An email by Cheeku (Vineet) Sandhir - DK uncle's son

Hi Holly,

I was really shocked and saddened to hear about uncle's untimely demise from Dad and Mom . It immediately brought back some great memmories of the times that we have had the good fortune of sharing with Uncle and his whole wonderful family.


We will always remember Uncle as someone who had amazing dignity, poise, style and was always jovial and in good spirits . His powerful spiritied nature inspired all of us . His successful transitition from the Army into being a self employed successful business person is very inspiring indeed.


I remember all the times we spent with Uncle and Aunty at DSOI and their house . I also remember Uncle and Aunty visiting us in Chandigarh and i remember them sitting outside next to each other in the Garden Chairs watching the plants and the birds in the garden .


We would like to remember Uncle as always being with us , close to us in our hearts and spirit and guiding us all the way. Kulwant uncle has left a great legacy behind with his amazing family and i'm sure they will keep the family flag flying high at all times and bring even more glory to his name.


Regards,
Cheeku.. ( Vineesh Sandhir )

A COMMENT LEFT BY GURINDER VIRJI ON SAT UNCLE'S POST

This sure is a very rare paradigm of attachment and solidarity.

Uncle Sat has sure been one of Kulwant Chachaji's closest friends and used to lovingly call him "Kulu".

I had the great fortune, as a small kid, of tagging along with them when they went to the cinema or to the coffee house. They would at times take me for walks to the Buddha Jayanti Park or to Children’s’ Park at India Gate. Such simple luxuries of those times were so much fun and can never compare to the visits to best of the "five star" places today.

My initiation into listening of music, the art of being well turned out in our meager means, the finer qualities of chivalry and grace were majorly due to my observing these wonderful gentlemen who were always there for each other and later their families, and even to the extended families. While planning my visit to California, in spite of other relatives being there, Kulwant Chachaji insisted that I live with Sat uncle and in spite of his busy schedule, he gave me one of the best times of my life.

Sat uncle is so much family, that he would accord respect and honor to Papa, Mummy, Gurcharan Chachaji and Jasbir Chachiji, in the same manner in which Kulwant Chachaji would render his respects to his elders. In-fact he would actually call them by the same names that Kulwant Chachaji would use for addressing them, “Dr.ji, Bhabhiji, Bhapaji” etc.

In our self-seeking urge, to hang on to a very vital link in the life of Kulwant Chachaji, we wish that he shall continue touch us with his wonderful heart and tell us more about the days they spent together.

We further look forward to his visits us just like the good old days, so that even though one friend is gone for ever, the other shall be there to provide solace.

Remembering People and Places, Seen and Unseen -- A POST BY LADI DIDI

Its been seven weeks now, and less than 11 weeks since I last saw Uncle Kulwant, and it still feels unreal. This post is a bit of a recap, for a lot of things come to one’s mind, and get put on the back burner, because as Holly said, writing it all down takes the mickey out of you, and life does get in the way.

Holly mentioned in one of the earliest posts that he, and some cousins too would like to visit Muzaffarabad/ Naluchi. I do not know if that is possible even for those of us who hold non-Indian passports. The reason being that while Muzaffarabad/ Azad Kashmir may still be accessible, Naluchi is not, as it is the site for a very sensitive Pakistani military installation (would be too, if it was not as strategically located, it would not have been in the frontline of the attack that killed our families in the aftermath of the partition!). My parents and Jappi visited Pakistan 21 years ago, and while there was no question of Daddy ever visiting Naluchi, being a visibly turbaned sikh, his Chachaji (yes, he lives there, the convert brother of my Gyani grandfather!) offered to take Mummy to Naluchi so long as she wore a burqa, and so long as my parents got an extended visa! The latter did not happen, so neither did the former!!!

Anyway, I am digressing, getting back to Muzaffarabad, here are the following links:

http://www.muzaffarabadak.com/

http://www.pbase.com/hgharib/muzaffarabad

http://www.muzaffarabad.com/

All of the above lead to other links and it is easy to get lost in the beautiful scenery.

All the places ever mentioned by our parents and grandparents (Kotli, Bhattika, Mirpur, Chakothi, and Domel, where the Jhelum joined the Kishan Ganga, known now as

Neelum ) are all there, heartbreakingly beautiful, but there is just one shot of Naluchi, and not very clear either, somewhere in the third link above. I have saved it on my desktop, and if anyone finds better and more, do please let me know.

