Don’t give up, struggle on

Bhim Inder Singh

IF I were in your place, I might have committed suicide. You have endured much in your life,’ a friend said to me. The words didn’t hurt because I know he loves me and is inspired by my struggle. He has seen me work as a milkman, rickshaw-puller, cook, vegetable-seller. He wanted to help me, but his own economic condition was no better. I could see the helplessness in his eyes. ‘No, I will not commit suicide but continue to struggle with myself, my circumstances, with society,’ I said. He looked reassured. 

My struggle began when my mother, along with my little sister, ended her life in 1973. I was a little over two years. Soon after, my younger sister passed away — she was two and a half months old. I felt alone in the world. These realities were revealed to me later. I did not have any photograph of my mother, and would construct her face and her nature with the conversations I would have with my relatives and others. 

A year later, my father remarried. I insisted on being part of his baraat. But he snubbed me; our relationship only grew bitter. I shifted to my grandparents’ village. My uncle had a small farm in the village and worked hard, but his debt was unpaid. After some months, he too committed suicide. My grandparents wanted to give me an education, but due to the family circumstances, this was not possible. A relative admitted me to a school in a city, but soon, their kindness was gone, and they started calculating my expenditure on food. I returned to the village. I was keen to study, but school was about 15 km away. I would ride a bicycle to and fro as I could not afford a bus-pass. Since fee was exempted for sports students, I took to sports, and played sub-junior national games. 

I was in class IX when my grandmother suffered a broken hip, and subsequently, passed away. I shifted with my maternal grandmother and started taking tuitions for street-children. 

When I was in class XII, I worked as a typist in a court and as a cook, besides playing sports. I got admission in sports quota at DAV College, Chandigarh. Though hostel was free, I had to find a job for routine expenditure. I joined an orchestra as a singer, and worked as a watchman by night. Sometimes, I pulled a rickshaw. I learnt a number of things on an empty stomach and pocket, which I could not learn at any school or college. 

I played for national and inter-university during graduation. I dabbled in short stories, some of which were published in Punjabi magazines, so I decided to pursue MA in Punjabi. After MA, I was appointed as a Punjabi teacher at YPS, Patiala. Later, I joined a college as an assistant professor, and then, Punjabi University. I have written over a dozen books on criticism. 

When I read news of suicide by a farmer or a labourer, I feel sorry for those left behind in the family. It will not be easy for his/her children. Life is a storm; one must struggle for a better future. I feel proud of my words to my friend: ‘No, I will not commit suicide….’