Knight of the Golden Army of Angels
Blessed was the day – September 5, 1888.
Blessed the place – Tiruttani, a small town on the border of Andhra Pradesh and Tamil Nadu. Blessed are Sarvepalli Veeraswami and Seethamma, a Telugu – speaking Pranganadu Niyogi Brahmin couple, for on that day was born to them a male child – Radhakrishnan. Veeraswami worked as an assistant in the Tahsildar’s office and earned a paltry salary; the home, therefore was no lap of luxury.
At the age of 5, the little boy walked every step of the way to Allapuram Primary School. To the cane wielding schoolmaster, he was only a little more than passable. How would he know that the tiny Tabula Rasa would be one day the President of India!
Four years down the lane, the lad passed his fourth standard examination, went to Lutheran Mission School in Tirupati and completed his education in secondary school. Then at thirteen, he was sent to Voorhees College, Vellore. At fifteen, he was Fellow of Arts (F.A.) and was married too! His spouse, Sivakasamma was ten!
The boy in his teens had decided to go in for graduation, but found himself on the horns of a dilemma as to what to study. Arts, Science or Commerce? The issue was resolved when his cousin who had passed his B.A. happened to make a gift - his old books on Psychology, Logic and more importantly, Ethics.
Sitting under the eaves of his old home, the youngster drowned himself into them. In a week’s time, he made his decision. Leaving his wife behind, he moved on to join the Madras Christian College.
Young Radhakrishnan completed his B.A. with Philosophy as the main subject. The thirst for knowledge was far from quenched. A couple of years more; he did his M.A. in Philosophy. Yet, he knew he had a long way to go.
Like a calf that suckles milk straight from the udder of the mother cow, the seeker read voraciously – the Vedas and the Upanishads, the Philosophies of Sankara, Ramanuja, Madhwa, and that of the Buddha and Mahavira. The ancient Indian scriptures had got into his system. He was proud of it. Yet the pride of his eternal soul was hurt whenever dogmatic Westerners derided certain aspects of Hinduism as dismal. Radhakrishnan found his life’s mission in that – to expound his religion in a manner and language the West best understood.
In 1909, Radhakrishnan began his career in the Madras Provincial Education Service as lecturer. His salary was Rs. 60-80. But, he never equated his work with the money it fetched. His lectures had a quality of their own. If it was a class of an hour’s duration, he devoted a few minutes out of it for quiet contemplation. Once his thoughts were put together, he entered the class majestically, wearing spotless dhoti, gown and turban and spoke with purity and gentleness of spirit. With his excellent vocabulary and thoughts that were clear like crystals, he swept his students off their feet. The class would be over before the students knew it; so much so, they couldn’t wait to get back there!
In July 1918, Radhakrishnan joined the Maharaja’s College, Mysore as Professor of Philosophy. There too, he enthralled his students with his brilliant lectures. Their relationship extended beyond the classrooms, the corridors and the campus. On high days and holidays, if any student happened to tap on his doors, the unassuming teacher lovingly spoke to him over a cup of filtered coffee until all the doubts vanished like mists before the sun!
At the college, the faculty and the academic atmosphere being conducive, the brilliant young man began working on his Magnum Opus, Indian Philosophy. Many a time, he worked all day and half the night.
In 1920, the most coveted post of ‘King George V Professor of Mental and Moral Philosophy’ fell vacant in the University of Calcutta. Asutosh Mookerjee, Vice-Chancellor and Head of the Selection Committee had read Radhakrishnan’s Philosophy of Rabindranath Tagore and The Reign of Religion in Contemporary Philosophy. As such, he had no second opinion.
The news that Radhakrishnan would leave the Maharaja’s College spread like wild fire. The people of Mysore in general and the pupils of the college in particular, grew hysteric. Every talk of his was a class act, something out of this world; his very presence, awe inspiring! No! They wouldn’t let him go!