In the same post where Naluchi was mentioned, Holly was in doubt about Uncle’s age. Well, we all were, since our grandmas remembered the date, but not the year! Holly, I am sure Pappa remembers ! I remember we went a very circuitous route to find out Daddy’s date of birth from the desi one, but the year could never be determined in his lifetime, as Grandma insisted that Daddy was sawa saal da when the earthquake in Quetta happened, whereas his Basant Bua ( the very Basant Mami who rescued Uncle Kulwant from Pakistan!) insisted he was younger!! Well, Grandma was proved right (after all, Mother does know best) only two years ago! In the aftermath of the Asian Tsunami, I was doing a search on last century’s killer earthquakes, and the Quetta one came up as having taken place on 30^th May 1935. Daddy survived that; to be administered last rites exactly 58 years later, to the date!!!

Holly, thanks too, for distilling the essence of Kubler-Ross’ seminal work; while all of us may not have access to it, nor feel up to reading about loss and grief, having been through it, I am sure we all found echoes of our own experiences on some level or the other. For those who feel up to it, an equally engrossing work from a personal perspective with medical and psychological insight on illness and grief is Joan Didion’s award-winning The Year of Magical Thinking where she has recounted the year following the death of her husband, writer John Dunne, and described the process of loss and grief in a magnificiently detached manner. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Year_of_Magical_Thinking

This detachment is perhaps a necessary pre-requisite of going on. And yes, while we are all mourning Uncle for himself, there is no denying that the need to talk and touch others with our words is a result of trying to find a way to reconcile with other deaths in our families in the past. We have all lost loved ones, OK let us face it, most of us have lost a parent and lost them in their prime. I remember Sept 11 for an entirely different reason: it was 12^th September here, we being 14 hours ahead of USA, and I had left home as usual, dropping in at the service station to get the paper before I walked to work. Well, the papers were all sold out, and in this country, that happens only for a horserace in November, or when someone like Don Bradman dies! I got to work and it was chaos, no one was in the labs, everyone had collected in the auditorium and was watching replays of an America under attack! Obviously very little work got done that day, and I raced home to call my cousin in New York. I could only get through after two days, and while it was a relief to find that all was well with him, I could tell from his voice that he was holding something back, that there was something he was not telling me. And then, repeatedly, he asked me if I was well; that was when the penny dropped!!! Once again the families were at work to protect us and our happiness. We had not told Holly of Daddy’s death because he had only just got married. And now they were not telling me because here I was, having only learnt two weeks before of my long-awaited pregnancy. I did not need to be told that Grandpa was gone. What I was not prepared for was the next part of the news, that Gurcharan Uncle was gone too, gone in his sleep, he whom we all knew as Pilot Uncle, one more father gone before his time. My apologies, Baba and Bunny, you are both pilot uncles in your own time and your own right ( though I am sure not many kids address you that way!), but your Dad was The Original, and I say that also from a scientist’s perspective: a pilot is a study that tests the waters, breaks the ground, and in your father’s instance, first takes to the air!!

Which brings me to Pappa, who has worn the mantle for so many kids beside his own. I remember a time after Daddy’s death, when I was in Delhi and since all Masi’s kids addressed Pappa as Pappa, I got in the habit too, and happened to do just that while talking with Binny once. I immediately asked her if she minded that, and she replied that Pappa had by now become such a universal Pappa that none of his children minded who called him Pappa, for everyone was welcome to do that.

And now, while I am sure that Pappa’s generous umbrella ever expands beyond his own nephews and nieces to even accommodate distant relations like my siblings and me, the underlying losses must be a huge burden to carry. Even for someone like you, Pappa. Pappa, there is one simple reason why I have not spoken to you following Kulwant Uncle’s death: my voice can not reach you. And the disability is mine: this post, whatever its worth, is a very inadequate apology for all the words I can neither muster, nor give voice to, that they may offer you solace at this time.

I sign off with a slightly emended version of my eulogy. May be I am being pedantic; but I like to think that Uncle Kulwant would have insisted on the few corrections, meticulous person that he was:

To Uncle Kulwant

You had at least a dozen years

A full fourscore,

If not more.

Who took those years away?

Of all the battles that you fought

Was any more intense

Than the one you fought alone?

While we could only pray.

Your leaving makes more big the void

That happened all those years ago.

A blood-stained memory that one though

And here you softly slipped away.

It is almost as though you took care

To cause no pain to us who cared

And chose to join your brothers

In the most dignified of ways.

And while we learn to face the truth

That we shall see no more of you

That you are now beyond our ken

You surely know it well yourself

That you were, to your dying breath,

More than just an officer,

A Gentleman.

A MESSAGE FROM SAT UNCLE (SAT SANDHIR)

The following is a message that Sat Uncle (Sat Sandhir) sent me today. He also has a video of dad that I plan to put online in the next few days.

