In Memoriam

Professor The Oriental Anthropologist

19(2) 338–342, 2019
D. K. Bhattacharya © 2019 Oriental Institute of Cultural and
Social Research and SAGE
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DOI: 10.1177/0972558X19862407
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One of my teachers who has left an indelible impact

on me was Professor D. K. Bhattacharya. He was 78
in age when he left for his heavenly abode. At that
age, most people in academics give up their yearning
for scholarly work, contrary to the popular notion that
lawyers, doctors, and teachers never retire. The
university and college teachers I have come in contact
with prefer to lead a life of comfort and leisure,
rightly so because they think they have taught and
researched for several decades and now the time has
(1939–2017) arrived for them to rest, take care of their health, and
raise their longevity. I have often heard people say
that the best retired life is one when your children, if any, have settled down,
which in accordance with the middle-class thinking means that they have secure
jobs and are married.
Professor Bhattacharya was an exception. In 2001, his only child, a daughter,
now an anthropologist of repute, had got married. He retired in June 2004, and
was the only one till now from the Department of Anthropology, University of
Delhi, where he taught for 37 years, in whose honor two of his students, Manoj
Kumar Singh and I edited a festschrift volume (titled Issues and themes in
Anthropology), comprising 40 articles.
In addition, several of his students and colleagues wrote short notes on his
commitment to academics and his style of teaching, his scholarship, and his
human qualities. They all wanted their notes of appreciation to be handed over to
him. Considering their bulk, Manoj and I decided to print them as a separate
volume, primarily for private circulation among those who attended the release
ceremony of the festschrift, taking place in November 2004 in the newly
constructed Seminar Room of Ramjas College, University of Delhi. Dr B. P.
Singh, former Secretary, Government of India, graced the occasion as the chief
guest. The attendees were the students and teachers of the Department, as well as
several others from the other institutions where Professor Bhattacharya had
lectured during his long academic career, and those whom he supervised for
different academic programs. It was a memorable occasion for Dr Singh as he said
in his address that the tradition of publishing essays in honor of a scholar has
definitely declined, and complemented the editors and the publishers of the thick
volume in honor of Professor Bhattacharya for the efforts they had collectively
In Memoriam339

made. That such a formidable task, a book of 792 pages, was done with such ease
and fondness was appreciated by all.
Professor Bhattacharya started his academic voyage with a doctorate in
physical anthropology, writing up a thesis on the serological parameters of a
community of Anglo-Indians, under the supervision of Professor S. C. Tiwari.
Teaching briefly at the Department of Anthropology, Lucknow University, he
returned to the Delhi Department of Anthropology. The then Head, the founder of
the Delhi Department of Anthropology, Professor P. C. Biswas, assigned him the
task of teaching a course on prehistoric archaeology to BSc (Honors) First Year
class in anthropology, and also assisting Professor J. D. Mehra, who taught the
paper on archaeological anthropology to MSc (Previous), in the practical classes
based on this course.
This was a turning point in Professor Bhattacharya’s career. Although he had
read a paper on archaeology in his master’s, his main specialization was in
physical anthropology; and for a proper teaching of archaeology, it was imperative
that he had a first-hand experience of learning archaeology from one of its leading
exponents.
Needless to say, the household name in archaeology those days was Professor
H. D. Sankalia, known not only for his excavations but also for his interpretative
archaeology, which actually brought him closer to social and cultural anthropology.
Professor Bhattacharya learned archaeology in all its dimensions under the caring
supervision of Professor Sankalia at Deccan College, Pune. Later, in 1972, he left
for France to work under the guidance of Professor Francois Bordes. He submitted
the research work he had done in France, which was on European prehistory, in
the form of a thesis, which was also published as a book titled Prehistoric Europe,
for the award of a DLitt in anthropology from Ranchi University (Jharkhand).
This time his supervisor was Professor L. P. Vidyarthi. In other words, Professor
Bhattacharya had a distinguished academic lineage. He always expressed his
indebtedness to his teachers, both in personal interactions with his students and in
his writings. One of his most evocative articles was on his training as an
archaeologist, which was published in The Eastern Anthropologist (2015).
Professor Bhattacharya taught me prehistoric archaeology in my first year of
BSc (Honors) in 1969–1970; and since he had left for further studies abroad in
1972, I could not have the benefit of being taught by him in my master’s.
His classes of 1969–1970 are unforgettable; he was one of the most involved
teachers I came across those days, and he left a profound impression on me.
Teacher absenteeism was not so common those days, although some of them
canceled their classes on one pretext or the other or came late and left early.
But Professor Bhattacharya never missed his class. He was an exemplar of
punctuality. Entering the class without notes, sometimes even without the
attendance sheet, he would roll the right sleeve of his shirt, pick up a piece of
chalk, go straight to the blackboard, and start writing and delivering his lecture.
He spoke fast, the students found it difficult to keep pace with him, but since he
repeated the same point again in his lecture, in different words, the subject became
clearer. Since anthropology was not a favorite choice of subjects those days, most
of the candidates joined it as the last option. Some did it because on completion,
340 The Oriental Anthropologist 19(2)

