By Milkha Singh, Sonia Sanwalka
Comprises sixteen pp photograph insert.
Milkha Singh has led a lifestyles ruled by way of operating, working, running... From a boy who narrowly escaped dying in the course of Partition (most of his kin used to be now not so lucky), to a juvenile antisocial who stole and outran the police, to a tender military recruit who ran his first actual race to win specified privileges for himself (a day-by-day glass of milk). After that first race, Milkha Singh grew to become an athlete via default. And what was once the stuff legends are made up of.
during this remarkably candid autobiography, Milkha Singh stocks the fantastic highs of profitable India s first ever gold in athletics on the Commonwealth video games, the unbridled pleasure of being hailed because the Flying Sikh in Pakistan, in addition to the shattering low of failure on the Olympics.
uncomplicated, but formidable; recognized, but grounded; temptations throughout him, but final celibate so he may concentrate on racing; a wealthy and gorgeous lady who used to be determined for him, but scuffling with the area to marry his girl love, Nimmi while the on-field drama came upon its method into his own lifestyles, Milkha used to be a guy who outlined his personal future. And but, for a guy whose existence was once ruled by way of activities, he keeps to stay dissatisfied with the best way activities is run...
robust and gripping, The Race of My existence records the adventure of an impoverished refugee who rose to develop into probably the most towering figures in Indian activities.
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Extra info for The Race of My Life: An Autobiography
The fields have been soaked with blood and decomposing our bodies lay scattered round, a banquet for vultures and canine. identity of the lifeless was once virtually very unlikely, and in desperation, the warriors positioned the entire our bodies, together with these of my kinfolk, in a single monstrous heap, poured kerosene over them and cremated them. greater than fifteen hundred villagers perished on that fateful day in Gobindpura. It had taken quite a few hours to annihilate my kinfolk, domestic and local village. while I reached Multan, I went instantly from the station to my brother’s quarters within the military barracks. His spouse, Jeet, used to be there and we either waited eagerly for Makhan to come back from Kot Addu. It took him approximately 3 or 4 days to come again to Multan. I broke down and wept inconsolably upon seeing him status on the door. We hugged one another tightly and saved crying for a long time. Then he gave us the total tale approximately his confinement in penal complex and the gory bloodbath in my village. I had misplaced every thing I cared for—it was once the tip of my adolescence. because the days glided by, we heard different bad debts approximately what was once occurring throughout us, and it appeared seen that we'd now not be secure in Multan. eventually, an reputable order was once circulated declaring that the households of all Hindu and Sikh militia group of workers in what used to be now Pakistan have been to be evacuated to India instantly. The regiments have been requested to stick on till additional become aware of. Jeet and that i, in addition to different households, boarded an army truck for a protracted, eight-hour force to the Hussainiwala–Ferozepur border. It was once a silent trip. We have been all displaced those who had misplaced what had mattered such a lot in our lives, and an doubtful destiny lay sooner than us. How could we commence anew? How may we positioned down roots in a land we knew so little approximately? My brain was once nonetheless numb end result of the enormity of the tragedy and that i had no clue how you can choose up the items of my shattered lifestyles. three * * * Ten Days in reformatory erozepur was once a sea of refugees, who have been desirous to discover a usual face—a husband, spouse, baby or relative. We have been all within the related boat, looking for survivors or discovering guard. After days of aimless loitering, I came across a dilapidated apartment deserted by way of a Muslim relations. although we had a few type of a roof over our heads, it was once nearly most unlikely to discover nutrients that might feed the 2 folks. however the loss of funds had made me creative. I made widespread forays into the military barracks, the place i'd polish footwear or do a little different menial chores for the warriors, in trade for leftover or discarded dal and rotis, which i'd take again to proportion with Jeet. On a few days we went to sleep hungry. We had by means of now misplaced all touch with Makhan, who used to be nonetheless in Pakistan along with his regiment, yet there has been little time to worry—we had different, extra speedy difficulties to deal with. on the finish of August, the swollen Sutlej river that runs via Ferozepur overflowed its banks and the town was once swept through devastating floods. Jeet and that i controlled to save lots of ourselves via hiking directly to the roof of a submerged condominium, yet what little possessions we had with us have been washed away.