The Race of My Life by Sonia Sanwalka Milkha Singh Page B

and silver medals. What did their training involve? Did their governments actively support their endeavours? Give them financial aid and special benefits? He strongly believed that Indians, too, had the potential to succeed, but lacked the opportunities to develop their talents and skills. He then outlined his proposal of setting up a separate department of sports under the auspices of the Punjab government where fit young Punjabi boys could be trained under my charge.
    What the chief minister was suggesting was that I leave the army and take on a civilian post. He then started to negotiate terms, comparing my current salary of seventy rupees a month with the remuneration he was offering of eight or twelve hundred rupees. Not only was this extremely generous, it would also elevate me to a general’s grade. It did seem promising, but I was sceptical about the outcome. I knew Kairon had tremendous clout, but could he actually procure such a prestigious position for me? My friends and colleagues thought I was crazy to leave the army as they all felt that civilian jobs were not permanent and dependent upon the whims and fancies of politicians. More important, I had heard that an order had been sent to the defence minister, Krishna Menon, recommending that I be promoted to the rank of lieutenant. This was a great honour for me and meant that I, who joined as a humble jawan, would soon be a commissioned officer. This news added to my confusion.
    My noncommittal response to his proposal had no effect on Kairon Sahib, and he continued to woo me. Whenever he was in Delhi, he used to stay at the Constitution Club near the National Stadium, where I would be practising. He would send regular emissaries to persuade me to change my mind. When I met Kairon Sahib again after I returned from Rome in 1960, I expressed my doubts about getting an honourable discharge from military service, but he airily dismissed these away. He emphasized that he would take care of all the formalities if I accepted his offer. He also assured me that all my requests would be granted without questions.
    A few days later, Kairon took me along to a function at Parliament House. The high-powered guest list included the prime minister, union ministers, chief ministers and other high-ranking dignitaries. When we arrived at Parliament House, there was much jubilation among the assembled guests that Milkha Singh had arrived, but little did I (or anyone else) know why I was there. It was Kairon’s intention to bring up my case before Pandit Nehru so that a decision could be taken then and there. He outlined his plan of setting up a sports department in Chandigarh to train promising young boys and girls. He said that for his plan to succeed, he needed an experienced and highly celebrated athlete like me to take charge of the programme. Therefore, he requested that the prime minister permit my discharge so that I could take up my position with the Punjab government as soon as possible.
    Panditji was reluctant to make a quick decision, knowing that my resignation would be a big blow to the army under whose benign patronage I had grown and triumphed as a sportsman. But Kairon Sahib was so persistent that Panditji had no option but to inform Krishna Menon and General Thimayya that they should relieve me of my duties so that I was free to enter the service of the Punjab government. He added, tongue-in-cheek, ‘Milkha Singh is an Indian, so what difference does it make if he’s in the army or with the Punjab government? We will all share the honour he brings. Besides, in any case, he has given up running races.’ Hearing this, Krishna Menon burst out laughing, but General Thimayya was not amused, though there was little he could do to circumvent a decision that had been taken at the highest level. He took me aside and embracing me said, ‘Young man, you are just like a son to me, you are making a terrible mistake. A civilian job is shaky, unlike the army where your career