People

Prem Kahani:
Postcard From Ludhiana

DYA SINGH

I would not have sent a 'note' from Ludhiana where I have ended up after Kenya, but for a very interesting story which I must share. It could make the basis of an excellent Punjabi movie - a love story. The romantics amongst you are going to love this!

My brother, S. Gurmukh Singh of UK -- who I address as ’Bhai ji’ --  and I decided to meet in Delhi after my kirtan trip to Kenya, for a few days in Punjab. He also had some family affairs to sort out in Ludhiana. I had a gurbani recording done on a previous trip and needed to check its progress.

For accommodation we had picked a run-down hotel called Magnetic Resort about 10 km from Ludhiana railway station, just off the Mullanpur Road, past the Punjab Agriculture University, in village Barewal. We wanted a quiet place and this property on 7 acres, which though it had seen better times, was perfect for our needs.

They only have the odd paying-guest these days. It belongs to some cousins of my Bhabi ji. It is on the market. A caretaker couple looked after our basic needs, like brewing cups of cha and getting us food, water, milk and fruits as needed. We have the ability of living very simply.

About the third day of our week's stay we were sitting in the foyer chatting over a cup of cha when a strapping young sardar in a resplendent red dastaar and sporting a nascent beard walked in.

Bhai ji and I both laughed as he approached us, seeing no one else in the foyer.

As we exchanged fatehs, I explained to him that we were laughing because I had just been observing to Bhai ji that so far in our stay in Ludhiana, even all the way on the GT Road from Delhi, including a huge mall not far from the place called the 'Wave', I was yet to see one impressive young sardar … and then he had walked in!

He explained that he was a representative of India's leading internet server, Airtel. That they had just put up a tower close by, which meant good internet service in the area. We told him that we did not think the place needed internet service as it was on the market for sale but invited him to join us for a cuppa.

We commended him for his saabat soorat appearance, and he told us his fascinating story, which I present to you in his words.

*   *   *   *   *

Like most Sikh youth born in the villages, especially in the remote rural ones, Sikhi is farthest from their minds. Either they are preoccupied with their responsibilities to the family, looking for ways and means to escape to the greener pastures overseas, or indulging in drugs and alcohol. A few actually go into farming - a vocation for which there is practically no incentive in Punjab today.

My father died when I was young but Bebe ji (mother) had enough land which could be leased out for agriculture to keep us going. Thus, she put me, the only male in the family, through school. Luckily I was good at school and completed college, landing a job with Airtel where I was initially posted to Gurgaon near Delhi, first for training and then a regular job.

I have a natural aptitude for I.T.

But, like most youngsters with some money in the pocket and the big glittery lights of the city, alcohol and even cigarettes became the norm including some wild partying. Then the dastaar and long hair got in the way, so off they came too. From Gurinder, my name became Gary.

I felt that my only responsibility was towards my family. I was sending them some of my pay and the rest was for me to have a good time. Bebe Ji had no inkling of my new life-style, or as to how I spent most Friday and Saturday nights in clubs partying and boozing. It was my life, after all.

Then Veena stepped into my life. She is a work colleague and comes from a well-to-do Delhi-based Hindu family. Initially she looked down upon me and naturally I thought that it was because I was a village boy from the backwaters of Punjab.

It was six months down the track during a conversation, I discovered that she looked down upon me, not because of any other reason but that I was a Sikh who was a disgrace to Sikhi!

I remember very well her words the first time that she confronted me. "How can you, who is born in a Sikh family, be trusted or be depended upon if you show no respect  or regard for your lofty Sikh heritage? Why have you turned your back on the lofty heritage of your ancestors?"

Uss dey bachan aj tak mere kanna vich goonjde hun. (Her words still ring in my ears even today.)

She started telling me of the glorious past of my people. One of her foremothers was captured for slavery by the marauding raiders from Baluchistan and Afghanistan and was rescued by Sikhs and returned unharmed to her family. Since then, there had been a family tradition till recently, to bring up the eldest male in the family as a Sikh. Even till today, the family visits Bangla Sahib regularly.

She told me how lucky I was to be born in a Sikh family and how irresponsible I was to flaunt the glorious glory of Sikhi just to be able to 'fit in' and succumb to the illusion of having a good time!

Her chiding was harsh and I resolved almost overnight to do something about it.

Simple. I stopped cutting my hair and stopped consuming liquor and tobacco. I started visiting Bangla Sahib on a regular basis with Veena. On our second visit, she took me to one of the stalls outside and bought us both a karra each. I had no clue what had happened to my previous one.

Veena was then transferred to another branch of Airtel. She also went away on a long holiday, and we did not see each other for about six months.

One Saturday evening I received a surprise call from her. She asked whether I had cut my hair or beard in the period. I informed her that once my mind was made up I do not waver. I had not had any alcohol nor smoked since, and I had started learning JapJi Sahib and also did Rehras at night.

She said that the next day was a very special day for her and that she would be going to Bangla Sahib at 3 am. If I wanted to, I could see her then. I was more than happy to comply. She was dressed in a radiant white salwar kameez with a matching white dupatta.

I had not noticed before how beautiful she was! Maybe it was the magic of the amrit vela hour of early dawn.

She took me by the hand and led me to a first storey hall in the premises and I suddenly realised that this was the hall where amrit sanchar ceremony was always held.

"I am partaking of amrit today. Will you also take amrit? I did not have to think twice. I had not considered it before but it appeared that Guru Sahib was beckoning. The jathedar Bhai Sahib took me aside and questioned me on my intentions. He said that under normal circumstance he would advise that I spend more time in preparing myself and as also my hair was still very short, but he was happy to have me join the 'abhilakhis' (those who wished to partake of amrit).

Well, here I am ...

*   *   *   *   *

Bhai ji and I were touched by his story and asked him the obvious question. Where was Veena, or what was her new name?

He smiled sadly. "Uncle ji, she belongs to a well-to do family. I am the son of a poor farmer’s widow. We belong in two different worlds."

"Teri mat maari hoyi hai? (Are you out of your mind?) You have the one in a million, no, in your case, being in India, one in a billion soulmate on this planet, and you are talking of different worlds?"

Bhai ji sided with him and tried to explain that one has to consider one's place in society.

I guess, that is where my older brother and I are different. To me, this was one of the most wonderful love stories I had heard - without closure, and he, including this young man, were thinking of 'place in society'?

I was not going to be deterred.

In very choice words, I told him that he was a fool. He took it that far with this lovely lass and then ... nothing? I advised him not to leave any stone unturned -to woo her and move mountains to have her by his side for the rest of their natural lives!

There was a wistful, misty look in his eyes as he took his leave ...


December 11, 2014
 

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