Kartar Singh Gandy was born on October 17, 1922, in the lush, heavenly ambience of Papun, Burma.
He received his early education at St Patrick's in Moulmein and at the Khalsa School in Rangoon.
He entered the University of Rangoon to specialize in mathematics when he was not quite sixteen. His keen interest in sports led him to the Rangoon University Boat Club whose motto was, and still is, "Row, row, row till you are dead." Rowing was Mr. Gandy's passion. And now, sadly for us all, he has rowed himself over to the other shore.
He was barely into his second year at university when his father, Ram Singh, who was co-owner of the legendary firm Arjan Singh Brothers, died suddenly.
Responding to his uncle's call, he left the university and stepped into his father's shoes at the firm.
Given his powerful head for math, matched with an equally powerful stamina, the uncle and nephew team were in the process of taking Arjan Singh Brothers to glorious heights of achievement when the Japanese invaded, forcing the British to retreat, thus causing immense loss of life and property.
During the war years, when few friends and family were around, since they had all trekked over the hills seeking sanctuary in India, Mr. Gandy was alone in Burma. No business activity to engage him, he cultivated friendships in monasteries with the most revered Buddhist monks.
As a consequence of this, he lived all his life by a happy synthesis of Sikh and Buddhist principles. He had the courage to confront adversity, the equanimity to bear losses and the generosity to share in times of prosperity.
The return of the British in 1945 marked the beginning of a period of unparalleled growth in Burma's economy. Arjan Singh Brothers were at the forefront in that growth.
Mr. Gandy found his soul mate in Prem, the splendid epitome of beauty, culture, and sophistication. They were married at Patna, Bihar, in 1950.
1962, just when everything looked so rosy, and the future looked so bright, the military in Burma seized power. They provided a foretaste of things to come by immediately demonetizing high denomination bills.
In 1963, when he got wind of how the junta were treating heads of state and his friends in the deposed cabinet and what they were up to next, i.e., seizing private businesses and freezing bank accounts, Mr. Gandy, arguably Burma's wealthiest man, without losing a wink of sleep, packed just one small suitcase and left the country for London, leaving behind a vast business empire and his own private residence, as if nothing ever belonged to him.
Prospects in London not being congenial, he moved to Montreal in 1964.
The family would have stayed on, but the Quebec separatist movement got them packing again. They soon moved to Toronto.
Signtech, the company he founded, together with his two sons, in Brampton, Ontario, was a turnkey project. However, repercussions of hostile policies of the socialist government of the day prompted the family to shut down and move to the entrepreneur-friendly milieu of Texas in 1992.
The crowning glory, in fact dual glory, of Mr. Gandy's achievement is that he outdid his father, albeit after his death, and that his sons James and Harry outdid him in his lifetime. He was very proud of that.
We are all fortunate indeed to have gotten to know this lovely, soft-spoken man whom at least I have never heard utter an unkind word about anyone. He was a genius in business, yet generous with his time and money to the less fortunate who sought his advice and assistance.
He was in many ways a model of excellence. We will miss him.
