Dilip. I knew him as well as one could know a self-effacing person who never talked of himself. Which is to say I did not know his inner self, but was well-acquainted with his principles, his good deeds, his kindness to all, and the extraordinary heroism with which he endured his blindness and the physical pain, which was his almost-constant companion.
Others have talked of his clear and intelligent mind, his excellence as a professor, his knowledge of carnatic music, his interest in cricket,and such other things. But the most important fact, the central one, is that he was a holy person. Where there is goodness of that order,there there is also sanctity in significant measure.
It is the fashion of the times to react with embarrassment to such words as holiness and saintliness, and some will say that Dilip was a rationalist and agnostic, and God did not figure in his speech. It matters not. The Presence was there, even if the mind hardly thought of it and the speech was not of it. One does not have to put on the garment of an ascetic and live apart, in meditation and prayer, to qualify as holy. Those are only unimportant externals. God IS, where extraordinary goodness dwells.
Not a day passes without him visiting the mind. The lines below formed themselves for him. Other verse too was written for him years ago, and was read to him at the time. This, I insert here, though Dilip was of a size that merited a poet, not just a stumbling versifier.
We'll never know, although on knowing bent,
So swiftly why a life so large was done;
To men of goodness, early ends if sent,
On earth can ever Virtue's wars be won?
We cannot know, but hope we surely can:
Ordained was all, towards a final good,
For which, too soon, we had to lose a man,
Who, all his days, for worth and measure stood.
But, since the life was one of suffering keen,
With tribulation too, of being blind,
How thoughtful more, if summoning had been
A fitter one, considerate and kind.
Oh son of light, now back in Primal Light,
For you, at least, departure hence, was gain:
No longer jailed are you, in sightless night,
No longer chained to unremitting pain.
Recalling all the things you did and said,
We'll strive a while to keep our living clean,
Then once again with vileness go to bed,
And end our tale as if you'd never been.
For, common folk, of height, will quickly tire,
Will always, soon, to being low, return,
Can never be, oh Dilip, lasting fire,
However much examples set, might burn.
It is taught that a man of goodness and beauty goes back into the Goodness and Beauty from which he came, and, with his death, nothing is gone but the physical lamp, in which the tongue of flame burned, during its brief existence away from the Primal Fire. There is no loss.
Nothing is lost: no beauty, no glory, that does not return to, and become once again part of the Bigger Entity, from which it separated during the brief period
of its earthly existence.
With such reflections one must still the sorrow. The rest is a matter of marshalling what courage and powers of endurance one can, and soldiering on.
M.A. Reddy
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
I was passing on the sad news to a friend when he asked "So which class did you take with him?". It was only then I realized that I had never been to any of his classes. I do not recall ever asking him to explain anything. And yet he was my teacher. Yes, I think that is it...knowing Dilip was in itself the lesson. His friendship, simplicity and unconditional giving were things I will never forget!
Manoj Gunwani
Class of 92
Manoj Gunwani
Class of 92
It was Sept ’08 when I heard Dilip was ‘not keeping well’. A few enquiries revealed my worst fears – that he was virtually immobile and cancer had eaten into his colon and intestines.
A flood of memories, pain for not having seen him in a year, reflections on his years of influence on me, guilt again at never being able to emulate even a tiny spark of his goodness, they all came back, and refused to go away ..
My story with him is not different from those of many others who knew him.
It was almost 20 years ago on the IIT campus in Chennai that I had first heard of Dilip – a professor in our humanities department, a blind man, often smiling, talking, holding on to someone’s shoulders, often around a group of students and odd-looking ‘outsiders’. You could see him on campus sometimes, usually around the tea shop or in his noisy office – his gang of followers around him, reading or debating on politics, nature, history, psychology or cricket. At first he was a curiosity, someone to spend time between classes with over a cup of tea, debating on topics of cursory interest and no consequence. Many of my friends dismissed him as an unrepentant socialist, not able to place his pre-conceived notions in a changing India.
The class he taught on the history of Indian Nationalism was a revelation for me. Not in its content as much as in the way Dilip conducted the class. History was a debate for him, a discussion, not a conclusion and a record of facts. That can be a shocker for someone who’s just come out of the Indian high school system. His socialist leanings were obvious, mostly as a backdrop to his thoughts rather than an obvious choice of philosophy. He allowed you to have your own point of view, sometimes correcting your facts, sometimes building on your ideas. There was clearly more to this man than the buzz surrounding him.
I started frequenting his office more often, sometimes borrowing his books, sometimes seeking his help or influence. Occasionally, I would accompany him on his numerous social jaunts – mostly to the teashop – sometimes to a slum or a hospital or a school where you could see him in action – educating some, helping out others. His students would generally lend a hand, the more active ones often leading the charge. He was completely selfless, never saving a rupee more than he needed. Almost all his income was distributed among the many that he felt needed it more than he did. It was always uncomfortable. “Each one needs to help himself” I’d say. “Yes, but some need a little help before they can do it themselves. It multiplies fast” he’d reply.
