A Biographical Sketch of JODH SINGH

by his daughter Dr SURJIT KAUR

SARDAR JODH SINGH MEMORIAL TRUST (Regd.) Deep House, 4-Green View, Patiala. 199^

Imprimis

The life story of Sardar Jodh Singh is a saga of success of a self-made man surviving all the accidents, all the time one would come across in the process of seeking pasture anew in his favourite fields of activity as an educationist, broadcaster (AIR), theologian and a social reformer, all rolled into one. To many of us and his old students and friends he became a living legend during his life time. Some of his old colleagues found him going stronger even after his retirement from All India Radio after twenty five lurbulant years of selfless and dedicated service to the nation as a whole and to the and ’s cultural heritage in particular; whether any of us would live like Man-the-man, facing the ups and downs half as cheerful as he did all these years.

Human in his assessment, humane in his approach, undaunted in his courage of conviction, not afraid of treading a lonely path in pursuit of his ideals, embroiled in all pervading patriotic outlook - supported by unquestionable integrity as he was - Sardar Jodh Singh - was very young amongst literary veterans and a veteran among young literati . A globe trotter as he was himself, his family represents a mini international family of man. As a crusader and promoter of Sikh ethos and culture he deserved widest possible acclaim from the ‘Sikh Jagat’ His efforts to popularise the message of Guru’s bani through the media of Sangeet, his sincerity of purpose, enlightened approach and dedication are the facts which had won him a niche in the hearts of his friends.

S. Jodh Singh had a strong and abiding conviction that religion is the mainspring of human life. He held that a human beign ought to be perpetually striving to overcome his innate propensity as to put himself at the service of mankind. He believed in the reality of ‘Karma’ and gave it a special meaning of an ethical ‘bank account’ in which the balance is constantly being changed by fresh credit or fresh debit entries during a human being’s psychosomatic life on earth.

This volume deals with the account of S. Jodh Singh’s life and time. As a tribute to the person < for his perennial love for Gurmat Sangeet some essays on the subject have been included. These essays, I trust, point to vast wealth of knowledge that await the attention of the interested 'v scholars and lovers of ‘ Sangeet’. i !•

t :. October 9,1994. Inderjit Singh Patron -t S. Jodh Singh Memorial Trust, (Regd.) i • Patiala. r •

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I 19 ■»■ ■ * ■_ : i- ■ -.'■ ■ Foreword

Sardar Jodh Singh (1911-93) was one of those rare personalities of this century the like of which have appeared but rarely on the sacred soil of the Punjab. As a matter of fact he represented all that is best in Sikh culture. He was a product of those fruitful times when was re-emerging with full force due to the Sikh Renaissance generated by Singh Sabha Movement late in the nineteenth century. He was born in 1911 when the was beginning to rediscover its glorious past. The great of this period - whether in political, religious or cultural fields- were fired with single aim of bringing back to the Panth its lost glory.

Sardar Jodh Singh belonged to that small group of devotees who dedicated their lives to the field of education and culture. He was a prominent figure amongst educationists of western Punjab who worked with dedication in the service of the youth in some of these Sikh institutions. He belonged to that group which is now practically extinct; who worked not for money but under religious compulsions. The result was that Sardar Jodh Singh and the like of him produced in these institutions such men of zeal and genius who helped in the reconstruction of the Punjab after partition. He himself continued to work in the new environment with the same attitude on life.

As a Senior Program mer^ All India Radio, he helped recreate live interest in Sikh religion and culture by producing Sikh- oriented programmes such as frequent Sangeet Sammelans, running commentaries on some important Sikh functions etc. He was also responsible for producing many Gurbani LPRs. He did all this great work quietly and honorarily. I had the honour of watching him work from close quarters. My admiration and respect for him grew everytime I met him.

As a matter of fact he possessed such a charming and irresitible personality that he could practically hypnotise with his love and affection all those who came in contact with him. I never heard him speak ill of anyone. From his mouth came only things positive. He was indeed a true Gursikh.

I take this opportunity of thanking many of his friends and admirere who have joined hands in producing this tribute to him. Besides his children - Dr. Surjit Kaur, Mrs. Satnam Kaur, Mrs. Manjit k Kaur, S. Harjit Singh, S. Jagjit Singh and S. Harcharan Singh including their families. I should like in particular to thank Dr. Inderjit Singh, Dr. Gursharan Singh, Mrs. Dan Kaur, Sardar Brijinder Singh Hamdard and one of his pupils Sardar K.S. Raju, IAS (Retd.) who have all helped in producing this Volume which I hope will continue to inspire coming generations of our youth.

Gurcharan Singh (Chairman) S. Jodh Singh Memorial Trust, (Regd.) Patiala.

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v > . 1 n J PREFACE

Thanks to S. Jodh Singh’s intimate relation with Prof Gurcharan Singh and his elder brother late Prof. Gurbachan Singh Talib that we came to know of him. S. Jodh Singh’s memorable career as an educationist, theologian and social worker or as a programme executive w'ilh A.I.R. was imbued with ideals at once pure, transparent and full of fragrance. It was this that took possession of him in his early life, which grew with his growth and strengthened with his strength. His dedication towards the assigned job is a fact which has inspired number of his students, fellow colleagues, friends and family memebers. His gift of five long playing records of ’s bani, Guru Teg Bhadur s bani and Baba Farid’s verses are the testimony of hard work and his meticulous care for details. With this bounty in our hand we can visualise in him a musician and theologian who seems to understand and obey the melodious rhythm in its complete serenity and absolute sanctity. His dictum "real recitation of the shabad is performed through words, mind and actions" is amply translated in these L.P.Rs. His personality, as expressed through his aims and objects and achievemnets of the institutions he had created and fostered shows him singularly as the great lover of humanity and culture. S. Jodh Singh was full of grace, dignity and glow. By reason of his good habits he remained active, alert and assiduons in the discharge of his numerous self imposed duties, almost to the last days of his life, which was a valuable asset to the ‘Sikh Jagt’ particularly. Tennyson must have had in his mind eye some one of the type represented by S. Jodh Singh Ji when he visualined him in his "In Memoriam" in these inspiring lines:- ‘Some divinely-gifted man Whoes life in low estate began, And on a simple village green, Who breaks his birth’s invidious bar, And grasps the skirts of happy chance, And breaks the blows of circumstance, Who makes by force his merit known, And moving up from high to higher, Becomes on fortune’s crowning hope, The pillar of a people’s hope, The centre of their heart’s desire. Such, indeed, was Sardar Jodh Singh as we knew him. Of the world-wide tributes paid to S. Jodh Singh after he passed away in Oct,1993 full of years and honours, we shall not hesitate to say "His contribution towards Gurmat Sangeet, Education, Sikh Theology, Radio Broadcasting, etc., deserve a special commendation by the society. After his death it was the desire of his friends to give an expression to their affection and respect for his momory in shape of some suitable memorial. To realise it a Memorail Trust was created, with the blessing of S. Inderjit Singh and efforts of Prof. Gurcharan Singh, Sardar K.S.Raju I.A.S.(Rtd.) Principal Dan Kaur, S. Darshan Singh Kohli, S. A.S. Grewal, Dr. Manjit Singh Calcutta, S. Dilbir Singh,

5 S. B.S. Kumar S. Pritam Singh Q.C., Prof. Pritam Singh and other friends. This book is the result of the trust’s endeavour towards promoting the subject of Gurmat Sangeet which was very dear to S. Jodh Singh. We will be failing in our duty if we don’t record the names of friends who helped us to do this volume. We are particularly grateful to Dr. Gurnam Singh lor his guidance, to MS Surjit Kaur for the biographical sketch she has so nicely etched, to Sumira Kaur lor the preparation ol the manuscript, to Sh. Neeraj Khana for typing the articles, to S. Narinder Singh lor seeing through the proofs in the press. Page design file checking are the work of Mr. Vijay Mohan Goyal. The financial support of the friends and family members of S. Jodh Singh is gratefully acknowledged. The most enthusiastic acknowledgement must be reserved for Prof. Gurcharan Singh for his constant inspiration.

, Oct 9, 1994 Gursharan Singh

\ Jagir Singh (Editors)

♦ m.

6 A NOTE TO THE READERS

When the sun was going down on the evening of October 21, 1993, hundreds of men, women, and children were walking out of the Gurudwara Sahib, Guru Nanak Mission Hospital in Jalandhar, with brimful eyes, having said farewell to a man they had learned to love and respect, the man they used to turn to for help and for guidance, every time they stood at cross roads. That loving father and mentor, had been summoned by his Guru in his heavenly abode. My sister Satnam, my brother Harjit, and my daughter Ranju (who left her one year old son with her mother-in-law),flew from the USA to be with Papaji’s family in Jalandhar, rather, his whole family in Punjab. The family was stunned, rendered helpless by this tragedy when we least expected it to knock at our doors. As we walked back home from the Gurudwara after the Antim Ardas (the last prayer in the loving memory of Sardar Jodh Singh; we were escorted by Prof. Gurcharan Singh Ji(his life long friend),Prof.Gursharan Singh Ji, Dr. Inderjit Singh Ji and others. We stood in the spacious lawn looking at the flowers, and trees, and rare plants, sowed and nurtured by the industrious hands of this rare man Sardar Jodh Singh. And I remembered my father’s words he uttered unwittingly one afternoon as we came down the stairs of the backside apartment, which he built especially for me and my library of books we had accumulated over the years. He said, "A loved one takes leave from this world, you bleed and shed tears, rest of the world goes on in its own merry way." How true were his words, but not quite. We lost our beloved father, we sit here and bleed, and shed tears of love and long for the good old days, when we basked in his love, and felt secure in his strength; but the rest of the world also wept, and the sun halted for a moment to salute this noble man, while the long shadows joined hands to caress his last remains; handful of memories, countless eyes of men and women employed in the institutions he built with his toil of years, the institutions he nurtured with his life-blood, and when they stood sturdy and tall to weather any storms, he walked away from each one, like a "Karam Yogi" or like a builder, a carpenter, who builds palatial home for other to live in. That evening, we thought, would never end. Prof.Gurcharan Singh looked at the rose bushes planted by this man, tended by his love of nature, and brought to full bloom under his artistic vision, and now they were limping, and the flowers were withering away, leaves drifting in search of the one who breathed life into them, by tending hands and his eyes melting like morning stars. Prof. Gurcharan Singh as stately and strong a man he is, could not bear the sight, and roared like a wounded lion in pain,"These plants need water, they are Sardar Jodh Singh’s Offsprings, make sure to take care of them." "Yes sir," said my brother Jagjit, and walked away to sprinkle water on these plants and flowers, to comfort them in the painful separation from the one who once had his life’s play in the confines of this household. The household which once blossomed in his love, where days were filled with music, where children played with abandon, where scholars came and were served by the loving hands of our mother-Sardarni Ram Kaur; where guests, regardless of social and economic status, were treated alike, with respect and feliowship, and when they left, they looked back to pay their respects to this rare Sikh of Guru Nanak, who thrived on alleviating the suffering of all those who walked through the gate of his spacious but humble home. He used to feel rejuvenated by the company of his soulmates, who came today to share their loss with each other and with us, who always though our father was ‘immortal’.Dr. Inderjit Singh said, "It feels like someone has snatched away something, when we were least afraid..." Prof. Gurcharn Singh took us aside,all of Sardar Jodh Singh’s sons and daughters conducted a meeting, he assigned tasks to each one of us. His old student and now Professor and Head of the Department of Punjab Historical Studies, Prof. Gursharan Singh, was appointed the editor for the book to be released within a year to mark the anniversary of the fateful day - Oct. 13,1993, when his friend Sardar Jodh Singh v/ent away in yonder worlds. Prof. Gurcharan Singh turned to me, and said, You will write your Papa’s biography." The plan was real and, during a subsequent meeting, our lives took on a different meaning. We all had a task, and no matter how deprived we felt in our loss, we had to set our records straight, after all we had been enriched by the hard works of this noble man, and we

