I had a six-decade long association with Milkha Singh, from the days of my first nationals to the historic 1960 Rome Olympics to talking to him over the phone last month, before he was hospitalised. What I found common over the years was his never-say-die spirit. Milkha was always in high spirits, confident of taking on anyone—whether the world’s top runner of his times or life itself, when he knew, at 91, that he had tested positive for Covid. It made him stand out in a billion. When I rang him up after knowing he was ill, his reaction was, “Kaptan, nothing to worry about, I will be all right soon”. He told me he didn’t have fever, only a little body ache, and that he even jogged in his house. Of course, no one expected that one who had seen the horrors of Partition, the murder of his parents and four siblings, who landed up in Delhi as an orphan and refugee and did odd jobs to survive, and then survived all odds to become a legend, would go like this.
I first saw Milkha at the 1960 National Athletics Championship in Delhi. I was a rookie; Milkha was already a big star. The entire country knew him. He had created history by winning Gold in the 1958 Cardiff Commonwealth Games and had won two Asian Games Gold medals in the same year. During the selection trials for the Rome Olympics, held at the Police Training Academy in Mount Abu, I met him at last. Milkha’s army background had a major role to play in his accomplishments--the discipline inculcated in him stood him in good stead. It was the motivation to wear the India jersey in foreign meets—a matter of immense satisfaction and pride for him—that propelled Milkha reach so far. After Mount Abu, Milkha went to England for further training for the Olympics. In Europe, he participated in many races and made a commendable progress. The world took notice, and Milkha was a strong bet for a medal in Rome.
I was among the few Indians who witnessed Milkha’s historic run in Rome. The Indian contingent in the stands was sure of the medal.
Before Milkha, Henry Rebello was the only Indian athlete, at the 1948 London Games, to make it to an Olympic final. So, Milkha’s entry in the final was in itself a proud moment. But within a minute, Milkha lost the world. Confident of a podium finish, he lost everything in a hundredth of a second. The entire contingent was in shock.
Milkha was an extraordinary talent. He represented India at the world’s greatest sporting arena, the Olympics, in 1956 in Melbourne, but lost in the heats. Within the next four years, he was among the world’s best. At that time we didn’t have modern, scientific training facilities, and were oblivious to the importance of diet or proper recovery in training regimens. What we had achieved was because of sheer hard work.
We were again together in the Olympics in Tokyo, 1964. I was the flag bearer at the opening ceremony. Because I led the contingent, Milkha started calling me ‘Kaptan’. I was not certain of making it to the final of my event, the 110m hurdles. Before my event, Milkha, who was part of the 4X400m relay, requested me to run in the quarter mile relay. He and other team members requested Raja Bhalinder Singh, then president of the Indian Olympic Association, to convince me. But I refused, as I hadn’t run it before and told them that Amrit Pal, who was selected in the relay, should be given a chance. The relay team couldn’t make it to the final. Then, in my event, I ran a 14 sec race and became the first Asian to enter the 110m hurdle final. I finished fifth. That day I realised what Milkha went through after losing a medal.
The last time I met him was in 2019 in Chandigarh, when the Punjab government honoured us both with the Maharaja Ranjit Singh Award. After that we had a couple of conversations over the phone. I never knew that 2019 would be our last meeting. Milkha was a legend and will remain a legend forever. Goodbye to my dear fellow athlete and friend.
(As told to Saurabh Duggal)