The Vice-Chancellor and the senior faculty did a fine job of counseling the students by telling the unrelenting students that Radhakrishnan was a whale of a man; it would be unethical and injustice if he was confined to a pond of stagnant water. The students relented! But, they had a surprise in store for their revered teacher.
On the day of departure, the students as well as the faculty had thronged the college. At the portico was parked a cart sans animal.
“Horse?” asked the master.
“You have a thousand of them” was the answer.
It reflected the collective sorrow as well as euphoria. The students were horses and the philosopher rode! The platform of the Mysore Railway station overflowed with students and wellwishers. The Station Master had no objection as he knew what the occasion was. Green flag showed and the whistle shrilled. ‘Radhakrishnan ki Jai!’ For once, the students were not full throated owing to lumps that had formed in their throats. The train chugged, a hush fell and with it, tears!
Radhakrishnan joined the Calcutta University. Initially, there was some heartburning among those who thought they were cleverer than the one who was chosen. By and by, the voice of dissent came to be silenced when the teacher par excellence began to deliver his lectures. Moreover, his Magnum Opus, Indian Philosophy, volume one was published. That was followed by volume two and other well researched works. All his books received rave reviews and the author earned celebrity status. By 1926 ‘Indian Philosophy,’ had caused ripples world-wide and Radhakrishnan received invitation for lectures from the Oxford and the Cambridge and a host of universities from far and wide. He went wherever he could. Where he could not, his books spoke for him. The gap between the East and the Occident, the yawning chasm of thinkers began to shrink. In that, the author felt a sense of fulfillment.
In 1931, Radhakrishnan was knighted. But, he preferred to be called Dr. S. Radhakrishnan. Nothing more, nothing less.
Around the time Radhakrishnan was knighted, the Andhra University was looking for a Vice-Chancellor. There, in far away Calcutta lived a king of kings, who was an Andhraite! The Telugus laid a claim on him. With that, the University of Andhra forged ahead. The man was infallible. Yet, some senators questioned him for not giving preference to candidates belonging to the backward classes while filling up the vacant posts.
“We cannot but be careful in the selection of professors,” asserted the new task-master. “No other consideration should weigh with us in the appointment of professors than academic achievement and original work; for, where there is no zeal, there is no zest for teaching.”
Henry Norman Spalding Professor of Eastern Religions and Ethics (1936), Vice-Chancellor of Banaras Hindu University (1939), Ambassador to the Soviet Union (1949), Vice-President of India (1952), recipient of Bharat Ratna (1954), President of India (1962), all this was Radhakrishnan. The beauty of it was, he never vied for any office nor on any occasion did he make any back-door entry. On the other hand, it was he who happened to be cherry-picked. If he obliged, it was the chair that was elevated, not the man.
On his personal front, i.e., in the year 1956, Radhakrishnan lost Sivakasamma, his wife of 51 years. The couple had raised five daughters and a son. He mourned the personal loss with stoic calm, never allowing grief to overtake his zeal for service to the people and the nation.
Laying down the office of the President of India, facilitating the election of Dr. Zakir Husain to the post, Dr.Radhakrishnan journeyed homeward (Chennai) on May 13, 1967.
Way back in 1936, he had built a house in Chennai. Though it was a small house, the Ex-President was happy to be living there as he had been doing in Rashtrapati Bhavan.
After suffering a stroke in 1968, his health was on the wane which he braved and bounced back to near normalcy every time there was a setback. He avoided public appearances but made it to a public function when the title Brahmavidya Bhaskara was conferred on him by the Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan.
On April 16, 1975, Radhakrishnan suffered repeated cardiac arrests and was hospitalised. At 12-45 a.m. on April 17, 1975, he quietly slipped away from the land of the living. He was 87.
Half way through his life, when the nation sought to celebrate his birthday, the man who eschewed self-aggrandisement, talked of Teachers’ Day.
His love for the profession has been bringing teachers and pupils together, on the fifth of September, every year and shall continue to do so for ever .
Blessed was the day – September 5, 1888.
