Punjabi hospitality at its best
SS Chhina
I WAS attending a seminar on multiculturalism organised by Trent University, Ontario. The university was situated at a beautiful place surrounded by tall trees in a small town of Peter Brough. There were 36 participants from different countries from all five continents. In the programme itinerary was a visit to the heritage village of Canada, about 20 km from the university. The traditional lifestyle of Canada was depicted in this village, where items like a hand-operated chopper, the Persian wheel, bricked hearth, old houses with wooden doors and windows, etc. were preserved.
I and a companion from Multan University, Pakistan, observed that there was nothing extraordinary about these items since they were quite common in Indian and Pakistani villages. It took us about three hours to take the round of the village owing to the interest elicited by other delegates.
While returning, we came across sprawling fields of wheat and maize on either side of the long road. The vast expanse resembled Punjab fields. Though it was June, it felt like February in Punjab. We had hardly gone about 5-6 km when I saw a big board on a gate — ‘Grewal Farms’. I guessed that it must belong to some Punjabi, and so I requested the coordinator, Ms Malinee, who was driving the car, to allow me to enquire about this farm. She agreed after a little hesitation.
When I reached the gate, I saw two white men and was disappointed, thinking I had mistaken the owners to be Punjabis. I dithered to go ahead, but a tall, well-dressed Sikh gentleman beckoned me inside and invited us all.
We sat in a veranda of his big house and he narrated how he came to own the farm. When he landed in Canada, his indomitable spirit to have a farm was ignited by two successful farmers from Punjab. ‘I changed farms and later purchased this farm spread over 1,200 acres. It was a desolate piece of land at that time. Now, it is a high-yielding ‘model farm’ of this area,’ he revealed.
That was a lot of hard work, and I felt proud of being a Punjabi. As we sat talking, his wife — an elderly lady — brought us juice, and when we begged our leave after about 15 minutes, the host said it was not possible without partaking of some tea. His wife then served us tea and snacks. We sat for a while and he came to see us off at the gate.
While sitting in the car, Mr Zafar Iqbal from Pakistan, addressing Ms Malinee, said with some pride: ‘Ma’am, you showed us your Canadian heritage and we have shown you our common Punjabi heritage!’
