On November 1, 2024, Bibek Debroy, a renowned economist, author, and chairman of the Prime Minister’s Economic Advisory Council, died at the age of 69. Bibek Debroy is well-known for his numerous contributions to history, culture, and economics, and his passing has struck a profound chord with people all around the country. Heartfelt greetings and tributes flowed in from all around India, including from President Droupadi Murmu, Prime Minister Narendra Modi, and numerous other notable figures.
Previously, Debroy wrote columns for Financial Express and The Indian Express. Four days prior to his passing, Debroy reportedly penned his own obituary, according to The Indian Express.
He wrote in his daily obituary column that he was released from the AIIMS Cardiac Centre after more than a month in a private room. With the assistance of the physicians, his wife, Suparna, had performed a contemporary Savitri-Satyavan role. Additionally, he wrote about Aditya Sinha, his regular column co-author, and how they still work together on some of these pieces. But he pointed out that most people don’t notice this, highlighting “limericks” from the hospital, which are brief, funny poems that are frequently absurd and occasionally a little cheeky.
In his last days, Bibek Debroy’s only access to the outside world was a small silver window that allowed him to see a pipe on the building next door.
“The world is out there. What if I don’t show up? What, really? In his piece, Debroy wondered why he was not present in the outside world.
In his final days, Debroy said he didn’t like to watch TV—the same dull news, the same noisy arguments—because he was worried about what would happen when he was gone. Debroy gave the public a glimpse of his viewpoint through his writing, sharing, “There was a part to play in the rat race, read momentarily and then forgotten, buried in the archives of journals.”
“I have been released from AIIMS after more than a month in the Cardiac Care Unit (CCU) and a private room. With the assistance of the doctors, my wife, Suparna, played the part of a contemporary Savitri. A month seems short as time goes by. But it’s not so simple to be practically wiped out. From the hospital, I am able to send out limericks every day. People therefore don’t always pay attention. Some of the pieces are continued by Aditya Sinha, my regular co-author. “Very few people pay attention to that,” the The Indian Express column states.
I can only see the outside world through a little portion of my room’s window. Outside the building, I see a pipe. A monkey constantly climbs it every morning. The only thing I can do is count the IV drips as they go through the cannula. Drip, drip. It’s about asking Harish to bring a commode or urinal. The bed gets filthy sometimes. I’m just a piece of flesh laying there, stripped of the customs of modesty and shame. On occasion, I am transported from one building to another in a wheelchair or hospital trolley, via busy scenes, through dazzling sunlight and among birds chirping in verdant trees. There is a real world out there. What if I don’t show up? Actually, what
We have lost a great writer, scholar, and academic with his demise, but we have also lost a true patriot and nationalist. More significantly, in the struggle against colonial mindsets, Santana Dharma has lost a warrior. He undoubtedly had millions of admirers, thus I am really grieved by this loss. A kind soul and a true Sanatani, he was a man who carried grandeur gently.
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