For one, I managed to clear my desk majorly of paperwork! Simple pleasures of life!
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| My as-clean-as-can-be desk |
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| Neetima made this! Yeah! |
I had a happy day overall but I had been through a bit of a roller coaster of emotions today. So to get my sense of balance back I go back to some happy memories...to when I was 16 years old...
Mum and I worked on a cover story for Manorama magazine. It was the December edition and we needed the views of a few famous personalities. She wasn't keeping good health and I needed to be with her. Plus it helped me earn some extra money, something that was a perennial priority after dad had passed away.
Mum decided to take me to meet Khushwant Singh and we took an auto to meet him at his house in Sujan Singh park. Autos itself was an uncommon transport as mum and I were avid DTC travellers! But we could not afford to look shabby in front of him, hence the auto. I already felt special!
Mum decided to take me to meet Khushwant Singh and we took an auto to meet him at his house in Sujan Singh park. Autos itself was an uncommon transport as mum and I were avid DTC travellers! But we could not afford to look shabby in front of him, hence the auto. I already felt special!
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| Khushwant Singh Retrieved 25th March 2014 from http://www.iloveindia.com/indian-heroes/khushwant-singh.html |
A rude sign at his door clearly stated "Don't ring the doorbell unless you have been invited."
I was amused, scared and in total awe... Who would actually have the guts to write it? Well ensconced in my Indian roots, I was not sure if that sign was pure rude or creative eccentric! I asked mum nervously - "We do have an appointment, right?" She nodded and we finally pushed the doorbell.
A servant let us in after brief questioning. Obviously we were expected. He left some water. Soon the door opened and I first met Khushwant Singh. The rest of the memories are blurred now as the awe completely took over. I just recall a conversation happening between mum and him. I just listened, awed. The he turned to me and said "Poocho, kya poochna hai." I readied my pen and paper and regurgitated my memorised questions for the interview. He looked at me and laughed. Then said "Naam kya hai tera?"
"Atima"
"Hain? Atima kya hota hai? Koi seedha sada naam rakhna thaa."
Mum interjected "Yeh iske dadaji Sumitranandan Pant ka diya hai. Ghar main ise Billi/Biloo bhi kahte hain."
"Haan, ye naam theek hai. To aaj se main tujhe Biloo bulaoonga. Samjhi?"
Whatever! He could have called me anything and I would've still been thrilled! Biloo suited fine.
So I picked up my pen again. He said "Likh, mujhe kya pasand hai. Mujhe machli ke kebab pasand hain. Mujhe haath main Jaam pasand hai. Main zayaada nahin khaata par mujhe achcha khaana pasand hai. Baaki tu apni marzi se likh lena."
Err.... oooook! This info wouldn't even cover half a page, so I opened my mouth to ask another question.
"Bus, baaki apni maa se pooch lena. Achcha tu ye bata, ki mai tere liye kyaa kar sakta hoon."
I was tongue-tied. happily tongue-tied. "Kuch nahin".
"Kuch nahin? Achcha chal mai London jaa raha hoon. Mai vahan se kuch leke aaoonga."
How exciting was that??? Who would ever think that Khushwant Singh would have said that to me?
We came home and I was still flying high when mum brought me back to the ground... "Chal, maloom hai wah kitne bare aadmi hain? Unhone kah diya unka badappan. Apna dimag hosh mai rakho."
When does this ever happen at the tender age of 16?
Yet, my surprise knew no bounds, when a month later he invited us back to his house... and presented me a T-shirt, a pale yellow T-shirt, with the name Biloo sewn on it with black felt letters! He did remember to bring it from London!
That was my first introduction to the legend.
I became a fan, and read his works whenever I could get my hands on it.
Thereafter I took his interview two more times. I didn't need mum to accompany me the next time.
The awe never left. Khushwant Singh's ability to articulate his thoughts, his brutal honesty of expression, his very clear ideas on life- all stimulated, excited, inspired and confused me. He showed me a glimpse of the west in his conversations. I wasn't ready, yet he continued to drip-feed me without being condescending, about how much we needed to open up our minds to the good in the other cultures. Not that I met him very often but every meeting that I had, left an indelible impression.
More 'khush' memories tomorrow...
How exciting was that??? Who would ever think that Khushwant Singh would have said that to me?
We came home and I was still flying high when mum brought me back to the ground... "Chal, maloom hai wah kitne bare aadmi hain? Unhone kah diya unka badappan. Apna dimag hosh mai rakho."
When does this ever happen at the tender age of 16?
Yet, my surprise knew no bounds, when a month later he invited us back to his house... and presented me a T-shirt, a pale yellow T-shirt, with the name Biloo sewn on it with black felt letters! He did remember to bring it from London!
That was my first introduction to the legend.
I became a fan, and read his works whenever I could get my hands on it.
Thereafter I took his interview two more times. I didn't need mum to accompany me the next time.
The awe never left. Khushwant Singh's ability to articulate his thoughts, his brutal honesty of expression, his very clear ideas on life- all stimulated, excited, inspired and confused me. He showed me a glimpse of the west in his conversations. I wasn't ready, yet he continued to drip-feed me without being condescending, about how much we needed to open up our minds to the good in the other cultures. Not that I met him very often but every meeting that I had, left an indelible impression.
More 'khush' memories tomorrow...
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