THIS ABOVE ALL
Taseer had it coming
Khushwant Singh 

THE only element of surprise I had about Salman Taseer’s assassination on January 4 was that it happened so late. Some years earlier, he was gaoled by Pakistan’s military dictator, General Zia-ul-Haq, and the only book he was allowed to read was the holy Koran. He was foolish enough to say that he found nothing worthwhile in it. He also confessed he enjoyed breakfast with bacon and eggs and liked drinking Scotch before dinner. He should have known his countrymen better.

Their margin of tolerance is very thin. His latest irritant was to plead for mercy for a Christian woman sentenced to death for blasphemy. I had met Salman’s parents in Lahore before Partition of the country. His father was one of the small coterie of Urdu writers, including Faiz Ahmed Faiz and Professor Bukhari, who wrote under the name Patras. After a spell as the head of Radio Pakistan, he became head of the United Nation’s Information Department in New York.

Salman was an admirer of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto and an active member of the People’s Party of Pakistan. He wrote a biography of Bhutto and came to Delhi to promote sales of the book. I was then Editor of The Hindustan Times. A frequent visitor in my office was Tavleen Singh, granddaughter of Sardar Baisakha Singh, builder of the North Block of the Secretariat, our neighbour and my father’s closest friend.

She happened to be in my office when Salman called on me. They were taken by each other. On the last day of his visit he came to say goodbye to me. Tavleen was with him. Both looked tired and happy. A few days later Tavleen left Delhi to join up with Salman. They were in London when their son Aatish was born. Soon after Tavleen parted company with Salman as he was a compulsive womaniser. She was embittered by her experience and returned to Delhi with her son.

Aatish was brought up in a Sikh household. He had an identity problem. He spelt it out in his autobiography, Stranger to History: A Son’s Journey Through Islamic Lands. On his journey he performed his pilgrimage (umra) to Mecca and Madina before he landed in Karachi and proceeded to his destination, Lahore, where his father lived with his second wife and six children.

He was well received by his step-mother and her children, but proved an embarrassment to his father. He wrote a second book, The Temple Goers. He now lives in London and visits Delhi frequently to be with his mother.

Salman’s assassination has split Pakistan into two. The masses hail the assassin as a hero. The educated elite regard him a villain.

Don’t underestimate old guys

The banker saw his old friend Tom, an 80-year-old rancher, in town. Tom had lost his wife a year or so before. Rumour had it that he was marrying a young woman. Being a good friend, the banker asked Tom if the rumour was true.

Tom assured him that it was. The banker then asked Tom the age of his new bride to be. Tom proudly said: "She will be 21 in November."

Now the banker, being the wise man that he was, could see that the sexual appetite of a young woman could not be satisfied by an 80-year-old man. Wanting his old friend’s remaining years to be happy, the banker tactfully suggested that Tom should consider getting a hired hand to help him out on the ranch, knowing nature would take its own course.

Tom thought this was a good idea and said he would look for one that afternoon. About four months later the banker ran into Tom in town again. "How’s the new wife?" asked the banker. Tom proudly said: "Good. She is pregnant."

The banker, happy that his advice had worked out, continued: "And how’s the hired hand?" Without hesitation, Tom said: " She’s pregnant, too."

Wife: I had to marry you to find out how stupid you are.

Husband: You should have known it the minute I asked you to marry me.

Wife: What will you give me if I climb the great Mount Everest?

Husband: A lovely push.

(Contributed by R.K. Malhotra, New Delhi)