A Snake of Rope
The wise say that in darkness sometimes a rope appears to be a snake but my cousin and I got deceived in broad day light, that too completely. In 1962, we were transferred from Tarn Taran to the Jind city. This was against our wish but we had to move Jind, where we were posted at the Gurdwara Guru Teg Bahadur Sahib. This city is now the district headquarter in Haryana province but was earlier a subdivision the Sangrur district. Though official duty was to sing Kirtan, I was more interested in books and newspapers. The newspapers published from Jalandhar were not available there. The ‘Ranjit’ published from Patiala, used to come there but that did not satisfy me. After the morning Kirtan of Asa Di Var, I went to the city library and used to read Hindi newspapers. My favourite weekly the ‘Dharamyug’ was available there also, as it was at Amritsar. This being in Hindi, I had sufficient practice reading Hindi (not writing).Among dailies my first choice was the ‘Akali’, which, ‘thanks’ to Partap Singh Kairon, had been compelled to become the ‘Jathedar’. I subscribed to this newspaper from 1958 to 1960. Then in 1960 among the other stern steps taken by Sardar Kairon to make the screw up the Akalis in response to the Morcha of 1960, was the banning of this newspaper. After the Morcha when the publishers of the ‘Akali’ asked his permission to restart it’s publication, they did not get it and therefore brought out the ‘Jathedar’ as its new Avtar. Only the name had changed, the contents were the same. All the Punjabi newspapers remained behind in Tarn Taran andAmritsar; here we had only Qaumi Dard and Jathedar by post, that too after two days of their publication.‘Jathedar’ also published on the back page true incidents sent by its readers. Inspired, I too sent a true incident of my life, which was my very first literary effort. To my delight this got published in the paper; my happiness knew no bounds. I then did not know of such literary refinements as compound words, para making or word construction etc; but the editor had done all these for me, and seeing the article published in this form mae me ecstatic. But the sad part is, that I did not follow it up with more articles. Perhaps I did not then have anything more to write. Had I got some learned advice, I would have been able to join the literary brotherhood sooner.The true story was like this:In about the year 1957, my cousin Manohar Singh and I went to one of our fields, called ‘Baghiarhan Wali Paili’ to cut fodder. Approaching the edge of the field, we saw a ‘snake’ in the middle of the field. We watched it closely for any movement for long time but it did not move at all. I thought of making it run away by throwing a clod of earth at it but Manohar Singh implored me not to do it. Whenever I lifted a clod of earth to hit the snake, he would run away and stand at some distance from me. I too could not muster enough courage to hit the snake while I stood alone, There was not much difference between us, so far as bravery goes, but he was ever the more cautious one. So far as my views about bravery are concerned, it has become difficult for me to distinguish it from fool-hardiness. I think the two overlap. Without some fool-hardiness, it is difficult to undertake any risky action. If the doer of the action is successful, then he is considered brave, otherwise a fool. Others may disagree with my view as I cannot be always right.After a great deal of discussion and a bit of hot argument, we came back without cutting and bringing fodder. The next day, we told this to our younger ChachaJi, and requested him to go with us to the field. He said, “Oi, fools, do you expect that snake to be still there? It must have long disappeared.” But when we pressed him further, he went with us. Sure enough the ‘snake’ was still there, ChachaJi Said, “ Oi, it looks like a rope.“ Then he said, “ Oi, no, it is indeed a snake.” ChachaJi threw some clods at it but it remained unmoved. We did not this time run away, due to ChachaJi’s presence. Seeing no response from the ‘snake’ he said, “Oi, it looks to be a snake, but dead one.” He then went towards the ‘snake’ holding a sickle in his hand. He picked up the ‘snake’ on the sickle and came back towards us laughing. We also joined with him for a hearty laugh.The real thing was that my BhayaJi, being a baptised Sikh, wore the large Kachhaira instead of the smaller one which most of other persons usually wore. This Kachhaira had a waist band and required a long and thick cord to tie it around the waist. The cord must have been thrown away on the heap of manure and then it had reached its present destination along with the manure. It was this cord which had scared us as a snake.