By the winter of 1920 the situation had taken a turn for the better. I had my family (by then consisting of my wife, three sons and a daughter) living with me in Delhi though my father had decided to go back and live on the land with my younger brother. Although I could afford to buy a car I was uncertain of my father’s reaction—he was dead-set against such wasteful extravagance. Instead I bought a four-wheeled victoria and a horse to take my children to school in Daryaganj and then take me round the different building sites. I seldom got back before 10 p.m. Sometimes after a day’s work I would go and visit my friends where I would take a whisky or two and listen to mujras preformed by prostitutes from Chawri Bazaar. I would never have dared to do this if my father had been living with me in Delhi.

I built myself a double-storeyed house on Janter Manter Road where half-a-dozen other Sikh contractors had also built their houses. Although I was earning more than them, they spent more on themselves than I. One of them who had got the contract for the supply of stone and marble built himself a palatial mansion of stone and marble bigger than any private residence in Delhi. Another whose father had been a dacoit and was not doing half as well as I, acquired two cars.

One summer I received a telegram from my brother saying that father had been taken ill and I should come over as soon as I could. At the time they were living in Mian Channun where my brother was running a cotton ginning factory and had over two hundred squares of land. He had persuaded the railway authorities to name the nearest railway station after my father as Kot Sujan Singh. I arrived in Mian Channun just in time. It almost seemed as if my father had been waiting to see me before taking his leave from the world. No sooner I went to his bedside, he began to question me about the business. He was short of breath but refused to listen to the doctor who kept insisting he should not strain himself. He broke down and cried that he was leaving my brother and I an uncleared debt of one lakh rupees. We assured him that if that bothered him either of us could wipe it out within one minute by writing a cheque in favour of his creditors as between us we had assets of about one hundred lakhs. ‘That may be so,’ he replied amid gasps, ‘but before leaving the world a person should balance his account by repaying every loan he has taken.’ He began to cry because he was very weak. We cried because he was crying. Then he asked everyone save me, my mother and brother to leave the room. ‘I want you two brothers to make me a promise in the presence of your mother that you will stick together and share everything no matter what profits or losses the other incurs.’ We brothers embraced each other and bowed over his chest to let him put his arms over us. Being a man of the world he added, ‘And if you ever decide to partition the family property you will do it amicably without anyone in the world knowing about it. If you have any dispute, you will accept your mother’s verdict without question.’ My mother who had been pressing his feet all this time broke down and began to wail. ‘Don’t talk of leaving me. The doctors say you will be all right. The great Guru will give you good health.’