A handwritten letter and an empowering encounter

One fine morning in 2010, a letter arrived at my home in Chandigarh. It wasn’t an email, but a handwritten letter duly delivered by the postman. I had parted ways with the Shiromani Akali Dal, and was all set to chart a new political path. Amid discussions and deliberations, meetings with wellwishers and friends, I was besieged with countless calls and messages from all over.

But this letter was a masterpiece of prose.

What stood out was the emotive content of this letter from someone I had never met in my life. Emotive, is in fact too mild a word for it, as it was crafted with such eloquence that the words spoke to me on their own. It transcended the paper on which it was scripted and it acquired its own a voice. It was as if I could see and hear the writer in person. With phrases like I would have been proud to have given birth to a son like you, it could only been penned by a woman whose writings had given birth to a new genre. It moved me beyond words, and as I looked towards the last sentences of the letter, I hurried to search for the writer’s name. The letter was signed — Dalip Kaur Tiwana.

I responded with an emotional letter, fully aware that I could in no way match the fluency, articulation and power of expression. Of all the experiences that I gained during the transition days, none can match or even come near to the stirring that this letter caused in my heart. If someone like me, who had never met her earlier was so deeply touched by her — one can only imagine the impact she has left on those who knew her intimately.

That Dalip Kaur Tiwana was a literary giant needs no repetition. But it was her amazing storytelling skills that helped shape perspectives on Punjab and Punjabiat. Of the many stories she told, there was one she narrated at the World Punjabi Conference at Punjabi University many years ago. She described the scene of a hand-to-hand combat during the Indo-Pak war in the Sialkot sector. An Indian Army Major confronts a Pakistani Army Captain. The Captain is injured in his leg and slips. The Major is armed and is about to shoot the enemy, when his eyes fall on the name badge of the Pakistani Captain. It says: Captain Tiwana. By this time, the Pakistani Captain has read the Indian Major’s badge which says: Major Tiwana. Here are two Tiwanas locked in an eye-toeye combat, amid a war in a dangerous terrain. They share generations of history and culture, coupled with military traditions. The Indian Major signaled the Pakistani Captain to get up. The Captain stood and saluted the Major. By now the Captain knows his life has been spared. He gently removes his service weapon and presents it to the Major as a gift. The Major receives it, and the Captains limps back to his country. I know this story, Dalip Kaur Tiwana told an astounded audience, because Major Tiwana is my brother, and the weapon lies encased in a glass enclosure in our living room, she added.

From tales of war to gender issues, from giving voice to the voiceless and empowering people, Dalip Kaur Tiwana rode like a colossus on Punjab’s stage. I am no litterateur and barring a smattering of couplets that I enjoy, I do not think I have the expertise to comment on her literary achievements. But from whatever I have read and learnt — both from her writings and on writings published about her, if there is one word that embodies Dalip Kaur Tiwana, it is “empowerment”.

Maybe that is why she wrote to me a decade ago and supported me or rather empowered me with her words.

WHAT STOOD OUT WAS THE EMOTIVE CONTENT OF THE LETTER . IT WAS WRITTEN BY DALIP KAUR TIWANA