the members of a martial sect (Nihangs) of Sikhs refer themselves Fateh – victory Fateh Diwas - victory day Fifty – a narrow strip of cloth worn around the fore-head below the turban to hide the hair Fallah – a contraption made of straw and wooden poles dragged over ears of wheat to thresh it Faqir – a menicant Granthi – priest Gutka – a small booklet containing important composition of Sikh scripture Gurgani – text of the Sikh scripture Gatra – a cloth harness to hang the sword Gurgabi – a handmade pair of leather shoes Gurmukhi – Punjabi script Guru – One of the ten Sikh teachers, not used to refer to Guru Granth Sahib, the Sikh scripture treated as the Guru Gulli-Danda – a country game played with a stick and a small six inches piece of wood sharpened at both ends Guru’s Langar – free kitchen in the name of the Guru Golak – money box placed in Gurdwara for the devotees to drop their money offerings Gatka – Sikh martial art Gursikh – Guru Ji’s disciple Gurmat – Guru’s teachings Gurmat Sangeet – Sikh religious music Gurughar – Guru’s house Gaddi – the post, the seat Giani – Sikh scholar Ghumiar – a pot maker, a member of the pot-makers caste Garbar – disterbance Guru Granth Sahib – the Sikh scripture, the eternal teacher of the Sikhs Gadar – anarchy, a terrorist movement to over through the British rule of India Guru Ram das – the Fourth Sikh teacher Garhvi – a round vessel of about a liter of capacity Garhvai – a hanger on, a follower Ghas Phoos – Grass (referring to vegetarian food as a taunt) Guru’s Nagari – the city of the Guru, i.e. Amritsar Guru Maharaj – Guru, the king Gurdhams – Sikh religious places Goal Pagg – round turban Gurpurab – Sikh religious festival Gur – Jaggrey Gur Maryada – tenets of the Sikh faith, rules of behaviour for a Sikh Guru-Khalsa – the army of the pure created by the Guru himself

Haveli – a cattle pen, an out-house Harimandir Sahib – the Golden Temple at Amritsar Halwai – a sweet make Howda – a sitting box tied over the back of an elephant Hooka – a smoking pipe Hind – India Hakeem – a country doctor using herbs as treatment Hind Sarkar – the government of India Havildar – a police sargeant Hukamnama - a religious edict

Ijlas – a meeting, a conference Ishnan – a ritual bath Inqulab - a revolution

Jado-Jehid – a struggle, a fight Jaloos – a procession Jathedar – leader Jathedari – leadership Jathere – a place commemorating the ancestor of a tribe or a clan Japu Ji Sahib – a composition of Guru Nanak Dev Ji, the most important daily recitation of a Sikh Jwar – Maize Ji – Sir Jatt – peasant – husbandman, a member of agriculturist tribes of the Punjab Janam Sakhi – biography of Guru Nanak Dev Ji Jaap Sahib – a composition of Guru Gobind Singh Ji praising God and his attributes Jarnail – a general Jagir – a land-grant Jhagga – a shirt Jalsa – a rally Jhagga-Pajama – a loose shirt and trousers Jatka – simple, uncomplicated Jhall-Wallallian – rambling talk Jhola – a bag Jal-pani – refreshment

Kotwal –Incharge of a police-station Kaida – a language primer Kamar-Kassa – a cloth tied around the waist as prepration for action Kachha – drawers Kabar – grave Kafir – a non-believer Kissa – a heroic poem Kothi – a bunglaw Kaumi – national, of a community Kalyug – the black age Kismat – destiny Kakars – symbols of the Sikh faith worn bh baptised Sikhs Khah-Mkhah – busybodies Keski – a small turban Kachi Lassi – a solution of water and milk Kirtan Sohila - last ritual recitation of the Sikhs before going to sleep, the end Khitcharhi – rice cooked with pulses Kachhaira – drawers Kathavachic – a story-teller, as commentator Karha – an iron bangle Kharach – expenditure Kurta – a long shirt Khuh – a well, a persian wheel Khuhi – a small well Koh – a mile Kirtan – religious singing Kutcha – impaved Khalsa Raj – the Sikh rule Katha – a commentary Kali Billi – a black cat Karmandal – a small bowl with handle carried by mendicants Kirtania – a religious singer Kar-Sewak – voluntary worker Khattri – a member of the warrior caste Khali Chhunchhuna – a play thing

