The four men in police uniform came calling at around 3 am. They ordered the bearded Asian man in the house to open the door, saying they were on an urgent mission to conduct a search.
Malkiat Singh
Once inside, the men ordered him to produce his passport. With a million thoughts running through his mind, he went upstairs to fetch the document. Trembling, he descended the staircase and handed his passport to the one who appeared to be in charge of the group. He was totally unprepared for what transpired afterwards. . .
"I was alone in the house that night. . . Though I was quite terrified, I opened the door on the basis that the men were policemen; after all, they were in uniform," says Malkiat Singh, a renowned school textbook author and publisher.
After the gang leader scrutinised the passport, Singh noticed a change in his facial expression. "He screwed up his brow and threw me a fresh glance. It was as if he was not sure of the person he was looking at," he recalls.
The air of arrogance and hostility with which the men had entered the house suddenly changed and in its place, the author noticed concern and surprise. But then, he could have been wrong.
Suddenly, the group leader beckoned his comrades, and they exchanged some words in low tones, all the while throwing quick glances at Singh.
Then, cautiously, the man holding the passport approached him and sought to know whether the name on the passport was really his? He also wanted to establish whether indeed it was him who had authored the many books displayed in the house.
"When I answered in the affirmative, they trooped out," he recounts. As a parting shot, the leader of the group warned him never again to open the door to strangers at that hour.
Buoyed by the confidence they had shown in him, Singh asked the group to pass by his office the following day and collect books for their children.
"Of course they never came for the books," he concludes with a wry smile on his face.
Malkiat Singh outside his palatial house in Loresho’s Pine Wood Groove, Nairobi.
Events of that night, 10 years ago, are etched in Singh's mind as though they happened yesterday. "I stared death in the face, but my name came to my rescue," he said as he recounted the frightening incident in his modest office in Industrial Area, Nairobi.
Indeed today, Malkiat Singh is a man at peace with himself. His name has been synonymous with education publishing in Kenya for 30 years. Those who have gone through the education system in this period must have used his books, one way or the other.
Chances are that the four thugs who paid him a "visit" that night were weaned on his books. Whether they internalised the books' contents is a different matter.
The author appreciates the fact that Kenyans recognise the role he has played in the country's education. "I can see it in the deferential treatment I get when people recognise me. It really humbles me," he adds. As students across the country prepare to sit their end of year exams, Singh's books will occupy a central place, as they form a significant part of the study and revision material.
Although he is the owner of a very famous name, the man would easily pass for another dukawallah on the streets of Nairobi. There is nothing unique in his demeanour or manner of dressing.
"Indeed, many people I have met for the first time tell me they expected to see a tall, burly and turbaned man with a long goatee," says the soft-spoken man who maintains well-trimmed grey beards.
Being a Sikh, Singh reveals that as a young man growing up in Punjab, India, he used to wear a turban. "I was an energetic young man playing soccer in school so I had to remove the turban," he says.
That, he says, does not mean he is any less religious. "In my heart, I am very religious. I believe in a higher power that controls everything," he explains.
He adds that he enjoys a quiet life away from public limelight. "I prefer sitting in my house, where I read and write my books," he says.
His success as a writer notwithstanding, the man is technologically challenged; he cannot use a computer!
Singh visits his small office on Factory Street, off Bunyala Road in Industrial Area, for 30 minutes every day.
From the many titles he has written over the years – he has 100 titles to his name – one would expect that he has dozens of employees.
When we visited Dhillon Publishers, the company he runs as managing director, we discovered that he only has one employee, a secretary, and two small offices.
For a long time, doubt has been expressed over the possibility that one person can write on different subjects and excel in all. There have been suggestions that he has a team of specialised writers working for him.
When we posed this question, Singh paused for a moment and with a serious gaze, said that he does all the work by himself. He explained that his experience as a teacher exposed him to many different subjects. "As a writer, I have all the time at my disposal."
"Being a former teacher, I know what is required," he says. "I study the market carefully and endeavour to come up with something better than what is currently available."
If someone has contributed to any book, Singh insists that he includes their names in the book. One of his newest Upper Primary Science, is co-authored by B. Rai and J. A. Richardson.
Indeed, players in the publishing industry call him a "one-man army". He formed Dhillon Publishers in 1992, which has since published 60 titles.