After graduating, I decided to go to the United States to study further and grow professionally. It was a choice he’d seen many others make. He took it in his stride. I remember him saying good-bye to me in the IIT campus. He had got me a little packet of ‘chikki’ – a sweet snack I relished. We kept in touch often over email (one of his student friends would read it out to him and type his response back) and on occasional visits to India. It was amazing that he’d keep in touch with so many of us, treating each as an individual, a dear friend, whose every personal and family detail he’d know. Of course all this was while he continued to make new friends on campus.
When I made the move back to India in ’02, it seemed Bangalore would be much closer to see Dilip more often. It was not to be. We would see each other only a couple of times before I heard of his illness.
I finally made it to Chennai in Dec ’08. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. Dilip was in bed, small and frail, unable to speak, unable to bear the pain that came with the tumor in his body. It was difficult to see the person who never once complained in the 18 years I knew him, being unable to talk without pain.
A few weeks later, I heard he passed away. His thoughts and words echo in my mind. His short life remains an example of how one man with so little at his disposal can do so much good in so little time.
Dilip, you will never be forgotten, your thoughts and actions forever an influence on many young minds that had the good fortune to know you,
Ajit Rao,
Class of ’92, IIT Madras
Bangalore, India
A flood of memories, pain for not having seen him in a year, reflections on his years of influence on me, guilt again at never being able to emulate even a tiny spark of his goodness, they all came back, and refused to go away ..
My story with him is not different from those of many others who knew him.
It was almost 20 years ago on the IIT campus in Chennai that I had first heard of Dilip – a professor in our humanities department, a blind man, often smiling, talking, holding on to someone’s shoulders, often around a group of students and odd-looking ‘outsiders’. You could see him on campus sometimes, usually around the tea shop or in his noisy office – his gang of followers around him, reading or debating on politics, nature, history, psychology or cricket. At first he was a curiosity, someone to spend time between classes with over a cup of tea, debating on topics of cursory interest and no consequence. Many of my friends dismissed him as an unrepentant socialist, not able to place his pre-conceived notions in a changing India.
The class he taught on the history of Indian Nationalism was a revelation for me. Not in its content as much as in the way Dilip conducted the class. History was a debate for him, a discussion, not a conclusion and a record of facts. That can be a shocker for someone who’s just come out of the Indian high school system. His socialist leanings were obvious, mostly as a backdrop to his thoughts rather than an obvious choice of philosophy. He allowed you to have your own point of view, sometimes correcting your facts, sometimes building on your ideas. There was clearly more to this man than the buzz surrounding him.
I started frequenting his office more often, sometimes borrowing his books, sometimes seeking his help or influence. Occasionally, I would accompany him on his numerous social jaunts – mostly to the teashop – sometimes to a slum or a hospital or a school where you could see him in action – educating some, helping out others. His students would generally lend a hand, the more active ones often leading the charge. He was completely selfless, never saving a rupee more than he needed. Almost all his income was distributed among the many that he felt needed it more than he did. It was always uncomfortable. “Each one needs to help himself” I’d say. “Yes, but some need a little help before they can do it themselves. It multiplies fast” he’d reply.
After graduating, I decided to go to the United States to study further and grow professionally. It was a choice he’d seen many others make. He took it in his stride. I remember him saying good-bye to me in the IIT campus. He had got me a little packet of ‘chikki’ – a sweet snack I relished. We kept in touch often over email (one of his student friends would read it out to him and type his response back) and on occasional visits to India. It was amazing that he’d keep in touch with so many of us, treating each as an individual, a dear friend, whose every personal and family detail he’d know. Of course all this was while he continued to make new friends on campus.
When I made the move back to India in ’02, it seemed Bangalore would be much closer to see Dilip more often. It was not to be. We would see each other only a couple of times before I heard of his illness.
I finally made it to Chennai in Dec ’08. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. Dilip was in bed, small and frail, unable to speak, unable to bear the pain that came with the tumor in his body. It was difficult to see the person who never once complained in the 18 years I knew him, being unable to talk without pain.
A few weeks later, I heard he passed away. His thoughts and words echo in my mind. His short life remains an example of how one man with so little at his disposal can do so much good in so little time.
Dilip, you will never be forgotten, your thoughts and actions forever an influence on many young minds that had the good fortune to know you,
Ajit Rao,
Class of ’92, IIT Madras
Bangalore, India
I came to know Dilip as an impressionable 10 yr old lad through my brother Manoj. I've always been amazed by Dilip's commitment to his ideals. He has always consistently practiced what he preached, from taking public transport to work, to even refusing sophisticated medical treatment on account that the average Joe wouldn't be able to acquire let alone afford such care and wondering what made him o special to get it.
I am even more impressed by the fact that he has quietly accomplished so much without any fuss from TNSF, etc to quietly influencing the scores of iit janta that have had the privilege of coming into contact with him. We often speak of how humble people can be. He was the very embodiment of humility and selflessness.
