Brotherlier than brothers, friendlier than friends, since 1950s
Jatinder Vir Yakhmi
Felicitations to my cousin, Mr. Dharam Pal Yakhmi on his 75th birthday on Feb. 12, 2021, and complimenting him on remaining a true friend, time-tested now for 70 years.
An article published in The Atlantic on Jan 27, 2021 had the title, ‘Pandemic Has Erased Entire Categories of Friendship’. The fear of catching Covid-19 through infection has indeed reduced in-person interactions between people across the world. WFH is the norm and face-to-face meetings have shrunk to the most essential official business. Travel by any mode is near-zero for re-unions between close friends and relatives, contact among whom is now limited to talking on phone or Skype/ Zoom, WhatsApp calls, etc.
But could Covid weaken a friendship established over long decades, between two cousins who spent their childhood and school days together at Khanna in Punjab (India), but have lived at a distance of over 1500 kms since then — I living in Mumbai and Dharam Pal Yakhmi (called DP) at Khanna? The answer is NO, because, the relationship bonds between me and DP have been covalent — very strong, and eagerness to know about the well-being of each other, and our dear ones through daily phone calls has only strengthened our bonds during Covid times. This is because the chemistry between us has been very strong, the reasons for which are many, but I count here just four: first, DP’s father was younger brother of my father, and his mother was younger sister of my mother; second, our maternal grandmother (Nani) lived with us in our younger days; third, we were of same age, born in 1946, DP being a few months older, leading to a playful bonhomie between us; and fourth, we were classmates at our school at Khanna, from 1st standard to 11th standard, the final year of our schooling. Did being classmates lead to any professional rivalry? Not at all, and the credit for that goes to DP, as explained at several points in the text that follows.
Until our 8th standard, my family of three members, I and my parents, were living at a distance of about one km from DP’s house. I am told that as a pre-schooler, whenever he was brought to our place, DP would climb the stairs of our first-floor house quick and fast yelling to me all the time, ‘EILL, main aaya’ — translated “Here I come, EILL”. The nickname EILL was given to me by young DP because he couldn’t pronounce my name.
During our toddlerhood, Nani referred to me as ‘kala kabootar’ (black pigeon) while comparing me with DP, who had a fair complexion. As I grew up, Nani called me ‘Jinder Paaliyan’. Why? Because it rhymed with ‘Dharam Paaliyan’, the name used by her to address DP.
Once Nani made a sudden appearance at our primary school when we were both in 3rd std. She just walked in and called out loudly for both of us. Our class teacher Bachan Singh, a cultured guy, stopped the class for a while, so that Nani could spot us. Having done that Nani gave a sermon to both of us, and to the rest of the class, about what DP had not done to her satisfaction.
DP had understood early on that the key to domestic popularity was to come up in the good books of Nani, which he did by mastering the art of indulging in ‘soothe’ talk to Nani — by praising her actions and hailing her successes in the past. Imagine, DP, a 12-year boy praising Nani like an elder. On the other hand, I was a reticent boy, a ‘shehari’ (urban) arrived from Railway Road locality of Khanna. Incidentally, after our 8th standard, my family, too, shifted to live in the house adjacent to DP’s.
I believe both of us had the same level of intellect, but pampered by his four sisters, DP spent less time over studies. On the other hand, I being the only surviving child of my mother, called ‘Biji’, a great disciplinarian who kept me on leash with strict instructions to follow ‘no play and study hard’ in order to perform well at school. Having no other option, I chose that path.
DP had a head start over me in popularity in the joint family. He would ask Biji for a head massage, knowing well that she always advocated it for sharp memory for studies. He also knew that I hated oily massages. That put me in bad light with Biji, my mother.
I was considered a ‘weakling’ in the joint family, ostensibly to save me from any injury caused by hard physical work, and also to assuage my Biji’s anxiety that I, her only child, was precious and needs to stay safe. Hence, right in my presence, all hard jobs such as shifting a heavy item, etc. were undertaken by DP and my elder cousin sister Pushpa, together, earning a dose of bravado for DP.
DP was sent to DAV College at Jalandhar, a famous institution, to do his pre-Medical course. But he had to shift tracks after a year to do his Bachelor’s degree at a local college and then a Master’s degree in Economics. I did B.Sc. Physics Hons. from Kurukshetra University at Kurukshetra, and shifted to Mumbai in 1965 to join Bhabha Atomic Research Centre (BARC), from where I retired as Associate Director of Physics Group in 2010.
DP took up a job as Lecturer in Economics at R.K. Arya National College at Nawanshahr in Punjab, in 1968. While on vacation, I went to meet him and also watched him teach a class at that College. I think he was doing a great job of teaching. But DP found a better paying job as economist in a company at Hyderabad, which he did for a few months. In the meantime, the family business was beckoning, and he finally plunged into it, never to look back for the next 50 years, until today.
We have a lot in common by way of memories from our childhood, our school days, and even later. For instance, we two would come rushing home from school in the recess-time, and being thirsty in hot summer, each one of us wanted to drink water first by operating the hand-pump. DP found a way around to win in this game. He would let me drink water first, which was warm initially. He would then declare that he wanted cold water anyway, which came from down under after operating the hand-pump for a while. Both of us would vie for the first chapati (Indian flat-bread) that came off the hot-pan sitting over the chulha (earthen hearth). Often times, DP’s mother had to cut the first chapati in two halves to satisfy both of us. While playing a game of a cards, DP wouldn’t let me go away, after I won. He must win a game to let me go. In 1979, I came rushing by train to see him and humor him by recalling these ‘silly nothings’ when due to a fracture in his leg, he was bed-ridden with a plaster for a month or so.
