"It is the business of the writer to study the wants of his nation, to interrogate and penetrate the hearts of his fellowmen, and to reveal their soul's aspiration, purified from every stain of baseness acquired in its human relations. Thus constituted, the interpreter of the Common Thought, the writer foresees and lends his aid in all great social transformations, so that it sometimes appears as if he had created events, when in fact, he but matured them and removed the obstacles in their way..."
— Joseph Mazzini
Khushwant Singh is a very big name in the literary and journalism firmament of our country. He is the one who may be criticised but never ignored. He is by far, as I know, country's one and only long-living and still - working writer - journalist. At 95 today, it is unthinkable he is prompt on his syndicated columns. I have not seen or heard of such a great, prolific writer on such varying subjects, including translation, as Khushwant Singh.
Writing seems to be his second nature, next to breathing. I am afraid, if he stops writing, he will die instantaneously. Now at 95, one advantage is that, for his stature and age, he could write anything about anybody and get away with it. But then, being not an irresponsible writer, his writings are always truthful and style highly readable. To that class is his new addition, the just published “Absolute Khushwant”, a book my son got for me when he returned from Delhi. I have just finished reading it.
When Khushwant Singh took over as the Editor of “The Illustrated Weekly of India” (now defunct) of The Times of India Group, people in Bombay, where I was then, were asking: "Who? Khushwant Singh? Sardarji?" Earlier Editor, one Raman of many years, had almost killed the Weekly and then, if my memory serves me right, M. V. Kamath succeeded him, to be finally handed over to a “Sardarji”, as some amongst the local journalists jeered, suggesting he is not going to do any miracle.
I remember his first column as the Editor. It began with the Hindu invocative verse, “Sri Ganeshaya Namaha”. Message was clear; he was a different kind of a Sardarji. There was no looking back thereafter. He breathed new life into the Weekly. Its contents became interesting and the circulation soared with issues that carried articles on different peoples of India. I was working in the Free Press Journal and wrote a letter to him about some issue, I forget now. I never expected him to reply. But I was surprised to get a letter with his own hand!
Later, he was sacked. Removed as Editor, abruptly, more for political reason than any other, following political turmoil post Emergency. What a fall! And, of course, a while later, the same fate befell the Illustrated Weekly, which was folded up for good and became history.
He went to Delhi and even became the Founder - Editor of a magazine called Delhi, if my memory serves me right again. Flop. And then he became the Editor of Hindustan Times, thanks to Sanjay Gandhi as he has himself admitted in this book. He became a Rajya Sabha member too, thanks to Sanjay Gandhi again. Tried for the second term, according to reports, by pulling strings (strange) but the strings snapped. By the time he had already become a big name in the world of journalism and literature. His magnum opus among the literary works, according to historians and literary persons are The History of Sikhs and Train to Pakistan. Books that have earned him a permanent place in the literary world of India.
Be that as it may, now let me recount my encounter with this genius in Mysore. First time, when he came to speak at a Memorial Lecture at the Maharaja's College Centenary Hall. He came in a casual dress, wearing a T - shirt, as was his wont — big people don't have to worry about matters sartorial — and read from a prepared text in an unimpressive manner. A poor public speaker, indeed. Next I met him at the Administrative Training Institute (ATI) on Lalitha Mahal Palace Road. One Mr. Ramaswamy, IAS, was the Director of ATI and had invited Khushwant Singh for some lecture. I being a local journalist was requested by Mr. Ramaswamy to give Mr. Singh Company in the evening till dinner time, as he was to attend another function in city. I readily agreed but went there with some trepidation, naturally.
Ramaswamy and Singh were seated in the verandah. I was introduced. We shook hands. Wondered if his smile was buried underneath his thick moustache and beard. As for Ramaswamy, he called the domestic hand or could be a peon and asked him to look after us and left with apologies.
We began with small talk — about Mysore and Bombay. In the meanwhile, two empty glasses appeared with a soda bottle. Apparently, this was pre - arranged. Khushwant Singh smiled a visible smile this time and asked if I drank. I thought the IAS officer had already briefed Khushwant on this about me! At this point, we were discussing Gundu Rao, the then Chief Minister of Karnataka. But where was the whisky bottle? The whisky bottle materialised; quarter of Bagpiper from Khushwant Singh's inner pocket under the sweater he was wearing. I smiled. What else to do? But continued with the peroration about Gundu Rao. "What is the name of the drama company he was talking about?" he asked, keeping the bottle on the tea - table. "Indira Gandhi Kripa Poshitha Nataka Mandali," I said. "That's how he calls the Congress party," he laughed, showing a streak of his white teeth.
