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In Memoriam: Arvind Das
Achille Mbembe
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The first meeting I took part in as a member of the Exchanges Committee of the Prince Claus Fund was at the offices of the Fund in The Hague. I had arrived from London the day before and was to leave again immediately. One of the points of order of the day was the preparation of the conference on the role of intellectuals in the public sphere- a conference that was to be held in Beirut, Lebanon.
The most vivid memory I have of that first meeting was Arvind. I do not why that memory has stayed with me all this time. Arvind, whom I met for the first time, had arrived as he would do so often thereafter: very unobtrusively. But he had arrived with priceless gifts: a series of issues of 'Biblio',the impressive book review that he published in India.
I paged through a few issues of the review. And very quickly I realised that the work was extremely reliable and competent. I believe that starting at that very moment Arvind and 'Biblio' became the same person in my eyes. And that was the way it stayed. At subsequent meetings Arvind would arrive, his arms full of the same presents:'Biblio',that work of the mind.
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That is how I think of Arvind, as an intellectual who was constantly occupied with matters of the mind. His eyes would light up when he would start to think. His body would become annimated and a discrete smile would light up his face. He liked to share that enthusiasm and that joy. As for me,I took that joy and that enthusiasm as a gift.
That was how it was every time we met. The last two meetings before his death were held in the north of the Netherlands. We spent a few long hours in the train. Sometimes he seemed to be asleep, but I always suspected him of being deep in thought. And indeed, as soon as the conversation became more lively he would suddenly wake up.
He had a delightful sense of humour, which he used with moderation. And we were grateful to him. He also had extraordinary patience. He would explain something over and over again with great tenacity. He spoke with the marvelous accent of those who have perect mastery of a foreign language and instill it with the turns of their own language. At such moments his eyes would shine and his face would bear a slight smile.It was last July. On that evening we returned from the north of the Netherlands. We took a taxi together to the hotel. We said goodbye at the lift. We knew we would see each other again in October. We will not see each other again. But Arvind will be there. He will be there for a long time, I am sure.
Prince Claus Fund Journal # 4
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