Chandigarh in spring

FROM mid-February to mid-March there is no city in northern India to compare with Chandigarh. Whichever way you turn it is flowers, greenery and balmy fresh air. The old image of it as a town of long, white beards and green hedges has changed. It is now one of healthy lads, lasses and flowering trees. It has taken it almost half-a-century to regain its lost youth: at long last it has begun to show some signs of animation. Ask anyone, young or old, and they will say "there is no place in the world I would like to live than in Chandigarh".

Some of these sentiments are recorded in a booklet recently published Chandigarh Lifescape by three young ladies — Kavita Sharma, Chitleen K. Sethi and Meeta — under the guidance of Rajivlochan of the Department of History. It traces the genesis of the city, the fierce resistance put up by villagers whose lands were acquired, roles of administrators and architects who gave it shape and how Pandit Nehru over-ruled politicians who tried to put spokes into the grandiose plans of Le Corbusier, Jeanneret, Maxwell Fry, Jane Drew and their Indian colleagues. The one thing missing in the book is the name of Dr M.S. Randhawa who made it into a garden city. Without its flowering trees and creepers, its Rose Gardens and lawns, Chandigarh would have little to boast of then its Sukhna Lake and Nek Chand’s Rock Garden. Its outlandish public buildings which still leave people somewhat bewildered.

Among the many people who have made their homes in Chandigarh is Jawahar Lal Gupta, Judge of the High Court, and his wife, Mohini. He presided over a meeting I addressed. At the end of the meeting he insisted I visit his "humble abode". On the way he said, "You know a Judge has to work like a slave and live like a hermit. I get up at 4 a.m. to go through cases I have to hear. I have no break at mid-day and work up to 7 p.m. to clear my desk before I return home". It is the punishing schedule of work that has got him where he is. It has also provided him with a five-star "hermitage" consisting of an attractive bungalow surrounded by a lush garden. His father (same age as I) and his attractive wife Mohini share the hermit’s "humble abode". Their two children practice law in the Supreme Court. Both father and son keep a busy schedule and write regularly for The Tribune.

For the rest, it was meeting the same people and doing much the same thing as I do everytime I go to Chandigarh. Sharda Kaushik decides who I should meet and who is to be avoided. She escorts me to the university and her husband, Anil, hosts a dinner for me. This time they had top policemen, civil servants and journalists at the party. They were a polite lot: said a few words of goodwill towards me and then joined their own groups to talk shop. I know I have become a relic of the past. They look forward to the future. I cadge a lift off Rani Balbir, now a prominent stage and TV personality. While others guzzle food and drink, I snore. One sleeps a lot better in Chandigarh than in Delhi.

Blood of martyrs

Among the most revered names in the long list of Sikh martyrs is that of Baba Deep Singh who fell avenging the desecration of Harmandar Sahib on November 12, 1757. Crude paintings of him carrying his severed head in his left hand while weilding a double-edged sword with his right can be seen on calendars in many Sikh homes and gurdwaras. A shrine in the Golden Temple complex is dedicated to his memory.

Baba Deep Singh’s successors kept his memory alive by raising gurdwaras and schools in his name. The tradition continues to this day. The present representative is 48-year old Baba Ajit Singh, a tall handsome man with a flowing white beard which covers most of his manly chest. He set up the Baba Deep Singh Ji Shahid Charitable Society in Faridabad (Haryana) where he lives among his many disciples and admirers.

Ajit Singh was one of a family of five sons and three sisters, born in Dhanian village (Nakodar Tehsil ). He passed his middle from DAV School, Nakodar, and went on to pass his matriculation in 1972. He joined his brother who ran a shop dealing with electric goods and became an expert electrician. He moved to Faridabad where he got a job in a factory and built a modest sized quarter for himself. He married, the marriage came apart in a short time and he has lived the life of a celibate devoting his time to prayer and service of the poor. For a while he got an electrician’s job in Libya, became the spokesman of labourers and artisans exploited by Indian contractors. He returned to Faridabad. He studied Ayurveda and became a Vaid Rattan — a combined healing the sick free of charge with giving spiritual solace to people who came to him. His fame as a healer and a man of God spread and he came to be known as Sant Baba Ajit Singh Ji. A coterie of devoted followers gathered round him. They raised a small hospital, a school and a home for the aged and an annual "Manav Sewa Award" to deserving social workers. For the last few years Ajit Singh has been visiting England every other year at the invitation of his admirers who give generously to help those institutions going. He plans to build more schools, hospitals and old peoples’ homes across Haryana and Punjab. Thus the blood of a martyr bears fruit more than a century and a half later which sustains thousands of poor and the needy.

Darwin’s theory of evolution

Some children take after their fathers. Others look like their mothers and maternal uncles. Darwin’s theory of evolution explains the phenomenon quite cogently. What I am looking for, is a principle by which we can tell why some children look like their neighbours!

Monarchy vs democracy

The political science professor was explaining the difference between monarchy and democracy. Elaborating on the subject, he said, "The King is his father’s son. The Prime Minister is not!"

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Maternity is a fact. Paternity, an opinion.

(Contributed by Maj. Gen. Surjit Singh, Calcutta)