7 must share our riches with the rest of the world. This is the hardest part, and perhaps the only remedy 1 to our ailing souls and wounded hearts. As I sit here to write about the life and works of Sardar Jodh Singh, the father, friend and mentor that he was to me and my siblings and their families, I feci humbled by my limited vision, and my inability to comprehend the large measures in which Papaji possessed the qualities of a man with his feet on the ground, but his vision of a prophet, his heart so big as to imbibe love for all who crossed his way, his limbs which knew no fatigue or old age, I shudder in fear.I pray to Guru Nanak to give me the strength and give me the wisdom to recall and put down on paper, atleast a few precious memories of the man, who 1 had the privilege of knowing as my father. I do not believe a daughter can write the i biography of a man whose entire life was dedicated to public service, the man who never kept a record of all his achievements. A man so humble that he never sought office or put his name on his finished t tasks. Instead of writing about his public achievements, I would feel more comfortable in recording some 1 fond memories of Sardar Jodh Singh, as a householder i.e. as a husband, a father, a father-in-law, and perhaps as a friend too. , Considering time constraints, I will confine myself to writing about Papaji as I witnessed him at j home, in the company of some friends who became part of his family, and wherever possible give a , glimpse of his public life as it affected his family members. Writing about his childhood days and his | student life at Gujarnwala, Amritsar and Lahore will not be easy. Only those events which my late mother narrated to us, or he himself talked about sometimes, are available to describe the foundation of a if magnificent building - the many faceted personality that he was. Being the oldest child, I had the benefit 1 of witnessing my father in his youthful days, when he was in his early twenties, working in a remote ! village in Sargodha district (now in Pakistan). I may also be able to describe the family life of Sardar I Jodh Singh of All India Radio Jalandhar starting from 1948 up to 1961 when I left for the U.S.A. for 1 higher education. From then on my father and I developed a different bond, a bond of friendship, which was perhaps stronger than any other association I have had in my life. That friendship took roots in the years 1961-1967, during the years of study at Idaho and Washington State University, through a regular exchange of letters, which he had preserved in a thick file. When Papaji retired from AIR in 1969, he spent a significant part of his time with Ranju and me in Delhi, while he worked on LPs of Gurbani Kirlan, at the five hundredth anniversary of Guru Nanak Dev Ji’s Birthday and subsequently Baba Farid’s bani, Guru Teg Bahadur’s bani and Guru Ram Dass Ji’s hymns were set to music in the same ragas in which they were uttered by the authors. There I fvas always a reason for his visit to me. There was always a task to be performed, and that brought us J closer still. As the years went on, Papaji started working with a sense of urgency, and he did not retire from his profession, till the last day of his life. His visits to the USA were perhaps more challenging than he ever wanted to acknowledge. All this put together, will not be sufficient to do any justice to his life’s works. I propose, someone like Gurmeet Khanpuri should undertake this task which may Lake more than one year of full time research of Papaji’s writings, of the institutions he built, and the people he influenced during the course of his life. Although some space (about ten pages) has been set aside for Papaji’s writings to be published in this volume, it is hard to choose from hundreds of titles he had written during the course of his career, at the Radio, and as a free lance contributor to local newspaper daily Ajit. These writings can, later on, be published in two different volumes of Essays by Sardar Jodh Singh. So we have our work cut out for the next 2-3 years. In this volume, I intend to share with the readers, the memories of my father who has journeyed into Yonder worlds, and yet lives inside each heart he touched with his love and his wisdom. Surjit Kaur SARDAR JODH SINGH - A BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH

Sardar Jodh Singh was born on November 13, 1911 in the early hours. It was a full moon night and next door in the Gurudwara the entire village had gathered to celebrate Guru Nanak’s "Pavilar Aagman." There were festivities in the courtyard of the Gurudwara of village Jokalian, in District Gujrat, now in Pakistan. Sardar Jodh Singh was born after three sisters and there was a differerifce of 15 years between him and his eldest sister Veeran. Thus described the birth of her first son, my grandmother to my mother Sardami Ram Kaur, while I sat by her knee and listened on: "He was a radiant child, healthy, good-looking and quiet. He always looked into my eyes and smiled while I took him in my lap and churned the butter milk under the star studded sky. At that time, I recited Jap Ji,and then said a prayer,‘O , give long life to the offsprings of all mothers, and the same to this babe." My grandmother was very fond of telling us the unusual stories of her youthful days when her first born son, Jodh Singh, played in the courtyard while she doted on him. She also talked about the strange ways of her husband Sardar Sukha Singh, who could very well have been a hermit, always absorbed in prayer even when he went about his business, he sang Gurbani and told everyone around, not to waste even a moment of their lives, in forgetfulness of Him. Not only that he would go around inquiring about the well being of his neighbors, healing the sick with the touch of his hand on the forehead of the patient, while he recited Shabad Gurbani, everyday, he would bring home some wayfarers, to serve them and feed them. They could not escape his eager hospitality even if they were in a hurry to reach their destination may be a few miles away. Thus Sardar Jodh Singh was brought up in a home, where Gurbani was humming in his ears, and where his mother was cooking and feeding the family, friends* and strangers. When the father was at home, he would ask everyone to join him in his morning and evening prayers. He taught his son and had him read from at the tender age of eight. He taught him , which later became a passion of Sardar Jodh Singh and he worked to promote Kirtan in each Sikh home till the last day of his life. He received his early education in the village school, where he learnt Urdu, Math and Social Studies, but had to go to a boarding school to study further. His mother missed him so much that she composed songs in his memory and wept while doing her household chores. While her son, Jodh Singh was only ten years, she decided to find a bride for him. At the age of 12, Jodh Singh went through the marriage ceremony with the beautiful sister-in-law of his eldest sister Veeran. That beautiful bride, Bibi Ram Kaur, lived with her mother-in-law, only to join her in her longing to be with her son, who placed his education as his number one priority. That marriage, I was told by mother, was not consummated until alter Sardar Jodh Singh, my father, took up his first job as the headmaster of a middle school in Sargodha. My mother told me "even when your Papaji came home for summer vacation, he resisted any kind of private meeting with me. We were very much attracted to each other, but he always kept a physical distance." My mother never complained, and lived in her home as an obedient daughter-in-law. When Sardar Jodh Singh completed his high school education, there was a lot of pressure from the family to come back home, Lake care of the family business or even lake up a job and start a family. Even the beautiful bride Ram Kaur, could not allure him away from his love for learning. She waited patiently

9 while his mother walked many miles to go and have a glimpse of her son in the boarding house of a school iv*. As a student, Jodh Singh was able to gain the confidence and love of his teachers and fellow class mates. To quote one testimonial from his high school teacher, Sadhu Singh, "It gives me a pleasure to say that he was one of the best students...he endeared himself to all his teachers and school fellows with his sociable habits and cheerful disposition. I always found him obedient, honest, and truthful." Going through the certificates and credentials dating back to the 1920s and 1930s, one marvels at the consistency with which different people had given almost similar remarks about him. For example, He is a man of sterling worth and an excellent student. His moral character is above reproach. } During his student life, he studied hard, played a leading role in student affairs, and won many distinctions, but his real moments of fulfillment were those when he came in contact with spiritually enlightened, saintly persons. In one of his later writings he has described his meeting with Sant Attar Singh Ji in 1926, while he was still in high school, in the following words: "Meeting with Sant Attar Singh was a cosmic experience, even after 50 years of this meeting, it kindles light in my heart. It leads me on through the dark moments of my life...Sant Attar Singh Ji i| had not given me sermons nor did he try to explain anything to me - but I received something, I l! |: understood something. How it all happened I do not know. But I do know that what I received from him is still with me; it is my sustenance, a gift for my soul." "The only thing that I have done against my father’s wishes was to go to college" said Papaji later on in one of his evening discourses with his children. Having gone to college at Amritsar and Lahore against his family’s wishes, he never asked his father for any financial help. He tutored other students to pay for his room and board. He earned scholarships to pay for his tuition and it was in these years

III when he met his life long friend Sardar Santokh Singh, who was like his twin brother until he died in 1979. Sardar Santokh Singh came from one of the well known families of Gujranwala. Being the eldest ft son of a famous lawyer, Sardar Narain Singh, he was used to an easy way of life, and tried to share his life style with his friend Jodh Singh. He studied law at his father’s bidding, but learned to fly airplanes in his free time. Instead of pursuing his career as a lawyer, he joined civil aviation and retired as Controller of Aerodromes. Sardar Santokh Singh was not a very religious man, but became one in his friend Sardar Jodh Singh’s company. They stood by each other through thick and thin, and many significant happenings were shared by their families who became closer to each other than many blood relatives could have been. During his college days, Papaji gained the abiding love and affection of some of his teachers, especially Professor , Principal Jodh Singh, Professor Teja Singh and Bawa Harkishan Singh. His association with Prof. Sahib Singh later on blossomed into a creative alliance in scholarly works of B of. Sahib Singh undertaken at Papaji’s initiative. Prof. Sahib Singh, in his autobiography, has ^ fitt iwledged Sardar Jodh Singh as one of his best students, who was instrumental in getting Prof. Sahib ,:i%h io write a series of Radio talks from Jalandhar, which were later published as volumes of essays, 'f Saibat Da Bhala, Buraee Da Takra, etc. Loon completion of his studies and getting his BA with honors in 1931, Papaji took his teacher’s training at Lahore, and took over Khalsa Middle School in Chack 29,S.B. Sargodha, as the headmaster. Th. teaching career he undertook in 1932 was his cup of tea. He gave expression to his missionary zeal

