Prithwiraj Misra, 58, passed way on 25 November 2009 after suffering from brain tumor. He taught English and General Science from 1978-1979 in Prep School. Considered one of the new age teachers of his time, was very popular with the children. He went beyond teaching. Students learnt the finer thing things of life like music and films from him. An accomplished flautist and a documentary film maker who formed the Film Society in the Senior school.

Educated in Mayo, St Stephen's , followed by M Phil from JNU. He worked in an advertising agency in Bombay before joining Sanawar. He pursued a career as a documentary filmmaker and continued to write and photograph for magazines.

He is survived by his wife Mina (Chanchani) Misra (OS72) and two daughters Kadambri and Tara. He will be deeply missed by his friends and students from Sanawar.
Heartfelt condolences to the family and may the Almighty give them strength to bear the loss.

From the OS Fraternity.

An interesting excerpt from his diary about Sanawar.

"Tender mercies, all. Tender, expansive, vast and benign – these are the words that come to mind. Out there in those two pagan years in Sanawar all the glad tidings were mine, and someone was slowly keeping an eye on me, looking at me, keeping a note of my ‘eccentricities’. Even then my instinctive preference for the have-nots, the school orderlies, cooks and waiters was pronounced. I didn’t see them as material for clustering into unions which I could lead and climb on their backs to my self-serving glory. On the contrary, my radicalism made me feel one with them, that I was privileged and they needed my friendly support. I was one with them because I felt that way. Coming up from Gadkhal in my car I would offer to drive them up. I must have done this on several occasions and I got noticed for doing it. Shomi Das, the headmaster of the co-ed school where I taught those two years, had his eye on me. At the fag-end of the first year at a dinner gathering in his lovely parquet-floored house, he walked up to me with a smile on his lips and a mischievous glint in his eyes and said, “You know, Prithwiraj, you’re a radical aristocrat.”
“A.. what?”
“A radical aristocrat.” The two words juxtaposed in this way took me by surprise. It’s the finest compliment anyone could pay me for merely being the way I am.

I remember doing George Orwell’s Animal Farm with kids of the junior school. The daily evening rehearsals would have them all pepped up and then they would stream out of the auditorium shouting “Rebellion! Rebellion!” The junior school staff found this new-fangled behaviour of the kids strange and objectionable. But the play practices went on until they all donned the animal masks and dresses and appeared on stage for their Founder’s day. But somewhere before this, in the hullabaloo of the junior school, where some boys had found that the ‘dames’ had been favoured by the teachers, they decided to go on a strike.

Little strike posters written by little hands suddenly started appearing that school day. The boys refused to be coaxed into taking any lessons that day. When the teachers entered the classrooms, they found the children very recalcitrant. Someone raised a fist and cried “Strike!”, and a handful of others followed with raised fists and “Strike!”.

The news of this event filtered to me in the staff room where I sat alone at the desk looking at some of the essays the children had penned. A little girl ran into me in a breathless hurry and asked me if I could tell her what ‘strike’ meant. Even at that moment I was ignorant of the strike that was underway. I told her to look up the dictionary, and just as she was about to run away to go find the meaning of this strange new word in their lives called ‘strike’, I asked what the matter was. “Well Sir, we’re all on strike.” “What?” said I.

“Strike Sir, strike”, she said, “and that’s why I want to know its meaning.” And then she ran away. I paid no further attention to their ‘strike’, as I felt it must be some kind of a joke. But as I was to discover soon, the kids were serious. They really had gone on a strike. So what now?

By lunch that day the strike leaders were rounded up by the Headmistress and sent off to the Headmaster, Shomi Das, for reprimand. Do I still remember their names, these young rebels who had stirred up a hornet’s nest because some teachers had favoured ‘dames’. Yes, Nadir Sulaiman was one, a scion of the Daud family in Afghanistan who traced his lineage to none other than the great Babur, founder of the Mughal Empire; Shailendra Choudhuri, a superb specimen of courage and intelligence; Sanjeev Dogra (naturally defiant and no less courageous); Aftab (a very bright kid who scored cent-percent in Physics, a subject which I was given to teach them); Nitin Rai, the dreamy son of the photographer Raghu Rai, who must have just gone along with the ‘leaders’ for the fun of it, and perhaps a few others.

Confronted with the strike leaders, Shomi Das was definitely amused. What could he really do to the small kids? Beat them, no. He kept a straight face and showed that he was quite definitely angry, and with that he let them off.

