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In this book, too, we find the familiar mix – with nostalgia as additional ingredient.  Understandably, he is nostalgic of the days of his youth. When he mentions that none of his contemporaries are alive today one can’t help recalling these lines from Charles Lamb’s Old Familiar Faces, “I have had playmates, I have had companions /In my days of childhood, in my joyful schooldays –/All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.”

It took me one sitting of a couple of hours to finish this book. One dutifully went through his sex escapades with a prostitute (who, perhaps, deflowered him) and other women – who remain unnamed; nothing titillating here for the simple reason he is too explicit/crude to leave anything to one’s imagination. The chapters on his first love and his relationship with Kaval, his wife, give you glimpses of the writer’s soul. Then come his thoughts on various political and non-political events and personalities. His encounter with Mother Teresa will linger on in one’s memory for a long time. There are such topics as dealing with his regrets, the people he admires etc that show contradictions in his attitudes. For example, in the beginning of the book he almost boasts of his liaisons with different women, but later on he denounces all affairs/relationships as waste of time and claims that he would rather write than get into a relationship. Similarly, when it comes to political personalities like Indira Gandhi, Advani, Maneka, Sanjay Gandhi etc he has been changing his opinions on them over a period of time. He had, at one time, earned the sobriquet of “Khushamad Singh” for being an unabashed supporter of Indira Gandhi. Similarly, he had once praised Maneka, Advani etc in his writings. But now he holds contrary views.

Nonetheless, Khushwant Singh’s contradictions make him endearing because one instinctively realizes that his heart is in the right place – something that makes him unique. He has always been a stout and unwavering opponent of bigotry and communalism. He is a patriot who does not make a fetish of patriotism, a philanthropist who would rather not boast of his munificence, an honest man who has never hesitated in acknowledging his mistakes – especially in judging people.

I have never met Khushwant but have been reading his stuff ever since my adolescence. I read his columns because they help me escape the blues. Mercifully, he is a prolific writer, even when he is in mid-nineties, and has obviously no plans to screw the cap upon his pen.

Humra Quraishi has ensured that the readers get to know Khushwant in all his aspects – with the halo around his bearded visage and the warts et al enhancing his human qualities. However, the book’s cover reminds one of the Irish poet Joseph Campbell’s lines from The Old Woman,

As a white candle
In a holy place,
So is the beauty
Of an aged face.

Quite apt for the Grand Old Man of Indian journalism and literature; no?

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 The Sardar is highly readable, despite his mischievous flirtations and tongue in cheek comments regarding the fairer sex. His four volume History of the Sikhs is the most authoritative text on the subject. The circulation coup he managed for Circulation figures of the the Ill weekly of India is still cited in Journalism classes. My generation saw the writings of AK Ramanujam, Keki Daruwala, Jayanta Mahapatra and our own Kamala Das because he carried their writings in the issues. Even the writers like Krishna Sobti, Quratullain Haidar and Ismat Chugtai we got to read in the Weekly. "Readability" quotient is really high in his writings. Thanks for the Review.

Bhawani Cheerath | August 22, 2010