Abhinav Agarwal: Bibek Debroy, an obituary

Bibek Debroy: A Tribute

Shri Bibek Debroy, or "Sir" as I called him, passed away on the 1st of November. Truly a darker Amavasya I could not have imagined.

An economist, a translator, a writer, a composer of limericks par excellence were achievements that people would be challenged to achieve in even a single field. Yet he had mastered all, and then some.

My first introduction to Sir was in 2012. I had been searching for an unabridged translation of the Mahabharata, having despaired of abridged retellings that distorted more than they abridged and hallucinated more than they retold, and while there was Kisari Mohan Ganguli's 1896 translation available on the internet, I stumbled upon an ongoing translation by Bibek Debroy. An equally happy mix-up in an online order on the now defunct IndiaPlaza site saw me ordering the first two books instead of only the first one. It drew a raised eyebrow from my wife, but happily there were no other consequences. Thus began a journey that was rewarding beyond imagination.

The translation opened the world of the unabridged Itihasa that is the Mahabharata to me. From the first four volumes that had already been published, I then waited for the fifth, that was published in June 2012, and then subsequent translations that appeared every six months. Between 2010 and 2014, he translated the entire Critical Edition of the Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute. He then followed up with the Harivamsha (often called an appendix to the Mahabharata). Then came the Baroda Critical Edition of the Valmiki Ramayana.

Having done the Itihasa translations, he was only getting started. He had confessed a driving desire to translate the entire corpus of the 18 (or 19, depending on whether you include one Purana as a Mahapurana, or not) Mahapuranas. He had already done abridged translations of the 19 Mahapuranas several years ago but had expressed some dissatisfaction and a desire to do unabridged translations. That project resulted in translations of the Bhagavata Purana, Markandeya Purana, Brahma Purana, Vishnu Purana, Shiva Purana, and Brahmanda Purana. The Matsya and Kurma Puranas await publication by Penguin, expected in 2025.

My reviews of the first few volumes of his Mahabharata translation drew his attention to me. This was thanks to the still emerging world of Twitter, in 2012. A rare, and happy, instance of something good emerging from social media. Over the next decade and more there were some meetings and a somewhat steady stream of interactions. I was mostly the recipient of his knowledge and encouragement. One exception where the exchange was one-sided was in 2020 when he took advantage of the time provided by the Covid lockdown to write the Bhagavad Gita for Millennials. He shared a draft with me for feedback and ended up incorporating some of my recommendations into the final version. The shishya had probably accumulated enough punya to express his kritagyata to the guru in an infinitesimally small manner.

Eulogies and tributes will tell us more about his achievements, but one constant theme I can attest to was his encouragement of budding authors. A couple of anecdotes should suffice, though there are likely hundreds. In September 2017, I found myself between jobs. The writing bug bit me in that period of unemployment. Seeing myself as the next Grisham, Forsythe, and Ludlum, I started writing a thriller. Pleased as punch, I sent the first few chapters to Sir, asking for his feedback but in reality expecting his fulsome praise and endorsement, for he would, I was sure, recognise me as the next literary superstar. His response was prompt. Between choosing to be kind to my feelings and being honest, he managed both, as only he could. What followed was a few weeks of moping and depression, followed by a realisation that he had identified the biggest flaw in my writing. I needed to up my craft. What resulted was a book that was improved immeasurably by that advice. Others would, over the years, share similar experiences—Sir would respond, encourage, and be more than generous in providing blurbs to authors known and unknown.

Even without asking, it was not uncommon to find him posting on X (formerly Twitter) covers of books along with his thoughts. In 2023, I approached him with an even greater favour—to write a foreword to a book on the Mahabharata's upakhyaanas (subtales) I had written, with his unabridged translations as the primary source. He obliged, again. The words, "The Mahabharata deserves this", alone made the journey of writing that book worth it. The only token of kritagyata I could offer was to dedicate the book to him. Little was I to know...

A few months ago, a fellow writer reached out to me to introduce him to Sir for feedback on a book in verse he was writing. Sir responded, promptly, again. This was a recurring theme with every author I spoke with. Bibek Debroy's ability to encourage writers, give feedback, and encouragement, despite his job as Chairperson of the Prime Minister's Economic Advisory Council, speaking schedule, translation work, other writing, came across as nothing short of awe inspiring. In one online talk I did with him, he had attributed his productivity to his habit of clearing his mind of all other tasks and distractions when focused on the task at hand.

