Columnists

Forever Reaching For The Sky:
Malaysia's Sangat Singh

ROSALIA SCALIA

Buddha said, “Your work is to discover your world and then with all your heart give yourself to it.”

Sangat Singh, who is just shy of 80, a retired plantation manager in Malaysia, remains on a quest to discover the world, and true to Sikhi tenets, shares what he discovers with everyone, especially school children who come to what he affectionately calls “The Shack.”

The Shack is no ordinary shack.

The nerve center of Malaysia’s The National Planetarium in Kuala Lumpur, The Shack is actually a satellite station containing more than $50,000 of radio and computer equipment that he assembled and which allows him -- and through him, classes from various Malaysian elementary and high schools -- to talk to scientists and astronauts aboard the International Space Station during the seven minutes it shoots past the island nation.

At The Shack, Sangat can also receive and download telemetry and digital traffic and it acts like a celestial post box.

“Sometimes it is hard to understand the children’s accents, so we save time by emailing their questions to the astronauts ahead of time,” Sangat says, his voice filled with as much delight and joy as the students must feel after they pose their questions, say the requisite “over” into the radio mike, and then listen intently for the response to questions that range from how the space station functions, how the astronauts function in space, and what they miss most about earth.

Establishing The Shack proved a concrete example of Darwinism, its evolution beginning first with a single room filled with radio equipment, then computer equipment. Then Planetarium Agency director-general Professor Datuk Dr. Mazlan Othman supported the effort to further knowledge and public participation in space science.

“I was spending all my time there, and then Prof Mazlan suggested that we needed to add a bathroom, then after that came a kitchen to make tea and snacks,” Sangat says with a laugh.

Now The Shack is the backup satellite station for the one built on the U. of K.M. (Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia) campus at Bangi, and Sangat ended up being the only non PhD on Malaysia’s National Space Committee formed to share knowledge with, and give technical advice to schools and universities on how to establish their own satellite stations. “I was the one who knew the most about radio waves,” says Sangat, a longtime amateur radio hobbyist with a call sign of 9M2SS.

“I’m proud of Sangat and grateful he has brought the station to the heights it’s achieved. It’s the very best outcome of my efforts for space in Malaysia and the Planetarium is the next step,” says an e-mail from Dr. Othman, who is now the director of the United Nations Office for Outer Space in Vienna.

Being a pioneer is not a new role for Sangat.

Although he holds the distinction of being the first Sikh in Malaysia to have breached the tightly controlled and insular ranks of professional planters in1957 when he began his new career as a Cadet Planter at the Guthrie’s Siliau Estate in Siliau Malaysia, his first undertaking at breaching new territories came when he was 10 years old, “a voracious reader,” and at odds with the sole library in Lyallpur, now Fazilabad in post-Partition Pakistan.

“It was known as ‘The Coronation Library,’ and it treated children as a nuisance, not allowing them anywhere near the library, let alone in as members.”

For the 10-year-old Sangat, knowing that the library held books that he was not allowed access proved unimaginable, and he tenaciously pursued the library staff for membership, to the point approaching the Deputy Commissioner whose son was a classmate.

“In those colonial days, the Deputy Commissioner was treated like something of a god. The library staff never forgave my audacity but I was finally admitted as the youngest member of the library,” he says.

“They tried their best to be difficult --I was allowed one book per week. They also had a funny way of keeping members away from the book shelves. You had to choose the books remotely from the hand-written catalogue that was in the form of a journal and whatever the choice you made was final for the day, unless of course, the book was out, and then you a second chance.”

“This was my first real brush with bureaucracy,” he adds.

Undaunted, by age 12, Sangat worked his way through the entire story book shelf and began reading Freud’s Interpretations of Dream, which he initially mistook for a book on hypnotism. Nonetheless, he continued his habit of reading while doing mostly anything else, including walking.

Except when he was delving into photography.

“I started my career thinking I’d become a photographer,” Sangat said. Using a Kodak box camera, he began snapping photos -- some of which won national awards and recognitions -- and attached himself as an adolescent to a local photographer as a determined apprentice in his off hours from school.

