Up, close and personal with Lala Jagat Narain

SS Beniwal

It was the summer of 1952. I was in class IX at Khalsa High School, Kamalpura, on the Jagraon-Raikot road in district Ludhiana. One day, just after the first period, word went round that Punjab Education Minister Lala Jagat Narain Ji would be visiting the school on his way back from Hathur, a town 15 miles away. The teaching staff was on their toes. After the lunch break, the school peon went to all the classrooms announcing the arrival of the dignitary.

After some time, a bespectacled middle-aged person, attired in a white khadi dhoti-kurta with a Gandhi cap on, entered our classroom accompanied by the headmaster. It was followed by a prompt ‘class-stand’. My seat was on the desk in the front row. Gently touching my shoulders, the minister said, “Beta, koi kavita sunao.” I did not remember any poem. Non-plussed, I started reciting shabad sung in the morning school prayer. Perhaps not satisfied, he left for the next room.

Later, the minister addressed the staff and the students from the makeshift stage, laying emphasis on the moral and secular values in life. Then he resumed his journey to Chandigarh. In the post-visit discussion among the school staff and students, the opinion was that the name, dress and language of the minister proved that he belonged to either of the districts — Rohtak, Hisar, Karnal or Gurgaon, now in Haryana.

After completing my school education, I joined an engineering institute but left after a few months. After passing the PSSS Board examination, I joined government service in the rehabilitation department at Jalandhar late in 1955.

The city was then the hub of “soochna and sangeet” (information and music). Most vernacular newspapers were published from here. Jalandhar Radio, under prominent Punjabi writer Kartar Singh Duggal, was also located here. Deputy Commissioner RS Talwar was often seen driving his official car himself without any escort.

Mr Bajwa was the superintendent of police, Jalandhar, and Dr Bali was the civil surgeon. Ashwani Kumar was the DIG of Police, Jalandhar Range, and was a popular figure.

My office was situated on the GT Road near the Nehru Garden. On one side of my office was the shop, Ms Kaypee Tailors, and a wide street on the other. The office of the daily Hind Samachar was located on this street a few buildings away. The rear courtyard of our office had a wide gate opening on to this street. It was the main entry/exit point for the staff and the public.

I occasionally noticed a white khadi dhoti-kurta clad familiar figure of a netaji walking in the street between the Hind Samachar office and the GT Road. Also, a very handsome tall young man with a bit of a receding hairline, Aryan features, clad in a white kurta-pyjama and Nehru jacket with a graceful gait, was often seen moving in the street. I enquired from my young colleague Prem Sharma Jalandhari. He said the netaji in question was Lal Jagat Narain ji, a former minister of Punjab and proprietor of Hind Samachar and the young man was his elder son Ramesh Chopra.

My memory instantly shot back to the time of Lalaji’s visit to our school. By then, Lalaji had left the ruling party and formed the Janata Party. I started wishing him. I would anxiously read his articles in the newspaper.

In 1953, I was to apply for some post, out of department. The application form had a column where the signature of the municipal councillor/MLA/ex-MLA was required. I went to the Hind Samachar office for the signature of Lalaji. An employee guided me to his room.

On reaching the door, I found an officer-like middle-aged man, in a half sleeve white khadi shirt (no cap on), sitting on a simple chair behind a spacious table, busy writing. It couldn’t be Lalaji, I thought.

“Sir, main Lala Jagat Narain ji nu milna hai,” I said. Sensing my predicament, he said with a smile, ‘’Aja kaka aja, main hi Jagat Narain haan.”

I went near his chair and placed the application before him. He instantly signed on it. Gently patting my back, he said, ‘’Beta, koi shabad yaad hai?’’ I apologetically replied in the negative. I bowed with folded hands and left the room.

That was my last close encounter with the great son of Punjab, nay India. Soon after, due to the retrenchment of staff in the rehabilitation department, I had to leave Jalandhar to join a new department in Chandigarh.