Langar – free kitchen Loi – a thin fine textured blanket Langoti – loin-cloth Leerha – a head covering for women Lilari – a dyer Laudha-wela – late afternoon Lassi – butter milk Lallu-Panju – people of no importance

Muglai Phorha – a tumour Matha takna – to bow one’s head in respect of Guru Ji Maharaj – an empror, Guru Ji Manja – a cot Mai – mother, and old woman Maryada – rules of behavour, correct ceremonial Mahan Kosh – a great book of grammer Majhail – a native of the land in Punjab, between the rivers Ravi and Beas Marhi – a grave, a tomb Manji – a cot Momin – a Muslim Mirasi – a gypsy Mazhabi – a Sikh convert from the untouchable caste Meerzada – a gypsy Maltas – oranges Mukhtarnama – a power of attorny Manglacharan – a stanza in the opening page of Guru Granth Sahib giving the atteributes of God Maya – materialism, a love of worldly attractions Mama Ji – maternal uncle Maha Punjab - the greater Punjab Maha Purakh – a great man Mukh Ragi – the Chief singer, the leading singer Makki – corn Massia – the new moon day Morcha – a front Mundheer – a mob of young boys Majha – the land in Punjab, between the rivers Ravi and Beas Makkai – corn Mohtbar – a responsible village elder Malwa – the part of Punjab below the river Satluj Mukhvak – the guiding stanza for the day taken from Guru Granth Sahib Mahant – a priest Mela – a fair Makhia – a small honey-comb Maghi-mela – a fair in the middle of winter Mehfil – a bout of intertainment

Nanak Shahi – of the age of Guru Nanak Ji Numberdar – the village revenue collector Nitnem – the daily recitation of scripture Nana Ji – maternal grand-father Nihang Singh – a member of the martial sect of Sikhs called the Nihang Naib-Subedar – a Junior Commissioned Officer of the Indian Army Nirmal Bhau – an attitude of showing respect Nishan Sahib – a mast bearing the Sikh flag Nihang Jatha – a band of Nihangs Nitnemi – a daily reciter of Sikh scripture Neki – kindness Naam – God’s name

Prat – a large mettle tray for kneading flour Panj Piare – the five beloved Sikhs of Guru Ji Panchayat - the village council Pradhan Ji – the president Panga – unnecessary trouble Peer – a Muslim holy man Palki – Palanquin Pakki Lassi – buttermilk Parikarma – foot-path around a Gurdwara Panch – member of a village council Punnu – a legendry lover Patla Chhapparh – a shallow pond Purhi – a fried wheat cake Pardesi – a foreigner Purlo – the apocalyse Parcharak – a preacher Prabandhic – in-charge Parshada – bread, food Pet Puja – appeasement of hunger Padshah – king Panth – the Sikh community Pind – village Panj-Granthi – a booklet containing five compositions of the Sikh scripture Pasa – a side Pathi – recitater of scripture Path – recitation of scripture Punjabi Suba – East Punjab Panthic – of Sikh community Pandal – the audience ground Patwari – a revenue record-keeper Punjaban – a Punjabi woman PEPSU – Patiala and Eastern Punjab States Union Pradeshak – provincial, of a state Parnala – drain pipe of a roof Patwar Khana – an office where revenue record-keeper sits Phulka – bread, Roti Prantha – a fried bread or Roti