I last met him on the 27th of August 2023, at an event in Bengaluru. He was unwell then, down with a cold. A passing infection, I thought. In 2024 he suffered a series of health setbacks, and when I last spoke with him in October, he sounded very weak, but upbeat, hopeful that the worst was behind him. In the course of our conversation, he also shared some reflections about human nature and thoughts that pass through the mind when you are on a bed, alone with your thoughts and life. In the days that passed, an unknown but ominous sense of foreboding did not leave me. Sometimes, one knows but desperately wants to be ‘rational’ and not believe in ‘feelings’ and ‘portents’.

Manmath Nath Dutt, with whom Sir felt a deep connect, passed away before he could finish translating all the Mahapuranas. Sir had talked about starting the Garuda Purana translation next. There were also two book collaborations we had discussed. It was not to be. He had shared, in 2012, more in jest I suspect, that he wouldn’t survive to complete all unabridged Puranas.

There will be no more e-mails, or WhatsApp messages, or tweets, or limericks, or those impromptu phone conversations. The light dimmed and then faded away, having shone brighter and having enlightened all who received its effulgence. The ages will wait, and Dharma will look at and beyond time to find a more dedicated, more prolific, gentler, and kinder soul.

With love, respect, gratitude, and sorrow.

Om shanti Abhinav Agarwal

“Depart, depart, by the former paths by which our forefathers have departed; there shall you behold the two monarchs Yama and the divine Varuṇa rejoicing in the Svadhā.”

“Be united with the Pitṛs, with Yama, and with the fulfilment of your wishes in the highest heaven; discarding iniquity, return to your abode, and unite yourself to a luminous body.” — Rigveda 10.14.7, 10.14.8, and Preta Khanda, Garuda Purana

The piece above was first published in Swarajya on November 1st, 2024.

Reflections on a funeral

It is the quietness that you notice—not of silence, but of emptiness. The dog that lies outside, brooding, waiting quietly for the one who won't return. The few people who sit outside, talking in hushed tones. You spot some familiar faces. You say hello and then you step inside. The dog in the room that knows a tragedy has befallen and wants to protect the one who remains. The lady sitting on the bed. Grief. Sorrow. Loss. Her loss. The life that remains, to be spent and lived, as it must. She manages a smile. She recognises me from photos. Grief overcomes again.

You step outside. But not before noticing the large photo of he who is gone. Smiling. Healthy. Happy. Alive. That is the past, the bhoot. The present is none of that. The present that doesn't feel alive.

The next day is the funeral. People start coming. A social gathering at a place where the departed are sent onwards. Snatches of conversation between people seeing each other after a long time. If only it had been in better times. 69 is no age to go. So much still left. So much done. Comparisons are futile when the accomplishments are not measurable on a scale for ordinary humans. The loss is intensely personal to some.

The sons are there. The elder one with the head tonsured. The van arrives. With the 'body'. Impersonal is what it is. The soul defined the person. The body dictated the perception. What we saw. Now just a body. Yet the tears flow. The children see a father. Memories perhaps, of the body that was once a person, a father, a lap in which they would have spent time, listened to stories, hugged, kissed, fought, argued. Not anymore. Not ever again.

People pay their respects. To the body. What about those who couldn't come? Death does not care for schedules and convenience. Those [who] wanted to but couldn't come will live with the regret. There are those who should have but didn't. And then there are those who calculated that the ledger of utility was now closed. Less than transactional, for a transaction implies a somewhat equal exchange. When's the payoff? Never? The utility? None. Closure. Closure? No. That's a meaningless word. A poor substitute for what is. Life will move on. As it must. As it should.

What-if means something different for everyone. The conversation is over. Debts unpaid in the mortal world are now divine dues. They must be repaid in another life. Regrets and memories are all that remain. The mind will rationalise the regrets The heart will eventually dim the memories, too. Life goes on. As it will, as it must.

Friday, December 13, 2024

Bibek Debroy, an obituary