Delhi146;s Last Salon

There is no nameplate on Kushwant Singh8217;s door. Only a signboard with a terse message: Please do not ring the bell if you are not expec...

Khushwant Singh
in his drawing room

There is no nameplate on Kushwant Singh8217;s door. Only a signboard with a terse message: Please do not ring the bell if you are not expected. But once past that, you are greeted by a jovial Singh dressed in a light green kurta-pyjama, sitting on a long chair with his legs on a moodha in his spacious drawing room. There is a small glass table by his side with a lamp and a long, brown coloured bookshelf behind him.

There is no nameplate on Kushwant Singh8217;s door. Only a signboard with a terse message: Please do not ring the bell if you are not expected. So this is the room, Singh8217;s drawing room and has been for 50 years, which has drawn celebrities from across the world. When he was an active journalist, friends would gather in this room and have passionate discussions over a peg of scotch 8212; on speeches made at the House of Lords with Swaraj Paul, V S Naipaul8217;s tantrums, fluctuations in the economy with Montek Singh Ahluwalia or the Indian curry with Richard Crest.

Musings aside, the conversation begins to roll. 8216;8216;I am really not a people8217;s person. I think social gatherings are an awful waste of time. I am most happy with my books without which I feel helpless. In any case, writing is a solitary profession. But I have a few friends around. And whenever they are in the city, they make it a point to drop by for an evening,8217;8217; Singh remarks.

Prod him on who would qualify for his 8216;friends8217;, and a warm, if somewhat caustic, recollection of people and years gone by begins to unfold. 8216;8216;Naipaul came to meet me one evening. I was still editing The Illustrated Weekly of India and I invited Dina Vakil too. Dina wanted to take a picture with him. And that fellow was so tempestuous it wasn8217;t funny. He just said 8216;I don8217;t want to talk to you8217; and Dina was nearly in tears,8217;8217; recalls Singh.

The room is dimly-lit and neat, a reminder of a time gone by. 8216;8216;When my wife was around, I sat in the study. But since her death, I moved in here. I feel secure in the presence of books,8217;8217; explains Singh.

Lord Swaraj Paul, Shashi Tharoor and Vikram Seth are a few others who are his 8216;friends8217; and who pay a visit whenever in town. Singh talks fondly of Paul while chewing on some channa. 8216;8216;Once, he landed before 7 pm so he kept sitting outside in his Merc Benz, and rang the bell only when the clock struck seven because he didn8217;t want to 8216;disturb me8217;. Now, that8217;s the hallmark of a gentleman,8217;8217; reminisces Singh.

An early riser and a stickler for punctuality, visitors are allowed in the drawing room only between seven and eight in the evening. And the hours are followed strictly. 8216;8216;A lady came to meet me three days back, but she came at 7.30 pm instead of 7 pm, and I just told her that you have ruined my mood and I don8217;t want to talk to you. So she had a drink and left. You have to be strict about such things or else you can8217;t discipline your time for your own reading and writing,8217;8217; he says, assertively.

I take cue from the last anecdote and leave hastily before I am told off for overstaying my time. And Singh picks up his cat which had been purring for a while.