Dearest Khushwant Singh Sir,
As children we were shocked one day when a friend with extreme bibliophobia told us that you are his favourite author. In complete amazement we asked him which book and he replied, Khushwant Singh Joke Book 4. I still have a collection of them in my petite library. We were in 2nd or 3rd when we first came to know about you. In Kullu (HP), Tribune was the only English newspaper we got and every weekend there was your article with a cartoon sketch of yours with an inverted light bulb. Every article had a joke in the end. We used to be really anxious to read the joke besides trying our hand at the rest of the article. We used to save the cutting of the articles to read them again later.
I write as an ardent and inspired fan. I was in Delhi at the Khan Market recently and I remembered you. There has been an urge to see you since childhood.
Till date you have written more than any Indian writer. You have been probably, the oldest working journalist, and an eye witness to almost all the historical turns in modern Indian history. Your opinions on them, coming from a secular mind have been perceived bluntly by those with the minds of conventional sycophants. Today, I write about you as an author and as a person. I am glad that I was introduced to you as a child. The irony in 'The Mark of Vishnu’ left an eternal mark in my mind. That irony in the title revealed through the story opened our eyes to the superstitions and fallacies that may have trickled gradually in our innocent minds.
More than your novels I have read you in the newspapers. As we grew up reading you, we learnt that it is normal to be maverick and whimsical and not necessarily a self-compromising idealist, like a horse with limited vision. I think it was important to know that the world is not a beautiful rosy place and you did have the guts to bring it out in the suppressed and narrow India of the 80s. Again, I'll restrict myself to your views and opinions on politics and only focus on the Khushwant Singh as I have known him - as a hard working disciplined author. In class rooms and libraries I have discussed with my English teachers about you being the O. Henry from India and your friendship with RK Narayan.
I see my grandmother in your "A portrait of a lady". I remember her as vivid and living as I read through the lines. I can see my grandmother singing aloud victory songs as yours did at your homecoming. It shall be a story closest to my heart.
I think ‘Delhi’ was one of the best books written on Delhi perhaps because it did not use any façade to hide Delhi’s existing repulsiveness. And it can never be concealed for this is what Delhi is, visibly and within the mind.
I quote you taking inspiration from an incident in your book, Death At My Doorstep, “In my third year as editor of The Hindustan Times, when my contract was due for renewal my anndaata (provider) KK Birla asked me, ‘Sardar sahib aap ka retire honay kaa kya vichar hai? (aren’t you thinking of retiring?). I was then 69. I replied, ‘Birlaji, retire to main Nigambodh ghaat mein honga (I will retire when I’m taken to the cremation grounds). ”
During a test a question that was asked to Yudhishthara was what is the biggest wonder of life? He had wisely replied that we see creatures depart to Yama's abode yet, seek to live forever. This verily is the greatest wonder. One day, I too strive hard to say 'Opus Exegi' like you had after finishing the monumental book 'the history of Sikhs', and be ready for the final day braving that 'my life's work is done'.
With a lot of Love, Affection and Reverence,
Udit