I hope that everyone he has influenced in his life, try and cultivate some of his virtues of simplicity and selflessness in our own lives and I hope that TNSF and other social justice movements he was active in continue to flourish for decades to come.
vinod saranathan
I am even more impressed by the fact that he has quietly accomplished so much without any fuss from TNSF, etc to quietly influencing the scores of iit janta that have had the privilege of coming into contact with him. We often speak of how humble people can be. He was the very embodiment of humility and selflessness.
I hope that everyone he has influenced in his life, try and cultivate some of his virtues of simplicity and selflessness in our own lives and I hope that TNSF and other social justice movements he was active in continue to flourish for decades to come.
vinod saranathan
Dear Dilip,
I am sorry to miss you, but feel that are at peace wherever you
are. Your memory is a great inspiration, and I will do my bit to
bear in mind and act upon the compassion that you embodied. My best
wishes for peace to return as soon as possible to your family and
friends. I am so happy to have known you. I will honor your memory.
With love,
Aravind
http://www.cs.umd.edu/~srin
I am sorry to miss you, but feel that are at peace wherever you
are. Your memory is a great inspiration, and I will do my bit to
bear in mind and act upon the compassion that you embodied. My best
wishes for peace to return as soon as possible to your family and
friends. I am so happy to have known you. I will honor your memory.
With love,
Aravind
http://www.cs.umd.edu/~srin
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
A Rare Human Being
Sangeetha and I lost a very close friend Dilip (Prof Dilip Veeraraghavan IIT Madras) last week. Dilip knew me from the time that I was just a young listener of music. We were more than friends; we were family and took all the liberty that one does with their own siblings. I will deeply miss all the wonderful conversations, fights, arguments and chatter that we shared especially about music, cricket, politics etc over the last almost twenty years. Dikshitar and Brindamma were probably the most discussed topics between us. Our mutual madness for both generally drove conversations.
The fact that he was visually impaired did not in anyway affect the principles of his life. There were countless times we would tell him to stop taking the bus to IIT everyday and make life easier for himself and all he will say is “ you know my socialistic leanings”. His deep care for others and their well-being was so rare.
We did go and see him in late November and I in fact told him that he should come to my concert at the Academy as he had done over the last two decades (I don’t think he missed even one) and of course the post concert next day discussion etc. Unfortunately that was not to be.
Just before leaving his home he asked us to sing Mamava Pattabhirama. I remember him waiting for me to sing the Brindamma sangathis for the pallavi as we ended the Krithi.
There are so many lovely memories of Dilip that it’s difficult to put in writing and I think they are better as a memories.
We miss you
Love
TM Krishna
Sangeetha
The fact that he was visually impaired did not in anyway affect the principles of his life. There were countless times we would tell him to stop taking the bus to IIT everyday and make life easier for himself and all he will say is “ you know my socialistic leanings”. His deep care for others and their well-being was so rare.
We did go and see him in late November and I in fact told him that he should come to my concert at the Academy as he had done over the last two decades (I don’t think he missed even one) and of course the post concert next day discussion etc. Unfortunately that was not to be.
Just before leaving his home he asked us to sing Mamava Pattabhirama. I remember him waiting for me to sing the Brindamma sangathis for the pallavi as we ended the Krithi.
There are so many lovely memories of Dilip that it’s difficult to put in writing and I think they are better as a memories.
We miss you
Love
TM Krishna
Sangeetha
Friday, February 13, 2009
I met Dilip aka Dr.Veeraraghavan about 7 odd years ago, when I was still in school. He passed away this morning. He was a friend of dad's. Dad apparently used to read to him from libraries and home in Delhi during his PhD, almost everyday. They lost touch after dad went abroad for a few years. One day, I tagged along with dad to IITM, utilizing his invite to the book launch of Nature's Spokesman: M. Krishnan and Wildlife organized by the Bombay Natural History Society (dad's a life member of BNHS) and Prakriti (IITM's nature club). One of the organizers was standing outside the CLT complex. Dad walked upto him and touched his hand, and he immediately said "Thyagu, eppadi da irrukae?" (translated from tamil - Thyagu, how are you?) - they were meeting after almost a decade. In such a span, faces are generally forgotten - Dilip otoh recognized dad from one touch! To the uninitiated, Dilip had lost vision in both eyes as a youngster. After reestablishing contact, dad used to visit or call him when possible. I too visited him a few times after that, while visiting IITM. I don't know if he could remember me offhand, but in any case I always used to introduce myself as "Thyagu's daughter" and talk for a while, generally acting messenger between dad and him, transfering books. I always used to nag dad into taking me along whenever he went visiting on Dilip. And I will always regret that I could have spoken more with him.
This year my visits to IITM increased, due to various reasons. On one such occasion, dad asked me to try meeting Dilip or at least meet Murali (Dr.Muraleedharan) and enquire about him. Dad had tried reaching Dilip at his office a number of times, of no avail. One of their mutual friends had told dad that Dilip has been "unwell" for a while. On this visit, one of the students mentioned the same thing. I got his contact number from the department office. I met Prof. Murali who was mighty busy that day and chased me out of his office. Dad promptly made a few calls and I came to know only that day, Dilip hadn't been in office for a while now and had another ailment to cope with - cancer. The last time I had met him was in Shaastra 2008 - he was out on a jaunt checking Shaastra out, with Murali explaining the going-ons. I ran over, introduced myself yet again and had a short yack before getting back to my events. I wish I'd had longer, deeper conversations with him. I wish I could have heard atleast one of his talks. And I wish I had found the time to visit him atleast once in his last months.