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A; ill building that school into a unique institution of learning, which stood like a royal palace, built by the hard labor of Guru’s Sikhs, where children and youth, regardless of their parents’ social, economic, and even religious affiliations, found a haven where they received an education of the highest order; where they learned the language of the Gurus, as also the language of the empire of England, and the language of the poets like Mohammed Iqbal, who proclaimed Guru Nanak’s message in many of his Urdu poems. I was a student for 3 years in that school along with four other girls from our village in a class of over 60 students - Sikhs, Hindus, and Muslims. We all studied subjects e.g. History, Geography, Mathematics, and Divinity in addition to three different languages. Sitting in the classrooms, well furnished and well ventilated, where winds blew freely in from across the miles, our minds were stretched to visualize the charming variety of human race which awaited for us to claim our sphere of work and play. The same class rooms taught us the stories of the glorious past-our Sikh heritage, and Sikh, Hindu, and Muslim children alike memorized Gurbani and won prizes for learning the Wisdom of Guru Nanak’s Jap Ji and ’s . Many Muslim students had won prizes for having committed to memory Jaap Sahib and Savayyas while other students were still learning the Jap Ji of Guru Nanak. That school was started and nourished by the life blood of this one man - Sardar Jodh Singh, who came to the village Chack 29 S.B. of Sargodha District as the headmaster of a middle school in 1932 at the age of twenty and a half. At that time, the school comprised of a few rooms, dark and dingy with mud walls, and thatched roofs which leaked on the students during the Monsoon days. When Sardar Jodh Singh took over this school in 1932, he came in this profession with open eyes. Many of his contemporaries had tried to discourage him, some felt sorry for him to have opted for an austere way of life in a remote village when he could easily have lound a well paying job in an urban setting. He knew that his destiny was beckoning him, he knew also that he would have to make some difficult resolves with himself and stick to them, if he wanted to accomplish the mission ot his life. These resolves, as he put down in black and white were as lollows: 1. By selecting this professions as the headmaster, I have taken on an austere way of life where I will have to limit my desires and my needs; my wife and I will live in simplicity which will inspire my students, my colleagues, and the villagers alike. I will set an example for them. 2. I will not preach, or teach my students anything, which does not reflect my own way ot life. 3. I will strictly follow Guru Nanak’s teachings to attain success in my profession as also to tide over the difficulties in the path I have chosen at this young age. 4. I will, without fail, attend Gurudwara every morning and, in the company of my students, sing Gurbani Kirtan before I start my day’s work. 5. I will never ask for personal favours from any of the School Board Members, or from any of my colleagues. 6. I will serve this institution with all the strength in my body and soul. He records with great satisfaction, that his prayer to Guru Nanak, gave him the strength to keep his resolves, and the end result was the creation of an institution, which was, among others, visited by Sir Sunder Singh Majithia and Sardar Ujjal Singh and lauded by many distinguished personalities who chanced to meet him, and witness the "wonder of human possibilities of selfless determination and dedicated efforts spurred by Guru Nanak’s love and his universal message.

11 In 1934 when the District Sessions Judge visited this school, he felt impelled to say something about the man behind its incredible success. Having paid a glorious tribute to this school, he concluded his letter thus: " I am very doubtful if this institution that he (Jodh Singh) has so laboriously built up can afford to lose him just at present, but I cannot help saying that he needs a bigger place to give full scope to his talents." Instead of going to a bigger place, to give full scope to his talents, Sardar Jodh Singh expanded the scope in this very institution. He travelled far and wide to collect funds for its new building and the boarding house for the students, with sprawling lawns and the vast gardens which surrounded the uniquely elegant structure of this school, the likes of which I have never seen anywhere, not even in the big cities of Punjab. During his tenure as the headmaster, Jodh Singh took his students with him to perform marriage ceremonies in remote villages. Riding their bicycles, carrying their harmoniums and tablas, wading through muddy paths and dusty roads, this of the Khalsa High School, Chack 29 S.B., was doing something which was unheard of before. In return, this Jatha was creating a renaissance, spreading the gospel of Guru Nanak, creating an awareness about the unique institution and getting together an assembly of volunteers committed to the education of a younger generation. In his youthful zest for life, in his idealistic dream for the youth of Punjab, the headmaster Jodh Singh had to suffer a lot. He did all that without a word of complaint. He records his achievements and the sacrifices he made so willingly and without any regrets: "I lived with my small family in a mud hut - a small bed room house, where I didn’t even have a water pump. I started working at a salary of 75 rupees per month and kept on working at the same salary for 13 years. I never asked for a raise. The school and the boarding house acquired modem structures, but I kept on living under the same thatched roof where I started as a young man of twenty and a half years. What I received in return was the contentment in a life of simplicity, and the love I received from my students and from the people in general became my life’s most prized possessions. The richness of the heart and the music of the soul that goaded me on, became instrumental in shielding me in moments of adversity and tragedy which struck my family and deprived me of everything I worked for and loved." Now, let me explain what he meant by this all too powerful expression of his tragic optimism about his eventful career, which ended at the time India rejoiced in having broken away from the chains of slavery on August 15,1947. The years from 1932-1947 were full of struggle and achievement. At home, Sardar Jodh Singh enjoyed the love and devotion of his wife Ram Kaur who intuitively understood his mind and stood like a rock behind him, never questioning him for the thorny path he undertook to fulfill his destiny. She agreed to live in a modest home, she also adopted a restricted life style where women lived in isolation, behind closed doors, looking after their families, while men folk tilled their lands or earned their livelihood for the family in any vocations available in their familiar surroundings in that village Chack 29, S.B, Sargodha. There was no medical center in the entire village. The sick were usually seen by an elderly man, Sunder Singh, who prescribed some powdered medicine wrapped in a piece of old newspaper. There was an elderly Muslim lady who looked after the gynecological problems of the women of the entire village. She also delivered the babies for all the women in the village, rich or poor. In cases of complications

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Digitized by Panjab Digital Lib ra x y jjw w ^ or mishaps, the village elders protected her and sometimes I marveled at the narrow escape my late mother had, when she developed infections after delivering each child in her hands. My mother also cooked and served the many unannounced guests which my father brought home: scholars, education experts and at times students who came from neighboring villages. Papaji also had to suffer the ill will and jealousy of some village leaders who felt threatened by his quiet and calm disposition, who interpreted his independent, self reliance as arrogance, and who deemed his popularity as a challenge for themselves. But in the long run, they also joined their village elders. Moved by his honesty and humble, unassuming disposition, they also joined him in his determined struggle to eradicate illiteracy, poverty and ignorance among the rural masses. Due to the obvious lack of medical care, my parents lost two children - a son, eldest in the family who died of small pox after days of suffering, and a daughter who died of a poisonous insect bite. Papaji spent very little time at home during the week. School and the boys’ hostel were the two buildings that claimed most of his time. He kept an eye on the students during the day at school, and at night he would take a round of the boarding house. Early in the morning he would go to the Gurudwara and join his students in the morning prayer and Kirtan. By 9 am, he would be seen at the school singing the morning prayer with the students "Sachay Meray Sahiba Kaun Janay Gun Teray." When he taught English poetry to the 9th and 10th grade students, they sat spellbound and listened to their headmaster, watching him change from a strict disciplinarian to a sensitive, gentle, warmhearted poet. In the evening when the sun went down, Papaji would be seen walking back home, occasionally turning back to take another glimpse of the school where the village youth was having their play in the vast playgrounds, and some were studying their lessons in their respective rooms in the boarding house. On his way back from school, Papaji would stop by to inquire about the health and well being of the village elders, sitting on sturdy cots under a Banyan tree. One day he saw one elder sitting on the cot on the right and the other on the extreme left of the village chawk. These two elders had an argument and were not on speaking terms with each other. Papaji did not speak to either of them. He walked through the middle of the street and quietly headed home. The next day, he took an alternate route to go home from school. The village elders became frustrated. Af^er waiting a week’s time, they sent a message to the Headmaster Sahib to stop by, to which Papaji responded, "If you two prominent village elders cannot make peace with each other, I do not wish to see either of you." The two elders gave up their tough stand and promised to become friends again, "if Headmaster Sahib would resume his earlier route on his way back home." There have been many such examples when he successfully resolved the differences between the families of landlords in the village S.B.29, Sargodha. At night, Papaji would read to us from children’s books - his favorite writer, I think, was Karam Singh Historian. During the summers, we all slept on the roof top of our small house. The neighboring family would also come and sit with us in the full moon night. Papaji read Kirtan Sohila to lull us to sleep. Monsoon months brought rain and cool breezes, and young girls got dressed in their colorful clothes and went out in groups to celebrate; they danced until after midnight in the full moon night, the men folk watching from a distance, joyfully, respectfully. Somehow, Papaji never allowed my sister Satnam and me to join the other girls in celebrations such as monsoon or even late night Giddha and singing at weddings. My mother, too, was contented to stay at home looking after the household chores.

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Diqitize^^^mBbDioT^^bm^^www^M^MbdiQWb^om During the months of monsoon, snakes and other poisonous creatures came out of their underground hideouts. I remember a 6 feet long snake climbed down from the ventilator of our only bedroom. A lot of people from the village came with bamboo sticks in their hands, struck heavy blows on the snake, which managed to escape. A wounded snake, they say, always comes back to Lake revenge. It did come back one night and bit my mother’s middle finger of her right hand while she slept under the vast blue skies on the roof top of our one bedroom mudhouse. She groaned in excruciating pain while her entire hand turned blue. She ran a high fever and the village ‘doctor,’ Sunder Singh, could not treat her with his powdered medicine (perhaps that was the only medicine he gave to one and all). A ‘Maandri’ was brought from a neighboring village, who recited some mantras and soaked my mother’s hand in a mixture of cold milk, water and some herbs. Within a week’s time, my mother’s hand started healing, her fever subsided, and she survived the snake bite. I tend to believe that Guru Nanak, and not the Maandri, saved her life. Papaji rarely took time off from school, even summer vacations were spent in the village, and the only time we went to Jokalian, our ancestral home, was when our uncle, Mehtab Singh (Papaji’s younger brother) got married. This uncle had been Papaji’s student in the same school where Papaji was the headmaster and village Nambardar’s son Salnam Singh was one oi his classmates. My uncle and Satnam Singh Bajwa, who later became a minister in Punjab, became good triends in school; they did not relish the hard discipline of the classroom and often got in trouble with their teachers. Papaji finally took them to task. I must say, Papaji was merciless with students when it came to punishment. When Satnam Singh sought sympathy at home, which he failed to get, he worked on his friend Mehtab Singh and persuaded him to join him in his plan to run away from home. It created a lot ot hue and cry in the village, and in school. But no one dared disrupt the school discipline. A month went by, Papaji himself went in search of the two students and finally found them at Lahore working as laborers. Satnam Singh Bajwa, later on used to talk with great pride about his student days, "Bari maar pai Headmaster Sahib pason" he would tell his friends and colleagues. On the other hand, students like Karam Singh Raju did so well that they became real models for other students, and later on, when they were at the peak of their career, did not hesitate to touch their headmaster’s feet publically. The neighboring villages too felt the impact of this educational institution which was becoming a center for learning for the youth of many villages in an area of many square miles. Papaji recruited volunteers from among his staff and students to promote Karam Singh Historian Library, started by him, to circulate books and newspapers to the surrounding villages. This novel idea was lauded as "a very admirable effort towards adult education," by the Deputy Commissioner of Sargodha. Papaji’s friend from college days, Sardar Santokh Singh, had been hearing about the transformation that Papaji was bringing about in the rural areas of Sargodha. One fine morning around 11 a.m. I saw Papaji rushing home with a wide grin on his face, "Santokh Singh is here, he came in his own aircraft, he landed at Bhagtanwala,..." he told my mother. The two friends had not seen each other for many years, but when they met, heroic hands grasped heroic hands, and they looked at each other and were speechless. My mother served them lunch, my father stood against the ladder made of bamboo sticks, as he looked at his friend playing with his children in that mud hut, and his joy knew no bounds. Together they went to the classrooms, and then they took a long walk in the rose garden behind the school. They said farewell to each other as if they had both arrived at new heights. Soon after, the bright yellow aircraft was seen hovering around our village in the skies; the village dwellers came out of their

