The Race of My Life (12 page)

When I left Moscow for London, Nina and a few others came to the airport to see me off. I had made some good friends during my short time in the city. I continued to keep in touch with them for a while, and today, when I read their letters, I remember the good times we had together all those years ago. For years I had corresponded with many other friends, admirers, and even strangers, who had entered my life at some time or the other. For me, meeting new people, befriending them and then parting was a normal part of the interactions I’ve had with a large number of strangers over the years. Yet, for me, establishing contact with my fans was of the greatest importance.

month before the Rome Olympics, the preliminaries were held in London. While sitting in the gallery watching the races, I observed the black French athlete, Abdul Saye, clock an unbelievable 45.9 seconds in the 400-metre event. This was a sensational record and was most worrying because my timing in the same race was a little over 46 seconds. When the French heard that Milkha Singh was part of the Indian Olympic team they invited me to France for the next preliminaries in which reputed sprinters from England, Jamaica, the West Indies and Kenya were participating. This was just a week or so before the Olympics.

My track record before this event had been impeccable. I had run many races and won against other world-class athletes, but Abdul Saye was a challenge. Usually I had beaten other contestants by a margin of five or seven yards, but could I do the same this time? Commander Pereira, in his broken Hindustani, did his best to motivate me, saying, ‘Milkha Singh, you must beat Abdul Saye today.’

In the stadium, the mostly French audience watched as I went through my warm-up exercises. To them, I was a curiosity with my long hair, turban and kara and they did not know what to except of me. When the race began, I ran with a vengeance, straining every muscle and won, establishing a new record of 45.8 seconds—point one second less than the previous Olympic record of 45.9. My achievement made headline news in the international press the next day. When I returned to my hotel room, I watched the reruns of the race that were being telecast on television. It was a new experience to watch myself run as well as observe the audience’s reaction to my win. I was deeply gratified by the accolades I had received.

When I returned to Aldershot, my team members were elated by my victory and were convinced that I would have the same success in Rome.

Rome, the Eternal City, looked very festive when the Indian contingent, led by Ashwini Kumar, landed at the airport. Milling crowds filled streets lined with flags and banners. As we drove through this historic city towards the Olympic Village, we were infected by the excitement around us. This time, I was privileged enough to be given a separate room so that I would not be disturbed by too many visitors.

Rome in August is hot, almost like India. On the opening day the temperatures had risen to above 40 degrees Celsius and it was extremely uncomfortable. Yet, the crowds were not daunted by the weather and filled the stands by the thousands, carrying red and black umbrellas as protection against the sun. The mammoth stadium, Stadio Olimpica, had been recently renovated and looked very impressive. The opening ceremony was spectacular. The military bands played the Italian national anthem and marches from operas, including Bellini’s
Norma
and Verdi’s
Ernani
, as the smartly dressed contingents from all over the world saluted the president of Italy, Giovanni Gronchi, when they briskly marched past his box. And as the Olympic flag was being raised, a choir sang the anthem of the Games with great emotion.

Athletes from almost a hundred and fifty nations were participating in the 400-metre race. I won round after round in every heat until I reached the semi-finals. By now only twelve of us remained, but in this race the number would be further reduced to the top six. The semi-finals took place and I was through to the final.

Over the years, I had, through continuous hard work and an intense practice schedule, built up my stamina to such a high level that I could compete in and often win two races each day, even in global competitions. Sadly, this ability was of little consequence in Rome, mainly because of the curious two-night gap between the semis and the finals. As a result I had more time to think and brood. I was so nervous and tense that I spent two sleepless nights before the finals. The night before, I kept thinking about the race and that put me under a lot of pressure. I was extremely tense and paced the floor in agitation, wondering what the next day would have in store for me. Then there was a knock on my door. It was Mr Umrao Singh, our manager, who came in and whisked me off for a long walk. As we wandered through the cobbled streets, past noble edifices, fountains and archways, he tried to distract me from the forthcoming contest by talking about the Punjab and telling me stirring stories of the Sikh Gurus and other valiant heroes. We walked and talked, and for a while I was at peace.