Dad is out of town and will be returning in a coupla days and he was upset he could not come down before noon today, to see him one last time. Dilip is one of the few people I held/hold in awe, who inspire, who defined to me the meaning of the word "awe-inspiring"- for no matter what his pains, no matter what his problems, I have never seen him without a smile playing on his lips or without atleast a few students or professors around him, deep in discussion...
I feel guilty, staying in bed for a viral infection.
Kadambari Devarajan
http://kadambarid.livejournal.com/71576.html
This year my visits to IITM increased, due to various reasons. On one such occasion, dad asked me to try meeting Dilip or at least meet Murali (Dr.Muraleedharan) and enquire about him. Dad had tried reaching Dilip at his office a number of times, of no avail. One of their mutual friends had told dad that Dilip has been "unwell" for a while. On this visit, one of the students mentioned the same thing. I got his contact number from the department office. I met Prof. Murali who was mighty busy that day and chased me out of his office. Dad promptly made a few calls and I came to know only that day, Dilip hadn't been in office for a while now and had another ailment to cope with - cancer. The last time I had met him was in Shaastra 2008 - he was out on a jaunt checking Shaastra out, with Murali explaining the going-ons. I ran over, introduced myself yet again and had a short yack before getting back to my events. I wish I'd had longer, deeper conversations with him. I wish I could have heard atleast one of his talks. And I wish I had found the time to visit him atleast once in his last months.
Dad is out of town and will be returning in a coupla days and he was upset he could not come down before noon today, to see him one last time. Dilip is one of the few people I held/hold in awe, who inspire, who defined to me the meaning of the word "awe-inspiring"- for no matter what his pains, no matter what his problems, I have never seen him without a smile playing on his lips or without atleast a few students or professors around him, deep in discussion...
I feel guilty, staying in bed for a viral infection.
Kadambari Devarajan
http://kadambarid.livejournal.com/71576.html
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Dilip, I really didn’t want to stand here and talk about you…because you didn’t believe in that… what you believed you practiced in life and showed us…. I was told to talk about Dilip and Nature… do I need to? If you knew Dilip, it is difficult to distinguish between the two. But to many who may not have had the lifetime opportunity to meet or interact with Dilip…or had the sight to see the “inconvenient truths” he told, this is what I thought of… I quote from the Memoirs of Pablo Neruda… which I wanted to read to Dilip and he would have enjoyed it ….
“Under the volcanoes, beside the snow-capped mountains, among the huge lakes, the fragrant, the silent, the tangled Chilean forest…. My feet sink down into the dead leaves, a fragile twig crackles, the giant rauli trees rise in all their bristling height, a bird from the cold jungle passes over, flaps its wings and stops in the sunless branches… and then, from the hideaway, it sings like an oboe…… The wild scents of the laurel, the dark scent of the boldo herb, enter my nostrils and flood my whole being….This is a vertical world: a nation of birds, a plentitude of leaves. ……the vegetable world keeps up its low rustle until a storm churns up all the music of the Earth.. he goes on narrating the enchanting Chilean forest thus and ends by saying…. Anyone who hasn’t been in the Chilean forest does not know this planet…..same is true about Dilip too…. He was like the big banyan tree which stands in the quadrangle in front of his office, where a whole lot of things happen…. Birds come and feed on the fruits, rest in the branches, converse in diverse languages about their philosophy of life…their hardships or just chatter about the simple things in life, monkeys come in the afternoons and sleep on its broad branches, or search for fruits, deer rest under the tree and feed on the fruits…. Everything is possible with that tree….To different people it gave different perspective and different solace. As someone on the blog said “he was our worry-tree”. We probably didn’t find time to see his sensitivities or needs. He was worried about the way we treat the Earth. He cared not to hurt anything that he came across and lived giving care all the time. Keeping aside his discomforts and ailments he traveled on buses, minimized his material needs and wished to see us living a life which is fewer burdens on Earth’s resources. He told us when we visited him “I am happy you came by bus”. That was Dilip.