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DTQTtize^^ania^DiQTta^b^i^^www^paniabdTqUTb^oiy homes, Ihe children ran out of their classrooms; they had never seen an airplane flying so low, the village had witnessed something of a miracle of science. In the summer of 1947, my brother Jagjit was born. He would not stop crying all night; my mother lay in pain, and Papaji carried the new born in his arms, pacing the floor, reciting Gurbani. My aunt had come from Jokalian to help out. There was fear in her eyes and her voice choked when she described her journey by train and by bus. Muslim communalists were targeting Hindus and especially Sikhs, death was hovering around, destruction and madness were spreading like wild fire. She decided to go back sooner than she had planned. My grandfather came to fetch her. He also brought with him their valuables, e.g. cash and gold, to hand over to my father, because Gujrat was predominately Muslim and they were afraid their homes would be looted. My grandfather even sought Papaji’s advice about leaving Gujrat for a safer place, e.g. Amritsar or Tarn Taran. But Papaji, as politically enlightened and well informed as he was, never expected that people would have to leave their homes, or there would be exchange of population on religious grounds. He requested my grandfather to go back to Jokalian and Lake back lakhs worth of gold and cash which he had brought with him. Soon after, people were leaving for East Punjab because Pakistan was believed to be only for Muslims, and Hindus and Sikhs were being slaughtered or turned out of their homes in West Punjab. We left Chack 29, S.B., at the request of Bibi Prabha, wife of Sardar Iqbal Singh of Chack 15, S.B. whose younger brother, Dr. Diwan Singh, was a professor at Khalsa College Amritsar. Dr. Diwan Singh, in his autobiography has recorded the significant role my father Sardar Jodh Singh had played in getting him employed by Sardar Sunder Singh Majithia. As the caravan passed by the school, Papaji kept looking back, until the sight disappeared and he looked at my mother and said "we had built this school brick by brick...." After many days and nights of travelling with the caravan of trucks, we arrived at Amritsar, Khalsa College. Prof. Diwan Singh’s residence was turned into a refugee camp. We slept on the floor and ladies cooked in huge pots and made rotis on a big skillet which was big enough for 8 and 10 rotis at a time. Children would go to the tube well in the college compound for their baths and women would wash their clothes at the same time. We were happy to be together and this was our first stay in Amritsar. We could not go to Darbar Sahib because of Hindu Muslim riots. Series of homes and shops were daily set on fire in the streets leading to the . We were hardly there for a week that one evening as Papaji sat alone on a charpoi in the lawn in front of the house we lived in; I went to him to find out why he sat there alone. He told me how the local Muslims had killed all the Hindus and Sikhs in the village Jokdlian. That my grandparents, my uncle Avtar Singh (who was barely 30 at the time), his wife and their 3 children,had been slaughtered in their own home by the Muslims who attacked the village - killing defenseless men, women, and children, and then ransacked their homes. The village Gurudwara, the Sikh homes which resounded with Gurbani in early hours each day, were laid desolate. Papaji lost weight, he wouldn’t talk, he wouldn’t eat, he carried with him the guilt for having given wrong advice to his father who had come to Chack 29 S.B. Sargodha only a few days before this all happened. Those were the saddest days of our lives. With a family of five children ranging from 2 months to 12 years of age, my parents had nothing to fall back on; no bank balance, no home, no belongings. All was lost to Pakistan. Hardest to bear was the loss of life. Papaji could not forgive himself for having sent his father back to village Jokalian. How naive he was in thinking that the religious frenzy which had led to the creation of Pakistan would not touch the simple folks, Muslims, Hindus and Sikhs, who had lived together like good neighbors. Our host, Professor Diwan Singh, his brother Iqbal Singh, and other friends and relatives who had always looked to Papaji for help and advise fell helpless. They didn t know how to get him out of the mental depression which had suddenly overtaken their beloved "Headmaster Sahib as he was addressed by every one of them. My mother wailed patiently and one day she took all ol us outside in the lawn where Papaji sat, with his forehead in his left hand. He cast a loving glance at his family walking towards him. We sat around for a long time while our mother talked in a soft, loving tone, sometimes pointing to the little one, the 2 months old son Jagjit. The following day, Papaji joined everyone for breakfast and lunch. He wrote a few letters, as if plans were underway to retrieve what remained. All these days, he did his Nit-Nem and, in addition, started reciting Sukhmani every morning, the routine he maintained until the last days of his life. The person who managed to sweep him olf his lcet in this moment ol crisis was his beloved friend Sardar Santokh Singh. As he got the news, he Hew trom Wellington Air Station, New Delhi. Immediately gave Papaji an assignment to work at Raja Sansi, Amritsar airport, not so much for the meager salary, but to get his mind off the "dreadful things that happened in the recent past." ^de told Papaji how he tried to rescue us from Sargodha. His own aircraft was too small, so he booked seats in another plane and sent radio messages which Papaji never received. We moved to Raja Sansi. Our aunt Veeran and her family also arrived from Pakistan and we all stayed in a comfortable house provided by Sardar Joginder Singh of Raja Sansi. One evening, as we sat around after Rehras (the evening prayer), Papaji told us the story of a British pilot of a Dakota aircraft which rescued over a hundred Hindus and Sikhs lrom a refugee camp in Mianwali in the newly created Pakistan. This pilot, said Papaji, had the audacity to collect 1,000 rupees from each passenger as "the air fare," when these refugees needed every penny they had managed to bring to this country to start a new life. When Papaji confronted the pilot with the lact that the government of India had deployed aircrafts to rescue Hindus and Sikhs form Pakistan and that no fare was to be charged, he changed his tone, "But what do you want?" he said to Papaji, as if he was making an offer to the airfield supervisor to share the booty! Papaji, on the other hand, was determined to see that each one of the passengers got his money back from this while pilot who had squeezed out from these innocent people their lifetime’s savings for having rescued them from "death". Papaji refused to let him fly out of the airfield of Raja Sansi, until he returned the money he had collected from these passengers, to them and not to him. Finally, the pilot went in, brought the bag full of currency notes, and distributed them back to the passengers. Then Papaji gave him the written orders to undertake his next flight, and the Dakota plane disappeared in the sky. At that time, Papaji’s heart leapt with joy and satisfaction for having brought back hope in the lives of all these refugees who had treaded on the sacred soil of Amritsar after their long ordeals since they were rendered homeless by the creation of a new country, Pakistan. Papaji perhaps never found out why he was transferred to New Delhi, Wellington Air Station almost immediately after this historic event, when a British employee in India had to undo his evil deeds publically, at the firm orders from a local employee who was new to the business of civil aviation and rescue operations.

16 This was the beginning of a new life for our family. Papaji started going to work in the same office wiffi Uncle Santokh Singh who was the Controller of Aerodromes, and Papaji, a mere employee. The six months stay at Wellington Air Station gave Papaji an opportunity to look for an appropriate job as also to heal his wounds in the constant company of his friend Sardar Santokh Singh. Uncle Santokh Singh’s home was thrown open to us, where we came and went as we pleased. His wile Sheila and daughters Rani and Surjit seemed to enjoy our company. The two families developed strong emotional ties which only death did undo. We became cousins and nephews and nieces. Papaji used to go for a walk in the mornings, do his Nit-Ncm, and then eat something for breakfast. He carried his lunch in a tiffin carrier in order to spend the day at work. Uncle Santokh Singh, however, would send for Papaji to join him for lunch in his office. Papaji would refuse, "you are the boss, and I am one of your many employees. I will sit and eat with my colleagues." Later on, when Papaji felt he had to cut corners to balance his monthly budget at home, he invited my brother Harjit to join him for his morning walks. He asked him to bring a shoulder bag with him. As they returned from their morning walk in the jungle which surrounded the Wellington Air Station at that time, Harjit’s shoulder bag was filled with fuel wood my father had chopped off from the remains of trees which had already been cut in the process of clearing the jungles to add to the habitat. Uncle Santokh Singh never found out about the creative ways in which my parents could manage their monthly budget and still come out on top. Among others, Papaji had sent an application for the job of a program Assistant advertised by the All India Radio. When he was called for an interview, he wore his usual Chooridar Pajama and black sherwani. He looked strikingly handsome in that outfit. But while he was silling in the reception area waiting to be called in, some young candidates dressed in Western suits looked at him and whispered to each other, "This Bhaiji is also looking for a job in All India Radio', and they laughed. Papaji was one of the top candidates who got selected for the job. Then began our journey back to Punjab. He was posted at AIR Jalandhar. Daya Singh Aulakh one of his former students came to the railway station to receive us and we spent a few days at Basti Nau, while Papaji took charge of his work at the Radio station. In exchange for all we lost in Pakistan, Papaji was allotted a medium sized house in Ali Mohalla in Jalandhar. Papaji saw to it that his younger brother, Sardar Mehtab Singh (though he had decided to go to Hydrabad) got his share in cash. Our only surviving aunt Veeran and her husband Sardar Hukam Singh along with their family of six daughters and an infant son came to live in Jalandhar. Papaji felt that our uncle Hukum Singh would need help in establishing himself in business, and sharing their expenses at each daughter’s wedding was the responsibility that Papaji undertook as a matter of duty. Our mother shared Papaji s commitments, and cooperated with him in discharging his assumed duties towards his relatives without a word of complaint. Children, sometimes felt neglected, but we had to get used to Papaji s sense of priorities, where we fit in almost at par with other relatives and some triends. Papaji seemed to take his work at the radio station as a challenge. He spent long hours in his office, he never wanted to be late in the mornings and once he left lor work without having had his breakfast. My mother was never late again in serving his meals before he went to work. On the other hand she sat and waited for him to come home at night, and made fresh Phulkas even if he came home as late as 10 pm at night. Quite often, he would bring home an unannounced guest, to stay overnight. These guests were from among the writers scholars, who came from out ot town, to give radio talks,