Blessed the place – Tiruttani, a small town on the border of Andhra Pradesh and Tamil Nadu. Blessed are Sarvepalli Veeraswami and Seethamma, a Telugu – speaking Pranganadu Niyogi Brahmin couple, for on that day was born to them a male child – Radhakrishnan. Veeraswami worked as an assistant in the Tahsildar’s office and earned a paltry salary; the home, therefore was no lap of luxury.
At the age of 5, the little boy walked every step of the way to Allapuram Primary School. To the cane wielding schoolmaster, he was only a little more than passable. How would he know that the tiny Tabula Rasa would be one day the President of India!
Four years down the lane, the lad passed his fourth standard examination, went to Lutheran Mission School in Tirupati and completed his education in secondary school. Then at thirteen, he was sent to Voorhees College, Vellore. At fifteen, he was Fellow of Arts (F.A.) and was married too! His spouse, Sivakasamma was ten!
The boy in his teens had decided to go in for graduation, but found himself on the horns of a dilemma as to what to study. Arts, Science or Commerce? The issue was resolved when his cousin who had passed his B.A. happened to make a gift - his old books on Psychology, Logic and more importantly, Ethics.
Sitting under the eaves of his old home, the youngster drowned himself into them. In a week’s time, he made his decision. Leaving his wife behind, he moved on to join the Madras Christian College.
Young Radhakrishnan completed his B.A. with Philosophy as the main subject. The thirst for knowledge was far from quenched. A couple of years more; he did his M.A. in Philosophy. Yet, he knew he had a long way to go.
Like a calf that suckles milk straight from the udder of the mother cow, the seeker read voraciously – the Vedas and the Upanishads, the Philosophies of Sankara, Ramanuja, Madhwa, and that of the Buddha and Mahavira. The ancient Indian scriptures had got into his system. He was proud of it. Yet the pride of his eternal soul was hurt whenever dogmatic Westerners derided certain aspects of Hinduism as dismal. Radhakrishnan found his life’s mission in that – to expound his religion in a manner and language the West best understood.
In 1909, Radhakrishnan began his career in the Madras Provincial Education Service as lecturer. His salary was Rs. 60-80. But, he never equated his work with the money it fetched. His lectures had a quality of their own. If it was a class of an hour’s duration, he devoted a few minutes out of it for quiet contemplation. Once his thoughts were put together, he entered the class majestically, wearing spotless dhoti, gown and turban and spoke with purity and gentleness of spirit. With his excellent vocabulary and thoughts that were clear like crystals, he swept his students off their feet. The class would be over before the students knew it; so much so, they couldn’t wait to get back there!
In July 1918, Radhakrishnan joined the Maharaja’s College, Mysore as Professor of Philosophy. There too, he enthralled his students with his brilliant lectures. Their relationship extended beyond the classrooms, the corridors and the campus. On high days and holidays, if any student happened to tap on his doors, the unassuming teacher lovingly spoke to him over a cup of filtered coffee until all the doubts vanished like mists before the sun!
At the college, the faculty and the academic atmosphere being conducive, the brilliant young man began working on his Magnum Opus, Indian Philosophy. Many a time, he worked all day and half the night.
In 1920, the most coveted post of ‘King George V Professor of Mental and Moral Philosophy’ fell vacant in the University of Calcutta. Asutosh Mookerjee, Vice-Chancellor and Head of the Selection Committee had read Radhakrishnan’s Philosophy of Rabindranath Tagore and The Reign of Religion in Contemporary Philosophy. As such, he had no second opinion.
The news that Radhakrishnan would leave the Maharaja’s College spread like wild fire. The people of Mysore in general and the pupils of the college in particular, grew hysteric. Every talk of his was a class act, something out of this world; his very presence, awe inspiring! No! They wouldn’t let him go!
