Sardars of Delhi

If I am correct, male adult members of the Sikh community are commonly known as Sardars, although the term Sardar means a person of authority.  They are in all walks of life in Delhi, and my experience with them is very positive.  My favorite Sardar is Kushwant Singh, I enjoyed his books, and there's no one who has made fun of Sardars and made a lot of money than him.  I did not think that his books are revolutionary, but he is a good story teller.  Through his writings I could imagine what he will be like, and I liked the way he could be.  Funny, smart and occasionally obnoxious.

Here's my experience with two Sardars whom I met almost accidentally.

Delhi undergoes power-cut frequently, and once I thought I should stock some candles.  I went to a super market, could not find them, and thought I should ask a shop assistant, but did not know the Hindi word for it.  I saw a Sardar, approached him and asked him how can I ask for candles from the shop assistant.  He asked me about my origins, he has not met a Sri Lankan, and was happy to be of help.  We exchanged names, he was Lucky Singh.  He was friendly, wanted to say something in Tamil, but I could not figure out what he wanted to say.  I smiled, and he understood that he was not making any sense. He apologized.

He wondered why I will be looking for candles, when rechargeable lamps are available.  He decided that I should get one of them, told me not to buy candles, took me on his Vespa/Bajaj scooter to an electric shop which was about 500 m away, told the shop keeper that I am looking for a rechargeable lamp, got one, I paid.  Then he went on to say that I should invest on an inverter as power cuts are frequent, again, told the shop keeper to install one at my flat, I paid, and I thanked him.  Inverter was installed the following day.  He gave me his phone number and told me that I could call him anytime if I needed help, left.

I did run into him occasionally at the same super market, he will say hello, I will ask about his business, and we part.  Once he was with his wife and introduced her to me.  He was always friendly.

The second Sardar I met was on my way to a bus stop.  It was a freezing morning, and I was on my way to work, and was at the Bus stop.  A three wheeler, stopped, and there was an elderly Sardar.  He asked me where I wanted to go, I told him my destination.  He said it was on his way, and would drop me.  I got in.  He then asked me if I am Dr. Prathapar, and I was flabbergasted!  How could someone know me in Delhi?  I said yes, and asked how could he know my name.  He said he read it from the name tag of my brief case, and smiled.  Pretty clever, wasn't it.  We reached my office and I offered to share the costs, he refused, and he said he was glad that he met me!

I met many more of them when I worked in Punjab, had been to the Golden temple at Amritsar, and had langar (lunch) in a village Gurudwara in Karnal.  All my interactions with them are positive.  Often Sri Lankans are referred as 'Happy-go-lucky jolly good fellows', and I think the Sardars I met too are also 'happy-go-lucky jolly good fellows'. 

Delhi Living

When I was interviewed for the position I hold now, the choices were Colombo, Sri Lanka or Hyderabad, India.  But just before I was to assume the position, I was asked if I would accept the posting in Delhi, and I gladly accepted it.  I had been to Delhi a few times before, stayed in posh hotels, and did all the touristic tasks.

When I had to LIVE in Delhi,  I made some inquiries from my Indian friends in Oman, and most suggested that I should live in Inderpuri, Patel Nagar or Rajendra Nagar, suburbs bordering central and western Delhi. Initially, I stayed in a hotel in Rajendra Place for a few days and met a young Sikh man.  He has never met a Sri Lankan, and was wondering what would attract a Sri Lankan to take up a job in Delhi.  Then he characterized Delhiites:  We are very educated and civilized when we wake up in the morning, but as time goes, we get aggressive, and by the end of the day, we are just animals trying to survive.  It was funny, and it took me some time to understand what he was trying to say.  Living in a city of 21 m is not easy.  Everything has to be fought for, driving, shortages of water and power, parking spaces, you name it, that's the way the life goes on.

I have expressed my frustrations over the lack of civic sense among Delhiites previously, so, I will move on to my life, at Inderpuri for the past two years.  The suburb where I was able to rent a flat within walking distance to my office, and convenient access to all other amenities.

