Complimenting Cheema

http://www.tribuneindia.com/2008/20080919/edit.htm#5

Complimenting Cheema
by Jupinderjit Singh

CC is no more. Prof M S Cheema, an eminent educationist, historian, and writer, but fondly remembered by Ludhiana journalists as the “complimenting Cheema” proceeded to another world last month.

Newspaper offices often have regular non-journalist visitors. Many are hated as they are mere stooges of scribes. Some are “necessary evils”. They inform the latest gossip and spread it here and there.

But CC arrived as a whiff of fresh air. Walking on 80-something old bones, supporting thick white beard, a starched turban with eyes shining out of the wealth of intellect, his high spirits energised everyone.

He wrote a column for Ludhiana Tribune on social and historical issues. But he walked at will in the office when he was not writing also. He caught first person he met and start his compliments: “Wah! I heard you are teaching English to British” was his punchline.

This was his major compliment. That too, for all the scribes. It would instantly make recipients feel special. Soon, all got to know that he praised everyone. But still, each waited to hear that oneliner from him.

In the profession where good work is rarely patted openly, his praises were the much needed protein for a budding journalist. He made those credible by quoting from the writer’s recent write-up. His rare talent was to quietly tell the weakness in writing. The sugar-coated quinine always worked.

He read newspapers from the masthead to the printline. Then, he didn’t miss the new hairstyle or a turban a journalist donned. For the married, he always had some couplets to praise how good the couple looked. For singles, he claimed a line of suitors was waiting outside.

He was at his best when a trainee or some visitor in the office met him. Mere mention of the person’s surname would click the slide show of CC’s encyclopedia on their origins.

He would reach right up to the house of the person naming some prominent person of his clan or the village. CC went on and on talking to even five journalists at one go on different issues.

As a historian he was invaluable. While penning a column “A page from history” for the Ludhiana Tribune, I depended on him largely. He was a walking library.

The youthful exuberance of the octogenarian CC is missing now. Every time the office door opens, I wish CC walked in. Every time, I think some writeup is worth praise, I wish he had read it.

Complimenting Cheema would never have realised that we would miss him more for the compliments than all his talents. I wish humans had developed some software to save his brain for the wealth of knowledge he possessed. I am sure encouraging compliments would have splashed on the screen the moment one clicked it.