The facade of the newly-commissioned Khalsa University situated next to many impressive buildings of Khalsa College.
The facade of the newly-commissioned Khalsa University situated next to many impressive buildings of Khalsa College.
I was extremely scared of the Sikhs in my childhood.
Their turbans, flowing beards (in those days except for the maulvis very few Muslims sported beards) and kirpans (small swords with religious symbolism), made them scary. What fuelled my fears were one-sided stories of Partition-era killings in the Punjab.
In the missionary school that I studied in Bombay (it wasn’t Mumbai then) in 1949-1950, there was no Sikh student to allay my fears.
But later, thanks to my avid reading of progressive literature and my interaction with members of the community, I found them to be a warm and hospitable people.
Last year, while going to the Golden Temple, I was struck by a series of impressive buildings on what is the Khalsa College Campus on the Grand Trunk Road that connects Peshawar with Kolkata. I wanted to explore them further.
I wrote to Khushwant Singh, whose recent biography of Captain Amarinder Singh – currently the Chief Minister of Indian Punjab – is creating waves, that I wanted to see, or rather experience, the 125-year old autonomous educational institution.
He wrote to the multifaceted Sardar Gunbir Singh, the finance secretary of the Khalsa College Charitable Society that runs as many as 20 educational institutions in Punjab and the response was heartwarming. I was invited to stay at the college guest house.
There was, however, a misunderstanding about my arrival in Amritsar, which turned out to be an advantage. At the guest house, the lady who runs the place and cooks delicious meals had gone to Chandigarh thinking that I would make an appearance a day later.
Since there was no food available at the guest house, I left my bag in the room and walked out hoping to have a meal in the college canteen.
As I stepped out, I found two girls in their late teens, chatting incessantly. They were students of B.Com who were heading towards their hostel.
“Have you ever seen a Pakistani?” I interrupted them hoping they could help me locate the canteen.
“No,” both of them blurted out.
“That’s astonishing. You are about 20 miles from Wagah and you haven’t seen a Pakistani!”
I was actually surprised. “Have a good look at me, I am from Pakistani. If you think we have horns, let me tell you I unscrewed them and left them at the border.”
They giggled. Both of them, Mamta Bawa and Parminder Kaur, whose father has agricultural land on an enclave at the Khem Kharan border, are Sikhs.
I tell them that I’ll treat them to lunch if they’ll lead me to the college canteen.
“No, you are our guest. We shall try to get special permission to offer you lunch at the girls’ hostel canteen,” says Parminder.
Much to my surprise their request is granted. Just as I am being ushered in, my hostesses scream, “Look we have someone from Pakistan.”
The other girls who have finished their food and are merely talking to each other rush towards us. Some of them brandish their cameras to take selfies.
“I don’t want to be photographed with a spoon in my mouth so hurry up,” I tell the girls who are younger than even my youngest child.
“No, let him first have his meal,” interrupts the ever-smiling Hunar Neeta. She is doing her Bachelor’s in Agriculture.
There are more girls in the Agriculture College than boys, simply because in the admission tests they fare better, I am to learn later.
The vegetarian meal is refreshingly different for a non-vegetarian like me. Lunch over, I have to pose for at least 10 to 12 photographs. “Next time bring Fawad Khan with you,” says one girl cheekily.
I would like to meet the Principal of Khalsa College, I tell Mamta and Parminder. They agree to take me to his office.
On the way there, I see notices prominently displayed at many places, strictly forbidding the use of alcohol and other intoxicants. Meat, smoking, betel leaf etc., all are banned on the campus.
The highly impressive main building of Khalsa College was designed by Bhai Ram Singh, the Principal of Mayo College (later NCA) Lahore, who designed a number of grand edifices in Punjab, including the Lahore Museum, the Mayo College and the Punjab University, to name just a few.
The Khalsa College building is based on salient features of Mughal and Sikh architecture. The foundation stone was laid in 1892. The architectural style is maintained in all the buildings on the 300-acre campus as also in the structures of other educational institutions run by the Khalsa College Charitable Society.
In the late 19th century a group of Sikh leaders wanted to have Khalsa College built in Lahore, but the majority voted for Amritsar because it housed the Golden Temple, the holiest Sikh site.
The suggestion of having Khalsa colleges in both the cities was also turned down because of the cities’ proximity.
The Principal, Dr Mehal Singh, is expecting me a day later but greets me with warmth and cordiality. He has enjoyed Pakistani theatre group Ajoka’s plays staged in Amritsar.