It has been difficult writing about my dear friend who was more like a brother and a family member. Every time I sat down to write, emotions took over and could not continue. I am personally and deeply saddened by the passing away of my dearest friend Capt. Kulwant Singh who was an extraordinary human being possessing attributes like compassion, caring, hardworking, sincerity, understanding, always willing to help others, thoughtful, loving and patience are a few I can name besides many others. His amicable and cheerful disposition was remarkable and I never saw him offend anybody ever. His dedication and commitment to his family mainly his wife Dr. Sarjit and Children Holly, Gudiya and Mannu were unquestionable. My mother had a special affection for Kulu.

One can take solace in the good times we had with Kulu. Recollecting the past: Train trips to college in Sonepat where he was successful in getting elected as the President of Student' Physics society, his service to his country as a young Captain in the Army almost risked his life in the Indo-pak war. His romance in Sirinagar with his future wife Dr. Sarjit and all of us attending their marriage ceremony in Jammu. We saw the birth of their first born Holly followed by Gudiya and Mannu. He was indeed proud of their children with a soft corner for Gudiya as all fathers have for their daughters. My visits to India with Sonu and Anjali always staying which I considered as my second home. Countless visits to Dhaula Kaun De fence Services Club and Teen Patti (Flash) card sessions. Kulu and Sarjit's visit to San Jose California and driving to Reno and Lake Tahoe Nevada.

There were tough times too. The shop got looted during Prime minister Indra Gandhi's assassination, yet he stood up and reestablished his business where he worked 12 hours a day many times 6 days in a week or more. I was able to assemble the video clips featuring kulu, which is hard to imagine he is gone.

Everybody I knew had the highest respect for his many attributes and down-home wisdom will be terribly missed by everyone at all times.

Tradition passes on to the next generation

I LEAVE FOR INDIA TOMORROW AND THEREFORE LEAVE THIS NOTE FOR ALL - SOMETHING HAPPENED TODAY THAT CALLED FOR THIS POST...SO HERE IT IS:


I wanted to spend as much time as possible with the kids before I left for India; therefore the weekend was quite busy - Saturday started with the soccer practice and then off to an indoor play place and then to Burger King with an attached playground. The evening was spent in Kohls, Walmart and Barnes and Nobles - by the time we were done it was almost midnight!

The kids came home with presents from Walmart - mom wanted them to have some new toys to keep them from missing dad. The kids wanted to spend their money to buy gifts for their cousins in India. Others wanted to buy things to sent back home for their loved ones, which I was supposed to carry...

Meera bought this bow and arrow that she practiced the whole Sunday morning. By the afternoon she was done and Jaya wanted to get some action - I helped her find the grove and while she shot the second time she broke the arrow. That lead to Meera crying and Jaya feeling guilty - Meera accused Jaya of breaking everything that she liked and Jaya sulked in my arms, self-guilt consuming her.

I tried to reason with Meera and said that this was just a small thing - nothing to cry about. That just added fuel to the fire. I became quiet and started thinking about this situation as a learning opportunity for the young ones - something that dad/mom had taught us - not to cry over spilled milk.

Meera was adamant that Jaya was after her and used every opportunity to break her things. Now Jaya was out of the picture as she was distracted and at some other part of the house. I asked Meera how much the bow and arrow cost her and she said 5 dollars. I threw 20 dollars at her and told her not to cry as that was not needed - she could go ahead and buy 4 of these bow and arrow, if she wanted. It was not worth her tears to cry over one broken arrow.

At that time I remembered an incident when I was still new at learning how to drive a car. One day Bobby and I had gone to Jawalaheri and while coming back had to brake suddenly as a cow came on the road. The guy behind us could not stop in time and banged his car into ours. I was upset but could not do anything and returned back home, nervous, scared and expecting dad to be mad. Dad saw my dejected and shaken self and asked what had happened and I sheepishly took him to the car and narrated the whole incident, crying constantly.

Without even looking at the damage of the car, dad caught hold of me and shook me and said 'are you ok?' The only concern I had was of the car and therefore did not get out of the fit of trying to show the damaged car to dad - he again asked me 'are you ok?' I looked at him and said 'yes, I am ok but dad the car is damaged' to which he replied, 'I do not care about the car - if you are ok then we are good. Cars come and go - you are what is more important to me!'

Without relating the incident to Meera, I told her a similar thing. She understood that the things are not important but the relationships are - off course the 20 dollars helped the case! She went back and talked to Jaya and then both were ok.

