Khushwant Singh’s humour lives on

THE Khushwant Singh Literary Festival, named after my father, is scheduled to take place from October 10 to 12 in the tony cantonment hill station of Kasauli. This annual event reflects some of his values and concerns. One was the importance of free speech in our democracy, while standing up to authority. In other words, speaking truth to power. At the end of his hugely popular weekly column, With Malice To One And All, he used to have a tailpiece joke, often of the ‘Santa Banta’ kind, usually sent by Sardarjis themselves.

One day, I was sitting in his room when he got an officious letter from a prominent Sikh organisation. “Stop publishing Santa Banta jokes in your column”, it ordered, or words to that effect. My father was in the habit of replying to every letter he got — and he received dozens every day — by a simple handwritten postcard (those were pre-Internet and pre-smartphone days). He pondered, and then reached out to take a postcard from the stack on his table. On it he scrawled just three words in reply: “Go to hell!” He never heard from them again.

On another occasion, he criticised LK Advani in front of a large gathering at New Delhi’s India International Centre soon after the BJP leader’s divisive Rath Yatra. Yet, Advani remained his admirer and used to turn up at his birthday, uninvited. He was one of the first to pay a visit to offer condolences after dad’s death.

My father did not even take himself seriously. He published letters from his detractors in the dailies or weeklies where he worked as the Editor. And he loved showing a letter he had received from someone abroad who must have been infuriated by his views. The envelope was simply addressed, “Khushwant Singh, Ba****d, India”. Displaying the envelope gleefully, he would tell his friends, “Look, even the Indian postal authorities know where to find me!”

Humour was a mainstay of his character and amply reflected in his writing. Once, when he was the Editor of The Illustrated Weekly of India, he got a call from Nargis. “Nargis, the famous Nargis, the actress?” he asked. “Yes”, she replied. “Can I come and see you in your office?” The next day, she imperiously walked through the corridors of the weekly magazine’s office — the staffers watched with their mouths agape.

“My son is studying at Sanawar School and I would like to be there for its Founder’s Day, but all hotels in the area are booked,” she explained.” “I’m told you have a bungalow in Kasauli, and if nobody is staying there, I was wondering if I you could give it to me for two or three days.”

My father thought for a few moments and, eyes twinkling, replied, “Of course you can stay there, provided I can tell my friends that Nargis slept in my bed.” She broke into peals of laughter and later shared this story with her many friends. Narrated first at least four decades ago, this anecdote has gone viral on social media. Good humour never dies.