Rasoolpur is an overgrown village, almost a small town, surrounded by extensive ruins of the Mughal and Sikh eras ...a town of considerable antiquity, famous for the couple of handsome tombs dating to the time of the fourth Mughal emperor, Nur-ud-din Muhammad Salim, known by his imperial name, Jahangir – conqueror of the world. Life in Rasoolpur resembled a large joint family. The community was close-knit and people came together in each other’s joys and sorrows; everyone celebrated everyone else’s festivals and participated in each other’s ceremonies, setting aside all thoughts of caste, creed and religion.
Affluence had come in full-bodied sweep to Rasoolpur, as it had come to the entire Doab region in the state of Punjab. The remittances sent home by the large number of its inhabitants who had migrated abroad – especially those who had made their way initially to Canada, Australia, the UK or the US, and later to the Middle East and beyond – were substantial. Almost every household in the village had at least one member who had settled abroad and practically every household had seen a sudden growth in its financial status.
This had resulted, first, in a spurt in ostentatious embellishments and additions to old homes; some of them even boasted the names of their benefactors in the form of cemented legends in the parapets around the terraces, or on the well-lit concrete columns supporting the wrought-iron gates, specially designed with patterns of flowers, birds or animals. It was common to see signs that read “Jagjivan Ram Canadian”, “Ujjaghar Singh American” or “Makkhan Singh Australian”.
No one had heard of the small country called Peru in Latin America. Everyone thought it was some sort of a title, like “Sir” or “Lord”, that the Vilayat di Malikka (the Queen of Great Britain) had awarded to Peru Saligram Kapoor, who, in any case, was never around to clarify the matter. And by the time Ganda Singh Brar, never happy with the name his parents had given him at birth, came back from Lugazi, in Uganda, Africa, after making his millions from his sugar-cane business, he had affixed the letter “u” to his first name and transformed into “Uganda” Singh Brar.
When this wealth became more sustained, it resulted in the people’s movement to the neighbouring areas. It began first in ones and twos, and then became a veritable exodus, when the now-defunct Punjab Cold Storage, with its associate companies – Punjab Spun & Steel Pipes and Punjab Paper Mills – was pulled down and the vast acreage it stood on divided into large-sized residential plots of a minimum of 4 kanals (which is approximately 2000 square yards) each or more. Thus, the twin town – Naya Rasoolpur – came into being.
All the upwardly mobile residents, not only of Rasoolpur but the surrounding villages too, had seen in this development an opportunity to make a bold statement celebrating their new economic status. Some of the local people even went to the extent of building huge palace-sized kothis (bungalows) boasting swimming pools, lush green lawns with marble statues of various British kings and queens, rockeries with colourful musical fountains and a driveway with a Mercedes-Benz – the ultimate status symbol for the Punjabis.
It was said that the Rasoolpur area had the largest numbers of Mercedes cars in the country. Kulwant Singh Bajwa owned three of them, including a 500 SEL, each paraded out on the long driveway by day, so as to be seen by one and all, and parked in the giant garage by night. The signboard at the gate read: “Mercedes House”.
Regardless of the size and shape, atop each house sat a large concrete water tank fashioned into various forms – eagles, crows, hawks, lions, tigers, footballs, Air India airplanes and pressure cookers, ships, even tractors.
There was also that one house with a gigantic, black crocodile designed to deflect all bad luck away. A couple of retired army officers, of whom Rasoolpur was very proud, had gone to the extent of building replicas of the British-made Centurion MK7 battle tanks complete with their 105mm guns and heavy armour, which had played a major role in destroying or capturing many of the overly complex American-built M47 and M48 Patton tanks during the 1965 Indo-Pak war.
Both these decorated soldiers were from the armoured corps, one from a Light Cavalry unit and the other belonging to Poona Horse, and each had seen to it that his water tank was constructed with himself as the hero, the proud gunner emerging proudly from the turret of his tank, ready to attack the enemy. In fact, these were very poorly rendered images of the two retired soldiers, but nonetheless served to remind everyone of the service each had rendered to the nation.
All this new construction had been completely unplanned. The houses weren’t numbered, no street names, no colony. Hence, for the convenience of the postman and visitors, the address was simple: “Babbar Sher Wali Kothi” (the lion villa), “Kaan Wala Ghar” (the house with a crow), “Magarmach Wali Kothi” (the crocodile villa), “Hawaijahaz Wali Kothi” (the villa with the airplane), and so on.
There was Sardar Jarnail Singh Sandhu and his three brothers – Sardar Karnail Singh Sandhu, Sardar Single Singh Sandhu and Sardar Double Singh Sandhu. The story went that their father, a retired sepoy of the British army, who had seen action in Africa during the Second World War, wanted his eldest son to join the army and retire as a general and the second one to at least acquire the rank of a colonel, if not higher. So disappointed and depressed was he that his two sons had no inclination to join the army that he left home forever. He was never seen or heard from again – though not before he had added two more children, both boys, once again, to the family.
The local midwife told him that twins could be expected.
However, only one boy came out, and he kept on asking and telling everyone, ‘Oye, ei ki hoya, sirf single? Sirf single hi aaya! [Oh, what has happened? Only a single has come!]’
The boy was named Single Singh.
But the labour pains didn’t stop and an hour or so later that afternoon the midwife helped deliver another son. The old man proudly exclaimed: “Oye, double aa gaya! Double paida ho gaya! [Oh, double has come!]”
The poor second-born son was named Double Singh.
While it’s true that none of the four joined the army, as their father had wished and hoped for, they did establish a small transport business, which gradually grew into an empire in itself. Their four large double-storey homes, adjoining each other, shared a common boundary wall and had a common entrance, not only to the estate but to the four homes also, thus making a social statement – another status symbol – that the four brothers and their families stood united and ran a common kitchen. For water tanks they had four large concrete buses constructed on the roof of each home, an impressive sight that could be seen from quite a distance. It was known as the “Busan Wala Mahal” (the palace with buses).
In Punjab, the puppy culture had just taken birth.
Excerpted with permission from Memories Of Fire: A Novel, Ashok Chopra, Penguin Books.