they would be awarded with an honor’s degree. Quite a few of the anthropology
students hailed from Hindi-medium schools, and thus were uncomfortable in
classes where not only the medium of instruction was English, but also the
teachers discouraged the students from speaking in any other language except
English. Against this background, one may imagine the plight of these students,
of whom I was one. All through my days in school, which in fact was one of the
best schools in Delhi, under the stewardship of a famous chemistry teacher, Mr V.
S. Kapoor, I spoke Hindi both with my teachers and my classmates. The medium
of instruction in the school was English, but the teachers, including those who
taught the English language, invariably explained the subject in Hindi. Thus, I had
not acquired the ability to speak in English, though I could struggle with the entire
course material, which was in English.
For me, the Department of Anthropology, where the BSc (Honors) classes
were conducted, rather than being held in Hans Raj College, to which I was
affiliated, was truly an arena of academic shock. The subject was new, in the
sense, it was not taught in schools. Not only that, in none of the school texts, I had
read was there ever a mention of the word “anthropology.” However, I could find
some familiarity with the paper on physical anthropology, taught by three teachers
(Professors Indera P. Singh, Swadesh Seth, and P. K. Seth), because it had
Darwin’s thoughts, besides some basic histology; but the paper on prehistoric
archaeology (the second paper) was quite incomprehensible. The books, written
tersely, in technical language, were not easy to follow. What went in my head was
some bit from Professor Bhattacharya’s lectures. I tried my best to note down as
much as I could in his classes, which I never missed.
The teachers in my Department were generally more favorable towards those
students who communicated well in English, came from good schools, and
belonged to the upper classes. Against this backdrop, some of us, who lacked the
above qualifications, felt low and neglected. And here, Professor Bhattacharya
played an angelic role for all such students. The first essay I wrote for his tutorial
class was on the lower Paleolithic industry in Europe. He called the entire class of
mine to collect their assignment essays from him. When my turn came, he asked
me a question, the answer to which I knew, but because of my incompetence to
provide its answer in English, I floundered almost helplessly. Professor
Bhattacharya had guessed the reason. He asked me to wait. When all had left, he
complemented me for the hard work I had put in writing my essay, but he said that
in order to move ahead—to do well in life—he advised me to build up my
command over the language of instruction. He continued: “The best way to do so
is to speak and write it, commit mistakes, accept the corrections with humility,
and keep on learning.”
That happened in November 1969. Professor Bhattacharya’s words had a deep
impact on me. The next step of mine was to speak in English, explain to my class
fellows in that language the concepts we were learning, and from the following
year, I literally started “teaching” my junior class friends and solving their
problems. I started paying a lot of attention to writing, augmenting my vocabulary,
and reading as much as I could. Within a few years, it was difficult for me to
imagine that I was the same “linguistically handicapped person,” “pathologically
In Memoriam341

