August 30, 1999

Elections 99

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Love him or hate him, there is more to the Sardar than just sleaze. Even in the autumn of his life the celebrated writer continues to fantasise.

By Madhu Jain

Khushwant Singh. Bastard. India. That is all that the envelope from Canada has on it when it reaches the delighted "sardarji" in his Sujan Singh Park apartment in New Delhi. Never mind that the hate mail from a Canadian Sikh is littered with "ma-behan ki galis obscenities)". For the best-selling author of over 80 books and two weekly columns syndicated in over 40 English publications and numerous vernacular papers, it just proves he is the capital's best known living monument.

Singh's new novel in a decade, In the Company of Women, is just out. In the author's note he writes that an "equally apt title for it could have been 'The Fantasies of an Octogenarian'". When a man's sex instincts would, according to Singh, have travelled all the way "from his middle to his mind". But Singh, 84 this Independence Day, seems to be getting tired of his label of dirty old man. Rather, as he puts it, an old man with a dirty mind. Writer Shobha De, who has co-authored an anthology -- Uncertain Liaisons -- with Singh, believes that he's now trapped in this image. "He's one person who's definitely not a bore and does not take himself too seriously," says De, adding, "The downside of which is that others tend not to take him seriously." And when the final totting up takes place, Singh would rather be known for the scholarship than the smut. "At the end of Volume II of my History of the Sikhs there are two words in Latin, Opus Exegii -- my life's work is done. These will live after me. I had a kind of mission to do this."

The years in the late autumn of his life sit more heavily now that, as he says, everything is "incipient" about him.

His "mild diabetes", slightly high blood pressure, enlarged prostrate, cataract and renegade stamina: daily morning rounds of tennis at the Delhi Gymkhana are down to a couple each week. His walk has slowed down, his shoulders more vulnerable to the force of gravity. And, if the secret be out: the love life's actually quite kosher -- as his friend, neighbour and fan Reeta Devi Burman puts it, "Rather boring. It's all hype, he is a total family man." Says son and journalist Rahul Singh: "He's had his crushes, but he's never been serious."

Yet, the durbar continues. Women of all ages come and go for their 15 minutes of darshan. Most of them to steal a little of the limelight. And many to confide their secrets when not furthering their careers. "Sometimes women I don't know at all have come and started talking. My wife, whenever she happens to listen, says: 'Pagal hain (are they mad?) I never tell you a thing'."

A few even come to get married in the book-lined living room. Writer and wannabe female Khuswant Singh, Sadia Dehlvi, who even stole his "Not a Nice Man to Know" title (making amends for gender of course) had her nikahnama here: Singh signed it. Artists' muse Kamna Prasad had her civil marriage ceremony here. Writers, teachers, journalists and dancers come by for tea and sympathy -- and gossip.

But only by appointment. A board beside the entrance -- brought from Mumbai when Singh and wife Kaval moved to Delhi -- warns: Please don't ring the bell if you are not expected.

Neither beauty nor youth can open those forbidding doors. He confesses, "Amongst the people I got besotted with are mimics. Like Shiela Dhar, by no stretch could you call her beautiful. She's big, but she is delightful. Dharma Kumar's a wonderful mimic." He fell for Renuka Chowdhury -- also big -- the first time she came to see him: her imitations of Hyderabadi Urdu got him. The entertainer also likes to be entertained. The list of his "current heart throbs", according to his family, keeps changing. His women "are like an a la carte menu", as Burman explains. "You can't have caviar every day, sometimes you switch to Rajma."

But for many he is "not a nice man to know". Poet Kamala Das says that she has still not recovered after he wrote she was trying to float a rumour about her being nominated for the Nobel Prize. "He was very unkind to me and prejudiced against south Indians. Maybe if I had been fairer, he wouldn't have," says Das, adding, "I don't want to meet him in this world."

Singh has a habit of stepping on sensibilities: Tagore, writings in Indian languages, writers like the late Agyeya (Vatsyayan) about whom it was also being said that the Nobel Prize was coming his way, Bhindranwale, Krishna Menon and the dead.

A man for most professions -- he's been a lawyer, bureaucrat, editor (The Illustrated Weekly, The Hindustan Times and Yojana), academic (taught at Princeton), scholar and Rajya Sabha member. But it's in his political avatar that he's tripped. Even his son says so: "He reacts emotionally to politics. When he is fond of something, the rationality goes. He can be very foolish politically but absolutely honest emotionally."

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