<p>It was my first day of high school when I first saw Padma Bhushan Dr H Narasimhaiah—affectionately known as Dr HN sir. A towering figure in education, a freedom fighter, and a social reformer, he walked in wearing his signature white khadi <em>kurta</em>, <em>dhoti</em>, and Gandhi <em>topi</em>. Whatever the occasion or weather, his attire never changed—a quiet testament to his simplicity.</p>.<p>As he addressed the crowd of young students, his opening words were: “Please oblige me, as I have to sit and talk before such a huge crowd comprising little boys and girls—I have an injury.” Even in pain, his commitment to meet and inspire us was unwavering.</p>.<p>Many of us began arriving early to school just to catch a glimpse of Dr HN sir walking along the National High School (NHS) Basavanagudi entrance. I vividly remember one morning after Anil Kumble’s historic 10-wicket haul against Pakistan, he beamed with pride, telling us, “Anil Kumble <em>avru namma huduga</em>” (Anil Kumble is our boy). He also fondly recalled his love for hockey.</p>.<p>Dr HN’s passion for physics was infectious. His motto: “Never accept without questioning.” He encouraged us to challenge superstition and think critically. One unforgettable moment was during a total solar eclipse. While many stayed indoors, fearing myths, he appeared on live television calmly eating lunch outside his hostel room—living proof of his rational beliefs.</p>.<p>He lived in a modest hostel room at National College Basavanagudi—just a mat, a cot, and books. He ate the same food as everyone else, never asking for special treatment. I once protested at home because my mother had made <em>upma</em> twice in a week. She gently reminded me, "Do you know Dr HN’s favourite food is <em>upma</em>? When he studied in the US, he cooked and ate it three times a day for a year.” Needless to say, I finished my breakfast.</p>.<p>Later, during my PU and degree years at National College Jayanagar, I saw him only on special occasions. He often joked in his speeches, “I was born on June 6. It was a Sunday—maybe that’s why I don’t get many holidays.” His autobiography, <em>Horatada Haadi</em>, remains a guiding light for young minds.</p>.<p>Teacher's Day has passed this year, but it is never too late to bow my head in deep respect to Dr H Narasimhaiah—a teacher who taught far beyond textbooks. His life was a lesson in simplicity, integrity, and fearless inquiry. He didn’t just teach physics; he taught us how to think, how to question, and how to live with purpose. As we celebrate the mentors who guide us, I remember Dr HN sir not just as an educator but as a beacon of values that continue to illuminate my path.</p><p>Thank you, sir—for being the teacher who never stopped teaching, even through silence. You are missed, remembered, and revered.</p>.<p>(Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH)</p>
<p>It was my first day of high school when I first saw Padma Bhushan Dr H Narasimhaiah—affectionately known as Dr HN sir. A towering figure in education, a freedom fighter, and a social reformer, he walked in wearing his signature white khadi <em>kurta</em>, <em>dhoti</em>, and Gandhi <em>topi</em>. Whatever the occasion or weather, his attire never changed—a quiet testament to his simplicity.</p>.<p>As he addressed the crowd of young students, his opening words were: “Please oblige me, as I have to sit and talk before such a huge crowd comprising little boys and girls—I have an injury.” Even in pain, his commitment to meet and inspire us was unwavering.</p>.<p>Many of us began arriving early to school just to catch a glimpse of Dr HN sir walking along the National High School (NHS) Basavanagudi entrance. I vividly remember one morning after Anil Kumble’s historic 10-wicket haul against Pakistan, he beamed with pride, telling us, “Anil Kumble <em>avru namma huduga</em>” (Anil Kumble is our boy). He also fondly recalled his love for hockey.</p>.<p>Dr HN’s passion for physics was infectious. His motto: “Never accept without questioning.” He encouraged us to challenge superstition and think critically. One unforgettable moment was during a total solar eclipse. While many stayed indoors, fearing myths, he appeared on live television calmly eating lunch outside his hostel room—living proof of his rational beliefs.</p>.<p>He lived in a modest hostel room at National College Basavanagudi—just a mat, a cot, and books. He ate the same food as everyone else, never asking for special treatment. I once protested at home because my mother had made <em>upma</em> twice in a week. She gently reminded me, "Do you know Dr HN’s favourite food is <em>upma</em>? When he studied in the US, he cooked and ate it three times a day for a year.” Needless to say, I finished my breakfast.</p>.<p>Later, during my PU and degree years at National College Jayanagar, I saw him only on special occasions. He often joked in his speeches, “I was born on June 6. It was a Sunday—maybe that’s why I don’t get many holidays.” His autobiography, <em>Horatada Haadi</em>, remains a guiding light for young minds.</p>.<p>Teacher's Day has passed this year, but it is never too late to bow my head in deep respect to Dr H Narasimhaiah—a teacher who taught far beyond textbooks. His life was a lesson in simplicity, integrity, and fearless inquiry. He didn’t just teach physics; he taught us how to think, how to question, and how to live with purpose. As we celebrate the mentors who guide us, I remember Dr HN sir not just as an educator but as a beacon of values that continue to illuminate my path.</p><p>Thank you, sir—for being the teacher who never stopped teaching, even through silence. You are missed, remembered, and revered.</p>.<p>(Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH)</p>
