We saw Hitler in person….. Met Dhyan Chand & Hockey Team in Berlin Olympics 1936 / Rashmi Talwar / The Tribune

‘We saw Hitler in person…’

This nonagenarian looks back and shares with Rashmi Talwar memorable snapshots — some historically significant and some evocative and personal

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‘We saw Hitler in person…’

This nonagenarian looks back and shares with Rashmi Talwar memorable snapshots — some historically significant and some evocative and personal

‘We saw Hitler in person…’ This nonagenarian looks back and shares with Rashmi Talwar memorable snapshots — some historically significant and some evocative and personal full of memories PICTURE P.C. Mehra I hollered ‘India, India!’ into the hooter that I had made to cheer the Indian team and watch the finest dribbling the world had ever seen of Indian hockey wizard Dhyan Chand. This was at the Berlin Olympics in 1936. Our coat lapels flaunting the Indian National Congress flag (there was no Indian flag then), 25 of us Indians had the rare opportunity to watch sports history being made as India drubbed Germany 8-0,” recalls 92-year-old Parkash Chand Mehra, who was then 22. PICTURE: SIGNIFICANT CHAPTER IN HISTORY: Adolf Hitler along with other dignitaries coming down the stadium to inaugurate Berlin Olympics in 1936 “Only days earlier we had sat in the Berlin Olympics stadium, where we saw Adolf Hitler in person. We saw him descend the steps of the stadium in his military uniform and inaugurate the games. The dictator had literally made Olympics-1936 a showcase for extolling the ‘greatness’ of Germany under him. Towards this end, he instituted a torch-carrying ceremony in parts of Europe under Nazi rule. “Berlin was swamped with uniformed Germans and Nazi flags flying right next to Olympic flags. Photographs of the Fuehrer sold like hot cakes, while soldiers marched through the streets of Berlin — all this lent an unnerving feel to the place,” remembers this resident of Amritsar, whose business of dyes and chemicals took him to different countries. PICTURE: Hockey Wizard Dhyan Chand PICTURE: Indian Hockey team that defeated Germany in the Berlin Olympics in 1936 Excitedly showing rare photographs of Dhyan Chand and the then Indian hockey team clicked with his camera (Roliflex model) in Berlin’s Olympic Village, this nonagenarian said: “The visit was made possible by one Swami, manager of the Indian hockey team, who was from our Forman Christian College, Lahore. In fact, even before the Olympics, the masterful jugglery of Dhyan Chand had become legendary.” A prosperous businessman, Mehra reminiscences two highlights of the Games: Dhyan Chand’s jugglery that defeated the German team and Jesse Owen’s (a Black) impressive victory that dented Hitler’s propaganda about the ‘superior Aryan race’. Mehra, born in 1914 in Amritsar, incidentally shares his year and place of birth with Field Marshal Sam HFJ Manekshaw — who led India’s victory over Pakistan in the 1971 war. They were classmates for a while at Hindu Sabha College. Agile and with a sharp memory, Mehra recalls the aftermath of the Jallianwala Bagh massacre in Amritsar in 1919. Just five years old then, he admits that he didn’t hear the booming gunshots ordered by General O’Dyer as they (Mehra’s family) lived in the congested and noisy Sirkian Bandan Bazaarwhere the sound may not have carried. However, he recollects standing near a large window and seeing men loot textile rolls and running helter-skelter. “Later, I saw troops coming to the bazaar. Our locality was agog with talk of people returning to their houses by crawling on their bellies at gunpoint. My father had left Jallianwala Bagh just 15 minutes before the firing started. A 12-year-old cousin Jai Gopal was untraceable for some time and his return brought relief.” A year later, Mehra went to DAV school, Lahore, where he used to see freedom fighter Lala Lajpat Rai, a strong proponent of DAV institutions, almost daily in his house opposite the school. Then one day the headlines in Urdu newspapers Vir Pratapand Milap screamed of a barbarous attack on Lalaji by SSP, Lahore, J. A. Scott, during a silent protest on October 30, 1928, to boycott the Simon Commission. Eighteen days after this assault, Lalaji succumbed to his injuries. Angered by the brutality, Bhagat Singh, Rajguru, and Sukhdev along with other freedom fighters decided to kill Scott. Recalling the assassination of JP Saunders