Over a glass of refreshing lassi, he informs me that Punjabi written in the traditional Gurmukhi script is one of the two languages that are being taught in his college.
The other, no prizes for guessing, is English. Hindi is only offered at the Master’s level.
Since the principal has another meeting to attend, I am handed over to the registrar of the college, Devender Singh, who also teaches in the Political Science and Public Affairs Department.
He takes me to the Sikh Heritage Museum bang opposite his office. The walls, on both sides of the first floor, are lined with photographs of eminent ex-students.
I recognise three people – Dr Mulk Raj Anand, one of the founders of the Progressive Movement in the literature of the subcontinent; Bhisham Sani, the writer of Tamas; and the eminent cricketer Bishen Singh Bedi.
I am taken to a room where a matchlock is on display. Sharing space in the room are swords and a shield of the army of Maharaja Ranjit Singh. But I am more interested in the adjoining room where Firdousi’s Shahnameh, the epic poem, is on display.
It was transcripted by Mohammed Jamal, who took two years to complete the job in 1847.
Next to the work in the glass-covered display table are the Mahabharat calligraphed in Gurmukhi and a copy of Guru Granth Sahib, the holy book of the Sikhs, neatly handwritten in 1651 by Harji, the son of Manohar Das Meherban.
A third room has some fascinating paintings, including one riveting one recreating the storming of the Lahore Fort by the Sikh army.
One of the two ladies staffing the museum escorts me to the Rare Books section. It is rarely opened to an outsider. As I am to realise later she doesn’t do me a favour.
She leads me to a corner, takes out a few books and asks me to identify which volumes are in Persian and which ones are in Urdu, since the staff cannot tell the difference. It seems the cup of tea offered to me has been well-earned.
The Punjabi Department is offering a certificate course in Urdu, I am told. “The Sikhs contributed immensely to Urdu literature before Partition,” a lecturer tells me.
But he has no answer to my question about why they disowned the language after Partition.
At the Punjabi Department, I am also informed that one of the papers in the Master’s programme is on Punjabi literature produced in Pakistan after 1947.
Transliterated in Gurmukhi, an anthology of Pakistani Punjabi poems – aptly titled Dukh Daryaon Paar Da [The Sorrow From Across the Rivers] – is part of the curriculum. Afzal Ahsan Randhawa’s novel Do Aaba and Ishaq Mohammad’s drama Mussalli are also assigned this year.
The main library on the campus has an impressive 189,302 books. “These are in addition to the books in the small libraries attached to different colleges,” the librarian explains.
He informs me that there about 8,000 students are enrolled at Khalsa College but many of them are taking their exams which is why the campus looks so deserted.
As I walk back towards the guest house, I am fascinated by the façade of the Khalsa University, which was built only two years ago but is in keeping with the style of the other edifices on the campus.
The recently-restored gurdwara is only a few steps away.
The next morning I get to meet Sardar Gunbir Singh, who speaks impeccable Urdu apart from excellent English. He wears many hats. Our conversation hovers around the Khalsa College.
I tell him how excited I am to see Pakistani cement being used in the construction. “That’s because of its high quality and the college’s proximity to Pakistan, thus reducing transportation costs,” explains my host.
“What should please you no less is that we are using the technique taught to us by the accomplished conservationist Kamil Khan Mumtaz of Lahore.
He told us to add lime and a couple of other ingredients to cement while joining the weakened joints of bricks,” Gunbir informs me.
As I say goodbye to my host, I tell Dharminder Pataul, the director of public relations that I wish to have a round of the Agriculture College. His eyes light up at my request.
“Every year 160 students graduate and get jobs immediately,” he tells me.
“From this year the number will increase to 200. Last year some students landed jobs in Australia and New Zealand too … “
But since everyone was busy at a national conference, he suggests going to the Khalsa College of Veterinary and Animal Sciences.
But then I am told that the animals undergoing treatment are housed in a village about one mile from the college. My visa is restricted to Amritsar and I can’t go to adjoining villages.
I have to be content with visiting the main campus.
The students are preparing for their exams so they study at home but the faculty members are very much there. I meet some senior faculty members, one of whom is a Muslim from Srinagar.
The junior faculty has a sprinkling of Muslims too, who are mostly young women from Jammu.
What impresses me most is that the people I meet in Khalsa College or, for that matter, in the city of Amritsar, don’t seem to harbour ill-feelings against Pakistanis.
But the 20 miles separating us sometimes seem like a never-ending stretch.
