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He had Rohtak University confer an honorary doctorate on me. When I found going to Kasauli tiresome because of traffic snarls — it often took me six-and-a-half-hours to get there — he arranged a police escort for me. With sirens blaring and no stops to pay toll taxes, I was able to get there in a little over four hours. When I began to lose my hearing, he had hearing aids fixed for me at home. He continues to drop in off and on to see if I need help to cope with old-age problems. Some time ago he came with a few elderly men and women and told me that they intended to give me some kind of award, and asked me to fix a date. I did not catch what the award was for, but I never turn down an offer of awards — my motto is never look a gift horse in the mouth to count its teeth to find out how old it is. I said: “Thanks, any evening that suits you will suit me.”
Some weeks later a Mrs Choudhary rang me up and fixed the date and time for giving the award to me. I still did not have a clue what it was for but invited her and others to come over and join me for drinks at 7 pm sharp. I poured myself a stiff Single Malt and waited. They arrived on the dot. Eight members of the Secular Life Society along with a photographer and a tall, handsome, strapping six-footer Deepak Vohra, Indian Ambassador to Poland. Kidwai was unwell and could not come. What followed was a charade which went somewhat as follows: Snapshots of presentation of a bouquet of flowers, garlanding, shawl around my shoulders and presentation of a citation. There was also a snapshot of presentation of a bronze head of the Buddha. The prettiest of the group explained to me that the Buddha was a symbol of secularism (I was not aware of that). I asked them what would they like to drink — Scotch, wine, Vodka. All of them replied: “Something soft.” Even Vohra refused liquor. He had an odd manner of coming to attention like a soldier when he spoke. “But you enjoy your drink”, said a lady sitting next to me. She picked my glass and put it to my lips. I put it back on the table and said: “I can’t enjoy my whiskey in a room full of teetotallers.” The pretty one asked me: “Would you like us to leave?” I replied: “If you want me to enjoy my drink, yes.” They walked out without finishing their soft drinks. It was all over in 15 minutes. And I did not know what the tamasha was about. I added another slug of Single Malt to my glass and had my drink in silence till dinner time. The next morning I took a look at the framed citation. It was for promoting secularism. I rang up Mrs Choudhary to send me details of the society and her role in its activities. She came the next evening. She turned out to be the person who had distracted my attention the evening before. I found out more about her. She is a Bihari Brahmin, born in Brahmpur village in Madhubani district. She went to Kolkata where her father was posted, and completed her schooling and college education there. She is fluent in Bengali. She had an arranged marriage with Anil Kumar Choudhary and has two daughters. She has acted in Bengali films and represented India in cultural programmes in Finland and Estonia. She appears on Doordarshan programmes. It seems the only one who did not know about her was myself. She is now Chairperson of the Secular Life Society, set up in 1986 to propagate its ideals. There is nothing great in being secular. I follow the dictionary, which makes it clear that secular is the opposite of religious. I regard people who subscribe to community-based organisations as not secular — be it the Akali Dal, the Muslim League, the Jamaat-e-Islami or the dozens of Hindu Right-wing parties like the Hindu Mahasabha, the RSS, the BJP, the Shiv Sena, the Bajrang Dal, or whatever. So there was nothing exceptional I had done to merit the award. I am sure A.R. Kidwai was behind my getting it. Down with fanaticism This is a true story of an incident which took place in a gurdwara in Noida. A Hindu, who excelled in singing the Gurbani, had been invited to perform kirtan. A large number of devotees turned up. Amongst them was a lady friend of mine, who went all the way from her home in south Delhi to Noida to hear him. Everyone was enchanted by the man’s melodious voice. A granthi then recited the ardas, and spoke: “I want to say something important”, he said. “I agree that it was a very good kirtan and I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. But I think anyone who has cut his hair or shaved his beard should not be allowed to sing in a gurdwara.” The fellow evidently did not know about Sikh maryada (tradition). If I had been there, I would have told him: “O khoteya (you donkey), do you know that till the Partition of the country in August 1947, the principal ragis of the Golden Temple were Muslim descendants of Guru Nanak’s first disciple Bhai Mardana? All Sindhi ragis like the famous Bhai Chella Ram are clean shaven. At the bhog ceremony of my closest life-long friend Prem Kirpal, the kirtan was done by a Muslim jatha based in Delhi.” Although the Noida fellow did not think about hurting anyone’s feelings, he did so by his stupid bigotry. If I had been there, I would have got up and slapped him on his face. I hope he reads this column and tenders an abject apology to the Noida gurdwara
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AR Kidwai served as Governor for 17 long years in Bihar, West Bengal and Haryana. He retired a few months ago to settle down in his alma mater, Jamia Millia. I can’t recall when I met him the first time but I enjoyed his hospitality in the Raj Bhavans of Kolkata and Chandigarh. I owe a lot to him. 