by Bhagat Singh, Rajguru, and others, Mehra reminiscences, “It was a chilly day on December 15, 1928, the last day before winter break in DAV School — where Bhagat Singh had also studied. Saunders was shot outside the police station just opposite our school. Hidden behind the boundary wall grill in DAV College, adjoining the school, they fired shots from there and then escaped. Troops surrounded the police station soon after, while some chased the shooters. Our entire hostel was searched. The next day the confusion cleared — ASP JP Saunders was killed and not SSP JA Scott.” Looking back, Mehra smiles at the recollection of the most magnificent moment when he watched the royal procession for the Coronation of King George VI and Queen Elizabeth in London. George VI was the last to hold the title of ‘Emperor of India’ when India and Pakistan became independent. On May 12, 1937, the coronation was the first televised event in the history of Britain. Only about a handful of people could watch as the relay was limited. The live scene, however, held one spellbound. Describing the royal spectacle, Mehra said: “As I stood as part of the crowd outside Westminster Abbey in London, I saw the King and Queen ride in the Grand Gold Coach. I saw little Princess Elizabeth (the present Queen, she was 11 years old then) with Princess Margaret Rose, wearing identical gowns with flowing trains and little coronets resting delicately on their heads. The event was a spectrum of activity with a galaxy of men in military uniforms, hundreds of troops — mounted and on foot — and scores of bands playing martial tunes. The address of the new King was broadcast on radio. Days ahead, London was bathed in gossamer lights. Churches, banks, hotels, stores and private places were illuminated; gardens and parks were most enchantingly decorated. The Royal Canadian mounted Police looked bright in crimson coats, while as many as 600 Indians in turbans had come with trumpeters and drums. Ten years after this event, Mehra witnessed the trauma of Partition in his hometown Amritsar, when riots broke out. Looting and hooliganism went on unabated as rumours ruled and truth became a casualty. Hordes of refugees came across the newly created Radcliff Line. “We kept an ‘open house’ where anyone was welcome. Half a dozen families stayed with us. They related stories of the maar-kaat. My family’s flourishing raw silk business was temporarily affected.” Mehra, called Angrez by friends, talks of the holy city’s Civil Lines that literally developed before his eyes. The Thandi Khui outside the summer palace of Maharaja Ranjit Singh was ironically ‘partitioned’ between Muslims and Hindus even before Partition. They went in for separate pulleys, buckets, and glasses, but drew from the common (sanjaaha) water. Mehra’s is moved as he turns the yellowed pages of a letter in a photo-album. It has been written by a German girl, Hildegard Susmann, who he has been trying to locate for the past 50 years. This Angrez, whose fitness invites envy as he takes no pills and even walks without a walking stick, says he was in love with this German. Her family had suffered immensely during World War II. However the family — half-Jewish — carried his portrait made by Hildegard’s artist mother when they were forced to abandon their house during a bombardment in 1943. “I did not leave ‘you’ behind,” wrote Hildegard to Mehra after fleeing Germany. Family constraints made them drift apart. They met for the last time in 1957 in Rome. In a letter thereafter, she wrote: “A lovely dream, paradise on earth still lingers`85.” That was the last he heard from her. Despite the tragedy of losing his wife Kamlavati, daughter Rajeshwari and daughter-in-law Mini in quick succession — and all to cancer — Mehra prefers to stay alone but looks forward to the visits of his son Prem and his family. At the end of each day, Mehra quietly lays back on his rocking chair to listen to World Space Radio to update himself on the latest happenings in the world.

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“Super”- Dr Daljit Singh of Amritsar / By Rashmi Talwar

“Super”- Dr Daljit Singh of Amritsar

Rashmi Talwar

Other than the Magnificent Golden Temple and stimulus to the Freedom Struggle of India- the Jallianwala Bagh, much of world knew Amritsar as the place of renowned ophthalmologist Dr Daljit Singh, the inimitable surgeon and researcher who revolutionized eye care for the world.

