Happy to settle for the latter for now... but I know this is going to play on my mind.
So what made me happy today? Many things...
I saw a wall on my way to school, full of rich, bright, yellow flowers. It lifted me up!
As I went on my rounds, a four year old gave me a big hug with the amazing smile only a four years old can light up with. He said that he loved me and I know that he does. This little one gives a hug to everyone and makes us all feel very very special. The best part...that he says and means it from the bottom of his heart, his little big heart! Love always makes one feel special.
Managed to check off some work from my to-do list! It wasn't my job but I did it to help someone. It certainly felt good.
Found a happy colleague doing SMART targets... ugh! I asked her "How can you smile doing SMART targets?" and she said that she had learnt it from me! So I spread happiness? Yeah! Double happy!
I did have a mindless day though. It's amazing how quickly we get used to something or someone and how a want becomes a need. Six continuous days of conference have not been normal, the body got used to unnecessary caffeine and the mind got used to continuous dialogue. The realisation was disorientating! Some meditation was definitely in order to get back some sense of balance. This, followed with a cuppa with Anthony Bourdain on TV made it a happy evening!
So coming back to my memories of the legend - Khushwant Singh...
I had become braver with my increasing number of visits but the awe continued.
Khushwant Singh had many, many books in his room. My greed must have been
obvious! One day he asked, "Kya parhegi?" And I replied
"Delhi"....
He looked at me thoughtfully. "Kitne baras ki ho gayee hai?"
"Bees".
"Abhi nahi doonga. Jab tu pachchees ho jayegi to main khud tujhe parhaoonga. Abhi tu jaisi hai, vaisi theek hai."
I was disappointed. I felt all grown up! He saw the disappointment on my face and said "Tujhe maloom hai jab meri maan ne meri pahli kitab parhi to kyaa hua?" And he told me a lovely story.
So bebe and darji lived a regular life and were content in the fact that their son was celebrated as a great writer. Bebe did not know English and had never read his writing. Finally The Train to Pakistan was translated and she got a copy.
Some days later Khushwant Singh went to meet his parents.
"Daar ji paudhon me Paani de rahe they. Maine kaha "Pairi Pauna daar ji, ki haal?" Koi jawab nahin. Daarji, Bebe Kitthe?" Ve phir bhi kuch nahin boley. Bas gardan hila ke unhoney andar ki ore ishaara kar diya. Bebe charpayee par thee. Bebe chalti-firti rahti thi, to unko bistar par chaddar daal ke sotey dekh mujhe chinta hui. Maine pair chhoo kar kaha - Pairi Pauna Bebe; sab theek to hai?
Bebe ne thori si chchaddar munh se hata kar dekha aur boleen "Besharam" aur phir munh dhaanp ke so gayee. Unhoney barey samay tak mujhse baat nahin ki. Unko meri kitaab se badi sharmindagi huee."
"Delhi main aisee kayee batein hain jinke liye abhi tere anubhav kachchey hain. Main khud tujhe parhaoonga. Samjhee?"
What could I say? I decided to listen to him and mentally pushed back the reading for my 25th birthday.
I last met Khushwant Singh when mum and I went to give him my wedding card. "Hain? Iski shaadi kara rahi ho, Uma?" he asked mum. "Bahut choti hai. Kyaa naam hai larke ka? Micky? Biloo-Micky? Chalo theek hai."
I finally read Delhi when I was 28. But it was unfortunately not a copy given by him. I had lost touch with Khushwant Singh after marriage. My life had taken a massive turn.
I regret not having had the courage to revive the relationship. The awe took over as did the circumstances.
Khushwant Singh was very unlike his image of an alcoholic and a womaniser. He was a thinker, an author 'with malice towards one and all' and above all a beautiful person who indulged a young girl, gave her a glimpse of what life could hold and yet cared enough to protect the innocence of her mind.
The news of his death came with a wave of regret of the lost possible moments and experiences. I am glad though that I still hold the beautiful memories of the few times that I spent with this legend and I am grateful for this.
Rest well...wherever you are... Your self-written epitaph is not forgotten...
"I would like to be remembered as someone who made people smile. A few years ago, I wrote my own epitaph: 'Here lies one who spared neither man nor God; Waste not your tears on him, he was a sod; Writing nasty things he regarded as great fun; Thank the Lord he is dead, this son of a gun." - Firstpost
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