Skip to main content

Khushwant Singh: A century too short

A good writer is not because of what he writes in his books or the titillation he evokes through them. A good writer in true essence is the one who reveals himself bit-by-bit through what he writes. So much so that you end up making acquaintance with him and look forward to spending time with that person…

I must be quite young when I picked my first book by Khushwant Singh- The company of Women. I took a cheap copy from Dilli Haat, not knowing much about him except that his articles appeared weekly in the newspaper. I liked his style of writing- full of acerbic sarcasm and rightly put by him, malice. He would pen things as they were, or as he felt like- just the way a child does. It was mostly offensive and usually done deliberately as a loud mouth man who has views on everything but no intention of siding anyone’s opinion. It seemed that it didn’t matter to him if people were listening or agreed.

Khushwant Singh was widely spoken of as an old pervert snot and that was actually self endorsed by frequent mention of casual sex and mistresses in his writings and life. He was a man of controversies. He admitted to being ‘not a nice man to know.’ His sense of humor was raw and crude. Even something as simple as referring to his free spirit and writing, he said, 'they still have not invented a condom for my pen'
He admitted to being a leche and looked at women with lust. This was Khushwant Singh- fully aware and outstandingly unabashed.

Back to where I got on this train with him. It was when I had no opinion about this man. I enjoyed reading ‘With malice towards one and all.’ What I most liked about that article series was actually the title itself. A man automatically becomes sexy once he decided to just be, without consideration towards accepted norms. That’s sexy because it’s the love for intellect, or lust as he would have put it.

‘Company of woman‘ was a book I ensured to keep out of my Mom’s sight as the bare back of woman on cover profusely emitted PG rated vibes. Published in 2000, when the world had just embarked on 21st century while India was still struggling with modern ideas such as live-in and friends with benefits, Singh wrote a revolutionary book.

The book mentions a recently divorced man who puts advertisement in paper for a paid partner. He did few things right in this so-called erotic book; he put forth the idea of physical need as something not to be hushed. He highlighted how most books and media completely ignore this aspect of people’s life and spun a story that is not even real. The women who respond to protagonist’s ad are also not shown to be poor, shabby, helpless or sex workers. The ones to come are professor and even a diplomat. What he wrote was not a new theme, it was a theme finally showcased as part of real people’s life and needs.

Next I picked ‘Train to Pakistan.’ I had started to like what he wrote by then and was keen on reading his ‘claim to fame’ book. The book is written in the backdrop of India’s partition. Khushwant Singh was himself born in ‘Hadaii’ which is now a part of Pakistan’s Punjab. Train to Pakistan is less of a story of events or chronology of what happened and how in 1947. On the contrary its a simple story of a village where people lived happily before partition sparks the awareness of religion and divide them forever. Train to Pakistan is also probably the only book by Khushwant Singh that builds innocent, deep and sadly a sacrificing image of love as opposed to usual sexual connotation only.

…And much later came ‘Delhi: A Novel’. I picked it because of the confluence of my two favorites Delhi and Khushwant Singh. It starts like this:

“I return to Delhi as I return to my mistress Bhagmati when I have had my fill of whoring in foreign lands.”

Right there after that full stop, I got in permanent awe of this man and his similes. The book is a story intertwined with the journey of Delhi over few centuries. I did not enjoy it much but again if I were to speak for myself, it was never his writing that intrigued me. He was a pretty decent writer, but I never got in awe of his stories in particular. It was always him. His insults and malicious comments evoked a need to either scorn at him or give him a hi-five, depending on how they were received. He was a good writer but a much better medium. His stories, poems, jokes and articles always dripped of inflated mockery and unique point of view. He used simple words to communicate trivial things that are complicated unnecessarily by prejudices at the cost of social progression.

He famously said “Your principle should be to see everything and say nothing. The world changes so rapidly that if you want to get on you cannot afford to align yourself with any person or point of view.”

Interestingly Khushwant Singh wrote his own obituary at the age of 28. After turning 90, he mentioned his own death often in the writings. This is completely in sync with his nature to poke incessantly what society shuns. His stance on death was reasonable: “All that I hope for is that when death comes to me, it comes swiftly, without much pain, like fading away in sound slumber. Till then I’ll keep working and living each day as itcomes.” I’m sure he must have been relieved as he waned away in a similar manner today at 99.

I’ll finish with Khushwant Singh’s epitaph penned by himself…

“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.”

(originally published at http://opinioncircuit.com/2014/03/21/khushwant-singh-a-century-too-short/)

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Hum koi waqt nahi hain humdum, jab bulaoge chale aayenge...

This was probably my first encounter with beauty of words. Then I delved deeper and with each Ghazal, the appreciation deepened. The synonym of ghazals and nazms- Jagjit Singh passed away today. Its a life well led. One after another, i sifted through my playlist and couldn't decide which was the best ghazal... It started with 'Tere khat' where i would find myself deep in thoughts of eternal love...What beauty! "Tere khat aj mein ganga mein baha aaya hoon.... aag behte hue paani ko laga aaya hoon..." and then it slowly found its way throuh 'Arth' and 'Saath-Saath' As he would slowly conclude with "Kyun samajhti ho mujhe bhool nahi paogi," I would be filled with mixed feelings of if he is mocking at her helplessness or pushing her to liberation. The urge of "Ek zara haath badha de to pakad le daaman, uske seene mein sama jaaye hamari dhadkan, itni qurbat hai to itna faasla kyun hai" the difficultly of grasping core urd

Lacklessness of a Yes

"No." Its not just a word; it's a complete sentence in itself... This dialogue got its overdue appreciation in the hindi movie 'Pink' wherein a lawyer is trying to point out meaning of No on behalf of the protagonist and all women in general... He says this regarding consent and how a simple No is a sentence in itself in all matters of will and accord. I completely agree with it though that's not what this post is about. That's the trigger of my particular thought which got pronounced in following months after watching the movie. My thought was a complete antithesis of the point presented. Later I happen to be attending a training where it came up how one must be assertive and not hesitate when they want to say No. This is known to be a very common problem it seems that people find it difficult to say No. It maybe to reject someone's idea or proposal or in general extends to all experiences in professional and personal life. Last nail on coffi

Thank you for not raping me...

It's close to a year since that happened. A cold as well as cozy new year's eve....We just saw the sky lit up with fireworks celebrating onset of new year. A landmark we ink in our brains with numerous resolutions,  starts, breaks and what not. A need to be away from what we do all year long took me to a drive instead of a party and that's when it happened... Highway...mishap...robbers...car stopped..dragged out...thirty minutes of captivity..or did years pass...some lost money, few stolen valuables, scars that last actually and factually- both. Parting dialogue " Ye to hum the toh ladki ko nahi chua warna yahan aur gangs hain jo chhodti nahi hai" I did something I can totally understand now. What happens to be my only or one of the rare instances of folding hands in gratitude in front of someone, I said "Thank you for not raping me." What is ironic is that it was a Mumbai highway, not my very own city-the rape capital of India-Delhi. What is ironic