Neruda said ……”Meanwhile, men are soaring into the solar system… Shoes track up the moon… Everything struggles to change, except the outworn systems…. These outworn systems were spawned in the immense spiderwebs of the Middle ages… spiderwebs stronger than the steel of machinery…. Yet there are people who believe in change, who have made changes, who have made the changes work, who have made changes burst into flower…… Nobody can hold Spring back!” Dilip was that spring, is that spring and will be that spring for many of us. He has transformed the lives of many and made them embrace a Fukuokan lifestyle which only few could dream of….there are many students and others like Siddarth, Chitra, Prashant etc…who have taken up an organic life style, living in remote villages of India doing organic farming and helping people who are in need abandoning the “luxuries” and “comforts” of the lifestyle and income they were used to, following Dilip. It is truly remarkable in this era, that someone who is not a religious leader or politician could mesmerize and change and transform lives…..like Dilip…
susy varughese at a condolence meeting for Dilip
“Under the volcanoes, beside the snow-capped mountains, among the huge lakes, the fragrant, the silent, the tangled Chilean forest…. My feet sink down into the dead leaves, a fragile twig crackles, the giant rauli trees rise in all their bristling height, a bird from the cold jungle passes over, flaps its wings and stops in the sunless branches… and then, from the hideaway, it sings like an oboe…… The wild scents of the laurel, the dark scent of the boldo herb, enter my nostrils and flood my whole being….This is a vertical world: a nation of birds, a plentitude of leaves. ……the vegetable world keeps up its low rustle until a storm churns up all the music of the Earth.. he goes on narrating the enchanting Chilean forest thus and ends by saying…. Anyone who hasn’t been in the Chilean forest does not know this planet…..same is true about Dilip too…. He was like the big banyan tree which stands in the quadrangle in front of his office, where a whole lot of things happen…. Birds come and feed on the fruits, rest in the branches, converse in diverse languages about their philosophy of life…their hardships or just chatter about the simple things in life, monkeys come in the afternoons and sleep on its broad branches, or search for fruits, deer rest under the tree and feed on the fruits…. Everything is possible with that tree….To different people it gave different perspective and different solace. As someone on the blog said “he was our worry-tree”. We probably didn’t find time to see his sensitivities or needs. He was worried about the way we treat the Earth. He cared not to hurt anything that he came across and lived giving care all the time. Keeping aside his discomforts and ailments he traveled on buses, minimized his material needs and wished to see us living a life which is fewer burdens on Earth’s resources. He told us when we visited him “I am happy you came by bus”. That was Dilip.
Neruda said ……”Meanwhile, men are soaring into the solar system… Shoes track up the moon… Everything struggles to change, except the outworn systems…. These outworn systems were spawned in the immense spiderwebs of the Middle ages… spiderwebs stronger than the steel of machinery…. Yet there are people who believe in change, who have made changes, who have made the changes work, who have made changes burst into flower…… Nobody can hold Spring back!” Dilip was that spring, is that spring and will be that spring for many of us. He has transformed the lives of many and made them embrace a Fukuokan lifestyle which only few could dream of….there are many students and others like Siddarth, Chitra, Prashant etc…who have taken up an organic life style, living in remote villages of India doing organic farming and helping people who are in need abandoning the “luxuries” and “comforts” of the lifestyle and income they were used to, following Dilip. It is truly remarkable in this era, that someone who is not a religious leader or politician could mesmerize and change and transform lives…..like Dilip…
susy varughese at a condolence meeting for Dilip
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
[Cut and paste from http://not-that-sane.blogspot.com/2009/02/dilip-veeraraghavan.html]
Today morning, I got word that Dilip Veeraraghavan, a faculty member in the Department of Humanities at IITM, died after suffering through colon cancer and its treatment.
He was a humanities professor in a school that almost exclusively focused on hard sciences; a blind academic in a country where the disabled never make it past high school; a friend to every student who walked into his office in a culture where students and faculty would never meet socially.
Many of us students at IITM had lived rather sheltered lives; we knew that India was poor and that other people didn't have our advantages growing up. But it was Dilip who showed us how we, too, could make a difference. He was responsible, behind the scenes, for the dozens of volunteer organizations that have started by IITM alumni. For example, Balaji Sampath who founded the Association for India's Development (AID) recalls:
I should mention in all this the silent role that Dilip Veeraraghavan (a professor at IIT) played. Apart from getting us access to IIT facilities - CLT, rooms, etc - he also tried to rope in volunteers and gave the whole effort a degree of legitimacy that helped it grow. He also kept pushing us on to newer ideas, particularly sensitisation of students to various social issues.
He continued over the years to impact the lives of everyone he came across -- as kadambarid notes:
Dilip is one of the few people I held/hold in awe, who inspire, who defined to me the meaning of the word "awe-inspiring"- for no matter what his pains, no matter what his problems, I have never seen him without a smile playing on his lips or without atleast a few students or professors around him, deep in discussion...
I was one of that pack of the students; I would go by his office to read to him and throw my laissez faire free market ideas at him. He would patiently ask me questions and get me to recognize their limits.
After I came to the US, contact with him was very sporadic -- he would have emails and letters read to him, but the thought of a strange, young 17-year old reading letters naturally put a crimp on what you could write about. I visited him pretty much every time I went back to Madras and was always shocked by how he would immediately recognize my voice. My last trip to India, though, I was in Madras only for a few hours and didn't get to see him. And now it appears I won't see him any more.
His was one of the biggest impacts on my life. I will miss him.
lakshmanan valliappa
http://not-that-sane.blogspot.com
Today morning, I got word that Dilip Veeraraghavan, a faculty member in the Department of Humanities at IITM, died after suffering through colon cancer and its treatment.
