Harminder Raj Singh
He was one of the batch of '74. One hell of a nice guy. Intelligent, affable, charming, considerate, helpful, and what have you. His was one of those big turbans nodding wisely in the front row when the teacher delivered his lecture. He seemed to know what was being talked about, what was in the books, and also what lay beyond the books. He would come on a Vespa scooter to campus and was always willing to give a ride to classmates when need be. Sometimes he came driving a blue (?) Fiat car, into which several of his classmates would pile and go on a jaunt.
Short but energetic, with eyes that twinkled good-humoredly behind a pair of glasses, with a bounce in his step and a swing in his gait, he would often breeze on to the scene with a "yeh kya guftagoo hai?" and begin an animated discussion on the topic of the day.
Our Dept had a Literary Society that was called The Three Hundred -- named after the three hundred members enrolled every year. If I recall correctly he became the President for I have vague memories of him on stage, holding the mike, conducting the annual function. Then there was that Quiz he conducted. And the canvassing he did for the Student Council Elections. Never a frown on his face, never a note of exasperation in all his various activities.
He was a day-scholar while most of the others in our circle were in the hostels. When the two years of MA ended he was one of the few who still lingered around the campus, poring over books in the library, preparing for the Civil Service Exams.
Once the exams were over he, along with a couple of other former classmates, looked for some relaxation and that was when we all started playing Tennis at the YMCA together. Sawani, HR (that's what we called him), Ranjit Sohal, and I were among the regulars. HR would sometimes drive over, pick me up for Tennis, and drop me back home.
A few months of tennis was all we got before we all got scattered again, going our different ways. Ranjit Sohal left for the US. Sawani and HR, along with other boys of our class -- Pinker and Rana -- cleared the Civils and went for their training.
I was already teaching in a local college and happily settled for marriage.
A few months later, on the way to my college, I bumped into HR on road and he informed me he was getting married to "a sector 11 girl called Ashima". I was happy for him and wished him luck.
That was 1977 or even 78!
After almost 3 decades met him again in early 2008 at a wedding. He was with his family -- a lovely wife and a grown up, soon-to-be-married daughter. We chatted about old times as though we had parted just yesterday.
In a warm, uncomplicated friendship there are no gaps. It was like yesterday once more. True, he looked stockier than before, but the joie de vivre was still there. We renewed contact.
Since then, over the last year and a half, there was a re-connection once more. Ashima being more computer savvy, would respond on HR's behalf. I kept a tab on them and their movements -- kids, travels, relatives, moments of happiness, etc.
And then, yesterday, this news:
A senior bureaucrat in Uttar Pradesh, principal secretary (Housing) committed suicide in his residence late night Saturday.
Harminder Raj Singh, principal secretary (housing) in the state government, shot himself in the head with his personal weapon at his residence on Vikramaditya Marg here, an official said.
Harminder Raj Singh was a 1978 batch officer of the Indian Administrative Service (IAS).
According to informed sources, Singh was under a lot of pressure on account of political interference in his work.
How could he do it? Why did he do it? Did he do it at all?HR was too positive a guy to take such a step. He was a GOOD fellow. Is that why he became the fall guy? As a former classmate who has known him in the formative phase of his life, I know that he was a straight, balanced, sensible who would never do anything rash. He was sincere, honest, and committed to the core. Did that make him a misfit in the world? Human kind cannot bear too much of goodness. In a corrupt world did he take a stand for which he had to pay with his life? Was he serving masters who were implacable, insensitive, unappeasable and inexorable?
So many unasked questions. Unasked and unanswerable.
Why did you do it HR?
You could have tossed it all to the winds and simply come home.
You could have cocked a snook at them all and shrugged it all off!
..."could we, with fate conspire / to grasp into our hands this sorry scheme of things entire, / would we not shatter it into bits and then / remould it nearer to the hearts desire?"
Do I misquote? It doesn't matter.
It is too late now.
Rest in peace, HR, wherever you are!
