These are memories from nearly three decades ago. At that time, I was working on daily-wage rates as a temporary gardener-cum-water carrier at the headquarters of the Punjab Languages Department near Sheranwala Gate in Patiala. Ajit Singh Kakkar was the Director of the department. The Punjab Government had approved the recruitment of two permanent gardeners in the department. Kakkar Sahib sincerely wished that before his retirement, he could have me appointed as a permanent gardener, after which I could be promoted as an attendant. In that way, while serving in a government department, I would also continue serving literature. Such were his thoughts and feelings.
One day, the department’s Additional Director, Rachhpal Singh Gill, was sitting with Kakkar Sahib. I was called in. I greeted both of them with a common “Sat Sri Akal” and stood before them.
Kakkar Sahib said to Gill Sahib, “Get an experience certificate prepared for him from some nursery so that he can attach it to his application at the time of the interview. It will then be easier to recruit him, and the poor fellow’s life will improve.”
Gill Sahib replied, “I will get this done. We should also register his name with the employment exchange. Then, whenever we ask for candidates, the employment office can send his name. Kaka, go and wait in my room. I’ll be there shortly.”
I went and stood outside his room. Within a few minutes, Gill Sahib arrived. He asked me to bring Pardesi Ji. Gurcharan Singh Pardesi was a Senior Assistant and, apart from being in charge of the Sahit Sadan, was also responsible for the gardeners and the lawns. Pardesi Ji arrived as well. Gill Sahib said, “Pardesi Ji, take him to Santokh Singh of Modern Furniture at Fountain Chowk. Mention my name. He is a friend of mine and owns a flower nursery. We need to get an experience certificate prepared for this boy for his work as a gardener.” After hearing Gill Sahib’s instructions, we set off on foot. Since the place was very close, we reached there quickly. A dignified-looking Sikh gentleman was seated there. Pardesi Ji told him, “Gill Sahib has sent us. This young man, Narinder Kumar, works as a temporary gardener in our office. He is also a writer who writes under the name ‘Ghugianvi’ and remains engaged in reading and writing. The department wishes to make his position permanent. If an experience certificate could be issued from your side, it would make the process easier for him.” Santokh Singh laughed. He pushed a thick letter pad lying nearby towards Pardesi Ji and said, “Here, write whatever needs to be written.” Pardesi Ji sat down on a chair and began writing, while I stood nearby and watched. He wrote four or five lines in technical language. Santokh Singh took out a stamp from the drawer, stamped the letter, and signed it. I was overjoyed and felt completely blessed. I thought that the matter was as good as settled now. I would get a permanent job, and prosperity would come to our home. May such godlike officers live long. As we walked back, a prayer escaped from my lips. Seeing me happy, Pardesi Ji was happy too. The experience certificate was attached to my application. A few days later, a letter arrived from Chandigarh stating that because of certain legal complications, the approved posts of gardeners were being withdrawn. It was exactly like the saying, “After bathing and dressing up, a fly came and sat on the nose.” So much preparation, and yet nothing came of it. Anyway!
Santokh Singh never left my memory. Years passed. Then came a time when Dr Harkesh Singh Sidhu, who was fond of reading and writing and with whom I shared a warm relationship, was posted as Deputy Commissioner of Sangrur. One day, while I was travelling with him and we were passing near Fountain Chowk in Patiala, he said to the driver, “Kaka, take us to meet Santokh Singh.”
When our vehicle stopped outside his door, Santokh Singh got up, came forward, and took us inside. Sidhu Sahib began introducing me, but I could not hold myself back. I said, “Sir, I am Narinder Kumar Ghugianvi, the one who came to you nearly twenty years ago to get an experience certificate as a gardener.” He smiled, rose from his chair, and embraced me. “Wonderful! Yes, yes, now I remember. It is remarkable that you remembered it too.”
The words came naturally from my lips: “Sir, how could those days ever be forgotten? Those days refuse to be forgotten.” At the time of departure, Santokh Singh handed me a beautiful diary and a pen and said, “Here, take these. Do not forget to write down the beautiful memories of those days.”As I sat in the car, my eyes became moist.
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