He was a humanities professor in a school that almost exclusively focused on hard sciences; a blind academic in a country where the disabled never make it past high school; a friend to every student who walked into his office in a culture where students and faculty would never meet socially.
Many of us students at IITM had lived rather sheltered lives; we knew that India was poor and that other people didn't have our advantages growing up. But it was Dilip who showed us how we, too, could make a difference. He was responsible, behind the scenes, for the dozens of volunteer organizations that have started by IITM alumni. For example, Balaji Sampath who founded the Association for India's Development (AID) recalls:
I should mention in all this the silent role that Dilip Veeraraghavan (a professor at IIT) played. Apart from getting us access to IIT facilities - CLT, rooms, etc - he also tried to rope in volunteers and gave the whole effort a degree of legitimacy that helped it grow. He also kept pushing us on to newer ideas, particularly sensitisation of students to various social issues.
He continued over the years to impact the lives of everyone he came across -- as kadambarid notes:
Dilip is one of the few people I held/hold in awe, who inspire, who defined to me the meaning of the word "awe-inspiring"- for no matter what his pains, no matter what his problems, I have never seen him without a smile playing on his lips or without atleast a few students or professors around him, deep in discussion...
I was one of that pack of the students; I would go by his office to read to him and throw my laissez faire free market ideas at him. He would patiently ask me questions and get me to recognize their limits.
After I came to the US, contact with him was very sporadic -- he would have emails and letters read to him, but the thought of a strange, young 17-year old reading letters naturally put a crimp on what you could write about. I visited him pretty much every time I went back to Madras and was always shocked by how he would immediately recognize my voice. My last trip to India, though, I was in Madras only for a few hours and didn't get to see him. And now it appears I won't see him any more.
His was one of the biggest impacts on my life. I will miss him.
lakshmanan valliappa
http://not-that-sane.blogspot.com
I met Dilip when I was a student. I interacted with
him briefly at that time.
I had greater opportunity to interact with him after I
joined IITM as a faculty. I have had the pleasure of
walking with him from IITM Gate to his office on a few
occasions. I particularly remember these walks,
because I got the opportunity to chat with him by
myself on those occasions. I say this because, he so
closely interacted with so many students, both past
and present, that his office almost always had more
than one visitor at the same time. It was rare to find
him by himself. He unobtrusively made such a great
personal impact on almost everyone who met him, that
to many, meeting him was central to their visit to
campus. There have even been occasions when I have
gone to his office and found that he was not available
but there were several others in his office!
His leaving us indeed is a great loss to all of us. He
graced us with his presence.
I do remember reading somewhere that it is not how
long we live but how we live that matters. By that
measure, Dilip was so far ahead.
Farewell Dilip.
prathap haridoss
him briefly at that time.
I had greater opportunity to interact with him after I
joined IITM as a faculty. I have had the pleasure of
walking with him from IITM Gate to his office on a few
occasions. I particularly remember these walks,
because I got the opportunity to chat with him by
myself on those occasions. I say this because, he so
closely interacted with so many students, both past
and present, that his office almost always had more
than one visitor at the same time. It was rare to find
him by himself. He unobtrusively made such a great
personal impact on almost everyone who met him, that
to many, meeting him was central to their visit to
campus. There have even been occasions when I have
gone to his office and found that he was not available
but there were several others in his office!
His leaving us indeed is a great loss to all of us. He
graced us with his presence.
I do remember reading somewhere that it is not how
long we live but how we live that matters. By that
measure, Dilip was so far ahead.
Farewell Dilip.
prathap haridoss
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
I write this while still not recovered from the grief of losing a good friend, a professor from the Humanities Department in IIT Madras, Dilip Veeraraghavan. He passed away after fighting colon cancer for many months. This is the very first time in my life that I'm facing the loss of someone I've known so closely!
I got to know Dilip about five years ago when I joined IIT. His room was on one end of the corridor where my office was. That's when I got to spend long hours with him. It took us one meeting to find out we had similar interests - from classical music, non-violence, Gandhi, sustainability, organic farming, alternative health systems to world peace. And a concern for the students we came to interact with.
Dilip could not see with his eyes. There is no other way to say this, since it would not at all be true if I said that he was blind, had no vision or that he could not see! Dilip was someone who had a deeper insight than almost all the people I've met have, into almost every issue under the sun.
I don't know if there has ever been (or there ever will be) in the history of IIT-M, any other professor who knew and stayed in touch with so many past and present students. Dilip remembered every one of those hundreds of students by his/her name, year of passing, department, interests, likes and dislikes, place of residence, family history and most importantly, voice. I'm not talking about the mere extra-sharp senses and memory that most blind people tend to have. I am talking about a deep and genuine care and concern that he had for every student (every person) he came in touch with.
