Few men in the recent history of the subcontinent have been so read and revered, earned so many friends and detractors, and had their share of love and scorn from people, as Khushwant Singh, who passed away last Friday at the age of 99. His journey through life as a lawyer from Lincoln’s Inn, a diplomat, parliamentarian, historian, eminent editor of most popular and widely read newspapers and magazines, translator, naturalist, story-teller and above all a writer of prodigious energy and fire made him an icon who now occupies a place in the pantheon of great men. Khushwant Singh was not an easy man to describe; as a crusader and a man of letters, his writing spread over eight decades through the ebb and flow of a turbulent life. His range as a writer was so wide that he could be a serious scholar of history as with his magnum opus The History of Sikhs and his novel Train to Pakistan, or a flirtatious, sensual and joking raconteur as in The Company of Women, Women and Men in my Life, Delhi or through his popular ‘Sardar’ jokes. Particularly known for his insight into the men and matters of his time, in the numerous sketches and anecdotes he wrote about various individuals he appeared to be a veritable iconoclast. He was a man of broad sympathies and his interests were as varied as politics, travel, history, nature, journalism, poetry, and literature. He studied the religions and ideologies of various peoples and cultures and fearlessly expressed his views about them. Being a dedicated humanist, he showed keen interest in famous and infamous people alike, but his portraits of infamous people were the more illuminating and readable and he unravelled hitherto unknown to the world details. His essays and articles were written on subjects as varied as God, the after life, prostitution, crank calls and pets. In belief, he was an agnostic, and did not adhere to any established creed, yet his love for his own community and co-religionists was so strong that he documented the most authentic history of the Sikhs to date. He unfailingly sported the traditional beard and turban of his community, in his home and in all his travels abroad. ‘Malice’ or ‘malicious’ were his favourite words and often there was a deep irony in what he wrote, which reflected his abiding humanity and his honest and true appraisal of the subjects he chose. Even when he wrote about thieves, swindlers and imposters, their vices were aptly balanced by their ingrained virtues, leaving hardly any ground for malice. His regular column ‘With Malice towards One and All’ which appeared for many years in The Illustrated Weekly was the most widely read column in India. There was something essentially paradoxical about Khushwant Singh. He liked to be known as a lecherous, sex obsessed and controversial figure, which ironically endeared him to a vast mass of readers, for whom it was titillating to know more about his personality. That is why he always insisted he was not a nice man to know, which meant just the opposite of what he claimed. At heart, he was the most simple and principled man known to his friends or foes. Despite being the son of a very wealthy Delhi contractor, he abhorred lavish lifestyles. His generosity in helping the helpless and needy was so great that he parted with whatever he had when he found someone in need. “I just don’t know how to say no,” he admitted. “If I were a woman, I think I would be eternally pregnant.” He also never missed an opportunity to laugh at himself. In his private life he had a devilish penchant for gossiping at leisure. Both men and women visited him and enjoyed his company. He was content sitting in the quiet company of his friends. The writer Shoba De, a regular visitor to his house, says, “His self-propagated image of a boozy scoundrel and seducer of lonely buxom ladies was only a bit of a joke.” People who knew him intimately swear that he led a perfectly ordered life, writing prolifically and meeting people ‘selectively’. He meticulously observed his daily schedule of writing, eating meals, taking naps, spending time at tennis or swimming: at 7:00 pm he took a drink; at 8:30 pm he took his dinner and at 9 o’clock sharp he retired to bed, taking leave of his guests, however distinguished they might be. This was the measure of his self-discipline. He hated name-droppers, self-adulators and humbugs. He had the highest admiration for three men of the subcontinent who influenced him deeply, the most prominent of whom was Manzoor Qadir, Pakistan’s former foreign minister, whom he regarded as a most pious and honest man with outstanding gifts of mind and heart, whose close friendship he cherished throughout his life. Khushwant Singh has been acclaimed as a consummate creative artist, and a conscious craftsman. An eminent Indian critic extolled his “narrative finesse, his un-erring ear for dialogue, his ability to create convincing archetypes as well as individuals, and above all for his skilful evocation of temporal and spatial ambience.” He was the most entertaining wit of his time, with an uncanny ability for austere economy with words. His beginnings had an instantaneous element of surprise and delight, and readers could not help but be transported by the irresistible charm of his descriptions. This is the hallmark of all great artists. About his views of religion, people and culture, it is enough to say that he was not a religious man in the traditional sense. He believed in God, but as an agnostic he believed that there was no scientific basis to prove His existence. He respected all religions and creeds. He had no bias for any one creed nor was he prejudiced against any belief. Being a widely travelled man, he knew the attitudes, habits and cultures of many communities and had a universal understanding of people all over the world. He once wrote, “If one does wrong, even the Buddha cannot help him. Everyone is his own master.” He believed in a robust life, and his understanding of this world revolved round what he called “the three Ls”, life, love and laughter. He passionately hated communal violence and bigotry in all its forms. He had great love for Muslim Sufi saints and was immensely inspired by the poetry of Allama Iqbal. His translations of Shikwa and Jawab-e-Shikwa into English are a valuable contribution to literature. He remained a crusader against hypocrisy and superstition and debunked all those guilty of these traits irrespective of the religion they belonged to. The razing of a mosque in 1992, and attacks on Muslim minorities in 2002 were as egregiously contemptible to him as was the desecration of the Golden Temple of the Sikhs. True to his own philosophy of life, he wrote his own epitaph many years before his death: “Here lies one who spared neither man nor God Waste not your tears on him, he was a sod Writing nasty things he regarded as great fun Thank the Lord he is dead, this son of a gun.” The writer is a former member of the provincial civil service and can be reached at zafar.aziz.ch@gmail.com