Honestly, if you ever walked into a Delhi bookstore in the late 90s, you couldn't miss him. The man with the lightbulb over his head. The guy sitting in a literal garbage can on his book covers. Khushwant Singh as a writer was a walking paradox—a man who claimed to love "sex, scotch, and scholarship" but also wrote the most definitive, sober history of the Sikhs ever put to paper.
He was the "Grand Old Man" of Indian letters. Or the "Dirty Old Man," depending on who you asked.
Singh didn't just write books; he poked the hornet's nest of Indian middle-class morality until it buzzed with rage. He was the editor who turned The Illustrated Weekly of India into a powerhouse by basically adding a little spice and a lot of honesty. People loved to hate him, but more importantly, they couldn't stop reading him.
The Brutal Honesty of Train to Pakistan
You can't talk about his literary chops without starting at the border.
- Most Indian writers were still trying to find a "national voice" that sounded noble and heroic. Then comes Singh with Train to Pakistan. It’s a gut-punch. No heroes. Just a tiny village called Mano Majra where Sikhs and Muslims had lived together for centuries until the poison of Partition seeped in.
What makes him stand out here is the lack of sentimentality. He doesn't blame "the other side." He blames the human capacity for sudden, mindless cruelty. The story of Juggut Singh—a local budmash (thug)—sacrificing himself for love is arguably one of the most poignant moments in South Asian literature.
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It wasn’t flowery. It was raw.
A Style That Refused to Preach
He hated "high-falutin" English. Seriously.
If you read his Saturday column, "With Malice Towards One and All," it felt like sitting across from a grumpy uncle who’d had one too many Patiala pegs but was still the smartest guy in the room. His sentences were short. Punchy. He used words like "wog" to describe Indians who tried too hard to be British.
Why His Non-Fiction Was Actually Better
A lot of people think of him as just a novelist or a gossip-monger. That’s a mistake.
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- The Historian: His two-volume A History of the Sikhs is still the gold standard. It’s rigorous. It’s academic. It shows a side of him that was deeply disciplined—a side he often hid behind his "jolly Sardar" persona.
- The Translator: He translated the Japji Sahib and the poetry of Muhammad Iqbal (Shikwa and Jawab-i-Shikwa). You don’t do that unless you have a soul that vibrates with the spiritual, even if he claimed to be an agnostic.
- The Biographer: He wrote about everyone from Indira Gandhi to Maharaja Ranjit Singh. He had this weird ability to see the human flaws in "Great Men" without totally dismissing their greatness.
The "Company of Women" and the Controversy
Later in his life, Singh leaned hard into his persona as a provocateur. Books like The Company of Women were panned by critics. They called it "dirty," "lecherous," or just plain bad writing.
Kinda true? Maybe.
But he didn't care. He was in his 80s and 90s, writing from his Sujan Singh Park apartment, surrounded by books and a ticking clock. He once said that if a writer isn't offending someone, they aren't doing their job. He targeted the hypocrisy of the "holy men" and the "chaste politicians."
He was one of the few who stood up against Bhindranwale during the peak of the Punjab insurgency. He even returned his Padma Bhushan in 1984 after Operation Blue Star. He was a man of immense courage who used his pen as both a shield and a scalpel.
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What You Should Actually Read First
If you’re new to his work, don't start with the joke books. Please. They’re fine for a bathroom read, but they aren't "Khushwant Singh the Writer."
- The Portrait of a Lady: A short story about his grandmother. It’s quiet, beautiful, and will probably make you cry.
- Delhi: A Novel: It’s a sprawling, erotic, messy history of the city he loved. It took him 20 years to write.
- Truth, Love and a Little Malice: His autobiography. It’s gossipy as hell, but it gives you a real look at the Delhi power circles from the 1940s to the 90s.
Singh died in 2014 at the age of 99. He wrote almost until his last breath. He didn't want a religious funeral. He wanted to be remembered as a man who lived fully and wrote honestly.
How to Apply the "Singh Method" to Your Own Writing
You don't have to be a legendary Indian author to learn from him. His "With Malice" approach is actually a great blueprint for modern content:
- Kill the Jargon: If a ten-year-old can't understand your sentence, rewrite it.
- Self-Deprecate: Singh always made himself the butt of the joke first. It makes people trust you.
- Be Fearless: Don't be afraid to take a stand on something controversial. Neutrality is often just another word for boring.
- Keep a Schedule: He was at his desk at 4:30 AM every single day. Talent is great, but the "butt-in-chair" method is what actually gets books finished.
If you want to dive deeper into the world of Indian English literature, your next step should be comparing Singh's gritty realism with the more "magical" style of Salman Rushdie or the gentle village life depicted by R.K. Narayan. Each offers a different lens on the same complex country.
Actionable Insight: Start by reading his short story Karma. It’s only a few pages long, but it perfectly encapsulates his view on class, colonialism, and the irony of the "educated" Indian. It's a masterclass in how to end a story with a satisfying, ironic twist.