Back in junior school the head mistress was genuinely upset. She felt it was all because of ME! She felt that without my presence the children would never have gone on their strike; and it was Orwell’s Animal Farm that I was rehearsing with the kids that had bred rebelliousness in them in the first place. Maybe this was not untrue, but I still felt blameless. After all, the headmistress had approved my idea of doing Orwell’s great short novel as it could accommodate lots of children. That the end result could be a little strike, was simply unheard of in the Lawrence School Sanawar. "

Vineet Kapoor (N77) passed away on 17Feb10 in his sleep in Mumbai. Both personable and popular with a charming smile. From the hotel industry he went on to act in movies. He will be missed by all those who knew him

Heartfelt condelences to the family. May his soul rest in peace.

OS Fraternity

An Eulogy to Vineet Kapoor by the Class of 77.

Two photos from his batch silver jubilee celebrations are attached at the end of the write up. He is standing 2nd from left in both photos. 

 

 

“Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation”
Khalil Gibran.

As we write this eulogy to Vineet, we join his wife, children, parents and family with heads bowed in prayer. No words can salve their pain, but we share deeply in their loss.

Peace and refuge lie in the immortality of the soul. We join you in prayer for a place in Heaven for Vineet – a Refuge, with peace and eternal immortality.

Today our small “Tribe” that comprises the batch of ‘77 from Sanawar, reflects on our journey with Vineet. The separation – though bittersweet – allows us to relive our life again with twice the satisfaction. Our joy and sorrows are inseparable today.

Our friendship with Vineet transcended to the love of brothers and the relationship of siblings. There were times of laughter, sharing of pleasures, and more than a few embarrassing moments that we would all like to consign to a safe unknown place.

Some of us shared a dorm with him from the day we came to Sna while others spoke with him but a couple of weeks ago. Through the years, there remained the same underlying fabric of a significant human being, full of laughter, compassion, generosity, simplicity and friendship.

Khalil Gibran also reminds us that “The obvious is that which is never seen until someone expresses it simply”. Vineet’s passing in its calm serenity and simplicity has numbed and shocked us, yet also made us so much more aware of the “obvious”, of the meaning of life.

Vineet made our yesterdays special with the memories, and we must invest in our today so as to continue the legacy. His passing has re-taught us the meaning of Life.

Many of us remember Vineet in different ways or avatars. Though, he was extremely popular and commanded respect through leadership and charisma. He naturally attracted people, older or younger, through his calm caring manner, Adonis like good looks, and tremendous courage against adversity.

There was always something fiercely competitive about Vineet; about wishing to be first. Be it winning a boxing medal, making a girl-friend, breaking bounds, representing the school team, or getting up to mischief. There is a treasure of schoolboy stories for us to tell, and perhaps one day this will make a fine film script.

But who knew that Vineet would also be the first amongst us to reach the “Gates of Heaven” as well.

There was a great deal about Vineet that we admired, and this was not limited to his sporting prowess or his handsome good looks and tremendous physique. There was a strength that we all say, of standing up for what he believed right, protecting weaker kids, never ever breaking an oath of silence. He defied bullies and never feared retribution, yet had the sensitivity to shed a tear when he saw someone in pain.

There was of course a much more special bond he shared with his fellow Nilagarians, who were tighter than just brothers. He gave them great security in sports – be it football or boxing; dramatic moments when leading a raid on a tuck larder; pride in his Travolta like attire and outfit as he headed for a date and the competitive element for Nilagiri and the School. The school unfortunately could not have two Head-boys or two House Captains, because Vineet was right there and always- in contention.

Friendships that were forged in Sna as we know them and as we shared with Vineet are made in Heaven. We came to school as individuals, scared and alone, yet gained immense strength from one another and left with strong bonds and a Tribal instinct.

We opened up our lives and homes to each other, and none of us showed greater hospitality than Vineet and his wife. One did not need an invitation; the old expression of “just land-up” was never more pertinent. There was also the selfless assignment of time that defined Vineet, and there were times he would miss his film-shooting schedule to spend time with his batch mate or a Sanawarian.

And with the time and hospitality would roll out a flood of memories, stories, leg pulling and reminiscing. Time seemed to roll back and stand still – perhaps like it has for us with his passing on the 18th of February.

Vineet’s passing has caused all of his mates who join in this eulogy to pause and reflect on their own mortality, and reflect on how they will live and lead their lives. There are so many things we are grateful to Vineet for, yet I believe we, and our families, will now owe him a debt far greater as we redefine our lives and seek greater fulfillment and invest time in our near and dear. Thank you, dear friend.