Early next morning, I returned to the stadium and joined the other participants at the starting line. It was at the moment when the lanes were being allocated that everything went wrong. Carl Kaufmann was in the first lane, the American Ottis Davis in the second, while the third one went to a participant from Poland and the fourth to my old Commonwealth Games’ rival, Malcolm Spence. I had the misfortune to be given the fifth lane next to a German athlete, who was the weakest of the six of us. This was a huge blow to me because the German was the only runner in my line of vision. With nothing but negative thoughts running through my mind, I took my standing position. When the starter shouted, ‘On your marks!’ I got down on my knees and offered a silent prayer to the ground beneath me, ‘Oh, Mother Earth, you have bestowed many favours on me. I pray that you will do the same today.’ I bowed my head and took a deep breath. The starter shouted ‘Set!’ and when he fired his gun we flew off at lightning speed.

I started off by being ahead of the others, and at the 250-metre mark, I was running so perilously fast that I decided to slow down in case I collapsed—a fatal decision I regret even to this day. As I completed 300 metres, the three competitors right behind me came abreast and began to move ahead, and even though I increased my speed, trying desperately to catch up with Spence, who I had beaten at Cardiff, or the two before him, I could not wipe out the deficit of those six or seven yards. And thus, as fate would have it, my error of judgment at that crucial point in the race, had dragged me to the fourth position and destroyed all my chances of winning that elusive Olympic gold.

Yet, it was a very close race, where the top positions were decided through a photo finish, which meant that the announcements were delayed. The suspense was excruciating. When the results were declared, all four of us—Davis, Kaufmann, Spence and I—had shattered the previous Olympic record of 45.9 seconds. Davis had come first with 44.9 seconds; Kaufmann was second with the same time of 44.9 seconds and Spence third with 45.5 seconds. Even though I had come fourth, my timing of 45.6 seconds was still a new record.

I felt completely bereft and humiliated by what had happened. I had scaled the heights of success and now the decline had set in. I knew no one can remain on the top forever. I had dominated the global sports scene for several years and it was time to go. I felt that I could not return to India in this dejected frame of mind, and so participated in competitions in London, Denmark, Sweden and Norway. And then it was time to get back home. On the flight back, I drank copiously to drown my sorrow and landed in Bombay in an inebriated condition, tired and filled with self-loathing. This time, however, there were no adoring crowds waiting eagerly to welcome me, just a few members of the press. Several well-wishers tried to console me, saying that one loss was not the end of the world and that other prestigious awards awaited me, but I remained adamant that my days as a sportsman were over.

Next day, my retirement was headline news. Many fans and supporters sent letters of regret, begging me to re-consider my decision. They said that Milkha Singh was not an ordinary individual, but the custodian of India’s honour in the sports world, and that I must continue to run, not for private gain, but for the glory of my country. Despite the defeat, I was still the hope of Indian athletes, they insisted. Thus, goaded by pressure from the press and sports officials, and the support of friends I rescinded my decision. After a short period of ‘mourning’, I resumed my practice again.

All through my life, I have been tormented by the fatal mistake I made in Rome on the day of the 400-metre race. I knew that I could have won, but perhaps, luck was not on my side that day. The one medal I had yearned for throughout my career had just slipped through my fingers because of one small error of judgement. Even today, if I look back on my life, there are only two incidents that still haunt me—the massacre of my family during Partition and my defeat at Rome.

n 1959, Gurnam Singh Tir, the Punjab government’s public relations officer, had kindly fixed an appointment for me with the chief minister of Punjab, Sardar Pratap Singh Kairon, who was a towering political figure in Punjab and wielded immense power at the state as well as national level. The little I knew about him was what I had gleaned from newspapers, but as a sportsman I had little understanding about the nature of politics and the extent of influence a politician commands. In our meeting, Kairon asked me probing questions about the state of Indian sports and why our athletes performed so poorly in the international arena, unlike their counterparts from other countries who won large numbers of gold and silver medals. What did their training involve? Did their governments actively support their endeavours? Give them financial aid and special benefits? He strongly believed that Indians, too, had the potential to succeed, but lacked the opportunities to develop their talents and skills. He then outlined his proposal of setting up a separate department of sports under the auspices of the Punjab government where fit young Punjabi boys could be trained under my charge.