Deven Dhanak gives a slip...

Well, you couldn’t catch me…ha, ha!

Deven's death has been a great shock to me, for his was not the age to take the final bow. The last I was in touch with him was when he insisted some months ago that I must advise Vishwanath in his doctoral work. I was aware that he had moved on from Indsearch to Symbiosis, but hadn't known of his return to Indsearch.

The first time I met him was in 1978 when I had just begun teaching at IMDR. He happened to be in the first batch that I was to teach. He came one day to excuse himself from the case study session to tell me that he had to vacate his hostel room that afternoon. There was a touch of melancholy to his manner. That is when I got to know him better. After he passed out, he started working with Crompton Greaves at Ahmednagar. On his weekly holiday, he would be in Pune and occasionally would drop by to have a chat. That's when I came to know of his favourite author, JD Salinger and his 'Catcher in the Rye'. The lonely setting of Deven's passing away is so typical of the dark mood of the Catcher and sends shudders through my being. What must have passed through Deven's mind when he lay restless on that fateful night?

It was evident that he was not mentally in tune with the management in industry and add to that his romantic involvement and it was clear he would return to Pune sooner than later. I don't remember his career moves in Pune, but I do remember his stint in the Food Craft Institute. We used to meet and discuss and argue about everything under the sun. Deven was always lively, had a colourful expression and an eye and an ear for subtleties, which was very endearing. Warmth and affection were never in short supply with him. But hypocrisy and glib talk would get his goat easily. His stay in FCI turned quite eventful and stormy as there was an industrial action (a strike, if I remember right) taken by the employees. The authorities believed Deven to be the agent provocateur and started a hunt. They wrote to me asking if Deven was engaging lectures in our Institute. The presumption was that it would be a violation of service rules as he might not have taken prior permission. I thought that the matter was strictly between the management and the faculty member who was an employee and the former could have easily elicited the information from the latter. I did not reply to the query, obviously to shield Deven from undue hassles.

We advertised the post of Lecturer in IMDR soon after I took over in 1989 and I had encouraged Deven to apply. There was no question of any canvassing for him, as his performance in the selection process was outstanding. He joined in Nov 1989 or thereabouts. The first year went by happily and soon there were problems with me and with the students. I wasn’t happy with his lack of punctuality and didn’t like his irregularity. Some students feared his grudges. There was, fortunately, our equation which ensured free and frank discussion. But his idea of freedom and my idea of responsibility kept clashing more frequently than he would have liked and he decided to quit just before completing the two years of his initial appointment. He wanted to get into mass communication and he did join the MA programme in the University.

From 1993 onwards, at my instance he again started teaching at IMDR as a visiting faculty and things went on happily, since he had much fewer official obligations in that role. In general, he had grown tired of organizations and wanted to breathe freely in loosely defined structures. He put a lot of passion in his teaching and could relate easily with the young generation. His cavalier approach to careers proved attractive to many students. His communication was pithy and full of quotable quotes. No wonder wherever he went, a fan following would soon trail him.

During this stint of his I heard some grumbling about Deven’s late evening case discussions outside the Institute and ascertained the facts from the students concerned. Of course there was room for different interpretations. I called Deven for a meeting and explained to him the simmering discontent in a section of the class. I suggested that if he shared his point of view with the class it might clear the air. He did not agree, as he felt he owed no explanation to any one about his actions outside. He chose to end his association with IMDR at this point. The year must have been 1996 or 97. Many students were disappointed that he was not going to teach them any more. I had to clear the fog around his departure by sharing the details of what had transpired. After this departure, our contacts became very distant and very rare.

There were times when he would ask for copies of my latest writings on email and would exchange emails for a few weeks. Our last meeting must have been a chance encounter in a café on Fergusson College Road. That must have been at least 10 years back. There are several memories associated with Deven that speak of the person he was. Here I will narrate two of them that show Deven dealing with the pomposities of a few academics.

As doctoral researchers we used to meet every week to discuss issues of method and related matters concerning our research. Though Deven was not a doctoral student we would invite him to be a part of the group, for he would always add something refreshing. On one Saturday, it so happened that I had to tear myself away from the group for some official work. The two remaining researchers launched into discussion and Deven chose to read some journal, while listening to the discussion. After about an hour, one of them turned to Deven to ask him what he felt about the issue under discussion. Deven reportedly remarked that both of them were beating around the bush, while what they wanted to say was different. On being asked to elaborate, Deven said that the retired Colonel of the two wanted to say that the Lecturer did not understand one bit of the Colonel’s scheme, while the Lecturer was hinting that the Colonel’s framework was brittle. This kind of a sudden revelation struck both the researchers like a bolt and the Colonel thought it fit to beat a retreat after protesting Deven’s remark. The lecturer made some right noises and left. That was the end of our Saturday group. When I learnt of this episode later, I blamed Deven for this disintegration. Deven simply acknowledged that he had brought to surface what was already simmering below and not being owned up.

The second incident was quite hilarious. A few of us lecturers used to play Table Tennis at night after the evening lectures were over. We would form pairs for the day and the losing pair had to treat the winning pair to some refreshments at a nearby café. Deven and I used to pair often. In the other pair was a Lecturer from a sister institution of ours, who used to play in order to be close to a very Senior academic in our institution. Let’s call him Limy.

It so happened once that Limy was on the losing side and when he paid the bill at the café, he received Rs 50 extra in the change from the cashier’s oversight. As he came out and told us about this, we suggested to Limy that he better return the extra cash as we were regular visitors to this café and it was the right thing to do for teachers. Limy refused to do so saying in such matters he maintained a practical stance. Both Deven and I did not like this. After a few weeks we won again and Limy was on the losing side. Deven went ahead of us to the café. We had our refreshments. Limy went ahead to pay the bill at the counter. The cashier accepted the cash and having settled it, took out a worn out cash memo from some drawer of his counter. Showing it to Limy, he said, “my uncle left this for me saying that by mistake Rs 50 were given in excess to this Professor from Fergusson College. Remember they are professors from Fergusson College, if they agree well and good, otherwise let it go. So I am requesting you sir and he gave me your description.” The cashier was a big burly man in his early thirties. He spoke the same thing over and over again with extra bit of courtesy getting added with every repetition. Limy did not what to say. So he said, ‘let me try to recollect’.

Finally we told Limy that it was futile to recollect. For if he had actually received Rs 50 in excess and he did recollect, it would mean that he had wilfully not returned it. “Remember they are professors from Fergusson College”, the big man had kept repeating for the whole café to hear. So finally Limy paid back the fifty bucks that he had pocketed. Afterwards Limy kept wondering about the fantastic system of accounting which enabled the owners to detect the loss of Rs 50. Behind that system lay the directorial genius of Deven, who in those seven minutes had written the screenplay and dialogue, chosen the characters and the plot and got everyone to rehearse it to perfection. Finally the cashier had delivered the performance and the final blow.

It seems to me that Deven wrote his last act in the same vein. Nobody could catch him as he slipped away to the other side. I can see him smiling at all of us, who received his warmth and affection and wanted more of it, and saying, “well, you couldn’t catch me..ha ha!”