The knight in History

An era of South Asian scholarship has drawn to a close with the sudden demise of Professor Chris Bayly on April 18. A pall of gloom overtook the Centre of South Asian Studies (CSAS), University of Cambridge the moment Barbara Roe, the Centre’s administrator, was told of the terrible news.

Professor Bayly was visiting the University of Chicago where he went for three months every year as Vivekananda Visiting Professor, and there he passed away in his sleep.

The great Chris Bayly has proceeded on his journey to eternity. In the words of historian Richard Drayton, "a mighty oak has fallen". It was so sudden. He had no ailment, no symptoms, barring high cholesterol which was not alarming. He was zestful. He had just finished the sequel to The Birth of the Modern World, my favourite book which is a must-read for every student of Humanities or Social Sciences.

The stunning new analysis presented in the book transforms our understanding of the history of modernity, and draws attention to its richly complex, overlapping global roots. When I asked him how he had managed to weave together such diverse socio-political strands into such a synthetic tapestry, modest as ever, he diverted all the credit to his colleagues in the History Department, who he claimed, had helped him a lot.

His writing was never self-referential, which astounded many.

Just before going to Chicago, on his usual visits to CSAS, he stopped by my office and asked if I was coming back to Cambridge for a second tenure of the Iqbal Fellowship. I said I didn’t know and made some comments about the nature of South Asian bureaucracies. "Oh yes, bureaucracy is always the same everywhere," he remarked with his signature cackle, and added, "Ok Tahir, see you on 13th June."

But when I told him I wouldn’t be there on 13th of June, he said in a self-assured manner, "I am sure you will come back."

That was the last I saw of him, not knowing he will now live only in my memory.

What a man he was. In him, greatness and modesty entwined seamlessly. It was a privilege to work with him for more than four years. To many of his friends, colleagues and students, he was the most complete historian. Shahid Amin, a prominent historian, has ranked him as the greatest historian of India. His work was characterised by a quality of synthetic imagination, a capacity to spot unexpected connections, and a delicacy and wit of exposition. Joya Chatterji is spot on in saying that "his prodigious productivity, the stunning range of his scholarship and his talent for thinking comparatively, and in a connected way, about a range of historical questions" made him a great historian.

He was elected as a fellow of the British Academy in 2004 and received a knighthood in 2007. He was the first academic in extra-European history to be knighted, which of course is a unique honour.

I vividly remember Anil Sethi mentioning him to me in Lahore when I had just started my PhD. Anil was pursuing his PhD under Bayly’s supervision. It was in 1991 that I obtained a copy of Rulers, Townsmen and Bazaars, a book many regard as his magnum opus. That book undoubtedly changed the terms of reference by challenging the top down approach in South Asian history.

I had to wait another 10 years to personally meet him when I came to School of Oriental and African Studies on a short fellowship. Then I got a chance to Cambridge and luckily a seminar of Radhika Singha, an early modern historian from India and his student, was scheduled in Bayly’s own office at St. Catharine’s College. There he presented to me a signed copy of his book Empire and Information.

That book is a delectable read. According to Joya Chatterji, it uncovers "the worlds of Indian spies, runners and political secretaries who were recruited by the British to secure information about their subjects, and the social and intellectual origins of these informants".

I met him next after nine years, when I was selected Allama Iqbal Fellow at Cambridge University in June 2010. I was excited about the possibility of occasional meetings with Chris.

As luck would have it, I was allocated the room next to his, where he worked round the clock. Once I asked him to suggest the books I should read. He recommended Albert Habib Houranni’s Arabic Thought in the Liberal Age: 1798-1939 and Raymond Guess’s History and Illusion in Politics and Morality, Culture and History. He rated Houranni highly and has paid a rich tribute to him in his latest book Recovering Liberties.

Undoubtedly, 70 years of his life were well spent -- writing, reading and, above all, teaching which was his passion. His generosity towards students was exemplary. He was always ready to sit and discuss problems with students related to work, ideas and theory. He was happy to share his great knowledge and wisdom. He firmly believed the advancement of scholarship was a communal effort, one in which all should share.

It has been a great privilege to work with Chris. Tears shed for him at the CSAS will never be able to tell the full story of a sense of loss his passing has left. We are all bereft, a good deal poorer. He will certainly be greatly missed, but more surely remembered as a great scholar, an unparalleled teacher and a humble, friendly and engaging man.

May he rest in peace.