shy of speaking in public,” and “bereft of confidence.” This was Professor

Bhattacharya’s magic! I often expressed my gratefulness to him for his wise
counsel during the formative years of my career. I am certain he must have made
a difference to the lives of many of his students.
Professor Bhattacharya was a great teacher. He would not decline an invitation
of lecturing the students of some other institution. When the Department of
History of Delhi University introduced a paper on social formation in ancient
and medieval world at the level of BA (Honors), which had a couple of topics on
human paleontology and material culture, Professor Bhattacharya was in great
demand. The history teachers of different colleges were keen to learn from him.
They brought with them the bunch of their students to the Museum of the
Anthropology Department, where Professor Bhattacharya spoke to them, and
allowed them to handle the artifacts and have a closer look at the skeletal material.
Not only for the students, but also for their teachers, it was a novel and
unforgettable experience, since many of them had seen the pictures of the tools
and skulls in books, and it was the first time they were seeing them in reality.
From his personal collection, he would also gift many stone tools to the
departments and museums of various universities. Since he was an “integrated
anthropologist,” he would move from lithic industry to cultural designs. As he
knew German and French, he was able to incorporate in his work researches that
were reported in these languages.
His academic promptness was just not confined to lectures. It was in writing as
well. Whenever a journal or an editor requested him for an article, and if he
accepted the offer, he was usually the first one ready with his contribution. In a
few cases, the project of the edited book or the special number of the journal did
not take off. These abortive attempts did not annoy Professor Bhattacharya. He
would work more on that article and then send it to some other journal for
publication. His commitment was to spell out his thoughts clearly, attempting to
make a definite academic contribution with his best efforts, and not bothering
about its publication. Even when he was invited for a keynote address or special
lecture, or in a seminar for a presentation, he would always write up his lecture
and read it. Rarely did he speak off the cuff, except in his classes and discussion
groups. For him, writing was a mode of clarifying his thoughts. In extemporaneous
speeches, he knew, the thoughts might run astray or be annoyingly repetitive.
The Anthropological Survey of India celebrated its 73rd Foundation Day on 1
December 2017. On this occasion, the survey invited him for an oration, which
was termed the “Foundation Day Lecture.” He came to Kolkata a few days earlier
for lectures at one of the state institutes of archaeology. He coupled this teaching
with the lecture he had to deliver at the survey.
On the stipulated day, he came to the survey an hour earlier with the hand-
written manuscript of his lecture, as he always did. The celebration began with a
note that I read out, which dealt with the philosophy and work of the survey. I
placed emphasis on the macro-cultural studies, generation of a bulk of data, team
researches, for these are important for reaching a set of generalizations. Survey
research is different from the solo studies carried out at the doctoral level. After
finishing my speech, I returned to my seat, next to Professor Bhattacharya’s.
342 The Oriental Anthropologist 19(2)

Instantly, he reacted to my speech in the following words: “I am going to say just

the opposite, giving more attention to specific studies and the analysis.”
Professor Bhattacharya read out his paper, a highly erudite one, which was
highly appreciated. I wanted a copy of his paper for publication in our journal
(Journal of the Anthropological Survey of India), so I requested him to allow me
to make its photocopy. He said he did not want to keep the original manuscript.
He handed it over to me. It seemed to me that he knew the ephemerality of the
speech he had delivered and the paper he had read. He knew that ideas keep on
growing, becoming more refined and sophisticated, and this would happen only
when we learn to discard what we have done till now. Let there be no weight on
us of the baggage of our ideas. The time-bound thoughts will cease; the time-free
thoughts will survive. One should be as light as possible. Throw the weight of
ideas, and then only will new thoughts develop.
Professor Bhattacharya followed this vein of thinking. He generously loaned
his books and articles to his students and colleagues, without ever worrying about
their return. He liberally provided his own ideas to the others for developing their
arguments. Never did he expect authorship in a research paper. Professor
Bhattacharya was forward-looking, constantly improving upon and moving
ahead. He was fully immersed in the research question he was exploring at a time,
whether it was the price of onion, or longevity during Neolithic times, or the
Roopkund Mystery. His life was an example for emulation.

Vinay Kumar Srivastava

Director, Anthropological Survey of India, Ministry of Culture,
Government of India;
Member, Editorial Board, The Oriental Anthropologist