PP sir is no more. This line is heartbreaking to all of us, his thousands of students and many strangers who came in touch with him through one way or the other. He is no more there for us. For guidance, for affection, for quick gathering at a tea shop, for a meet up at Wind n Waves, for taking us to Upper Lake and Tribal Museum, for calling us late at night to take us to a wedding where we did not know anyone. He is no more there at the Madhyam office, sitting amid files and tons of paper, on a sofa, making us wait for thirty precious minutes of his life.
Since 2015, each and every student of sir’s would visit him at his office. There was a joke that the office boy was pissed at us. He would have to make tea after every half an hour as one person after the other would keep coming into the room and sir would ask the poor office boy for another cup of tea. On my every Bhopal trip since passing out in 2015 from Makhanlal Chaturvedi University, I would always go to meet him, like any of his students. The first thing you did after stepping out of the train was inform sir that you have arrived in Bhopal. “Aao office toh pehle aao (Come to office first)”, he would tell me when asked if he was free today. That was a stupid question to ask him as sir would never be free. But it didn’t mean that he did not have time for us. He always had time for us. Like me, every student, used to ask if he was free because that was our way of telling him that we really wanted to meet him.
One of my seniors used to say, “Energy kam ho gayi hai, sir se lena aaya hu (I am short of energy these days, so came to meet sir).”
He was like that. A bundle of energy. Our light. We took so much from him. But did not know what was burning inside him. Honestly, I never wanted to know either. Never asked if sir was fine. I felt I would hurt him If I asked. He took pride in taking care of us and I felt if I ever asked him if he was well, if he had any tension, he will hesitate in revealing his weak side to us. I did not ask also may be because I feared that I might have to look at my hero’s weak side. We all want our heroes to be strong. May be that’s the flip side of being one. You cannot have a moment of weakness in public. PP sir too did not have one. He was always strong on the outside. Smiling, confident, fearless, proud, hard-working, setting an example for others.
He passed away at 55. I got to know his age when he died. Very ironical as we used to wait for his birthdays and celebrated it in grand style during Bhopal days. He cut countless cakes on his big day. May be hundreds. This is not an exaggeration. Sir had touched so many lives with his kindness that it was difficult to not remember him on October 8.
Sir has given me so much in life. My first job in journalism aside, the perspective to look at things, lessons on inclusivity, care and kindness. His ‘Apan kar lenge’ line simplified the most complex of tasks. He trusted in us more than we trusted in ourselves. Just do what you fear, he would indirectly say. “Chad jao stage pe, kuch na kuch toh kar hi doge (Just get on the stage, you will definitely do something of substance),” he once told a nervous me before my Mono-acting act at the University fest.
Now when I look back, I am amazed at how much he wanted us to win. University Fest days was the only time he showed a little anger. He did not want his students to look below par when it came to winning awards. I remember going on stage to receive an award for Feature Writing. I quickly took the award and came back. Later, sir told me, you must not ruin the moment you have worked hard for. You must get a nice photograph clicked. These are memories. I agreed and still remember the words. Sir is the reason why I get pissed at others for messing my photos now.
He also wanted his students to value friendships made in college. A few nights ago, while scrolling through all my photos on Facebook, I stumbled upon one group photo that has almost all my classmates, on which sir had commented – ‘Save it, Rare pic’.
We are all indebted for many gifts that he gave us even after our college. But it is also true that the biggest gift that he gave to all of us was he, himself. His time, his presence, his phone call. None left now. His gift was his way to make you feel important. Looking after each one of his students with love and care. It pains me to see that gift taken away from us.
After sir’s passing away, all our seniors, friends and batchmates have been thinking of how could we take his legacy forward. What would be the greatest tribute to him. We all want to do something big. Truth is, we are all lost. We just don’t know what act could match up to that large-hearted fellow. Awards, buildings are already named after him. If there is actually a world beyond this, if he is seeing us, he would not have liked anything named in his name. He even refused to sit in his office chair, saying he is not a slave to a position. His students, family are doing their best to keep his legend alive. Yet something still feels amiss. And that made me realise that our greatest tribute to him will be our honest attempt to become like him. Yes, it’s too hard a path to walk on. It is almost impossible to be so good at everything for such a long time. The one night, while listening to the song ‘Nirbhau, Nirvair’, two days after sir’s death, I felt the phrase suited the man the best. He never feared and he never hated. In my view, that’s how we can try and get to that point where sir stayed for a long time.
PP sir truly believed in this philosophy. He lived life without hate and without fear. He never felt daunted by anyone. And he never kept enmity towards anyone too. He was forced to resign from Makhanlal University. We waged a war, were ready to sacrifice our degrees. But he knew there was no use fighting a battle which would only ruin oneself. He asked us to quit the campaign to get him back in the HOD’s chair, the chair he never sat on but had the utmost respect for. He moved on. When you leave some battles half-way, you still win as you still manage to save a lot of things. Sir did that. He moved on to work for the MP government in a completely different role. People who back-stabbed him still visited him at his new office and he kept on welcoming them. Not even once did he ever speak ill of even his greatest enemies at Makhanlal University. He never taught us to hate.
But it is also true that even a hard-working man like him would not have survived in that job for long. He was a teacher at heart. He was in habit of giving it all to a job. When he taught and spent time with students, he was still at peace. In his new job, he appeared lost in paperwork and releasing the newspaper he edited, in time.
His principles were so strong that he never changed as a person even while performing in a high-pressure role. He remained the same smiling, caring, affectionate human being who was still solving everyone’s problems.
On my last visit to Bhopal, I went to meet sir at his Madhyam office with my wife Nidhi. We sat there for 3 hours as sir was busy proof-reading copies. That was our first visit to sir together. Every now and then, he would take small breaks and talk to Nidhi before he was lost in paperwork again. Some time after 9 pm, he delegated work and took us on a Bhopal tour. We started from his office and driving through Upper Lake, Old Bhopal, Airport road, Arera colony, we reached hotel Palash for dinner. He wanted to show Nidhi the whole city. Kept on teasing her, by calling Bhopal better than Banaras (from where my wife is). That was the last time we met him. Outside the Madhyam office, he would again become our HOD of Journalism department. We all felt so free.
I could go on and on about many beautiful moments from my time with sir. But for now, just this promise. I will keep reminding myself whenever I turn ugly in relationships, at work, with friends that I am a good man because I look up to sir. I am his student. I must not fail him. Thank you, sir, for pushing me to go at the stage, for backing my ideas, for understanding why I took some terrible decisions and for never judging me. I am sorry if I ever disappointed you. I will miss you.
The Spectator 