During some very disturbing and chaotic times that I personally went through during my stay at IIT, Dilip was always there welcoming me with warmth and love, listening to my long hours of ramblings and outpourings, offering his insights and humble advices. He sometimes sacrificed even his favourite cricket commentaries (on his hand-held transistor) in order to listen to them! He was there with Rajeev and me right through our tough battles around our wedding decisions. (He traveled all the way across the city to be there on both days of the function!) Even after I left my job there, I made it a point to visit him almost every time I was there in the campus, every time getting introduced as 'a very good friend' to some past student (from as long back as the late 80's!) who'd be there visiting him. My most recent interactions with him were around the series of articles I've been writing on 'The History of Green Revolution' which interested him a great deal. After having carefully listened to the drafts of entire articles I'd read out to him, he would go over every single correction to be made - from grammar to historical facts - he'd have made note of in his mind.
I think of Dilip often. His words ring in my ears, most definitely every time I open my wardrobe "Hoarding is a form of violence. By keeping things out of circulation, you are contributing to poverty." How true! His ability to express childlike joy at simple things of life, and to remain compassionate and his unfailing belief in and practice of ‘satyagraha’ (winning over evil with love / soul force) will continue to inspire me till the very end. Even during times of great physical pain and discomfort, he would constantly bring back any conversation about his work, health and wellbeing, to how and what I was doing. Dilip will continue to remind me to give of myself as much as I can.
Dilip, you are being deeply missed!
Sangeetha Sriram
http://sangeethasriram.blogspot.com
I got to know Dilip about five years ago when I joined IIT. His room was on one end of the corridor where my office was. That's when I got to spend long hours with him. It took us one meeting to find out we had similar interests - from classical music, non-violence, Gandhi, sustainability, organic farming, alternative health systems to world peace. And a concern for the students we came to interact with.
Dilip could not see with his eyes. There is no other way to say this, since it would not at all be true if I said that he was blind, had no vision or that he could not see! Dilip was someone who had a deeper insight than almost all the people I've met have, into almost every issue under the sun.
I don't know if there has ever been (or there ever will be) in the history of IIT-M, any other professor who knew and stayed in touch with so many past and present students. Dilip remembered every one of those hundreds of students by his/her name, year of passing, department, interests, likes and dislikes, place of residence, family history and most importantly, voice. I'm not talking about the mere extra-sharp senses and memory that most blind people tend to have. I am talking about a deep and genuine care and concern that he had for every student (every person) he came in touch with.
During some very disturbing and chaotic times that I personally went through during my stay at IIT, Dilip was always there welcoming me with warmth and love, listening to my long hours of ramblings and outpourings, offering his insights and humble advices. He sometimes sacrificed even his favourite cricket commentaries (on his hand-held transistor) in order to listen to them! He was there with Rajeev and me right through our tough battles around our wedding decisions. (He traveled all the way across the city to be there on both days of the function!) Even after I left my job there, I made it a point to visit him almost every time I was there in the campus, every time getting introduced as 'a very good friend' to some past student (from as long back as the late 80's!) who'd be there visiting him. My most recent interactions with him were around the series of articles I've been writing on 'The History of Green Revolution' which interested him a great deal. After having carefully listened to the drafts of entire articles I'd read out to him, he would go over every single correction to be made - from grammar to historical facts - he'd have made note of in his mind.
I think of Dilip often. His words ring in my ears, most definitely every time I open my wardrobe "Hoarding is a form of violence. By keeping things out of circulation, you are contributing to poverty." How true! His ability to express childlike joy at simple things of life, and to remain compassionate and his unfailing belief in and practice of ‘satyagraha’ (winning over evil with love / soul force) will continue to inspire me till the very end. Even during times of great physical pain and discomfort, he would constantly bring back any conversation about his work, health and wellbeing, to how and what I was doing. Dilip will continue to remind me to give of myself as much as I can.
Dilip, you are being deeply missed!
Sangeetha Sriram
http://sangeethasriram.blogspot.com
I do not know if the phrase friend, philosopher and guide applies more aptly to anyone than to Dilip Veeraraghavan, who passed away last Thursday.
I am a bit hazy as to precisely when I first came into contact with him but it was sometime in mid-1991 when some wing junta were taking the Indian National Movement course he was teaching. He was one of those rare profs who would hang out with students in hostels and even made us to address him by his first name. Before long, some of us were going to tarams with him, not for bun omelettes but as volunteers of Tamil Nadu Science Forum's arivoli iyakkam, a literacy movement that was to spread across most of TN. This was our first gentle introduction to social movements.
Over the years, we kept in touch via emails and during the ritual yearly visits to the homeland, never once failing to elicit an eppidi dA irukke, cackup as soon as he heard my voice. Students and friends would constantly drop in to his small office room packed with books and journals, which we would read to him. We soon discovered a common interest in carnatic music. Our conversations would be jump from Marxism (".. the problem with Marx is he did not take into account Nature into his philosophy..", he told me once), to Fukuoka's One Straw Revolution (he gifted me a copy in the mid-nineties which radically changed my worldview) and then to Sudha Ragunathan's bhava or lack thereof and the brahminisation of Carnatic music and onto Gandhi, on whom his views were a balanced middle-ground between deification and vilification.
