Shesh Narain Singh was moulded from the clay of yore. For that reason perhaps he was so well rooted in reality that missed many of his peers. He could disagree with grace and agree without going overboard. Blessed with a rare temperament embellished with good learning, he lightened up tense debates with anecdotal humour and poetic recollections. It were perhaps his frequent visits (with his grandchildren) to his countryside ancestral home in UP that saved him from the urban decay that dehumanises so many of us in metro cities.
He was from a school of journalism where the seniors did not indoctrinate or brainwash rookies. Where neophytes were encouraged to see things for themselves, grow organically and debate knowledgeably.
I got to know of Sheshji’s hospitalisation on seeing his daughter Tini’s appeal on Twitter for plasma. I spoke to her a day later and was reassured to know that the transfusion has happened. But the family’s efforts to rescue him from the deadly virus didn’t succeed, devastating so many of his friends, including me.
In Shesh Narain Singh’s departure we’ve lost a journalist who debated with etiquette, wielded an erudite pen and had a heart of 24 carat gold. Be at peace wherever youv’e gone my friend….you’d be missed and cited as an example of amazing warmth and dignity.