Over the years, whenever I came visiting from Mumbai, with my family, or alone, Biji, my mother, serving as a government rural social worker at villages located anywhere within 50 kms of our town Khanna, would take time off from her job to be with us. Invariably, DP would cajole Biji to let me spend time with him and his family, and would also declare that my lunch/dinner would also be with him, to ensure prolonged chatting sessions. He also used to, and still does, declare my visit to his sisters who live not far, so that we can be all together. During each visit of mine, I became, and still become, a good listener for a few hours to start with, to be updated with all that happened since I visited last.
With the passage of time, the children and grandchildren were growing and the house that the joint family lived in at Khanna, needed expansion. Therefore, in 2008, they shifted to a new larger 2-storeyed house, constructed on a plot of land located just a few meters from the old house.
DP is now the gel that binds the large joint family, as they all live together. He is an intense devotee of Radhasoami Satsang, Beas, and that faith has helped him to stay positive during the last thirty years, or so.
Even while living in Mumbai, I am as much a part of the joint family as DP, and I am kept informed about every bit of the happenings at Khanna. In the event of any untoward event, like a death in the family, DP underplays on phone while informing me, lest I get disturbed and worry too much. He also makes me speak on behalf of the whole family at gatherings during happy occasions like weddings, or tragic events like the expiry of a family elder. On my part, I had authorized DP to cremate the body of Biji, my mother, when she died of lung cancer in 1997. I could reach from Mumbai only a day after that, in time for picking up her mortal remains (ashes), which I, DP and other family members, dispersed in the river Beas, as per her wish.
I have had a strong attachment to the 3-room house at Khanna, where I lived during 1959–1962 (my school days), and where my father died in 1961. It is the house that I kept visiting annually to be with my mother, where she lived until she breathed her last in 1997. It is located adjacent to DP’s house. DP, and my two nephews sprung a surprise when they got my house renovated in mid-2019. Valuing my sentiments, they spent a lot working on it until it looked new, all furnished. I made a special visit from Mumbai in December 2019 to participate in the ceremony organized at the completion of this work.
DP’s father, whom we called ‘Pitaji’, was very fond of me all his life. In March 2004, when he was about 80, he became critically sick. I was then on a visit to North Bengal University at Siliguri delivering a course of lectures, and was keeping contact on phone. DP informed me just before I was to board my return flight from Kolkata to Mumbai, that Pitaji had expired, asking me to stay composed since I was crying uncontrollably, as other passengers watched.
DP feels dejected, at times, at his decision to have left employment to join family business, which doesn’t require an M.A. degree in Economics, that he has. At such moments, he keeps comparing himself with me and thinking that he also had all the potential to excel in an academic job. In the initial stages of his shifting to business, he often used to describe his job as a grass-cutter (Ghaai in Punjabi), offering no big challenge or excitement.
But his ideas to compete with me were always in the positive sense, never negative. If he wanted to be negative, then he had umpteen opportunities to block my progress, which he didn’t. He was appreciative of me and never envious of me. It was DP who woke me up at 4 am on the day the results of our Higher Secondary final-year Board exams were published in 1962, to declare to me that I had scored a Merit List position with high marks, which he read in the early morning newspaper. It was DP again, who gladly travelled about 100 km to Kurukshetra to hand over to me the Letter of my selection to join the Training School of BARC, received at my address at Khanna, since I was then at my Hostel as a student of M.Sc. at Kurukshetra University. Thus, he rejoices not only in his own successes, but also mine.
DP was so glad when I named my grandson ‘Om’ after the name of Pitaji, his father. He also felt elated to see that I had dedicated my two poetry books published, respectively in 2004 and 2014, to Pitaji.
In matters where he thinks I may have a better opinion, DP co-operates, willfully. Biji, my mother, was diagnosed all of a sudden with advanced stage of cancer of the gall bladder, in 1996, which had metastasized to both her lungs. DP and I took her to Oswal Cancer Hospital in Ludhiana, where doctors confirmed the diagnosis and that she wouldn’t live beyond 3–4 months. I asked Biji if she was ready to come with me to get treatment at Tata Memorial Hospital in Mumbai and she agreed. However, everyone in the family, including DP, agreed with me that her condition being beyond cure, Biji should spend her last few months with our large joint family at Khanna itself, where she had lived all her life. I left behind my wife for care-giving. At no time, I was given the impression that I left for my job in Mumbai, leaving my mother in terminal condition to live with them.
During Covid times, I have started giving webinars on popular science topics. The last one was on Living Matter. DP attends all of them, and is thrilled that his knowledge of Chemistry and Biology acquired during his pre-Medical days is still adequate to enjoy what I talk about. He gives wide publicity to my webinars, and of late, to a book of mine being released by a British publisher, soon. He loves to go gaga over anything that I do. In the picture shown above, DP is wearing a woollen suit that I used to wear earlier. He has no qualms about admitting this. Is it devotion, or a deep sense of friendship, or plain kindness? The answer is that DP has some piety and selfless devotion to our shared togetherness, and to the family values.
