Beyond the 80 pieces of silver

Gurbachan Jagat

Former Governor, Manipur

THE exodus of the youth from Punjab to foreign lands has been on my mind for quite some time. At times, it depresses me; at other times, it enthuses me; and sometimes, it just leaves me numb. Is it good for Punjab? Is it good for the youth? Is it good for the families? The questions haunt me and so do the different answers.

Most of them go through the hardships my friend and his father went through, but courageously they march on towards the rainbow at the end of their journey.

The other day, an old friend came over from London and met me after a long time. We talked of other friends, some still in the UK, some over here and others who had left for the happy hunting grounds. Happy memories, sad memories of days gone by, memories consigned to the archives of the mind. The talk soon veered around to the exodus from Punjab and he narrated to me for the first time the story of his migration to the UK. He hails from a village in Amritsar district, close to Beas town. Theirs was a family of farmers and his grandfather had four sons (in the old parlance, char hal wagde san), the youngest being my friend’s father. The latter did not like farming, especially ploughing, and so was made in charge of the cattle, their feed, water and other needs. He dreamt of foreign lands, a dream fuelled by letters from a close relative who was in Malaya. There was a room in which they stored dry fodder for the winter and it was topped up to the roof. With the help of a prong, he was pulling down the fodder for the day’s needs when he hit a bala (wooden beam) and heard the jingling of metal. He looked down to discover a shower of silver coins, which had been kept hidden in a cloth embedded between the beam and the roof. On his counting, the miracle happened to be about 80 silver coins, a minor fortune in the early 1940s. He promptly decided that providence had given him a chance and resolved to leave the very next day. He did not inform even his wife (who was expecting), lest she stopped him.

Even in those days, the Howrah Express ran from Amritsar to Calcutta. He caught the train, reached Calcutta and parked himself in a gurdwara, awaiting his ship. At that time, the open deck was your living quarters. The ship docked at a Malayan port, but by then the Japanese had taken control of Malaya and Singapore, carving them out from the British empire. His relative was not to be found and he moved from place to place at the mercy of the new rulers and their whims and fancies. Thus began a long struggle till after about 10 years when he called his wife and children to Singapore (once again under the British crown) and the father met his son (my friend), now 10 years old, for the first time. The family then settled down in Singapore and my friend from a small village in Punjab got a whiff of the wider world and a bit of schooling. One day, in the late 1950s, he set sail for France, landed at Marseilles and from there went to Calais, Dover and London. He and others took refuge in a gurdwara. An old Sikh gentleman took a liking to him, bought him essentials (a jacket, trousers and shoes) and set him off to find a job. That is a long tale by itself and I will keep it for another day, but suffice to say that many an odd job was undertaken till he found his calling in freestyle wrestling. He wisely invested the winnings and is today enjoying a well-earned retirement, along with the joy of seeing his well-educated children and grandchildren in good jobs and businesses.

He also narrated stories about the discrimination they faced, of not being served in pubs and other establishments, about the Indian workers’ union and the fight for equality. So many stories, so much hardship, but thousands followed these first migrants to the UK. The migrants today constitute a large, vibrant and prosperous community in the UK. This is not the story of just one man with 80 pieces of silver and little education setting forth for an unknown promised land. This is the story of lakhs upon lakhs of Punjabis who throughout the 20th century and till today have been seeking their future in foreign lands. It may be the UK, Canada, the USA, Australia, New Zealand, Italy, Greece — name any place and you will find them. Most of them go through the hardships my friend and his father went through, but courageously they march on towards the rainbow at the end of their journey. They take with them the spirit of Punjab, and the teachings of Guru Nanak, Guru Gobind Singh, Kabir and Baba Farid are with them. You will find them well entrenched in their communities as doctors, scholars, engineers, teachers, businessmen, politicians — others earning an honest living from the sweat of their brow. These countries have given them a platform to flourish. They enjoy a good reputation as a whole and are valued members of their communities. Most of them have settled down well and their second and third generations have become a part of the local milieu.

What forced them to move — was it the conquest of Punjab by the British? The Anglo-Sikh wars left an empire and its people in disarray. Was it that the British integrated large contingents of the old army into their ranks and further recruited many for their own wars, thereby taking Punjabis to distant lands? Was it the mayhem of the Partition and the killings and displacement of so many? I thank my friend for opening my eyes to the realities of the life stories of these pioneers. I will no longer deride them for migrating, for what can we offer most of them here — not even dreams, only large advertisements of unseen achievements and future mirages? It is not the land that makes the people; rather, their struggles, leaders and teachers of times bygone shaped them. The current truncated version of the old state of Punjab has lost some of its most valuable resources (no, it’s not sand and water) — its people, its human resource. Wherever they are, Punjab and Punjabiyat will be with them; what remains here is another question. All I can say to the youth who dream is bon voyage and may God bless you in your ventures.

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