Khushwant pulled out a small notebook and a ballpoint pen from underneath his sweater or coat, I don't remember exactly now, that he was wearing and noted down the name of the drama company “Indira Gandhi Kripa Poshitha Nataka Mandali”, asking me to repeat the name a couple of times. Later, he also made notes of Paschima Vahini and Srirangapatna.
"In the evening, before dinner, I have a small whisky," he said and opened the bottle. Poured a measure into the glasses, topped them with soda and cheered. We finished it rather fast and I thought we would empty the bottle. But I saw him putting the lid back and shoving it back into his pocket, telling me that he was invited for a dinner at Lalitha Mahal and had to leave. The car was waiting. I was disappointed. Not with Khushwant but with the inadequate whisky. Luckily, I am a member of the Sports Club next door.
This “Absolute Khushwant” is written by Khushwant with Humra Quraishi, the lady journalist, as the cover jacket says. Probably, it was like the master and the disciple in conversation turned into a book by the devout, admiring disciple Humra Quraishi. But a very good job done. A highly readable book, a page - turner despite many information in the book being old hat — read it elsewhere, heard it from the horse's mouth. We wouldn't need a Quraishi. Yet, it is only a Quraishi who could package the words of her master the way she has.
Khushwant Singh is indeed fortunate he was born with a silver spoon and not so fortunate in marrying a girl who was born with a golden spoon. He is indeed brutal in talking about his wife. I wonder if it could be possible to be that frank and outspoken about his wife. I remember reading Bertrand Russel writing this way about his sexual escapades and his wife. D. H. Lawrence, author of the controversial book “Lady Chatterley's Lover”, too has mentioned something about the sex - life of Leo Tolstoy in a book of essays. There seems to be patterns running parallel with some of the great men, as far as philandering and family life are concerned.
Khushwant has given his personal opinion about so many VIP politicians that makes interesting reading. Among them some are of the dynasty. The book is also an example on writing about the subject the reader already knows or a witness to the events in an engaging manner. The packaging of the old stuff as new. Call it old wine in new bottle!
Care is taken to tempt the reader, nay, seduce him to read by writing about the biological urges and concerns of any individual. Hence the title of the earlier chapters — "On Becoming A Very Old Man," Every old man would want to know; "On Happiness"; "All about sex" in that order.
He is indeed a workaholic during day time. "I'm up at around 4 am, work right through the day till the evening, till my sundowner," he writes. Scotch comes only in the evening. On Happiness, he has a 9 - point sutra: 1) Good health; 2) Healthy bank account; 3) Own House; 4) Understanding companion; 5) Eschew jealousy [Avoid comparing yourself with others]; 6) Keep away from gossip-mongering; 7) Cultivate a hobby or two; 8) Daily introspection for fifteen minutes; 9) Don't lose your temper.
Whenever he suffered setbacks, he drowned himself in work, work, work..., he confesses. And sex is the stuff with which he seasons the book in the chapter aptly titled "All about sex." "As a man gets older, his sexual instincts travel from his groin to his head," he says. There are many useful hints for the young and old alike about making amorous advances to women. He had his first sexual encounter when he was around nineteen. This was in 1934 at Bombay's Red Light area Kamatipura. Here he writes about his first sexual encounter. And look at the way he uses the english language to write about his sex act: "As I entered her, I spent myself." Brevity indeed is the soul of language. Brevity thy name is Khushwant.
The prudes among his critics called him 'dirty old man' for writing so openly about sex. His Khushwantisque retort was: “No one has yet invented a condom for pen. My pen will remain sexy”. And this is the man who says if asked to choose a religion he would choose Jainism and he says why. I don't know if Jains will be flattered or offended coming as it is from a man like Khushwant. From what he writes, it is clear that the only people he hates are the Fundoos — fundamentalists — no matter of which religion. The book is embellished with some photos which add value no doubt but seems like supportive document to prove the truth of what he has written. However, as Alice says in the book “Alice in Wonderland”, a picture is worth a thousand words.
He also makes an interesting observation about Sikhs holding high offices in our country — Prime Minister, Chief of Army, Election Commissioner, Planning Commissioner. Indeed, commendable for Sikhs and Khushwant writes with some pride being a Sikh himself: "The prophesy “Raj Karega Khalsa” (the Khalsa shall rule) has come true and is ruling today also through the ball - point pen!" He says his purpose in writing is: To inform, amuse, provoke. But, in our country, is he not selling mirrors in the land of the blind? With apologies to Khushwant for "stealing" the last sentence of his book.
Carry on Khushwant... may you live long to be a centenarian and beyond...
By K. B. Ganapathy
Courtesy: Star of Mysore
