With the death of Milkha Singhji, the world has lost a splendid competitor. Unbelievable sportspersons resemble family gems for their nations and, thinking about the common history of our countries, this is a misfortune for the two India and Pakistan.
Opponents on the track, my dad and Milkhaji shared a ton practically speaking.
Experiencing childhood in Rawalpindi’s Jand Awan town, my dad, as well, rose from neediness to turn into a top notch competitor. Like Milkha Sir, he, as well, joined the military and it was armed force preparing, combined with his energy for running, that helped my dad become the quickest man in Asia from 1956 to 1960.My dad, as well, confronted frustration at the Olympics, when he completed fourth in both the 100 m and 200 m semi-finals at the 1956 Melbourne Games (Milkha Singh completed fourth in the 400-m last at the 1960 Rome Olympics).
I previously addressed Milkhaji in 2009. His secretary had called with respect to the rights to my dad’s depiction in the biopic Bhaag Mikha Bhaag. He before long went ahead the line and when I disclosed to him that he was an incredible competitor, he said something I actually recall. “Putt, tera bapu boht wadda competitor tha (Son, your dad was an incredible competitor). I got Flying Sikh after overcoming him. My popularity is because of him.”Only a man with a brilliant heart can say something like this. He made it a highlight converse with my mom. Prior to hanging up, he advised me, “Moms are a type of God and we all should deal with them however much we can.”
My dad was a man of not many words. He barely talked about his misfortune in the celebrated 200-m race against Milkhaji in 1960 at an India-Pakistan athletic meet in Lahore. (It was after this occasion that then Pak President General Ayub Khan approached Milkha Singh and considered him the Flying Sikh.)
I have heard a ton about my dad’s profession from his partner Karamat Hussain and my uncle Abdul Malik, likewise an Olympian. By 1960, my dad’s vocation was on the decay but then he was as yet an expert of 100 and 200-m races. They say my dad went quiet after that 200-m race.A day after that race, my dad contended in the 4×100 m hand off race. He and Milkhaji were to run the last leg for their separate nations. The story goes that my dad got the twirly doo before Milkhaji however, as my uncle advised me, he trusted that Milkhaji will approach. When he was close to him, he said, “Milkha sahib, stomach muscle zor lagana (Milkha sahib, give it your all at this point)”.
The Pakistani group won and, according to the previous competitors, my dad recovered his wonder. That was the sort of competition they had. My dad never showed outrage on the field. When the races were done, he generally treated his adversaries with respect.My family will consistently be in the red to Milkhaji for an extraordinary token of his. My dad was a captive after the Bangladesh war and was imprisoned in Meerut. Milkhaji went to meet my dad and advised the prison authorities to take additional consideration of him.
At the point when I got some information about that gathering, Milkhaji affirmed it and surprisingly welcomed me to visit India. Oh well, our desire to meet the legend stayed unfulfilled.