It has been months since I wrote my last story but a lot has happened during that time. It was my final year of studies and I lost my brother in June. My friends say retirement time is well spent to relax or travel to see the world but for me it is different. My desire is to give my knowledge to young people so I share my Punjabi language, English or Mathematics with them. I hope their future will be better, one way or another.
This story starts from the 1940s when the British sent their agents to villages in Punjab. One such agent came to Dehriwala, a small village just some distance away from Amritsar. He wanted strong young men who would be taken to a faraway land called Malaya. My father was the third among his brothers and his father had passed away. The agent promised my grandmother that her son would bring in a fortune once he went away from the village. They had a piece of land where they planted wheat and the time was difficult when floods hit and their crops were destroyed. My father was 19 at that time and he left home on a big ship seeking greener pastures.
Once the ship reached the Malaya shore, my father was taken to Tanjung Tualang where he worked on the mining dredge. His job was to carry sacks of crude tin ore on his shoulders which was then transported by the lorries to the factories. During my conversations with him years later, he said crude tin ore was heavy and it cut his shoulder. The wound would not heal as he had to work daily but my father was determined to go on without caring for it. He showed me the scar as he talked about it. The young men who worked at the mines were given quarters where they cooked dhall and chapati for their meals just like we see the Nepalese or the Bangladeshis these days. He made friends with the men from other villages from Punjab and soon Tanjung Tualang became a small village similar to one in Punjab. The village still exists in Perak but there are fewer residents now as most of the youngsters have migrated to the cities.
While working at the tin mine, he met Sardar Kernail Singh and they became close. Kernail’s wife was taken ill and had been admitted to the local hospital a few miles away from where they lived. One day, Kernail Singh who was on duty requested if my father could send food to his wife as the hospital did not provide meals. My father agreed at once and set out on his bicycle with the food. When he visited the woman and started talking with her, he made a decision to take her as his sister. He would visit her occasionally and during their conversations, she mentioned about her 3 children, 2 boys who were with them but their daughter, Jitto had been left in India. My father promised her that he would take care of her sons should anything happen to her. Her husband was a watchman and was always away at work. She came home from the hospital well again and one day while she was working near the well, got struck by lightning and passed away. Papa made sure to keep an eye on Saudagar and Amrick as they went to school. After some time, the Japanese army beat the British so my father decided to move away from the tin mine. He got news that the Penang Harbor Boat or Penang Port Commission as it is called now, needed security guards and he traveled to Penang Island for this new job.
He was happy he got the job and was still staying with friends at their “kongsi” when word came about that the towkay in Northam Road wanted a watchman for his bungalow. My father went to see the towkay and offered to work part time when he was off duty at the PPC. As I said earlier, the people back then were humble, generous and understanding so my father was given the job which was to be shared with another Sikh. A gentleman with a turban was so trusted by the other races. My father moved into the bungalow’s servant quarters until he married my mother many years later.
Papa worked on shifts at the Penang Harbor Board and on one occasion he met Sardar Sadhu Singh who was crossing from Butterworth to the island to purchase groceries. Those days, shops selling chapati flour or dry groceries could only be found on the island particularly from Gurcharan Singh Sambhi’s store. My father greeted him and they chatted for a while. They got to know a little about each other. This acquaintance led to my father inviting his new friend and his wife for dinner. When papa was free on one weekend, Sadhu Singh, Minder Kaur and their baby who was about 6 six months’ old came over taking the ferry and walked to our quarters on Northam Road. My mother had cooked chicken curry, made chapatis and the men had their drinks and dinner while the women ate afterwards. They talked for hours and said their goodbye before walking back to the ferry terminal. However, the ferry service at that time ended at 12 midnight so they had missed their ferry. They walked back to Northam Road and called my father’s name at the gate. My father who was still awake led them in and made sleeping arrangements for them for that night. Next morning, after breakfast they left. During their conversation the night before, my father got to know that Sadhu Singh was from Harpura, a village where his sister was married into. From that moment, he adopted Minder Kaur as his sister and Sadhu Singh his brother-in-law and their friendship bloomed for over 50 years. I was born 2 years later but Aunty Mindo made sure I never missed my ‘phua’ (father’s sister). She showered me with so much love and on one occasion when I stayed with her, she took out her sewing machine and sewed me a dress when mine was drenched in the rain.
In this picture, Pajan is on the extreme left, Aunty Mindo is carrying Jaswant on her lap and Tara is standing by her. I am on the right to my Ma and I am about 4 years old. Both my aunty and my Ma are expecting their sons, Sukdev and Kuldeep.
