Of Khadi, Khaki, and Silk: A Life Served Well

Note: My grandfather passed away on October 24, 2025, at the age of ninety-four. This is an obituary for him.

Principal of the Bihar Institute of Silk & Textiles (Bhagalpur), joint director in the Department of Industries, Government of Bihar, Karyalaya Prabhari (Patna Office), Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), Sangathan Mantri of Vidya Bharati (Bihar), Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), were some of the positions held by Mr Vijay Shankar Prasad Sinha, who leaves behind a legacy of love for the motherland, ethics, intellect, held together with a remarkable stint in the government services. 

Born to an illustrious family, Mr Sinha’s grandfather was a legal advisor, zamindar, and held a significant position in the court of the Maharajah of Darbhanga. However, due to an early maternal loss and his father’s fascination towards the carefree life of a vagabond, he faced financial hardships in continuing his education. Gradually and somehow, he completed his MSc—and joined the Department of Industries, Bihar, to further finance his vast family, while at the same time, pursuing what he always called his forbidden love—social work, by contributing to various organisations. 

One can turn over the albums dating back to the 1960s or 70s and realise how he happened to be a renaissance man in the truest sense. In his pictures with successive governors of Bihar or with the delegation to China, one cannot help but notice the immaculate dressing that he carried till the end of his time. Or one may go over his coin collection that he passed on to me, and be amused by coins dating back to the East India Company, spanning more than five countries and more than a hundred years. Even at the age of ninety-four, he could complete a marathon meant for senior citizens and have a greater spice tolerance for food than I do. At an age where most succumb to the blandest of food items prescribed by doctors, he enjoyed his chole bhatures, spicy mutton, and dosas. Moreover, more than anyone, he loved cutting cakes. 

Apart from being well-versed in multiple languages and scripts like Kaithi, Urdu, Maithili, Magadhi, Bhojpuri, Sanskrit, and English, amongst others, he was a voracious reader, too. One, who would come up to me every month for book recommendations—and somehow complete the most academically nuanced books before I could. He would sit for hours, discuss the significant points raised by the authors, and share his views on them. He also somehow had the fanciest tricks in chess that one can think of—I move my knight and queen to make the most well-thought-out move, and all the plans would be thwarted by him thinking steps ahead of me.

He was that high-spirited person who would walk into a room and make it feel lighter and positive. During his decades-long career in public services, he was a senior face in state-level politics, and so, he had stories to tell. Watching my interview with Amb Shyam Saran, he pointed out that he had met him in China, too. If I were to speak of Atal Bihar Vajpayee-ji, he would bring up how the to-be premier of India used to love the buttermilk prepared by my grandmother. If I were to speak of JP Narayan, he would talk of his conversations with him. For someone who would want to emulate him in many aspects, I enjoyed speaking with and listening to him. Unlike many people of his age, he got accustomed to texting, and his last ever conversation over text was with me. 

Beyond any allure for government awards and public recognition, Mr Sinha served the society. He was a social worker and educationist par excellence. There is a sitting Member of the Lok Sabha whose class tenth and twelfth education was financed by him. Not just that, he happened to uplift hundreds of people from the village. As the principal of the Bihar Institute of Silk and Textiles, he significantly reformed the institution. In his post-retirement voluntary role as the Sangathan Mantri of Vidya Bharati, the educational wing of the RSS, he started the work from scratch and ensured that there was one school in almost every district of undivided Bihar. Countless such achievements have been lost in the shadow of time. Right when he realised he had started reaping the benefits of public services with his affiliated organisations coming to political power, he chose to put an end to that chapter. He had done his part. His principles came before everything. And more than anything, he would want to be remembered for public life—where, he wished, he could have done more. I have always been proud of him. I am sure his forefathers would feel the same. His values and inspiration would live on.

Baba read all my publications and provided feedback. And holding on to my faith in the ancient land of Bharata, where death is not the end, I somehow know that he would be reading this with a pen in his hand, sitting next to Lord Chitragupta, eager to send me comprehensive critical feedback again. 

Ends.