KHUSHHAL SINGH (CANADA)”
I need not write an introduction on the need of a turban in the ‘bana’ (standard dress) of a Sikh. I was trained from childhood to dress up in the early hours of the day, and I would invariably be with a turban on head- and shoes well tied up before sitting down for my studies. My respected parents played an important role in developing my habits. This routine has continued throughout my public service period, and also during retired life, till today, dressing up the same way, in the early hours daily.
People generally become lax in their habits after marriage. This did not happen in my case. Of course, I was influenced by the special Muse that controls the non-serious and lighter part of our mind, in which some natural tendencies were adversely affected by such old time guys as P.G. Wodehouse, Stephen Leacock, Robert Benchley etc. Even in serious moments, like a heart ailment, humour would break in. My first book I titled as Penguin’s “Humerus (Shoulder joint) and Funny Crazy Elbow joint)”. Well, that’s beside the point.
On emigrating to Canada, sometime I had a problem with the telephone. I had few friends and relations here, in the new country. But I had a large number of them in India. There is a risky telephone number in North America. If a child dials that number (911), the elders could be pulled up badly. unless the little caller admits them to be innocent. As luck would have it, the code of some towns in India begin with 1, the initial figure of Mathematics, and twice it so happened that the 911 Squad would arrive outside our house-whom my son satisfied with some effort.
As per my habit, I said my prayer in early in the morning, and even tied up my turban over my patka, and done my ‘Nitnem’. Then watched Ragis Singhs recite ‘Asa di Var’ from Sri Darbar Sahib. Then I made my second visit to the wash room. It was about quarter to nine.
There it happened. It was a very cold wintry morning. As I was getting up, I felt dizzy, I fell backwards, and struck against the wall, and collapsed against the wooden wall with a thud, hearing which my son called from outside to know if I was ok. Perhaps he guessed from my feeble voice, and managed to enter the wash room. It was with a lot of effort that he supported my weak 82-plus years body. My grand-daughter called for help; and the 911 squad was there in no time.
They had -in no time- recorded all essentials about my condition. My BP, blood sugar, ECG, etc were OK; only there was body pain, and some dizziness. There was no head injury. My son told them my turban had saved me. And lo! I uttered, even in that condition: “Yes, it saved me. Why don’t you people save your heads the same way-with a turban?” They had no answer. There was silence in the crowded sitting room. Of course, an old man’s $100 wrist-watch had been damaged beyond repair!
I would call this episode a tragic-comedy!