17 recite their poetry or participate in the radio programs as radio artists. Late Sardar Gurnam Singh ‘Tir’s name stands out in my memory decades after those ‘hey- days’ of Papaji’s professional career at AIR. ^ Many of Papaji’s former students sought his help in getting jobs, many old friends (from Chack 29 S.B. Sargodha) came seeking his guidance and help in getting their children admitted in educational institutions. Papaji always made time and went out of his way, connect his old friends and their families with appropriate resources to open new avenues for them to start a new life in Independent India. He kept up with this habit of treating everyone else’s problems as his own till the end. Result was a stream of visitors in our home, where my mother cooked for and served food, not only to her own family but to Papaji’s larger family, which kept getting larger as the years progressed. One of Papaji’s friends Sardar Jagjit Singh Jawanda as he was leaving after an overnight stay, said to my mother, "Bhabiji, we leave you in the kitchen, cooking for us all, and when we come back to meet Sardar Jodh Singh, we find you in the kitchen doing the same... do you ever take time for yourself- ever?" He was amazed at my mother’s patience, and quiet, unassuming disposition, and her natural obedience to Papaji’s life style. 1 In the evening as we all sat around the radio, after having done our homework for our school | 1 studies, we enjoyed listening to the program meant for rural listeners. Chacha Kumedan (Piare Lai Sud), j | Thuniyan Ram (Janaki Dass Bhardwaj), Munshiji (K.L.Sharama), Sant Ram (Mr. Tiwari), and of course I Lambardarji, our dear Papaji. Each program, as entertaining and absorbing as it was, was also full of ' instruction and education for real life. These broadcasts talked about modern methods of farming, brought , farmers up to date about the market prices for their crops, addressed social issues e.g. marriage and | j dowry, and above all this, they talked about preservation of our traditional values, and conveyed the I Guru’s message through Shabad Kirtan and talks by eminent theologists e.g. Prof. Sahib Singh, Principal i Teja Singh, Prof. Diwan Singh and Dr. Taran Singh. Most interesting part was when Papaji came on, as i | Lambardarji playing the role of a mediator trying to resolve a new dispute everyday between two villagers. j At Gurpurab time, we used to take turns to accompany Papaji and his team of engineers to Sri j | Darbar Sahib Amritsar and Tarn Taran and other historic Gurudwaras. Papaji had very skillfully discovered I [ a way to utilize mass media for promoting spiritual and'religious values among the masses. His running j commentaries from "The Golden Temple" used to be so moving that the listeners would get a glimpse of ‘Baikunth’ on earth, listening to Shabad Kirtan in early hours being performed at The Golden Temple, interspersed with Papaji’s voice e.g. "reflection of star studded sky in the "Sarovar," while devotees ,■ poured in, bowed before Guru Granth Sahib, and walked out lovingly, quietly feeling the Great Presence." I This program, Papaji was asked to continue even after his retirement from the Radio in 1969. Papaji also started several other programs from AIR Jalandhar and saw them through their teething ^ troubles e.g. he started and was in charge of School Broadcasts Program for over 3 years, he also took 1 charge of Radio talks for four years. Some of the other programs starled by him were: Children’s Program, 1 Ladies Program - Trinjan, Balwari and he conducted Regional Radio Newsreel in addition to his pet program for rural listeners. \ It is worth mentioning here that Papaji understood the minds of rural listeners, he felt their pulse so to say. Whdn he presented Radio programs for Punjabi villagers, he was always with them; he never talked down to them. He wanted to be in dialogue with each one of his listeners. In addition to answering hundreds of letters from his listeners from both i.e. West Punjab in Pakistan and East Punjab in India, he thought of another approach which afforded him that opportunity. Every month, at least one evening program was relayed alive from a particular village. Most of the character actors were chosen

'18. seat and enjoyed a day’s rest while they watched the rural talent in action. They also enjoyed the hospitality of rural Punjabi’s and thrived on the VIP treatment they received from Papaji’s old students and friends from his Chack 29 S.B. Sargodha days. Those students, who were inspired by Papaji in their school days, now literally worshipped him and thanked him for straightening them out, "Saanu banda bana ditta, Headmaster Sahib ne." They would say with a nostalgic look at their youthful days when they studied under their Headmaster’s guidance and shared his vision for their future. The AIR staff, Engineers and drivers used to look forward to going out on tour duty with ‘Darji’ as they addressed Papaji with affection. When the drivers came home to pick him up and bring him back from their eventful tours, they were required to stay for a meal, or at least ‘tea.’ They all felt important in this man, Sardar Jodh Singh’s home. It is well known that Papaji was a mentor to many a young artists including female artists, e.g. Ajit Kaur, Neelam Sahni, Parkash Dhillon and her sister Harbans too. Colleagues, like Sardar Harbans Singh Bcdi, H.S. Khurana, Mr. K.R. Pandey, D.D. Kalia became life long friends. Senior colleagues like Sardar Kartar Singh Duggal and the late Sardar Balwant Singh Anand also saw Sardar Jodh Singh as a rare man of character and a friend in need. He brought out the best in everyone, they would say. Some young artists, especially girls, would seek his fatherly advice and protection at times when they felt harassed by their male colleagues or supervisors. Papaji had always been protective of young girls, especially his won daughters. This tendency, I thought, was an oddity in his character which denied us, his daughters, the opportunity to develop our personalities in an environment which would allow freedom for expression. But now, being on my own, alone, I miss that structure and security he provided us along with his overly preotective, almost possessive ‘love.’ Today, as I sit here to recount his accomplishments, I have in front of me over one hundred scripts of features, talks, dialogues and articles on subjects spanning from religious, social, cultural, and family issues. There are several files containing detailed records of his coresspondence with philanthropic organizations and men of rare commitment to education as means of transforming our community. I marvel at Papaji’s stamina and his determination to pursue a worthwhile cause even in the midst of hardships and limitation of resources. When Papaji retired from AIR, his first Station Director and boss wrote to him from AIR Lucknow where he was the station director at the time: "My dear Jodh Singh, Today is the last day of your service in AIR. As you lay down office, I remember you and send you my respectful thoughts...Those of us who had the privilege of working with you have always had admiration for your efficiency in work as much for your sterling character. The history of Jalandhar station has many controversial periods and you have worked for almost two decades in that station and yet never did a drop of mud touch you. You were always pure and blissful like a lotus in a pond. As you bow out from the stage of AIR today, you may go with this satisfaction that you were universally loved and respected by everyone who came in contact with you, either in the office or outside. Kindly convey Mrs. Sengupta’s regards and mine to Mrs. Jodh Singh and you also accept the same. Yours Sincerely, (D.K. Sengupta) Nov. 12, 1969

19 An editorial from the President of AIR Program Staff Association, Monthly news Letter, dated Nov., 1969 had the following write up on Papaji:

"Soon after Deepvali, on Nov. 13, Shri Jodh Singh retires after more than twenty years of service... I was happy to meet him a couple of days back and found him in radiant health at the age of fifty-eight. With my own tottering teeth at the age of fifty, I was impressed by his clean, bright full set of original teeth...A devoted and zealous worker, Sardar Jodh Singh took to broadcasting as a serious career...He had very wide and happy public relations and has earned the goodwill of the staff and outsiders. He has maintained good health and we are sure he will be able to do a lot more for the welfare of the community for many years to come..."

Thus began the most serious and eventful career of Sardar Jodh Singh. When he had all the time he needed to give practical shape to many of his ideals in terms of social, cultural, religious and educational institutions which now stand in the midst of crowded cities in Punjab, many in Jalandhar, and bear a testimony to his love for the people he lived and worked with. At the home front, Papaji provided for the education of all his children, and all three of his daughters were married off at a young age. I was only sixteen when spoken for (at the suggestion of an c’ ‘ '■-'nd from Chack 29, S.B. Sargodha- much against my wishes and my mother’s). The marriage took place because Koaji did not want to go back on his word. This decision came to haunt him for many years to come, because my marriage turned out to be the saddest thing for our family. Papaji could see the tragic loo., on my face, and allowed me to come back and study in Teacher’s Training College at Jalandhai, while my mother took care of my four month old daughter, Ranju. My prolonged stay with my parents at one pretext or the other led to a mutually acceptable decision to end this legal bond which was causing more heartaches than any moments of happiness for any one involved. This event caused a temporary setback to the family and Papaji considered it a personal failure as a parent I knew that my stay at Jalandhar under those circumstances was causing a lot of uneasiness, and that I would have to become self reliant, financially and socially. My late mother tried to help me, as also to help Papaji accept the situation. Finally, I ended up going to the USA for higher education. Papaji tried to dissuade me till the last day and it was Uncle Santokh Singh’s intervention that Papaji finally agreed to let me go. Ranju, my five year old daughter, stayed with my parents. Ever since she has looked at my parents as her parents and of course I never relinquished my right of being her biological mother. When I returned from the USA in 1967 after having received the highest level of education, i.e. a doctorate degree from Washington State University, Papaji seemed to be really proud of me. Soon after, within three months, I landed myself a job at the United States Agency for International Development in New Delhi. It took me a little doing to persuade Papaji to let my daughter Ranju join me in New Delhi. She was eleven years old then. Ranju went to Public School in Delhi and did extremely well. Papaji, after his retirement, and even prior to that, came to spend the weekends with Ranju and me. I was overjoyed to see Papaji’s growing interest in my work at USAID and often invited him to my office in Chanakya Puri to meet my American colleagues and Senior Staff. "Your father is a fascinating

20 man," they would exclaim in joy and wonder as Papaji talked to them about our Punjabi culture and spiritual heritage. In 1969, as he retired from AIR, he was already working on his plans to bring out long playing records of Guru Nanak’s Bani to be sung by renowned Raagis and other artists trained in classical music. He came and stayed with us in my little apartment in South Delhi, and worked out details of each LP — as to the number of Shabads to be sung in the respective Ragas in which they were initially written by Guru Nanak and then to select appropriate Raagis for each shabad. He seemed to be extremely busy and involved in the project and worked diligently on it inspite of the frustrations of having to deal with Raagis who failed to turn up for their appointments at HMV studios without any prior notice for cancellation. Either they did not realize that dozens of musicians (carrying their musical instruments), engineers, along with the music director had to be paid for the time spent in the studios waiting for them, or they just didn’t care. Papaji kept his cool, and gave them a second chance to be included among all those whose voices were to become immortal in the five long playing records of Guru Nanak’s bani which v/ere released on the 500lh birth anniversary of Guru Nanak. It was God sent for Ranju and me to enjoy Papaji’s company as also to share his daily experiences in the process of recording Guru Nanak’s Shabads in their original Ragas. One evening as we waited for Papaji at the dinner table, he walked in, two hours late looking tired but happy. "It was quite a day" he said. "Today Sudheshwari Devi sang Guru Nanak’s Shabad: Bolo Ram Kare Nistara..." "So what about it ?" I asked in an indifferent tone. Then Papaji related the entire sequence of events which took over three hours. "Sudheshwari Devi was extremely happy, and felt greatly honored to have been asked to sing Baba Nanak’s Shabad. But not having been exposed to the in the course of her four decades as a classical singer, she found it difficult to pronounce certain words of the Shabad." I knew that Papaji would not compromise when it came to Gurbani, its correct pronunciation was a prerequisite for any artist." Sudheshwari Devi had already gone through fifteen trials; the musicians were exasperated and the engineers were tired, but she did not give up. She raised her folded hands in prayer: " O Jagat Guru Baba Nanak, won’t you accept my (prayer) humble love ? I am sitting at your feet with earnest heart attempting to sing your Shabad. Please come and abide with me. accept my offerings and sing with me!” Papaji said, he too, with Gutka in his hands, joined her in this prayer and all those musicians with musical instruments in their hands wished her well. It was a rare sight, a picture of total devotion, patience, persistence, and determination to attain perfection and acceptance in Guru Nanak s court. The prayer was granted. The sixteenth trial was successful. Sudheshwari Devi sang "Bolo Ram Kare Nistara..." effortlessly and in nine minutes the recording was completed in an atmosphere charged with a feeling of love s humility and joy of love’s acceptance. When Sudheshwari Deyj listened to the Shabad just recorded in her own voice, she exclaimed: "O Guru Nanak, you arc the friend and protector of the humble and down trodden. I feel fulGlled today. You have redeemed my life’s work. Please accept my last offerings, and let me sit at thy feet till eternity." ' Sudheshwari Devi died soon after she sang her Swan Song, Guru Nanak s Shabad, Bolo Ram Kare Nistara..." Artists and critics are all in agreement about the memorable contribution of Sudheshwari Devi to the treasures of Gurmat Sangeet.

