By S P SINGH

Date:05-05-06

Source: Printed

I have known litterateur Santokh Singh Dhir for early five years now. Most of you would have known him perhaps for fifty. But the maximum recall picture we all have of Dhir in our minds is the old man in a white old-fashioned vest, chest puffing out, and a finger raised. He would doubt almost everything.

``It may rain today, or it may not'', ``My book may win an award this year, or it may not; you never know,'' "Standards of journalism may improve finally, or how can I be sure? Scribes are a bundle of such lazy bones, they may always remain dull heads.'' But just try suggesting to Dhir, a dyed-in-the-wool CPI(M) man, that there could be a remote possibility of revolution never happening in India. You are likely to be thrown out of the house. ``What do you think I have been doing all my life? Are we all fools?''

I was pained when Dhir told me what all he had to go through to get what was legitimately his -- a fellowship that the Centre had granted. Initially Badal's, and then Amarinder Singh's government told him the resource crunch was so severe they couldn't afford to pay his monthly fellowship of Rs 500. ``SP, if the government is so poor, please tell them I am ready to help with more. I have a few thousands saved in the bank.'' I wrote this in The Indian Express, and the piece prompted some friends to fire piercing queries at Amarinder at a press conference soon thereafter. The grand old man of letters got his money, but did anyone pause to think of the larger malaise of the times when writers meet with this fate?

In 1996, well-known Punjabi litterateur Santokh Singh Dhir literally predicted his fate when he wrote, "I am playing a flute before a buffalo, without knowing the characteristics of the bovine. But it is only after my flute-playing brings about no change that the bovine character is revealed."

Excuse the rather literal translation from his work Pakhi , but ever since Dhir won the prestigious Sahitya Akademi Award that year for this particular work, he has been doing little but playing a flute before the buffalo. For seven years now, he has been knocking at every door to get his meager monthly stipend of Rs 500 from the Punjab government, and despite sympathetic officials in Language Department which is to give the money, he has so far drawn a blank.

"Exasperated, I now have a more realistic opinion of the times and society we live in. Punjab government now owes me Rs 42,000, and the amount has even been sanctioned, but the treasury refuses to pay me citing fund crunch," Dhir, who remained president of Kendri Punjabi Lekhak Sabha for four years, told The Indian Express here.

Dhir, who also won Punjab's top literary honour of Shiromani Sahitkaar award, gets Rs 2,000 as monthly stipend under a Ministry of Human Resources Development's Culture Department scheme. Of this, Rs 1,500 are paid directly by the Department of Culture of the Union Government while Punjab government is under obligation to pay Rs 500 every month. He is the only living author receiving the grant; many have died without receiving their share.

The Centre has been regularly fulfilling its commitment, but since 1996, the year that Dhir won the country's top literary honour, the Punjab government hasn't paid him a penny. Not that it does not want to, but the tune it has been harping on continuously has been one of fund-crunch. No, please don't mention the Rs 15 lakh grant to Amrita Pritam. That could be an aberration.

"I still find it stupefying to believe that the government desperately wants my Rs 42,000 to run. I am sure it can run with far less, otherwise the Chief Minister and all MLAs would not have raised their own salaries and perks," the author said.

The enraged writer, who took the literary world by a storm with his story Koi Ik Sawaar about a lonesome tonga-wallah trying to eek out a living in tough times when the auto-motor revolution was nudging out the equine competition for passengers and he always yearns for that one extra passenger, is now finding that the world of bureaucrats is even more ruthless. Unlike B R Chopra's Naya Daur wherein the horsedrawn carriage beats the bus with OP Nayar's music in the background, the tonga-wallah of Koi Ik Sawaar never finds that extra passenger. Dhir resembles his own character, not Dilip Kumar's in Naya Daur.

A string of Under Secretaries and Secretaries from Department of Culture incessantly fired off missives to the Punjab government to pay up. Dhir's files about this slew of correspondence are bursting at seams, so is his patience.

Finally, with considerable help from Principal Secretary (Education) N S Rattan, the man in charge of Language Department, and its director M L Hasija, the payment was sanctioned, and Dhir thought all hurdles were crossed, but one remained -- the government treasury refused to make payments.

"It is most unfortunate, but what can I do? Fund position has come down to this level and buck stops with the Finance Department," rued Rattan. That leaves Dhir in the same fate as the central character of Koi Ik Sawaar .

Times, they are a'changin'! Or are they? Yes, they are getting worse! Shiromani Sahitkars waging seven year long battles for Rs 500. Naya Daur ? Saathi Haath Badhana? Revolution? Or Rs 500?