And to prove that he does not just churn out takataka (trash), Singh revealed that in the just-concluded Free Primary School textbook project, Dhillon Publishers had 20 titles approved by the Kenya Institute of Education (KIE).
"Since I retired from teaching in 1975, I have earned my living through writing, and it has been rewarding so far," says Singh.
After graduating with a political science degree from Punjab University, in 1960, Singh landed a teaching job in Kenya, nine years later, as it promised "a lot of holidays".
Part of the reason he chose Kenya had to do with the fact that his wife, Mohinder Dhillon, is Kenyan-born.
His first posting was Eastleigh Primary School, where he taught for a few months before he was transferred to Technical High, today Nairobi Technical Institute in Ngara.
While teaching English and Literature at the institute, Tom Openda, who was then the Longman Publishers' representative in Kenya, visited and encouraged him to write.
"My first four books, in English, were published by Longman," he explains, adding that the royalty earned from the books informed his decision to quit teaching and start writing full-time.
At some point, he approached Ngugi wa Thiong'o, then head of the Literature department at the University of Nairobi, seeking to further his studies.
On noticing who was seeking admission to the department, Ngugi told him not to bother. "He told me to pursue the line I was taking, that I was on the right path. With his word I dropped the ambition for further studies altogether," he recalls.
Before 1998, text book publishing in Kenya was exclusively done by KIE, through government parastatals Kenya Literature Bureau and Jomo Kenyatta Foundation.
Faced with such a scenario, Singh had to think smart. "I saw a gap left for revision books which would help students tackle exam questions."
And it paid off, pupils preparing for exams could not resist his books.
If Singh looks simple, there is nothing simple about his car. At the parking, we found an exotic-looking 4x4.
Its exterior and interior decor bespoke of the meticulous care it receives from its owner. "I only use a vehicle for three years, after which I dispose it off and buy a new one," he explained.
As we were driving to his home in Loresho, he said the car was "old" and that he was only holding on to it as he awaits a brand new one from the dealers. A quick glance at the dashboard revealed it had covered 43,000 kilometres.
The number 844 occupies a special place in his life. While it connotes the country's 8-4-4 education system, for Singh it is a bread and butter business.
And in recognition of this, all his cars bear the magical 844 registration. "I make sure I reserve the number at the registrar of motor vehicles."
As we approach the house, Singh announces with a cheeky smile: "I live in number 10 Downing Street." True, his house is number 10. And like the UK premier's residence, the house is truly magnificent. Incidentally, as a footballer in school his playing position was 10.
His house at Pine Wood Groove in Loresho is a testament of how writing has been good to him. The one-story mansion is complete with a swimming pool. He has a hall in the basement which can accommodate 100 people.
Inside, there is a bar fully stocked with exotic brands. This is where he occasionally entertains his guests. The swimming pool, too, has a bar.
"My philosophy in life is that if I make a little more than other people, then I should live a little better, as long as I don't hurt anyone," he says.
Singh is in his late sixties, but it does not show. To maintain his fitness, he regularly works out at the Parklands Sports Club, where he is a member. "I go to the gym to make my sweat glands work," he explains.
Apart from donating books to schools, which ask for them, Singh also educates his househelp's children. "She has been with us for the last 20 years," he adds.
He is also a man attached to things for their sentimental value. In spite of all the opulence in the tastefully furnished house, in his study, he retains a simple wooden chair he bought in 1962 for the princely sum of Sh20.
This is where he sits to write his books. To get some softness on the chair, he places a well-worn cushion. It looks more like what tailors in the village would use.
Sitting on his simple chair, he writes all his manuals in long hand. His secretary then keys in the stuff. "You could say that I don't know how to use a computer," he confesses.
His life, however, has not been a fairy story all through. He is currently living alone as his wife is in the UK recuperating after being diagnosed with breast cancer.
He told of how he had to grapple with huge medical bills after a medical insurance company failed to renew his wife's policy. "I had to pay Sh2 million for her medication." Luckily for him, the condition was arrested early and subsequent tests revealed that she is out of danger.
The author enjoys reading Philip Ochieng in the Sunday Nation , as it improves his vocabulary. "I always read his articles with a dictionary."
Does he have any plans to write a novel? "I don't know," he announces after a brief pause. "I could, but I eventually plan to come up with a book that will ensure that my legacy remains for a long time to come."