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Dimti7Prl hv Paniah Dinital library I www.naniahrHnilih.nrn Papaji’s love and appreciation lor classical music extended beyond the geographic, social, cultural and even religious horizons. Music, in its purest sense, has a pervasive and captivating power and a unique unifying quality. During one of his visits to New Delhi, as I came out of the kitchen to serve dinner, I saw Papaji sitting in a relaxed mood. An LP, Maria Dcy’s "Old Hit Songs" was playing, and 1 stood there watching him, and when he opened his eyes he looked at me with a child like smile. Papaji, you never listen to film music! What happened?" I said pleasantly surprised. Mana Dey has a

■y* flawless voice, and his pronunciation is immaculate; his voice has a soothing effect, " he said. In December 1973, Papaji stopped at new Delhi just for a day, after his two weeks stay in Bombay where he had gone to prepare a long playing record of Baba Farid’s hymns. That day, I had gone to Rohtak to interview the medical and paramedical stalf at the Rohtak Medical College, in connection with a research project undertaken by the government of India’s Ministry of Health and Family Planning. Papaji spent some time with Ranju and went back to Jalandhar, because he had a prior engagement in Jalandhar the following day. Upon my return from Rohtak, I received a telephone call Irom Jalandhar that Papaji had massive heart attack...Perhaps his stay in Bombay was very exhausting! He, along with my sister Satnam’s father-in-law Sardar Mchar Singh who lived in Bombay at the time, had been going around without adequate rest and without eating their regular meals to locate new places in the crowded city of Bombay to meet their appointments with artists like Mana Dey, Rafi, Jagjit and Chitra Singh, Neelam Sahni, and Krishana Kale... and then to get Sardar Kushwant Singh to record his introductory remarks on the significance of Baba Farid’s hymns. This LP was later released to mark the 800th birth anniversary of the Sufi Poet- Baba Farid. Ranju and I rushed to Jalandhar to see Papaji. As we reached, Papaji grabbed Ranju’s arm and wept bitterly. He was overcome by emotions and this was the first time I saw Papaji break down as he I did. I wonder if Papaji’s brief visit to New Delhi, seeing Ranju and having to leave her alone at home had anything to do with his heart attack. Ranju and I came to Jalandhar almost every weekend after this. This massive heart attack, said his doctor, was like a storm which had blown over. Papaji’s friends and admirers kept pouring in to inquire about his health, and they all prayed for his long life in service of his community. Some would just lower their heads as they passed by 519, New Jawahar Nagar where Papaji was recuperating in his home. Uncle Santokh Singh saw the stream of people as a never ending phenomenon, causing extra strain to the feeble heart of his friend, Joslh Singh. He finally requested Papaji to move to Chandigarh for some time. "Gianiji (the name he gave him during their college days), come and stay with me at Chandigarh for a few days, you cannot get any rest here... Elhe tan diwan laga rehenda c." But Papaji thrived on this public’s expression of love for him, the outpouring of people’s sentiments and expression of their deep respect and regard for him gave him the energy and zest for life, a new lease on life. The time in bed, away from his daily routine as the Registrar and Advisor to Rajeshwari Kala Sangam, afforded him the opportunity to contemplate on his life's mission for the remaining years.... Uncle Santokh Singh tried to dissuade Papaji from undertaking projects for community service. "Jodh Singh, you are tiring yourself out, in doing thankless work. You are building these institutions e.g. Guru Nanak Mission Hospital and Gurudwara, Rajeshwari Kala Sangam, a fine arts institution, the only one of its kind in Punjab, Public School, just to mention a few; these people will kick you out as soon as they know that you are no longer needed. You will be hurt by these hawks who are

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DwlizedJ^m ah-Dim tal Library I www.Daniabdiailib.ora watching and waiting for you to finish your work so they can take over." Papaji just smiled and said, "1 know that, and I am prepared for that. I will do something else." During my weekend trips to Jalandhar, I would bring books and flowers for Papaji as my token of love for him. I would sit at his bedside and read to him Tagore’s Gitanjali, and his essays. Sometimes I felt Tagore himself was listening as I read his poems from Gitanjali. Papaji, I thought, was a poet at heart, and his eyes were mellowing into the eyes of the poet that Tagore was. He looked at me as if he was throwing a search light to find something in the dark of night, and said in a clear deliberate voice, "You are not my daughter, you are my son, my eldest son. You are my spiritual successor." I heard him and pretended I did not, as I saw my brother’s wife walk in with a cup of tea for me and vegetable soup for him. As Papaji recovered, he resumed his daily routine of early bath, sweeping of the courtyard of the Gurudwara, Guru Nanak Mission Hospital, and then sweeping the walkways of his own house while he recited Jap Ji, Jaap Sahib and Anand Sahib in his clear, musical voice. Thus we were awakened by Gurbani humming in our ears, and our mother waiting on us with a hot cup of tea. Those were the days which were marked as "special" in the space and time borrowed from eternity. Ranju and 1 came back to Delhi, rejuvenated by the love that surrounded Papaji’s home. Dr. Inderjit Singh Ji, the then Chairman of Punjab and Sind Bank Ltd. was deeply hurt when he found out that Papaji had been travelling by buses during his visits to New Delhi and Bombay in connection with Long Playing records of Gurmat Sangeet. When Papaji resumed his work with HMV for preparing LP’s of Gurbani at the Tricentennial of Guru Teg Bahadurji’s martyrdom, he came to stay with Ranju and me as usual. Early in the morning as he was getting ready to walk to a bus station, he heard a familiar voice. It was Dr Inderjit Singh ji’s personal driver who had been waiting downstairs to take Papaji to the HMV studios, or anywhere else during his long stay in New Delhi. Papaji tried to dissuade Dr. Inderjit Singh from providing him the luxury of chauffer driven car. But his reply was, "your life is too precious for us, you are doing a priceless service to the Sikh nation. This is the least I can do to contribute my share." I had an opportunity to meet Dr. Inderjit Singh ji with Papaji, and subsequently looked forward to our meetings in Chairman Sahib’s office. I noticed a very special equation between the two personalities, and enjoyed listening to their dialogue. They seemed to radiate in Guru Nanak s love, and their future plans, were cast on a large canvas embracing the entire humanity. Chairman Sahib is a man of few words, but he did repeat himself when it came to discussions on their plan for a Gurmat Sangeet Academy. Dr. Inderjit Singh Ji had been trying to pursuade Papaji to come and stay in New Delhi for a period of two years in order to work entirely on building the Gurmat Sangeet Academy as the central institution for training of Raagi in Gurmat as well as classical music. Papaji, somehow did not want to relocate. 1 believe, now the plans are underway to start the Academy in Patiala. From 1974 onwards, things changed. Papaji’s work had assumed momentum, and his involvement in different institutions broadened his concern in all aspects of life in Punjab. He was rarely to be seen at home. His time was not his own. 1. He was building Rajeshwari Kala Sangam since 1972, and now the work had picked up. Classes for B.A. in fine arts had been started. A tastefully planned building, stood in the midst of neatly trimmed and well kept lawns and rose bushes planted around the 11 acre compound. Papaji was working towards getting this institution affiliated with Guru Nanak Dev University, Amritsar. He

23 was also to raise this institution to post-graduate level. It took him ten years to complete that work before he took leave of this institution, a rarity in the entire slate of Punjab. This was one of his pioneering projects. 2. Papaji was appointed a Trustee of Jalandhar Improvement Trust by the Punjab Government in 1972 for a term of three years. He took that work as an opportunity to improve the quality of community life in Jalandhar as also for the beautification of the city parks and other public places. 3. In recognition of Papaji’s work as founder Registerar-cum- Advisor of Rajeshwari Kala Sangam, Punjab government nominated him as a member of Punjab Arts Council. Guru Nanak Dev University made him a member of the Faculty of Music and Fine Arts. He was also a member of Subject Committee (music) at the Punjab School Education Board. 4. Shromini Parbandhak Committee Solicited his services for two different ongoing activities (i) Kirtan Subcommittee and (ii) The Central Sikh Museum Committee. 5. He was on the Advisory Boards ot Nari Niketan (school for orphans, abandoned children and destitude women) and Gulab Devi Hospital ot Jalandhar. 6. He was an active member of Guru Nanak Foundation and founder member of Bhai Samundh Singh Gurmat Sangeet Trust, New Delhi. Papaji collected all the Radio programs and other recordings of Bhai Samundh Singh’s Keertan, and got HMV to prepare long playing records of the same. 7. Papaji was a regular contributor to the leading Punjabi Daily ’Ajit’, his favorite topics were: culture, art, religion, history and music. A regular broadcaster from all India radio, Papaji was now figuring in the T.V. programs e.g. Kudrat De Sabh Bande, and other programs emphasizing Universal Truths as the guiding principles of life. 8. On the top of all that Papaji was becoming the favorite of educational, Social and Cultural organizations, as a guest speaker. Even the training institute for police officers located in the neighboring town of Phillaur invited him to talk to its graduating class. Papaji talked for over 45 minutes, about the social and ethical responsibilities of the police force. One young man got up and said, "the guest speaker is requested to continue talking for another hour." Papaji always spoke from the depth of his understanding of life, he never tried to impress his audience with his scholarship. The audience felt enlightened, they felt loved, they felt honored, and above all they felt elevated in simple, honest dialogue with a man who embraced them as he cast his eyes on them. Papaji, in return, felt enriched and energized. When he came home, my mother welcomed him with her abiding love and devotion, but concealed her growing pain, and sense of betrayal as she watched each one of her children fly away from the ‘nest’, and her husband too busy, responding to the demands of a larger family who worshiped the soil he treaded, and felt charmed in his magical presence. My mother Sardarni Ram Kaur standing at the gateway, with her labor of love, and purity of heart, felt the growing shadows at the sunset of her life and the distant call of the King of Kings. She gave up all her claims as the "queen" of the empire, that her beloved husband had built with his toil and sweat of his brow. All her children, were men and women fighting their battles in distant lands. Ranju and I were in New Delhi - I had reached the peak of my professional career, and Ranju was seeking