Rumal – a hand kerchief Rehras – evening recitation Ragi – a religious singer Ragi-Jatha a team of religious singers Roti – unleavened bread Registan – sandy desert Rabb – God Roti-wela – meal-time Rehrha – a mule cart Raula-Rappa – noise Rajya-Sabha – Council of states (equavalent of the House of Lords in U.K.) Rumalas – a decorated cloth covering of Guru Granth Sahib Ravan – an ancient king of Sri Lanka who fought with Lord Rama Sadh Sangat – religious congregation Sikh Panth – the Sikh nation Sri Darbar Sahib – the Chief Sikh pilgrimage centre at Amritsar in Punjab Sri Guru Granth Sahib – the Sikh scripture treated as the Guru Santhia – exposition Shudh – pure Shardhanjli Smaroh – a function to honour the dead Sarangi – a stringed musical instrument Sansar – the world Sehra – a head decoration for a bridegroom Sabji – vegetable dish Sassi – the beloved of Punnu a legendary lover of Punjab Satguru – the true teacher Siana – a healer Chhahwela – breakfast time Shabad Sarup – a word symbolising God Shabad – a holy verse Sant Smaj – a community of Saints Smadh – a tomb Singhni – a Sikh wife Sharbat – a cooled sweet drink Singh Sahiban – the heads of the five Sikh Shrines and the Chief priest of Sri Darbar Sahib Safarnama – a travel book Satyug – the age of truth Sarpanch – the head of a village council Sukhasan – the resting place of Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji Sikhi Daan – the gift of Sikh religion Smagam – a function Sran – a guest house Shudh Pathi – a pure reciter Sardar – a chief Somras – alcohal Sajjan- a friend Sewa – service Sewadar – a servant Sutna – a loin-cloth Sua – an irrigation canal Siropa – an honour Sakhi – a story Shaheed – a martyr Sant Mahapursh – a great saint Shaheedi Samelan – a function held in honour of martyrs Shagun – a gift on auspicious occasions Sangeet – music Sadh – a saint Suba - a state/province Sandhu – wife’s sister’s husband Sant – a saint Senji – a fodder crop Sadhu – a saint Sharika – clan Samat – the year of the Hindu Calender Sardar Ji – a title of respect for Sikhs Sangat – congregation Sat Bachan - whatever you say is true Satyagrahi – a peaceful revolutionary, one who fights for truth Sarkari – of government Sarb Hind – All India SGPC – Shiromani Gurdwara Prabandhic Committee Satahrveen – the function held on the 17th day of a person’s death Sahiban – Sirs Shakahari – vegetarian Sardari - leadership

Tu – you Taya/Taya Ji – father’s elder brother Tuk – a verse Thanedar – a police inspector Dhibri Tight – to put in to a difficult situation Thugs – cheaters Tehsil – a revenue sub-division of a district Thanewale – the policemen in a police station Tuna-Taman – witch craft Tibba – a small sandy hillock Tunda lat – Lord Hardinge, the English governor-general of India who had lost an arm Tehsildar – the chief revenue officer of a Tehsil Takhata – the five Sikh spiritual seats Trolla - a trailer Tara-meera – a medicinal plant Upperli Kamai – bribe money Ull – a family sobriquet Ucha Pul – a high bridge, the Bhandari Bridge at Amritsar Uch Atma – a great soul Vidiala – school Vidwan – a scholar Vaar – a heroic poem Vehrhka – a young bull Vaid/Vaid Ji – a doctor of herbal medicine Vikhian – a discourse Vilaiti – European or American Vilait – Europe/America Vilait Vasi – an Indian living in Europe/America Vaddi - the large Vasika Navis – a writer of revenue documents Vishav – the world Vedas – ancient Hindu scriptures Waheguru Ji Ka Khalsa, Waheguru Ji Ki Fateh – Sikh greeting; meaning: the Sikh nation belongs to God; it is He who bestows victory on it Waheguru – The great Guru; God Yogis – Hindu saints who have renounced all worldly things Yudh – a war Yug - Purush – a great man who symbolises the greatness of an age Zafarnama – an epistle of victory Janab – Sir Zindabad – long live! Zinda-Shaheed – a live martyr

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