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LEST WE FORGET

NARI K. RUSTOMJI

The Common Thought We Shared

   The former Dewan of Sikkim, Nar Rustomji, a very close friend of the late Chogyal, Palden Thondup Namgyal, visited Sikkim in 1985-86. Having first me him in Shillong in the winter of 1978 I longed to see and get to know him more closely when I went to Bombayfor my three-year law studies at the end of 1979. My Bombay days brought me closer to Rustomji, the man who was instrumental in bringing many changes in the former kingdom.

   Therefore, I was his natural choice as his tour guide when he paid a visit to Sikkim in mid-’80s. Looking back, I guess it was his last and final visit to the real Sikkim– the countryside. Our short but most memorable tour took us to West Sikkim, whose rich and virgin natural beauty is flavoured with a deep sense of history and culture. In fact, Sikkim’s modern history  began in Yuksam, West Sikkim, when three lamas consecrated the first Chogyal of Sikkim in 1642. Till then I had read and heard much about the historical significance of the area but being there on the spot was a profound and unique experience altogether.

   During this trip we spent a night at the world-renowned Sikkim Distilleries in Rongpo, located at the Sikkim-West Bengal border in the east district. It was there at the guest house that I sought Rustomji’s advice on the name that I should give to my newspaper. Finally, the choice fell on “Sikkim Observer”. The SikkimObserver was born a few months after Rustomji left Sikkim.

   During his later visit to Sikkim in March 1987, uncle Rustomji presented me his new book, “Sikkim: A Himalayan Tragedy” with this note in the front page, “For my friend Jigme, who will, no doubt, critically review! In trepidation. And also for Tsering, with all good wishes for a long and happy married life.”

   When I completed my own book, “Inside Sikkim: Against the Tide”, in 1993 my deepest desire was to present a copy of it to uncle Rustomji. He would have loved it. Unfortunately, I came to know in the beginning of 1994 that uncle had passed away a few months before my book was released in New Delhi.

   This perhaps is the first time that I’m making a mention of him and his book in the Observer. I still miss him and will forever cherish the rich memories that we shared together over the years ever since I first met him in one of my classmates’ house at Whispering Pines in Shillong. Though these words were meant for the late Chogyal let me dedicate them to him in his memory:

A moment, and time will forget

Our failure and our name

But not the common thought

That linked us in a dream.