The Vice-Chancellor and the senior faculty did a fine job of counseling the students by telling the unrelenting students that Radhakrishnan was a whale of a man; it would be unethical and injustice if he was confined to a pond of stagnant water. The students relented! But, they had a surprise in store for their revered teacher.
On the day of departure, the students as well as the faculty had thronged the college. At the portico was parked a cart sans animal.
“Horse?” asked the master.
“You have a thousand of them” was the answer.
It reflected the collective sorrow as well as euphoria. The students were horses and the philosopher rode! The platform of the Mysore Railway station overflowed with students and wellwishers. The Station Master had no objection as he knew what the occasion was. Green flag showed and the whistle shrilled. ‘Radhakrishnan ki Jai!’ For once, the students were not full throated owing to lumps that had formed in their throats. The train chugged, a hush fell and with it, tears!
Radhakrishnan joined the Calcutta University. Initially, there was some heartburning among those who thought they were cleverer than the one who was chosen. By and by, the voice of dissent came to be silenced when the teacher par excellence began to deliver his lectures. Moreover, his Magnum Opus, Indian Philosophy, volume one was published. That was followed by volume two and other well researched works. All his books received rave reviews and the author earned celebrity status. By 1926 ‘Indian Philosophy,’ had caused ripples world-wide and Radhakrishnan received invitation for lectures from the Oxford and the Cambridge and a host of universities from far and wide. He went wherever he could. Where he could not, his books spoke for him. The gap between the East and the Occident, the yawning chasm of thinkers began to shrink. In that, the author felt a sense of fulfillment.
In 1931, Radhakrishnan was knighted. But, he preferred to be called Dr. S. Radhakrishnan. Nothing more, nothing less.
Around the time Radhakrishnan was knighted, the Andhra University was looking for a Vice-Chancellor. There, in far away Calcutta lived a king of kings, who was an Andhraite! The Telugus laid a claim on him. With that, the University of Andhra forged ahead. The man was infallible. Yet, some senators questioned him for not giving preference to candidates belonging to the backward classes while filling up the vacant posts.
“We cannot but be careful in the selection of professors,” asserted the new task-master. “No other consideration should weigh with us in the appointment of professors than academic achievement and original work; for, where there is no zeal, there is no zest for teaching.”
Henry Norman Spalding Professor of Eastern Religions and Ethics (1936), Vice-Chancellor of Banaras Hindu University (1939), Ambassador to the Soviet Union (1949), Vice-President of India (1952), recipient of Bharat Ratna (1954), President of India (1962), all this was Radhakrishnan. The beauty of it was, he never vied for any office nor on any occasion did he make any back-door entry. On the other hand, it was he who happened to be cherry-picked. If he obliged, it was the chair that was elevated, not the man.
On his personal front, i.e., in the year 1956, Radhakrishnan lost Sivakasamma, his wife of 51 years. The couple had raised five daughters and a son. He mourned the personal loss with stoic calm, never allowing grief to overtake his zeal for service to the people and the nation.
Laying down the office of the President of India, facilitating the election of Dr. Zakir Husain to the post, Dr.Radhakrishnan journeyed homeward (Chennai) on May 13, 1967.
Way back in 1936, he had built a house in Chennai. Though it was a small house, the Ex-President was happy to be living there as he had been doing in Rashtrapati Bhavan.
After suffering a stroke in 1968, his health was on the wane which he braved and bounced back to near normalcy every time there was a setback. He avoided public appearances but made it to a public function when the title Brahmavidya Bhaskara was conferred on him by the Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan.
On April 16, 1975, Radhakrishnan suffered repeated cardiac arrests and was hospitalised. At 12-45 a.m. on April 17, 1975, he quietly slipped away from the land of the living. He was 87.
Half way through his life, when the nation sought to celebrate his birthday, the man who eschewed self-aggrandisement, talked of Teachers’ Day.
His love for the profession has been bringing teachers and pupils together, on the fifth of September, every year and shall continue to do so for ever .
Article by : Shrikant Murthy
Source: Bhavan's Journal 31 August 2010
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