24 her own identity in the midst of colorful diversity, painful reality and idealism which appeared almost like a rainbow in the sky. My sister Salnam and her husband Avtar Singh had decided to make Washington D.C. the capital of USA, their home. My brother Harjit and his wife Kanwal also migrated to America in search of opportunities not to be found at home. Younger one’s couldn’t care less. Punjab was the land of our Guru’s but now the younger generation was in a haste to amass the power and wealth they could make their own. All this was so strange to my mother’s nature, she was unable to contribute to any of these goals. She handed over the keys of her home to her sons and their wives. She lay on her bed looking out of the window, watching the trees laden with leaves, and fruits, she watched the sun rise, and listened to the morning prayer at the Gurdwara, she blessed her family but turned her back on life which she felt, was not in need of her love and her ‘nurturing’ hands. In 1979, I resigned my job at the Council for Social Development, New Delhi. Ranju went to Bombay to work with AIR-India, and my father invited me to come back home. My journey back to Jalandhar and my brief stay at home only indicated that" you cannot turn the clock backwards." Life was not the same, as it was in my childhood days. Ranju came from Bombay to see me, she was old enough to be married. My father’s friend Justice Harbans Singh suggested the match - the eldest son of Sardar Darshan Singh Kohli of Chandigarh. The wedding was arranged within a month. Inspite of the differences in life style and family backgrounds, it worked out well for Ranju and her husband Bryjinder. Papaji was pleased to have acquired Sardar Darshan Singh Kohli and his family as his extended family, but rarely found time from his public engagements to cultivate the newly acquired relatives. My mother who suffered from angina and arthritis and high blood pressure, would occasionally sit up to receive an old friend (a neighbor from AJi Mohalla) and talk for hours as if she never suffered from any life threatening pain. Papaji would come home in the evening and she would manage to look like a fresh flower, radiant and youthful. One evening, as I sat in the gurdwara (across the street) trying to arrange a bouquet of flowers, I could not keep them straight, the flowers kept falling on the ground. In frustration, I left the flowers with a "sewadar" and came home. Papaji was wailing at the door. "Come to your mother’s bedroom" he said with an outward calm. I went in, put my arms around her, and tried to say something to cheer her up. She grabbed my hand and said "please do not touch me". I stood in a corner, feeling hurt, not knowing that she was having a heart attack. She caste a loving glance at all of us - and then fell - In a few moments it was all over. She was gone forever. I sat in her bed reciting . Papaji was given medication to sleep. The morning arrived regardless. My mother’s body lay in state. Ranju arrived from Chandigarh. Friends and other relatives came to say farewell to the ’mother’ they had known and loved. Papaji wandered around in the front yard, as if iooking for a flower or two, for a parting gift for the companion whose love and devotion and loyalty had endured. I walked up to him, put my head on his shoulder and cried,"Papaji, you are the mother and you are the father ..." He made no promises, he came in to have the last ’darshan’of the woman who stood by him, through thick and thin. He kneeled down and put his head on her feet and shed tears of gratitude; she had been a good companion. Papaji’s friends, and all those who shared his work in public life joined the family and relatives at the "Antim Ardas". Papaji tried to accept his loss philosophically. But within months, his life had experienced a change. He started giving up a lot ol public engagements, he resigned trom Rajeshwari

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Pm/feed by Paniab DiaiUlihm aLljwujxnM dM jhM UL Kala Sangam. He became very selective in public engagements. I came away to USA to start my life away from Ranju and without my mother. Papaji contracted a virus, and it took him months to recover from this mystery bug. My brother Harjit, Sister Satnam and I had prayed hard, for his recovery and our prayers from distant lands were answered. My brother Harjit and I decided to request Papaji for a visit to USA. Papaji agreed. He came in the summer of 1982. He was fascinated to see the ways of workings of American Institutions. The clean environment pleased him, the honest and courteous sale persons in the department stores impressed him. He started writing his daily journal. After 4 months, when he went back to Jalandhar, he wrote his column in daily ‘Ajit’ he told his Punjabi friends about the discipline, the cleanliness and the beauty of nature that surrounds our homes in the United States of America. He also wrote about the heavy price we have paid in terms of quality of inner life in the midst of outward plenty and glamour. In the following years he came and stayed with me in my small apartment in Falls Church, Virginia. My brother Harjit would come from New Jersey, almost every weekend, Satnam and Ranju would come from Annandale and Alexandria almost every day, to see him, to cook for him, or just to be with him. Friends from Gurdwara, especially those who had the opportunity to hear him speak on Sunday-Diwans, came home to hear more from someone they had just met, someone who felt their pulse, and was willing to spend time with them to help resolve their most intimate and intricate matters of psychological and spiritual nature. He had already understood the dilemma that Sikh youth and their parents were faced with. He started working on a project. "Surjit, I am surprised at these rich doctors and professionals- men and women of rare intellect and achievement in this country. They have, in their homes, the most lavish display of wealth in terms of material goods and the nicely shelved Encyclopedia Britannica but they do not have any books on their own culture, their religion....nothing to satisfy their artistic, literary, spiritual and cultural needs. Do they realize what is going to happen to their children? Do they ever think that their children are moving away from their ancestral moorings?" Since I lived alone, and was actively involved in the Gurdwara affairs of Guru Gobind Singh Foundation in the Washington D.C. Metropolitan area, my spiritual longings for Sangat and Pangat were being satisfied, and I had Guru Granth Sahib enshrined in my prayer room at home, I never thought of other people’s needs. But felt alarmed and suddenly awakened from complacency by Papaji’s observation and his serious concern for the future generation of Sikh families living and enjoying their worldly achievements in this richest and most progressive democracies of the world. In the midst of his sleepless nights he would jot down some notes, some observations, some more questions for Sikh community here in Washington and New York and New Jersey areas. Suddenly he heard of his contemporaries and soul mates - Professor Pritam Singh and Professor Gurcharan Singh of Punjabi University Patiala, having come to Chicago at the invitation of their Sikh Students to participate in an international conference on Punjabi literature. He told them, over the phone,"Come right away, I have some serious business to discuss with you, and I am impatient to see you anyway". Professor Pritam Singh and Professor Gurcharan Singh had never heard Papaji talk to them in such an agitated tone, and they had never been ’ordered’ in such definitive words, they both flew from Chicago to meet their saintly friend in his unusual state of mind. They were curious, more than that, they were worried about their friend having lost his composure. They met like teenage boys, they beamed with joy, their hearty laughter could be heard by neighbors, their uninhibited affection for each other lost the sense of time and space,

26 they were like "Three Musketeers", brought together, by destiny, and drawn closer to each other, because they were far away from their land of origin - Punjab. This small apartment was big enough for them to contain their entire universe. They were redeemed, their Guru was among them, to bless them, to give them the energy and wisdom they could fall back on, to realize the dream that Papaji was just about to share with his friends and the Sikh nation, the world over. After dinner, they sat around at a distance of about three feet from each other, with their half bald, half grey heads shinning in the dim light above, and their grey beards adorning their childlike smiles with the prefect blend of earthly love touching its spiritual heights. My brother Harjit and I watched them with a sense of pride, and tears of joy glistened in our eyes, we both closed our eyes and said a "o prayer with grateful hands, rising to grasp the moment of meeting after .a long journey through the mysterious lands, and undefined paths. This was a mile stone, Papaji never forgot, and this was the beginning of a "labor of love" Papaji was to undertake along with his friends and colleagues to start an organization "Goldline Heritage Gifts". They talked and Harjit and I took notes, they made plans, and then met with local Gurdwara Management personnel, and the Granthis. They identified the needs, and projected into future to study the demand for what they proposed to offer to the Sikh families living in this country and perhaps around the globe. The threesome had joined heads and together they drew plans for building Sikh libraries in each Sikh home in distant lands. Together they prepared a blueprint for the cost effective scheme to shorten the distance between the Punjabis settled abroad and their cultural heritage. Together, they went back to Punjab and met with eminent scholars of Punjabi literature, religion, history and art, to select materials which would fill the gap, the growing distance between generations of Sikh families living in the land of our beloved Gurus and those across the blue oceans in the midst of cultural diversity and spiritual bankruptcy. They met several times, at Patiala and Jalandhar, and worked out details of the different sets of books and materials to be provided at "cost price" to any Sikh family living abroad. The set of books for children-35 books for $55 turned out to be most popular. The books chosen by 15 eminent scholars are by for the best source material available for Sikh youth living abroad. Other books - translation of Guru Granth Sahib - by the late Prof. Sahib Singh, Prof. G.S. Talib, alongwith some clasics on sikh history and culture by Principal Teja Singh and Dr. Ganda Singh are now being imported by others and sold at commercial rates. During his last two visits to the USA, he felt more at home in this area of Metropolitan Washington, than he did at New Jersey. My brother Harjit was luckily posted at Washington, D.C. office of the engineering company - Bechtal. Harjit came to live with Papaji and me for almost the entire period when Papaji was here, in the USA. Satnam and her family lived at a distance of seven miles in Annandale. Ranju lived in Alexandria, only 15 miles away. When 1 went to work, Papaji was Hooded with phone calls from all his children and grand children and then he had his books, the newspapers, and his letters to keep him from getting lonesome for his triends and family in Punjab. He corresponded regularly with Dr. Inderjit Singh Ji of PSB Finance. Satnam had her Monday’s off, so she spent the whole day with her father without any distractions from her worldly duties. She took him out for shopping, to buy gifts for the family and friends in Punjab. Among his friends, Papaji, always took some special gifts of love and appreciation for his age old friend and colleague, in his school at check 29,SB Sargodha - Giam Harvard Singhji. He would buy something for an old and faithful servant at home in Jalandhar, or a ^ retired peon from AIR.