“Being true to your Profession is the Biggest Patriotism!” Dr Daljit Singh believed, and followed this focus throughout his glorious innings.

True to his words his children Dr Ravijit Singh Dr Kiranjit Singh completed their surgeries while Dr Indu and Dr Seema prepared Dr Daljit Singh’s body for his last Journey, to join in, when he quietly passed away, after being in coma for a week.

This amply exhibits the dedication of this family towards a lofty mission of attending to the suffering, keeping all else on hold, before proceeding to their various tasks and toils.

Dr Ravijit Singh took the mike on the last condolence meet of the Bhog Ceremony of his beloved father Dr Daljit Singh- “Every father is a Superman for his children”, he started.
“My father too was a superman for us!”

As a boy nick named Ghuggu since he spoke nearly a year after his birth on 11 October 1934, Ghuggu became Daljit Singh, born to Sahib Singh, a Sikh academic of Sikh literature.

In the eyes of his children, he was a ‘Super Son’ who served his parents through their long illnesses.
Ravijit extolled, peeling away bit by bit to share hidden glimpses of the life and memories of his father, before a crowd of nearly 5000 people gathered, to pay respects to Amritsar’s Lofty son Dr Daljit Singh.

Our father was a – ‘Super Student’ making sketches of his teachers who often shunted him out of their class and like Aamir Khan of Three Idiots – a born learner, who would sit in the library and score more marks than the best of them!

A ‘super husband’ who had a love marriage in such times as in 1957. Dr Daljit wrote in his fiancée Sawarn’s gifted diary– ‘Professional competence is the best Patriotism’ and stood by it throughout.

A ‘super sportsman’ wherein his sons couldn’t beat him in carom, chess, table tennis or Billiards. A city club etched Dr Daljit Singh’s name twice as a Billiards Champion.

A ‘Super worker’ who worked 16-18 hours a day and rose at the crack of dawn.

A ‘Super Innovator’ who picked up a liquid from a dentist’s table and used it to create his revolutionary first intraocular lens.

A ‘Super Ophthalmologist’ who needs no introduction suffice to say, he won the Padam Shri, the fourth highest civilian award, in 1987. A Dr BC Roy Award credited with isolating three new genes causing congenital cataract and invented “plasma scalpel” for glaucoma and cataract surgery and pioneered a number of innovative and revolutionary surgical instruments.

At the same time a ‘Super instrumentalist’, who played the harmonium, the Tablaa, the flute and eventually left the world trying to master the elusive saxophone.

A ‘Super Techno’ who mastered every new technological innovation that emerged– “He would tell me my laptop or mobile needs upgradation, which meant that he was going to pass on his old laptop or phone to me to buy a new one for himself,” Dr Ravijit inserted with a smile.

A “Super Wi-Fi” with a super antenna to connect to people, track a needy, and help him without boasting. Keeping a Thursday free OPD for poor patients, since years. Also, helping hundreds of Kashmiri boys with pellet injuries who came in droves from trouble torn Kashmir valley. Many a times the family encouraged victims towards the path of education instead of a pointless future in stone pelleting. No wonder, on the sound of my hometown being ‘Amritsar’, many Kashmiris pounced on – ‘Do you know Dr Daljit Singh?’, during my many trips to Jammu and Kashmir. Dr Daljit Singh’s crowning glory was however restoring vision of 11 children, who had lost their eyesight in LPG cylinder blast at Independence Day celebrations in Orissa in 1986.

A “Super photographer” who bought new Cameras with each of his monthly salaries and took perfect shots- “We found his cameras in drawers, cupboards, every nook and corner of the house.”

A “Super Painter” who even intended to take a hobby course in painting towards the fag end of his life at the local Thukur Singh Art Gallery and painted 30 water colour landscapes in a go, along with a repertoire of hundreds of sketches, he left behind.

