A Registered Post of Gratitude: Reflecting on Twenty Years
What a surprise, a pleasant surprise indeed. A batch of NALSAR students- no, accomplished professionals from the Class of 2006– travelled from across the country just to remember us. How wonderful that you remembered us. I do not know whether I taught, or taught well. Yet you remember my name, my colleagues, our founding Vice-Chancellor Prof. (Dr.) Ranbir Singh, founder & present Vice Chancellor Krishna Devarao, and almost all the leaders who emerged from our faculty. All of this stands on the shoulders of the National Law School movement envisioned by Prof. N. R. Madhava Menon. What did we do? Merely the duty assigned to us, according to our UGC scales. Why should anyone remember us for that?
Yet here you are. It is an unprecedented gesture – a historic and heart-warming precedent in NALSAR’s story from 1998 to this day. The batch of 2006 returned to honor us in 2026, two decades later. How do we respond? Is a simple “thank you” ever enough?
We search for words-valuable, priceless, and adequate-just to express our gratitude. I do not know if I am truly a Guru, or if you are Shishyas. That you came is a testament to your own discipline, values, and samskara. Perhaps it is simply our turn to send an acknowledgment -a proverbial “Registered Post with Acknowledgment Due” in this era of quick messages!
I recall losing my father thirty years ago; the moment the memory took hold, I resolved to erect a statue in Journalists Colony, Hyderabad, to memorialize a courageous freedom fighter and journalist. As for myself, I barely recall what I taught or where my knowledge originated.
My thoughts drift back to my very first school, which was hardly a school at all: just the shade of a tree, without a slate, chalk, duster, or notebook until Class 4. A true teacher there taught us our multiplication tables by heart in Telugu – lessons that never left me. That was my first great teacher. Who am I in comparison?
In truth, it was my students who taught me how to teach. Every question raised in class- and every doubt I anticipated while burning the midnight oil – shaped the lesson for the next morning. Your questions were my Guru Parampara. They sprang from curiosity and mutual doubt – and I was always happily doubtful, if modestly confident in my doubting! For that, the university paid us a monthly salary. Why should anyone thank me for simply doing that?
After twenty years, what remains of so-called “teaching”? I struggle to recall the names of students who spent five years around me. And yet, I am called a “teacher,” periodically promoted on the strength of incremental “knowledge.” If I know anything today, is it because my students held on to it? You tell me you remember my lectures, anecdotes, and stories.
After my stint as Central Information Commissioner, Delhi (2013–2018), while serving as Dean at Mahindra University in 2022, my mother and I both forgot each other. Yet, even when memory faded, we communicated through our hearts until she left us at ninety-four, in 2023.
Remembering that, Prof. Vepa P. Sarathi lived among us much like that – both as a revered teacher and a nurturing spirit. You must remember legends like him, who filled our corridors with warmth and hearty laughter even at ninety-four. I still cherish his wit. We should celebrate him more often. When I want to forget my own age, I think of Vepa. We lost him suddenly at ninety-four, just when we were expecting to hear him again the following week. Forget the dry legal provisions of the Evidence Act, Transfer of Property, Jurisprudence, or Torts; remember instead the living, joyful anecdotes. Wherever laughter echoes, Prof. Vepa is right there. He lives on in our smiles.
And yet, I forgot.
Let me confess, before this too slips away: a massive brain stroke took away my memory. My name, books, papers, television, and entire shelves vanished into thin air. I lost my Telugu, my English, my typing, my computer skills, and my presentations. There were moments when I could not recognize my own wife, son, or daughter. [A stroke is a harrowing ordeal. It astounds me that I am standing here, speaking of it now. As Lord Krishna reminds Arjuna in the Gita: from Him come jnana (knowledge), smriti (memory), and apohana (forgetfulness).] I can attest that I lost mine, and whatever is returning is not my doing – it is His grace. Medical diagnostics confirmed my heart was intact. The pain reminded me that my brain and spine were still functioning. The only hurdle was that I had forgotten so much – and recalling those fragments made me thrilled beyond words to realize that you still knew who I was.
I looked around the room, trying to remember each of you. I had forgotten so many friends, students, and pieces of accumulated learning. When I arrived, I secretly prayed no one would ask me to speak – certainly not for a 55-minute lecture – for I lacked the confidence. Prof. Ranbir Singh spoke with his usual eloquence today. I wondered what I could possibly offer.
But being a teacher, I felt compelled to share a word or two, even if only to excuse myself by admitting: Dear friends, I have forgotten so much – names, and even many faces. Even so, being back among you, among young colleagues and the institution that made teaching a joy, has been a blessing.
Thank you for remembering me, for recognizing the (Red- tilak) mark on my face, and for recalling my portrait among the Registrars. Friends often teased that this mark shielded me through thousands of contentious decisions as Central Information Commissioner, only to guide me ‘safely back’ to the ‘classroom’ (in Bennett and Mahindra). Do you know why all of this is alright? Because after everything… I HAVE THE RIGHT TO FORGET.
Professor Madabhushi Sridhar, Former Registrar of NALSAR
(Convention Centre in NALSAR, Shameerpet, 9-11 October 2026.)
From my students to Madabhushi Sridhar
With love, Batch of 2006, 20-Year Reunion.
Professor S. Acharyulu,
Volenti non fit injuria – the maxim you taught us in our first tort class. And whilst through specialisation and disuse, much of what we learnt in law school has gathered rust in the last two decades plus, the maxim has lived on in our everyday parlance.
Who knew that, beyond tortious liability, this maxim would have constant general life application.
Thank you, not just for being an educator or a professor who taught us despite our best efforts, but also for giving us a maxim that is a comforting realisation in so many of our adult decisions.
From the Batch of 2006, 9-11 October 2026.
Law professor and eminent columnist
Madabhushi Sridhar Acharyulu, author of 63 books (in Telugu and English), Formerly Central Information Commissioner, Professor of NALSAR University, Bennett University (near Delhi), presently Professor and Advisor, Mahindra University, Hyderabad. Studied in Masoom Ali High School, AVV Junior College, CKM College, and Kakatiya University in Warangal. Madabhushi did LL.M., MCJ., and the highest law degree, LL.D. He won 4 Gold Medals at Kakatiya University and Osmania University.
Email: cicsridhar@gmail.com
Mobile: 8447651505