More than anything else, he was a wonderful listener. He would patiently listen to opinions and philosophies of all colours and stripes and then gently respond, bringing to bear all his insight and wisdom. This way, he quietly influenced hundreds of IITM students and others who were fortunate to come into contact with him.
The last time I walked him was from Prof KRK's house to IISc along Sampige Road in Malleswaram in 2006. "Let us not take an auto, let us walk", he said, as usual and walk we did despite the lack of sidewalks and the noise. He was super thrilled with some vintage MD Ramanathan recordings i made for him.
While it is a sad occasion, we should also use this moment to reflect on all the things Dilip stood and lived for- simplicity, selflessness, social justice, ending oppression and a non-dogmatic, gentle and positive approach to life and try to cultivate some of these qualities in our own.
manoj saranathan
I am a bit hazy as to precisely when I first came into contact with him but it was sometime in mid-1991 when some wing junta were taking the Indian National Movement course he was teaching. He was one of those rare profs who would hang out with students in hostels and even made us to address him by his first name. Before long, some of us were going to tarams with him, not for bun omelettes but as volunteers of Tamil Nadu Science Forum's arivoli iyakkam, a literacy movement that was to spread across most of TN. This was our first gentle introduction to social movements.
Over the years, we kept in touch via emails and during the ritual yearly visits to the homeland, never once failing to elicit an eppidi dA irukke, cackup as soon as he heard my voice. Students and friends would constantly drop in to his small office room packed with books and journals, which we would read to him. We soon discovered a common interest in carnatic music. Our conversations would be jump from Marxism (".. the problem with Marx is he did not take into account Nature into his philosophy..", he told me once), to Fukuoka's One Straw Revolution (he gifted me a copy in the mid-nineties which radically changed my worldview) and then to Sudha Ragunathan's bhava or lack thereof and the brahminisation of Carnatic music and onto Gandhi, on whom his views were a balanced middle-ground between deification and vilification.
More than anything else, he was a wonderful listener. He would patiently listen to opinions and philosophies of all colours and stripes and then gently respond, bringing to bear all his insight and wisdom. This way, he quietly influenced hundreds of IITM students and others who were fortunate to come into contact with him.
The last time I walked him was from Prof KRK's house to IISc along Sampige Road in Malleswaram in 2006. "Let us not take an auto, let us walk", he said, as usual and walk we did despite the lack of sidewalks and the noise. He was super thrilled with some vintage MD Ramanathan recordings i made for him.
While it is a sad occasion, we should also use this moment to reflect on all the things Dilip stood and lived for- simplicity, selflessness, social justice, ending oppression and a non-dogmatic, gentle and positive approach to life and try to cultivate some of these qualities in our own.
manoj saranathan
Dear Dilip:
We are told that you left us this morning. We weren't, and are not, prepared for this. Very many of us aren't.
You are one person who we always considered to be amongst the best visionaries we have known, but to who's many a brilliant ideas many of us remained blind.
Here in our institute, you have been a signature of moral values and code of ethics. The students of our institute and very many of your friends here will never be able to find even a close substitute. Your loss is a huge one for us. I cannot even imagine how many of our students and your friends will feel lost and rudderless without you.
You will live in our hearts. We have loved and adored you. Your life has taught us, both younger and older than you, all a lot. Remembering you will continue to teach us what a teacher ought to be. That would include a role not merely in the classrooms, but also outside it, for our students live here with us, amidst us, away from their families. On this residential campus, teachers and students have a great opportunity to sustain the traditional GURUKUL system in which teachers would be mentors of the students in very many ways. After all that is said and done, we are in the end one family, and a teacher has a crucial role in campus life. You lived a teacher's life in a very complete sense that will continue to inspire both students and teachers. Your life will continue to light the way for very many.
Dilip, we shall miss you immensely!
Yours,
Pranawa Deshmukh
Professor & Head, Department of Physics,
Indian Institute of Technology - Madras, Chennai - 600036, India
We are told that you left us this morning. We weren't, and are not, prepared for this. Very many of us aren't.
You are one person who we always considered to be amongst the best visionaries we have known, but to who's many a brilliant ideas many of us remained blind.
Here in our institute, you have been a signature of moral values and code of ethics. The students of our institute and very many of your friends here will never be able to find even a close substitute. Your loss is a huge one for us. I cannot even imagine how many of our students and your friends will feel lost and rudderless without you.
You will live in our hearts. We have loved and adored you. Your life has taught us, both younger and older than you, all a lot. Remembering you will continue to teach us what a teacher ought to be. That would include a role not merely in the classrooms, but also outside it, for our students live here with us, amidst us, away from their families. On this residential campus, teachers and students have a great opportunity to sustain the traditional GURUKUL system in which teachers would be mentors of the students in very many ways. After all that is said and done, we are in the end one family, and a teacher has a crucial role in campus life. You lived a teacher's life in a very complete sense that will continue to inspire both students and teachers. Your life will continue to light the way for very many.
Dilip, we shall miss you immensely!
Yours,
Pranawa Deshmukh
Professor & Head, Department of Physics,
Indian Institute of Technology - Madras, Chennai - 600036, India
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)