A ‘Super Author’ who penned over a dozen books on ophthalmology, Dr Singh wrote two poetry and three anthologies of essays: “Sach di Bhal Vich” (In search of truth), “Dooja Passa”(The other side) and “Badi di Jarh” (The root of evil) to educate rural masses about national and international issues. Noted Punjabi author and close friend Kulbir Singh Suri, son of late legendary Punjabi novelist Nanak Singh, said- Dr Singh wrote a book titled ‘Naroi Akh’ (Healthy Eye) in Punjabi decades ago. His three poetry books —‘Dharti Tirhai’, ‘Sidhre Bol’ and ‘Babre Bol’ have been translated into Urdu, English and Hindi.

‘Super Simple’ with no clue of his shirt matching his trousers or turban; often a red socks synchronised his step with a blue one.

And towards the conclusion when I and many amongst us assumed that the last Super-lative by Ravijit would be “Dr Daljit Singh was a ‘Super-Human!”, Dr Ravijit surprised us by adding –Our father was a “Super Teacher” – One who loved teaching, spreading, sharing his vast knowledge in the most simplistic way with everyone including on topics as diverse as economics, politics, finance, anything.

It is not every day a true human is born, with all his fullness, feelings, faults and fallacies.

In 2007-08, Dr Daljit Singh made noble efforts to set up a speciality charitable eye hospital in Nankana Sahib Pakistan along with a university to be named Guru Nanak Dev University in Nankana Sahib, the birthplace of the founder Sikh Guru Nanak Dev along with his Pak friend Prof TH Kirmani. Even offering to send Indian doctors to tutor Pak doctors and bring excellent eye care to the sacred land of Sikhs. Lamentingly, the agreement fell through. The demarcated land donated by a local resident Fazal Rabbani was occupied by Pak army and relations soured, over the years between the two nations.

At another juncture, Dr Daljit Singh, the surgeon, with as sharp a wit and forthrightness as his invented scalpel, remained unmindful of anyone’s stature or status and therefore couldn’t successfully win the diplomatic and flattery-ridden field of politics as an AAP candidate.

Alternately, he snatched 80,000 votes, a clean sweep by many standards as a greenhorn in politics, during MP elections 2014, from political heavyweights Arun Jaitley- and Capt Amarinder Singh- who went on to become Union Finance Minister and Chief Minister of Punjab, respectively. Dr Singh intended to bring clean governance from a political platform but couldn’t be manipulated to tell lies, half-truths or stoop to briberies.

Even though holding abhorrence for the political climate of our country, I became Dr Daljit Singh’s Media Manager, solely because he was a father figure to me. And I landed an opportunity to relive some times of our childhood days with him. In the late 60s and early 70s, Dr Daljit occasionally bicycled to our home from the Government Eye hospital opposite our house.

As children then, we lined up to see his bicycle with gears, a rare contraption those times, that held contiguous fascination for me for a long time. Sometimes he even took a shot at our Table Tennis table and once took multiple close-shot pictures of my sister’s hazel eyes, ever since, he focused they possessed rare blue specs in them.
“Fer Chaa piyao!” he would say on a rare chilly evening, while visiting home. And merrily slurp his tea, savouring every masala and mazaa of it.

On a closer note Dr Daljit told me – ‘Tu acha likhdi hain’ that sounded in present times like the Dangal ‘Shabaash’ of Mahavir Singh Phogat to his daughter Geeta winning the gold. And in return – ‘le meri kitab par’ and handed me a number of his books written by him originally in Punjabi.

Dr Daljit Singh’s family -Dr Ravjit Singh and Dr Kiranjit Singh – and daughters-in-law, Dr Indu R Singh and Dr Seema Singh, form a formidable team of eye surgeons.

On my visit to Dr Daljit Singh’s home after his passing away, I could sense that the home still held his warmth of touches, thoughts, his genius, and ensconced his family most lovingly.

I wish, I could bring that warmth in my home with one of his paintings, to get inspired by the Master by his Master strokes, never saying adieu to him.