M S Swaminathan.
Credit: X/@pinarayivijayan
On hearing of the passing of Dr Swaminathan, my face drooped in sorrow, and I struggled to hold back a teardrop from making its way down my cheek. I had never met the man and never read about him. My familiarity with his achievements stemmed solely from the economics lessons we had at school.
I was aware of a distant relationship I had with him through my grandparents, nothing more. Yet, a profound sorrow engulfed my heart because, in a unique way, I knew him for two months. I had the privilege of working on academic papers and archival objects related to him during my time as an archival intern at the National Centre for Biological Sciences (NCBS) at the Tata Institute for Fundamental Research (TIFR). For two whole months, Swaminathan was my life. I delved into his papers and documents and traced his adventurous journey through the paper trail I meticulously examined and catalogued.
When I encountered a youthful photograph of Swaminathan, I was deeply impressed by the way he carried himself—a perfect blend of a scientist, diplomat, government employee, and, above all, a true Indian.
Swaminathan was a product of his time, driven by the desire to address the problems he witnessed, namely “hunger.” His work faced criticism and controversy, a fact I became well acquainted with through my archival experience.
Yet he was a man who dreamed that India would never again be hungry and went to great lengths to turn his vision of a hunger-free nation into reality. I believe his legacy will endure in the hearts of all Indians, especially mine, as I know Swaminathan through the archive.
It is indeed sad to see him go, but he was a man with an extraordinary life, and his contributions will live on forever. I encourage people to understand this intellectual and above all, a good human being through his work, and I believe the archive will be a place where his memory will be preserved.
Now, I release my teardrops, for I never knew that one could form a relationship with a historical figure through mere paper and the words on it.