“I did everything in that photography shop because I wanted to learn how to develop my own film,” he said.

The relationship proved fruitful, and Sangat excelled at what he thought would be his future profession.

Then came the Partition of Punjab and India and his forced relocation to Ludhiana on the Indian side of the divide where at age 19, he opened a photography shop with a partner.

“The problem was that I kept snapping photographs of my friends and giving them all away for free. My partner explained that we couldn’t run a business that way, and so I was out of the photography business,” he says.

Busted, armed with a bachelor of arts degree, and saddled with a non-descript job in Ahmedabad (Gujrat), Sangat experienced a chance meeting with S. Surjit Singh Bajaj who spotted him sitting in a quiet corner, of course, reading a book titled, Guru Nanak Chamatakar by Bhai Vir Singh. 

“He was rather surprised to see me reading such a serious treatise at a rather young age. A serious discussion ensued. I suspect he must have liked me and a week later a letter arrived with a prospect of a job in Singapore. That started the ball rolling: First I had to find a map to see the geographical position of Singapore. Finally -- it was in August 1954 -- I flew to Singapore in a Union of Burma Airways DC 3, a war time Dakota,” Sangat says.

In Singapore, he never let go of his photography obsession even as he embraced his duties in the textile business.

“I was about 28 years old in 1961 when I first remember him for his work in the background of Sikh youth organization, the Naujawan Sabha, in Malaysia and its activities in inculcating Sikh values in the lives of Sikh youth. Though other Sikh organizers worked in the forefront, he was always there to actively give his support and encouragement. He used to take photographs, and I remember him always in the background, never coming forward to try to lead,” says Dya Singh, a renowned singer/musician of Sikh mystical musical traditions. “I love the man! After a gap of 50 years I met him last year! Now I make it a point of meeting him whenever I come to Malaysia which is about 3 to 4 times a year. He has a lifetime of knowledge and experience and I find time spent with him of great benefit to my personal growth,” he adds.

Sangat diligently learned about cloths and dyes and selling textiles, but before long, grew bored. This prompted him to answer an employment ad for cadet planters.

“It required that I take a test. At the time, I didn’t know it was the British Civil Service test, but I took it and passed, and then went first for one, then two and three interviews, and I got the job.”

Sangat then began the task of learning the plantation estate business, from planting to managing, and then later cleared the requisite examinations to qualify as an Associate of the Incorporated Society of Planters (AISP), the coveted badge for a planter.

As he climbed the ranks, Sangat gained over the years the reputation as a problem-solver and the go-to person who could work successfully with difficult people.

“Many of the plantation managers gathered at a pub after a long day and drank til midnight. I went once and then realized that I had too much to do to while away the hours in a pub. I told them it was against my religion to drink, and thus for the next 40 years, I was spared the pub habit!” he says.

During this time, he married -- sight unseen -- Upkar Kaur, and together they raised four daughters as Sangat advanced, becoming the first Sikh in the region  to hold the rank of assistant manager and then full manager of any estate.

He eventually became the manager of the company’s gem plantation, an estate that grew three products -- rubber, palm oil and tea.

His insatiable curiosity about the world around him brought him into the realm of amateur radio. While traveling for estate business, Sangat heard a bit of a racket coming out of a friend’s house.

“I ended up talking to the guy and asked what the heck he was doing and he showed me -- an array of radios. I saw he was talking to people in the Middle East. I was mesmerized by what I saw and what he was doing!”

Hooked on amateur radio, Sangat returned home with the quest to learn everything he could about radio, radio waves. He took the licensing examinations and acquired a handle.

“You had to learn how to build and take apart a radio receiver and transmitter to pass the exam,” he says.

Fired up about this new endeavour, he hung antennas from the top of coconut trees on the estate to get a signal, not knowing that this new passion would -- in years to come -- be his entrée, prompting him to pioneer his unique role of surfing radio waves as a satellite station communicator in what still remains mankind’s newest frontier.

Please CLICK here to watch VIDEO of S. Sangat Singh in The Shack.

December 17, 2012


 

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