In times such as these, however poignant, we must retain belief in God, and faith that there is solace in His ways, however mysterious, paradoxical, absurd or painful. It is in times such as these that friends come to hand and give strength to carry on, one painful day after another.

It is through treasured memories that a lamp gets lit, and a smile reappears amidst the tears. In these memories we find an inner peace of heart, mind and soul, also allow the lamp to remain lit.

To Neena, Varun, Seerat and Vineets parents: we offer our deepest and most heartfelt condolences. We feel and share in your grief, deeply and spiritually. If we could take away your pain we gladly would.

When you need to smile, or things are unbearable, give Vineet’s “Tribe” a call! Do remember that time and good friends are great healers and as friends we have the magic of Vineet’s legacy to bring back a smile – those wonderful treasured memories.

BATCH OF 1977
22nd February 2010.

Col KM Verma (Pesty)(OS56) of Bihar Regiment passed away on 5 Mar 2010 at the Army Research and Referral Hospital Delhi (R and R). He was suffering from lung cancer for sometime. A keen sportsman during his time in Sanawar,who excelled in soccer, hockey and boxing.

He is survived by his wife Rekha and a son and daughter.

Heartfelt Condolences from the OS Fraternity

Mrs Rohini Channa, Senior Mistress, passed away in Mumbai on 24Jun 2010. She taught English in school from 1978 to 1990.Particpated in ADS plays and had a terrific sense of humor. 
She and Mr B Singh were brilliant at staff club dinners when two of them would act out role of a bull fighter and a matador and have the staff in splits.

May I add a special mention from us ladies( class of 80) about her. 
She was the warden for upper sixth form in the common rooms (GD was going in for expansion and renovation and only prefects stayed in the dorms. the rest of upper sixers were moved to CR) 
Mrs Channa gave us freedom by not locking us girls at night and no telling when to switch off lights or imposing any rules as such. 
In turn she had our trust and respect for treating us as adults, which we will never forget

Brinda 
(OS80)

She was loved both by staff and children. May her soul rest in peace.

Heartfelt condolences from the Sanawarian Fraternity.

Ranjit Dhody , 52 (OS75) passed away on 8th Aug 2010 in Apollo hospital Delhi due to an illness. He will be fondly remembered by his family and friends. 

Heartfelt Condolences to his family from the OS Fraterntiy.

Requiem For Dhody 
By Vivek Ahluwalia (OS75)

It was just a few days back that several of us stood in silence and watched our friend Ranjit for the last time. He was no ordinary person, not this man ! He lived life on his own terms and epitomised what Frank Sinatra sang so many years ago...

And now the end is near
And so I face the final curtain
My friend I'll say it clear
I'll state my case of which I'm certain
I've lived a life that's full
I traveled each and every highway
And more, much more than this
I did it my way
Regrets I've had a few
But then again too few to mention
I did what I had to do
And saw it through without exemption
I planned each charted course
Each careful step along the byway
And more, much more than this
I did it my way
Yes there were times I'm sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew
But through it all when there was doubt
I ate it up and spit it out, I faced it all
And I stood tall and did it my way
I've loved, I've laughed and cried
I've had my fill, my share of losing
And now as tears subside
I find it all so amusing
To think I did all that
And may I say not in a shy way
Oh no, oh no, not me
I did it my way
For what is a man what has he got
If not himself then he has not
To say the things he truly feels
And not the words of one who kneels
The record shows I took the blows
And did it my way
Yes it was my way

It was to toast this completely Dhody style of living and leaving us that we all got together the evening of the funeral and unlike what we are so used to doing, we all so very naturally celebrated the friendship and camaraderie that had signified our bonds together. No there were no tears that evening, but a general feeling of bonhomie in knowing that we had all shared time with a fantastically generous and large-hearted man who had touched the deepest chords of our souls. It is not hard to imagine if you close your eyes that he is still sitting there with us, cross-legged and casual, a veritable air of self-assuredness and deep confidence in himself - a picture of a man with a different mission in life. Not a man to chase the day to day madness of life, Ranjit was a wonderful friend , husband and father. Most of those who collected that evening chose to remember his antics as a child, his ability to do drama, comic acts and the like and all his close relatives shared warm anecdotes. His closest family Sheila and the children were the strongest in the room and in their inimitable ways looked after all those who knew this person so well from the different years of his life. To you Ranjit, we will toast many of our fondest memories because you taught many of us that there can be a different path, that there can be many warm moments born of wonderful evenings spent together. We will keep you alive in our hearts and are happy to know that yes you DId do it Your way !