Khushwant Singh: bowled at 99 but declared not out

Khushwant, a long-time friend, wished me well but saw little hope of my ultimate redemption as I seldom cared to indulge in a chota peg that was an essential part of his warm and generous hospitality. Not that he was an addict, but a drink loosened his lively tongue after sundown. However, with or without a drink, Khushwant was never short of words as he dissected people and events. He was a great raconteur, with “malice for all” but no real rancour against anybody.

I met Khushwant in 1947 when he was the Public Relations Officer at India House, London. We remained friends thereafter. He was a man of many parts: a non-practising lawyer, a diplomat of sorts, novelist (Last Train to Pakistan), a historian of the Sikh tradition and culture, an editor (The Illustrated  Weekly, which he brought to life after a period of decline, and the Hindustan Times), a columnist, and a great repository of Sardar jokes to which he added his own quota.

He was a fun man, given to outrageous comment and bluff laughter who held court in his salon at Sujjan Singh Park with the great and the good, literary aspirants, young acolytes and multitudinous others in attendance. But he had a strict regimen of work and reading, latterly meeting people by appointment. He would dine by 8 pm and retire to rise early. If invited out, he would make early dinner a condition precedent and would depart at his appointed hour.

Khushwant did not understand politics and somehow came under the spell of Indira Gandhi and her son, Sanjay, whose call for discipline and population control attracted him as he felt the country had gone adrift. His assessment was naïve and faulty and he did not easily live that down.

He was not a religious person, though a proud Sikh, and rejected Khalistan and Bhindranwale’s lead. Yet he returned his Padma Bhushan after Blue Star, dismayed by the manner in which the Khalistan agitation had been handled, leading to the assault on the Golden Temple and the destruction of the Akal Takht.

His column, “With Malice Towards One and All” was widely syndicated and eagerly read countrywide for its pungent comments, pricking pomposity and humbug, and telling things bluntly as he saw them.  He continued writing almost until the end, casting his barbs far and wide.

He was greatly loved as a warm human being and friend. Though no longer in our midst, he will long remain in our hearts and thoughts.