The name Inderpuri sounded religious, historic and royal.  It's a relatively new suburb, established after the partition to house refugees from Pakistan.  It was away from the 'Center' and 'Old' Delhis, and apparently one of the better suburbs of Delhi, because (1) it was new, and (2) it was just across Pusa Institute, the premiere Agricultural Research Station in India.  Even now the district where Inderpuri is within is considered the second best of the five districts for infrastructure.  Pressure on housing forced the Govt to allow four story flats, and developers convinced the landholders to destroy houses and build flats, and make money together.  Almost all have succumbed, and now the population of Inderpuri is four times it was designed for. But for many Delhiites, it is still a middle class suburb, some would even claim it an upper middle class one.

I moved from a University Housing in Oman of about 550 houses, all almost designed and constructed the same, and where parking rules were strictly enforced.  Moving from there to Inderpuri was like moving from order to chaos.  Each flat was designed differently, painted differently, and are of different ages.  So, you have mixed bag of architecture.  Yet, it is functional.

I have a habit of getting up when the sun comes up, and as I come to the balcony, I see a group of men washing cars.  They actually do a sponge bath, and I am sure they are just relocating the dust from one part of the car to another.  With a 15 liter bucket of water, they will wash 15 cars!  Tell them about water conservation!

Then comes the news paper men.  These guys should try sharp shooting.  They will be riding their bikes, hand on left handle, the right hand will pick up a rolled news paper, swing gently and the paper will fall in one of the four balconies the thrower intended to.  The speed of the bike and the swing of the arm are so synchronized they never miss their targets.

Now its the turn for the garbage collector on a three wheeled cycle.  Right behind the seat is a compartment 1 m wide 1.5 m long and 0.75 m high.  On one side of the compartment a big sack is kept.  The collector tips the garbage into the compartment and picks all recyclables - into the sack.  Cans, bottles, plastics and news papers, all tossed into the sack.  Probably the most efficient domestic waste recycling program I have seen.  He beats the Municipality's garbage truck by an hour at least.

As the cars getting washed, news papers distributed and garbage recycled,  I can now feel Inderpuri waking up.  Its turn for the fathers and grand fathers to go for their walks, buy milk and bread and so on.  Ladies are not yet out, their turn comes later when vegetable carts come on.  Gradually you can see an array of hawkers take charge of the streets.  Everything is on sale in front of your flat.  Vegetables, Fruits, Coconuts, Knife sharpeners, Monkey charmers, cleaning aid salesmen, all out there.  Cows and the dogs too parade the streets.  Once a dog was chasing a cow, and I was on its flight-path.  Thanks to a guardian angel's yell - a local maid - I got out if its way and saved my vertebrae.

Despite being a 'small' locality all services were provided.  There were 'laundries' every 50 m or so.  Plenty of washing and ironing to do, I am sure.  So were hair-dressers and beauty parlors.  The family which had my 'laundry' was on call.  I call, they collect my washed clothes, iron and return in a few hours.  So, was the tailor when I had to do alterations, and water seller, when I run out of drinking water.  Mobile phones are for sure boosting their trade, and make our life comfortable.  The main street has one of everything.  One textile store, one hardware store, and so on.  All within five minutes walking distance.  

As the afternoon sets in, young-and-rich kids are now on their two-wheeler, often with two or three pillion, streaking the roads.  It reminds me of the days I was learning to ride on my father's scooter.  I was about 14 at that time, and he rarely let me on the street.  We will go to an open area. often we played cricket there, to practice scootering.  I do have a complain against these teenagers, they just toot the horn for no reason, loud and long.  It's a turn-off I must say.

Inderpuri had temples, street bajans, wedding processions and of course funeral processions.  Just like any other suburbs anywhere!

I think the least two years in Inderpuri had brought me closer to myself and my roots.  Extremely different to my life in US, Australia or Oman.  In fact it was different to my life in Pakistan too.  I often thought, had I stayed in Jaffna all my life, it would have been like my life in Inderpuri.