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Di During his last visit, he went around looking for an old neighbor from our ancestral village Jokalian, Shri Hans Raj Chadha, who once came home to complain that Papaji was neglecting him and his family because of his new friends-rich and prominent e.g. he thought Hans Raj Mahajan had taken priority over the not so rich and not so prominent friends from his childhood days. Papaji felt so moved by that visit of Hans Raj Chadha, that he could not sleep all night. At the day break, he took a three mile long walk to Hans Raj Chadha’s house to reaffirm his long time ties with him and his family. He said to Hans Raj, "I had a sleepless night, you and the mosquitoes kept nibbling at my flesh, and I want you to know that just as it would hurt to tear off my skin, so does the thought of having hurt your feelings, inadvertently as I did". Papaji used to tell us, never to give up our roots, never to look down upon our humble beginnings, never to forget an old friend (especially when he happens to be poor) try to be happy, under all circumstances - never let your misfortunes in worldly affairs dictate your moods and your deeds, never pretend, and always remember that Guru Nanak is with you, you are never alone". When Papaji was staying with me in my little apartment at Falls Church, Viriginia, he did feel lonely at times. He had reconciled himself to the day of silting alone and talking to each of us over the phone. His fans from the Gurdwara Sangat also kept his phone busy, and he delighted in removing their doubts and lifting the mist of ignorance about their spiritual heritage from their youthful and lively minds. But as the sun went down, the approaching shadows of darkness did touch his poetic imagination, and his loneliness became too painful for him to bear. He would dress up in his semi-formal clothes, polish his shoes, tie his turban, look at himself in the mirror-and go out for a walk around the block in Timberlane. He looked like a rare man, growing old gracefully, his wisdom and kindness, and his magnetic personality drew people close to him, and he talked to them in his flawless English with proper English accent - not put on - but naturally acquired from his teachers and British professors. Inspite of her new job, Ranju would rush home and cook lunch for Papaji, not so much to feed him, but to make him feel loved and valued, and respected. In this country built by the hard work and ■ .f&r-r. stem ethical standards of its citizens, this risky demonstration of emotions by Papaji’s children and grand children was something that kept him young. The lunch time duty, I took over, when Ranju got a job in an office farther away. I would drive ten miles each way, spend 20 to 30 minutes to heat his lunch and make ‘phulkas' and then he would say "you need not come home for all this, I can help myself." But his affectionate tone, and his gentle smile told me, "It was worth the risk and the effort all the way." I would go back to my office full of goodwill and appreciation for my supervisor Mrs. Mary Roko. Whenever J thanked her for the understanding and consideration shown to me, in letting me adjust my schedule to take longer lunch breaks, she would say "I have a father too." One evening, I was held up at a meeting of the Management Board of Gurdwara Sahib, Guru Gobind Singh Foundation. I thought I would be free to come home by 9 p.m. but the meeting was prolonged for reasons I didn’t know. I called Satnam to come by and give dinner to Papaji, which she did. But she too had to go home for family reasons. I arrived late, very late, at 11:30 p.m. Papaji opened the door, he had been alone all these hours in the late night. He looked at me and said in hurt voice, "The President (Mr. Bush) has put so much burden on your shoulders, that you cannot take time to come home to be with your father." I knew better than to try to explain. The following morning, he wyke up as usual at 5:30 a.m. started making his bed, he looked at me as I stood behind him, (in case I was needed), and said "last night, I was overcome with my feeling of loneliness, but this morning I woke up thinking that you are alone in this house, every night." We both stood silently, while Guru Nar.ak listened,

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j as he listens to his Sikhs in the hushed silence of the prayerful hearts in the darkest hours before the dawn. This time during his last visit, in 1992-93 Papaji had stayed longer, almost six months, and he never talked to me about his plans to leave. I thought he was getting adjusted here. At night he would sit in his bed, and invite me to sit in the sofa nearby, he would invite me to talk on anything, just about anything that was on my mind. Then he would start off, summing up, reflecting back the gist of all I had to say, and interpret it all in Guru Nanak’s vision- I couldn’t ask for more. I would quietly slip away to my prayer room, do Kirtan Sohila, and Sukhasan and then go to my bedroom. Sometimes, in the early hours, after his bath and recitation of Japuji Sahib, Papaji would say, "only if your late mother was here." Sometimes Papaji would switch over to topics related to life of a Sikh, but too deep for me to discuss, and I would listen, carefully, wishing, if the universe would stop its onward journey, only if I could capture the mood of the early morning moment of "taking leave of the dark night, and the earnest march of the day." I have, at this moment, an empty chair (where he sat as a matter of habit) and his portrait remind me of the magical moments of his spiritual maturity peering in the younder worlds. Sometimes, Ranju would bring her newborn son, to Papaji, to play with to bless and feel proud of and he would become a child himself, looking into the eyes of a new bom babe, as if he could see the future of humanity through a peep into the infant’s eyes exploring his environment. Papaji spent some rare moments of his life during his last visit, nurturing this great grandson, and we all felt enriched and grateful to God. Papaji did everything with a sense of total involvement and relaxation, feeling the loving, caring presence of his Guru. He acted as though he was completely at peace with himself and with us around. One evening, as I came home from work, he sat at the dinning table, all dressed in his grey suit and matching turban,"Satnam is coming to pick me up, she wants me to join them for their family portrait." Neither Harjit, nor Ranju and not even me, had realized that this was the last time we would have the privilege of his company. Papaji wore the same suit to go to the airport as we saw him off in March,1993. Satnam and Sumira went with him, for a visit to India, but mainly to be with him in his journey back home. Happily we saw them off. Ranju took some pictures at the airport, Papaji took her son -Angad in his lap, kissed him and put his hand on his head, for his last blessing. Papaji looked so young, so radiant, so happy, that we could not imagine that it was the last time we would lay our eyes on him. I had been watching him, cooking for him, observing his varying moods, and now I can say that Papaji, somehow knew that it was his last visit to us. Before he left for India in Marfch 1993, he wrapped up his paperwork for the "Goldline Heritage" and he asked each of us about the books and anything else we needed from India. He spent some hours with Ranju, talking about family matters and about things spiritual in nature. To me he always, talked about the inner loneliness of all beings inspite of their worldly attachments as if he was preparing me for the lonely path ahead. I look for Papaji on the streets and the paths he treaded, I look for his footprints, and then I wrap his memories in my heart and go about the. remaining journey of my life, hoping and wishing that we shall meet again in Yonder worlds at the feet of his beloved Guru, Guru Nanak. Tonight, as I conclude the chapter on "Some fond memories of Papaji" giving it a name of his biographical sketch, I see in front of me, the few things he treasured in the last few days of his life. I see, some pictures, some letters, and some notes written by him on small pieces of paper, and kept in the pockets of his brief case. In his wallet he had a passport size picture of his classmate Gurbachan Singh Talib. Papaji told us Talib was the only student who was endowed with an intellect so superior that he created a history in the undivided Punjab. Papaji took pride in his friendship and felt gratified in channelizing Talib’s rare talents, in persuading him to undertake translation of his beloved Guru’s ’Word’ in the language of literature read and understood by the educated humanity throughout this planet Earth. Prof. G.S.Talib, Papaji used to say, had suffered in the hands of mediocrity throughout his career, until he settled down to translate Guru Granth Sahib in English language. In his brief case, I see an album of handwritten letters to "Mr. Jodh Singh who visited an American school in Princeton, New Jersey at the invitation of his grandson, Sandeep Singh, to speak to his class about India and it’s spiritual heritage. The students, Sandeep’s classmates thanked him for explaining "why Sandeep kept his hair long, and wore his turban, why he wore Kara on his wrist, and why Sandeep chose a unique identity in midst of religious, cultural and racial diversity represented by his classmates. Sandeep’s teachers said, they were blessed by Papaji’s visit to their school. With tearful eyes, I read my own letters to Papaji, and those of Harjit and Satnam to beg him to come back to the USA. The only satisfaction is that he knew that he was loved and adored, at least by some of us, not for what he could give us, but for what he was. He knew also that he was a rare man, a moral man, a handicraft of Guru Nanak, who had become an example for Sikh generations, every act of his had become a model for Sikh generations, every word he uttered had already become a guide for generations. Those of us, who were for away, looked up to him, while those near him did not decrease their respect for him. "There they found no fault of him, here they never tire of him" (unknown author) He was not the man who observed with fear or sadness, that his wall calendar, from which he tore a sheet everyday, grew thinner with each passing day. Since he had tackled the problems of his life actively, he was a man who removed each successive leaf from his calendar, filed it neatly and carefully away, with its predecessors, after first having jotted down a few notes on the back so that he could reflect back with pride and joy all the richness set down in those notes on all the life he had already lived to the full. The process of aging did not matter to him, nor was there a reason to envy the young for the future that was in store for them. "No, thank you" he would say, "instead of possibilities, I have realities in my past, not only the reality of work done and of love loved, but of suffering suffered. These are the things I am most proud of..." he would say. No wonder, when he spoke in public, all people believed him. Whatever he did, all people revered hiip. His life was plain, and yet not unattractive, his life was simple and yet full of grace. His old time colleague and friend, Mr. Dev Datt Kalia had this to say at the news of his passing away: "God’s man has gone back to his God." Maybe so but it hurts to think of the last days of his life. He was very much a part of this world, he was monitoring the T.V. Programs of Door Darshan, Jalandhar. I read his hand written notes starting October 9, 1993, a.m. and he was scheduled to submit his report on October 14, 1993, had he lived to complete that task. His notes ended at 8:30 a.m. October 11,1993. He had a heart attack at 3 p.m. the same day. He had sent for his doctor Parminder Singh. What happened afterwards is too painful for words. On Wednesday morning as the sun rose, Papaji disappeared from his world, leaving behind a legacy of his works of love for his family and friends. ¥ "I have got my leave. Bid me farewell, my brothers! I bow to you all and take my departure. Here I give back the keys of my door and I give up all claims to my house. I only ask for last kind words from you. We were neighbors for long, but I received more than I could give. 'as* j Now the day has dawned and the lamp V M that lit my dark corner is out. 1% A summons has come and I am ready for my journey." Ta,gore, Gitanjili XCIII

Surjit Kaur

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• 3 r K Sardar Jodh Singh Memorial Trust (Regd.) ■ '?■ Deep House, 4-Green View, Patiala 147001 Office Bearers and Members Patrons Dr. Inderjit Singh Sh. I.K. Gujral | !V 'l ‘ Chairman 1'!^ Prof. Gurcharan Singh

■ 11 4 * - v Vice-Chairmen i L • - * S. K. S. Raju, I.A.S. (Rtd.) I \i - S. Prem Singh, Advocate Ui^- Advisors Dr Surjit Kaur l| Principal Dan Kaur Gen. Secy. Dr Gursharan Singh Ilony. Treasurer S. Darshan Singh Kohli Conveners S. Jagjit Singh ■4 : S. Harcharan Singh Members

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:t..: S. Harbans Singh Bedi S. Harbans Singh Khurana Principal Jagjit Singh V jUBl L Dr Jagir Singh S. K.S. Duggal iif v ' S. Manjit Singh Calcutta S. Mubarak Singh : tsf: Prof. Manjit Singh Dr Pritam Singh Q.C. i.-. W- Prof. Pritam Singh S. Prem Singh Prem :.fi S . '■ Dr Rajwant Singh

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Dr Surjit Kaur the eldest daughter of S. Jodh Singh Ji, is currently based in Washington, D.C., as multicultural Counselor and South Asian Programmes Coordinator. Earlier, she worked with Council for Social Development at New Delhi (India) as a Senior Research Fellow.