“Please wait at the railway station and I will send someone in half an hour,” And lo and behold, another Sardarji offers to escort me to a gurdwara exactly 30 minutes later. We ring the bell in a house with a “Nishan Sahib”. The gurdwara is on the ground floor and the sewadar live on the first floor.
Yes” says the Sewadar peering out of the window. The Singh accompanying me tells him of my plan to spend the night there, “Sharab tey nahin pitti? (I hope you did not have drinks),” asks the sewadar. “Yes I have had but not this gentleman from Chandigarh,” replies my escort. “All right, he can come in”. The sewadar presses the button upstairs to unlock the door.
I climb a steep staircase. “Prasada Chakkna Hai (will you have food)? asks the young sewadar and then: “Kini rotian Khani hain”. I thank him and tell him that three will do. “Inni Kam? Chal Nah le, thakan dur ho jaigi (Only three? ‘Anyway, have a bath you will feel fresh.)” He serves me piping hot sabji and chapattis,
When I prepare to retire for the night I find the young sewadar engrossed in reading a book in Dutch (he is attending language classes), although he has only elementary knowledge of English. Behind him are pinned on the wall the photographs from “Des Pardes” of the “militants” of Punjab.
Article extracted from this publication >> November 10, 1989
