The year was either 1955 or 1956, which makes me 6-7 years old at the time of the incident. We were still living in Sangrur, a district town in Punjab where my father practiced law, delved into politics on and off, and wrote articles for newspapers. It was okay at that time and at that place to have a good sized family. So I lived with my family that consisted of my parents, three sisters and two brothers. I was the youngest of the six siblings. My eldest sister was finishing her Bachelor of Arts from Ranbir College (named after the Maharaja Ranbir Singh who ruled Jind State, of which Sangrur was a part, from 1879 to 1948) and I was in my second  year of schooling.

Being the youngest has its advantages, as one is pampered by his siblings and parents alike, except for the one who is the second youngest who is still a baby but is not quite treated as one. This was true in our case too. My elder brother, about a year and a half older than me, resented the attention and the goodies that I got quite a bit more than what he got. Despite the resentment he always cared for me and protected me when I got into fights in the school or in the street with other children.

One day there was quite a commotion in the street. There was a procession of a sort on a tonga (a horse-cart to carry passengers). There were large posters displayed on the tonga and  loud music was playing on a gramophone.  Intermittently the music will stop and a man will announce in a loud and raucous voice, using a tin hailer, ‘ Dev Kumar, the world’s best magician has come to our town. Come one, come all and see the magician beheading a girl and again joining the head and many other magic performances.’

I was very excited as any 6 year old will be.  In the evening, I  accompanied my father to Ranbir Club, where he played tennis. After the game he  and some other prominent citizens of Sangrur would discuss politics and local affairs,  while I hung around trying skating  and enjoyed a tasty lemonade served by Himmat, the short and dark bartender who was always kind and jovial.

That day as soon as the tennis game was over, I demanded to be taken to the Dev Kumar Magic Show.

Father tried to dissuade me but I would not budge. We got on my father’s bicycle and headed towards the Moti Theater. On the way my father stopped at Dr Chawla’s Clinic, a friend of my father.  Later on I learnt that my father had no money  and  borrowed money from his friend for the show.

I was all excitement and finally the show started. I do not remember too much of what went on except that he kept on throwing watches in the air and they will find their way into a pot irrespective of where he chucked them. Then he asked for a volunteer for the perform his next trick. He needed a child of 5-6 years. Lo and behold I am on the stage, excited scared, nervous, apprehensive – all at the same time. The famous Dev Kumar looked at me with smile, put a comforting hand on my shoulder, made me face the audience squarely.  Then he moved right, moved left, muttered some magical words and put a cloth in front of me.

After a few moments I again was standing on the stage and the audience was wildly clapping to my utter surprise and lack of understanding of what had happened

After I returned to my father he asked me where had I gone. I said nowhere. He said I had vanished from the stage after the cloth was put on me and reappeared a good two minutes later when he waived the cloth in the air. I did not have the faintest idea what he was talking about.

EVERYONE ENJOYED MY VANISHING EXCEPT ME!