IMAGE: Fauja Singh’s story of strength began long after time slows down for most, especially those who have been mauled by the life’s many tragedies. Photograph: Kiren Rijiju X/ANI
It’s never too late to start over, goes the old adage and if ever there was proof needed that it actually isn’t, one could always marvel at the life of Fauja Singh.
The widely-admired 114-year-old, whose career as a marathon runner began when he was 89 and propelled him to the status of a global icon, died on Monday night.
It was a heartbreakingly abrupt end despite his age. He was hit by a yet-to-be-identified vehicle while out for a walk at Beas Pind, his native village in Jalandhar.
The frail man, who weathered many a personal storms with his resilience and ‘nonchalance’, had spent a better part of his running career in Britain and returned to his roots just about three years ago after retiring.
“We would always tell him that someone his age running in India would always run the risk of being hit given how reckless the driving here is. This is what ultimately happened unfortunately,” said his biographer Khushwant Singh, whose book The Turbaned Tornado documents the celebrated runner’s life.
Fauja’s story of strength began long after time slows down for most, especially those who have been mauled by the life’s many tragedies. He too was battling demons of his own.
IMAGE: Fauja Singh went on to run marathons, including the famed ones in London, New York and and Hong Kong, and inspire awe for clocking some brilliant timings for a 90-plus man born with weak legs. Photograph: Andy Clark/Reuters
Overwhelmed by the loss of his youngest son in the mid ’90s, Fauja found solace in running with a local club in Essex after moving out of India following the death of his wife and daughter.
“The villagers would tell one of his sons to take him to the UK because he would keep visiting the cremation ground and sit there for hours. So, eventually he moved to Ilford (a town in east London),” said Khushwant.
Once there, Fauja endured another loss before he chanced upon a running club. And what started as a hobby to take his mind off the circumstances that threatened to consume him, became the driving force of his life.
He went on to run marathons, including the famed ones in London, New York and and Hong Kong, and inspire awe for clocking some brilliant timings for a 90-plus man born with weak legs.
In the process, he also became a torch-bearer at the 2012 London Olympics and was honoured by the late Queen Elizabeth II for his contribution to sport and charity.
“Before that meeting with the Queen we had to repeatedly counsel him ‘Baba, Queen naal sirf hath milana hai, japphi ni paani jinwein baccheyan nu tussi paande ho‘ (Baba, you have to only shake hands with the Queen, don’t hug her like you hug kids when you meet them),” Khushwant, whose long association with the centenarian started in 2005, recalled.
“But jokes apart, he was a very resilient man with a lot of earthy wisdom. He could not read in general but could identify numbers because for him they were designs that he had memorised.
“He was also someone who had no greed. Every rupee he earned by running marathons went to charity. Once he became famous, people would walk up to him to give money even in Gurudwaras but he would straightaway put that money into the donation boxes there,” he said.
Like a true blue large-hearted romanticised Punjabi, Fauja loved his pinnis (sweet balls of ghee, flour, and jaggery dotted with dry fruits) and the occasional strawberry shake from McDonald’s.
But he was also a disciplined runner who would train vigorously before his races.
IMAGE: Fauja Singh was a torch-bearer at the 2012 London Olympics and was honoured by the late Queen Elizabeth II for his contribution to sport and charity. Photograph: Reuters
Among the most memorable of his runs was in 2011 when he turned 100. The invitational meet in Toronto was named in his honour and he broke several world records for his age group.
But none of them were taken into consideration by Guinness World Records as he did not have a birth certificate to prove his age.
“He was not bothered by any of that. He just enjoyed the attention that he got. I once asked him ‘Baba, maran ton darr lagda? (Baba, are you afraid of death?). He said ‘haan, bilkul lagda. Haje te mele shuru hoye ne‘ (Yes, of course. The fun has only started for me),” Khushwant said, remembering one of their conversations on mortality.
“He was a simple man but understood with clarity, the importance of fitness and training. Even two years back, he was gracious enough to join a run against drug addiction,” he added.
In the end, Fauja lived up to the values that his name reflected. He fought the battle of life with the resolve of a soldier.
“He travelled the world but never once bothered to ask about who would take care of his stay and other requirements. He just had confidence in the system and so many times, when I was with him, he would simply say ‘Sangat saambh laigi‘ (the community will take care of me).”
