20 March 2014, 06:25 PM IST
At 99, he looked great, with that colourful topi and charming smile as he received guests at his Sujan Singh Park residence. On February 2, 2014, he turned 99, and there was L K Advani wishing him many happy returns. The room, filled with flowers and long time friends, including Soli Sorabjee and Nanak Kohli – there were so many of them there -- radiated the energy of people who care.
The first time I met Khushwant Singh was to ask if he would do an article for The Speaking Tree column of the Times of India, some 14 years ago. Very nervous, and unsure of what he would say, I did make an appointment over the telephone and rang the bell at his residence at the appointed hour in great trepidation. I vaguely knew he was atheist or something to that effect, that his book on the History of the Sikhs was the best yet, and also that he was a lover of poetry and that he continued to nurture friendships across the border in Pakistan. I had also read somewhere that as a young man, he wrote his own obituary to see what it would read like. Of course, I knew he was the celebrated editor of The Illustrated Weekly of India for several years when its circulation kept rising…. a graph would track the circulation figure as soon as you opened the magazine.
It was my publisher who suggested I go speak to him and said, "He knows a lot; am sure he would be willing to write something on Sikh gurus…"
I was surprised that he answered the door himself. Welcoming me into his living room, he showed me to a chair and settled down, his feet resting on a mooda lying on its side. He seemed to be munching some kind of betel nut or masala. And so we got talking. It was so easy. No fuss, no questions, he just spoke spontaneously about faith and religion, about the gurus, and especially Guru Gobind Singh, and I was thrilled to the bone that I'd gotten the article I'd wanted from him.
But that's not all, he took my number and invited me to his home on several occasions, just to chat and meet with other friends, all of course between 7-8 pm, the time designated for socializing and chitchatting. Whenever it was for an article, the time given would be forenoon. I learnt that he woke up very early in the mornings and that was when he would do a lot of his writing. On a couple of rare occasions I have stayed back to eat idlis with him that he would order from a restaurant – he loved South Indian food, especially idlis, he told me.
He also told me he was agnostic, that if ever he believed in anything that closely resembled religion, it was belief in ahimsa or nonviolence. "Maybe I'm a Jain!" he exclaimed and then laughed a long time… "But, seriously, I do believe in not causing hurt to any being, as far as possible." I liked him instantly. So affable, frank, and fearless – and so polite, I thought.
In his later years he often thought, discussed, debated and wrote a lot about death, a subject that was of great interest to him. And now that he has crossed that final threshold, what would he write, if could, about that new experience? I would love to know.
Goodbye, Khushwant Singh. You were such a nice man to know.
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