Uncle Sadhu Singh and Aunty Minder Kaur
Sadhu Singh worked as a security guard at the smelting company in Bagan Luar Road in Butterworth. Since he was married, he was given living quarters not very far away from his workplace. He was a good hearted man, after the first baby boy, he was blessed with 4 more boys and a girl. The baby boy was named Pajan, after which Tara, Jaswant, Sukdev, Rani and Gurbachan were his joy. He loved them to bits and when my brothers and I went to stay with them, he would love us too. Time passed by and we were in our teens when he retired from the smelting company. They looked around and one of Aunty Mindo’s brother-in-law, Surjan Singh offered his garage at Bagan Dalam for their new home. The attap house was built quickly and this lovely family moved in. Life had to go on….. They had to make do with oil lamps at night and get their water supply from their neighbour. They had a little bathroom in their house where they showered. It was difficult especially for toilets as those days, bucket system was the medium so they had to walk away from their little house to some bushes where the little hut was placed. When I visited, I would run to Surjan Singh’s house to do my business. Aunty Patchi was nice and she would even offer me her bathroom to shower and I would spend some time chatting with her. She had four sons, Santokh, Harbans, Shinday and Rajey and they are like family till today.
My uncle and aunt had another baby boy at this new house and they named him Amarjit. He was chubby, cute and everyone’s favourite as he was carried around. When he turned one, his birthday party was a memorable one. During the school holidays, we would cross over to Butterworth via the ferry and stay with them. You can imagine seven children of their own plus three of us could be a nightmare but Aunty Mindo or my phua was an expert in handling children. If any one complained, she would just stare at him or her and that child would be silenced. Today, we take parenting lessons to disciple our children.
One thing about this couple was they were generous and gracious. In the morning, Sadhu Singh carried a basket to the market and bought the market supplies and my aunt cooked a delicious meal for all us. I sometimes wonder, how they managed financially but they never complained even once. We all sat on the floor happily and ate together. Aunty Mindo was not only good at her curries, she would make delicious desserts like pulut kacau, coconut candy and other cakes. She passed the recipes to my brother who makes these desserts her way today. She talked fluently in Tamil with the neighbours and one day I realized that her mother who had visited during that time was Tamil. We helped with the household chores; some of us washed the dishes while Rani and I hung the laundry to dry. Once we were free, we walked through the ‘kampung’ or village and talked to anyone who we passed. That was the way at that time. There was Darsho and her parents in one big house shared with one Beybey. Across the lane was Darsho’s brother, Gurdip Singh who also worked at Penang Port Commission. We plucked mangoes, ‘buah riang’ and guavas from the trees and ate those with salt. We played marbles and ‘cully toi’ and badminton outside our little house. It was fun and when the time came to return to our house, we were sad but promised to meet again the next school holiday. On the next round, they visited us and stayed at our large bungalow on Northam Road. We played games and went to swim at the beach along Northam Road. On other days, we played football and fought sometimes but in the end we were friends. Those days Deepavali was celebrated on a grand scale and we sent greeting cards to each other. We hung these cards on a string in our living room and boasted about how many friends we had.
Some years later, when I visited 3233 Bagan Dalam Butterworth, a well had been dug so we could use the water to shower in the bathroom. Pajan had started working at New Straits Times, followed by Tara and Sukdev. When Pajan got his first pay check, Aunty Mindo took us to the movies and later bought each of us our favourite food for dinner. That is a big heart! With 3 sons working, uncle stayed at home as he was getting old. They found a match for Pajan so shortly after that he got married with Jaswant Kaur from Kuala Lumpur. Then, Tara got married with Tirlochan Kaur from Penang followed by Sukdev with Balvinder and the family grew. Tara and his family moved out to live on their own followed by Pajan. Sometime later, Sukdev also decided to stay separately. Rani was married off to a Sikh gentleman from Sungei Petani and it was just my uncle, aunty and her 2 boys at that house. Jaswant had gone to Kuala Lumpur for studies, later work and visited occasionally. One day I got a message informing me that my uncle had passed away. It was an accident as he fell over into the well probably due to his poor eyesight or he had slipped. I was devastated but cried on my own. A kind soul had left us! My father when told of this was sad as both of them had seen good and bad times together and one had left before the other.
Some years later, Bagan Dalam was selected for development so Aunty Mindo and her sons had to move to Bukit Tengah where they had built a nice brick house. Here, Gurbachan and some time later Amarjit got married. I was already in Kuala Lumpur and often times could not make it back due to work. After a few years Aunty Mindo who was taken ill passed on. This time, I went to say my goodbye to her as she lay peacefully on her bed in her living room. My heart cried as she was carried away and till today her memory is etched in my mind. At that point, I asked myself, “Who will I call ‘phua’ after this”? The one in Harpura, India had also passed away. My Ma was badly affected by this aunty’s passing and till today talks of her.
Uncle Sadhu Singh and Aunty Mindo were called back by The Almighty from this world but our brother-sister bond is still here. We meet often and talk of the past and update each other and hope our children will also keep this bond going. We had no blood relations but this type of relationship cannot be understood by outsiders who have not gone through it. May Uncle Sadhu Singh’s family and Fauja Singh’s family remain friends forever is my prayer to God.