Now I am calling Meera upstairs and plan to tell her the story about the car incident.....

A COMMENT BY S.S. BALI (SATTA UNCLE) - JANU'S FATHER

I am posting a comment by Satta Uncle as it may be buried under all these postings. Thank you Satta Uncle for sharing your grief - it means a lot to me.

My dear Holly,

I feel and can realise the agony, the trauma and hollowness, you are facing on the untimely demise of your father. Man cannot do any thing and he is helpless. Man should be thankful of Almighty in every respect by all means. This is the only solution to console or pacify him.

I give here under the 1st Aasht Padhi of 5th Shalok of Sukhmani Sahib:

“Das basat ley pachey pavey|| ek basat karan, bikhot gawavey||
Ek bi Na dei, das bi har ley|| tau murha, koho kia karey||
Jis thakur seu, nahi chara|| ta kou kijey, sad namaskara||
Ja ke mun, laga prub meetha||Sarab sookh tahu mun vootha||
Jis jan apna hukam manaya|| Sarab thok, Nanak tini paeya||”

Akalpurakh “Who” gives so many comforts/pleasures to a man, he is never grateful to “HIM” and if “HE” does not give one more comfort as needed by him then he tend to annoy with “HIM”

If “HE” does not give one more as required by the man and also snatch away the given comforts/pleasures simultaneously then what he would do? Nothing…. Not…. At all. Man is cripple without any injury/disease before “HIM”.

He must bestow “HIM” day and night. Recite “HIM” around the clock.
A man who always recite and remember “HIM” from the core of his heart then all the comforts/pleasures become the slaves to him but for such person Almighty’s name is supreme. He least bothers for such materialistic things.


When doctor sahib wife died in an accident, on that time I was out of India. I could not attend Antim Ardas.

When Gurcharna bhapa expired, I was at Pune and could not attend Antim Ardas.
Reason my son Janu had met with an accident resulting leg fracture and except me no body was with him.

Ye kalash hameshan mere dil mein rahey gee

I rang up your mom from Rai Pur to know about Kulwant health, three days before his demise. On listening his critical condition, I could not utter a word and I cut off the phone.
On the night of Jappi Mehndi ceremony, I got a phone from Kulwant about 10.30 pm. He was chiding and asking me to reach tomorrow morning by all means. I assured him that I would definitely reach. But I could not go.

KITNA BUDKISMAT HOON.

“Majrooh likh rahey hain Eley-Vafa ka naam
Hum bhi kharhe huey hain gunaah gaar ki tarahn”
“Jo aya so chalsi, ayee apni apni wari”

Every body is standing in the row and is waiting for his turn. No body knows when the invitation will come from “HIS” side.”. HIS” invitation goes to every one on his turn irrespective of his/her age. He is physical fit or not, young or old, free from worldly liabilities or not but one has to obey his order


“Kis se keejey gamey hasti ka Aasad ilaaz (Aasad is Galib nick name)
Shama har rang mein jalti hai saher hone tak”

We have to live till “HIS” last call. We live happy and gay; live in sorrow and grief, live healthy and smart, etc for “HIM” no difference. One must obey his order. “HIS” command is supreme. No mercy appeal will be registered. No President discretion will work out. He has to go.

Was kulwant my friend, cousin, boozing mate or advisor?

I do not know.

It is hard fact that every body always goes behind rich person. He praises and respects that rich man because this is the trend of this cosmetic society (either that rich person helps or not that is secondary issue)

Once I was discussing some thing very serious with Kuwant. He at the spur of the moment warned me that I would not talk about this with any body. To bury this topic once for all. He categorically advised me that I should not talk this even with his wife Surjit. For me, he is the richest man; I had ever met in my life.


“Mein Kandiali Thorh vey Sajna, oogi wich ujarhan,
Jaa o badli baraas gayee Jarhi aa ke wich parhan”

“HE” will not call such person like me who is bush of thorn and is that type of Cloud, which gives no benefit to any body.

“Mai! Nee mai!
Mein ek shikra yaar banaya
Odey sir tey kalgi
Tey oday pairi chanjjar
Tey o chog chuginda aaya
Nee mein vaari jaan|
Churi kutan, te o nahi khanda
Onooh dil da Maas khawaeya
Ek oodari esi mari
Oho murh watni naa aeya
Nee mein vaari jaan|


Grief stricken
S.S.Bali

PS - Last poem by Shiv Kumar Batalvi
Audio clip (Jagjit Singh): http://www.dishant.com/mailsong/42084.html
Other Audio: http://www.apnaorg.com/audio/shiv/
Biography: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shiv_Kumar_Batalvi