When Tohra bought us trousers

Roopinder Singh

LOOKING at the somewhat pixelated picture of Jathedar Gurcharan Singh Tohra in The Tribune yesterday set off a flood of memories. A handsome man with a neat turban, Tohra cut a fine figure in his white kurta-pyjama. He was an orator, seeped in the Sikh lore and Gurbani, as well as an old-school politician who was the longest-serving president of the Shiromani Gurdwara Parbandhak Committee (SGPC), a body he headed for 27 years.

In 1973, a year after he took over as SGPC president, Tohra set up the Singh Sabha Shatabdi Committee with Sardar Hukam Singh as president and Giani Gurdit Singh, my father, as general secretary. We were then in Amritsar, and Tohra was a frequent visitor to our house at Government College for Women, where my mother, Inderjit Kaur, was Principal.

One time, he and my father went to Bombay for a religious function at the Sri Guru Singh Sabha Gurdwara, Dadar. My father had some issues with his stomach, and the letter he wrote to my mother after that is a masterpiece that made us chuckle and laugh — all because, given the efficiency of the postal system of the time, it thankfully arrived after Papa’s return. Anyway, I digress. As they were wrapping up after a few days, Tohra popped the question: ‘What have you bought for the children and Bibiji?’

‘Nothing,’ replied my father, after which it was felt that some clothes were in order. The two elders discussed various people they had met and decided that the children of Bharti family were very smartly attired.

The daughter-in-law was duly enlisted to help, and the trio went off to a shop to select the garments. A passing boy was pronounced to be about the size of my brother and me, and ready-made clothes were sought to be purchased on the basis of this.

To our eternal gratitude, the lady intervened and suggested that fabric be bought so that it could be stitched to size later. The idea was vigorously adopted, and in short order, several shirt and trouser-length pieces were selected and purchased. The latter was a fabric called Stretchlon.

They parted ways soon after, and my father took the train back to Amritsar, travelling second class. When on such tours, he would always travel with his companions, volunteers who performed kirtan and did the katha.

That’s how Ravi and I became proud owners of new togs, something to strut around Lawrence Road from time to time. We often sported the bright blue turbans, popularly known as Tohra blue, after the man who had tweaked the sartorial code of the Akali Dal to his taste. As for our mother, you could have knocked her over with a feather when a sari was presented to her. Such gifts from Papa were rare.

Tohra was widely admired for his honesty. This was brought home when we went to his village to condole his death on April 1, 2004. The homely atmosphere and the modest house attested to a simple life lived well.