A Tribute to Sh. Bansi Lal Tikoo

A Tribute to Sh. Bansi Lal Tikoo

My Dear Surrinder,

I was deeply shocked and saddened to learn of the passing of your revered father, Shri Bansi Lal Tikoo Ji. Only yesterday, my son Sandeep informed me of this most painful news and shared your contact with me. On hearing it, I remained restless for a long time. So many memories came rushing back, and it was difficult to believe that someone who held such an important place in my professional life and personal esteem is no longer with us.

Please accept my heartfelt condolences. In this time of immense sorrow, I pray that you, Babli, Ravinder, Rani Ji, and the entire family may find strength, peace, and comfort in the loving memories your father has left behind.

I came to know your father around 1970, though the Tikoo family name had been familiar to me much earlier. I knew his elder brother, Shri Dwarika Nath Tikoo Ji, and other members of the family well. My father, Pandit Janki Nath Ji, had taught your uncle and some of his brothers. Thus, a bond of respect and affection already existed between our families.

At one stage in my life, I resigned from the Government Education Department and joined a private college near my residence. I taught many students there, including, as I recall, your cousins Rajender and his younger brother, possibly Satish. Those were days when teachers, elders, and family relationships were held in very high regard.

I remember your uncle, Shri Dwarika Nath Tikoo Ji, especially through a small but meaningful incident. Our family owned an Ambassador car, JKA 2030, which was well known in the Valley as it belonged to the respected Misri family. Whenever it needed a minor electrical repair—a fused bulb or another small fault—my father would send our driver, Gopi Nath, to your uncle’s workshop.

Your uncle’s workshop stood at a busy and prominent junction, where several cars were usually waiting for their turn. Yet, whenever our car arrived, Shri Dwarika Nath Ji would attend to it with special warmth and promptness. My father would always send money with the driver for the repairs, but your uncle would often refuse to accept it, saying affectionately that the whole shop belonged to the Misris.

One day, my father gave me a sealed envelope and asked me to deliver it personally to Shri Dwarika Nath Ji. He did not tell me how much it contained, nor did I ask. When I reached the workshop, your uncle was delighted to see me—the son of his former teacher. He ordered tea and snacks, and we spent some pleasant time together. From such simple meetings, a warm friendship developed between us, although he was much senior to me.

It was during one such visit that Shri Dwarika Nath Ji mentioned that his younger brother, Shri Bansi Lal Tikoo Ji, had been transferred as Director to RSRS, Pampore. At that time, I could not have imagined how closely my own professional journey would later become connected with your father.

Some time later, senior-level posts were advertised. I applied and appeared for the interview. The selection committee included the Director, an expert from the Zoology Department of Kashmir University, the Adviser, Sericulture, J&K, and a representative from RRL. After the formal process and approval from the central office, I received my appointment letter about two months later.

From the very beginning, your father set a high standard of punctuality, discipline, and dedication. For him, work was not merely a duty; it was a responsibility to be performed with sincerity and excellence. In my early days, I spent much of my time in the rearing room, observing and learning the practical aspects of silkworm rearing. Your father often found me there, engrossed in the work.

Soon, however, he gently guided me in another direction. He told me that I should focus on selection and silkworm breeding. I followed his advice with complete faith, for I quickly realised that he possessed not only deep technical knowledge but also the rare ability to recognise and develop potential in others.

I shall never forget my first lesson in selection from him. He asked me to sit beside him—not as an officer instructing a subordinate, but as a mentor guiding a learner. He placed before me a population of cocoons and asked me to select ten good ones.

At first, I sat quietly, uncertain about what to choose and what to reject. After some time, I selected ten large, robust-looking cocoons and presented them to him with confidence. He lowered his glasses, examined them carefully, and then said, with his characteristic seriousness and kindness, “Fifty per cent of your selection is good—but what about the rest?”

He then patiently explained the factors I had overlooked—the fine details that distinguish ordinary selection from excellent selection. That moment has remained vivid in my memory. It was not merely a technical lesson about cocoons; it taught me observation, precision, patience, and professional integrity. I carried that lesson with me throughout my career.

Under your father’s guidance, we developed several breeds, namely BL-1, BL-10, SSM, and S2. The first two bore the initials of Shri Bansi Lal Ji, while the latter two reflected my own initials, Sham Sunder Misri. The performance of these breeds was remarkable. When our reports reached the central office, the Secretary and Chairman reportedly rose from their chairs in appreciation, saying that they had not heard of such performance even from Japan.

A team of experts was sent to verify the work. They found that the cocoons had exceptionally high silk content. In some cases, the silk was so rich and compact that the silk moths could not emerge naturally; the cocoons had to be cut open with blades. It was an outstanding achievement and a true reflection of your father’s vision, knowledge, discipline, and leadership.

Over time, our relationship grew far beyond that of officer and subordinate. Your father placed great trust in me, and I always held him in the highest regard. We became close colleagues and dear friends. He was an able administrator, an inspiring mentor, and a man of genuine warmth.

Above all, I remember him as a devoted family man. He cared deeply for you, Babli, and Ravinder, and he spoke of his children with affection and pride. His concern for his family was always evident. I am sure that the values he lived by—hard work, honesty, kindness, dedication, and love for family—will continue to guide all of you.

The loss of a father is beyond words. Yet, a life lived with dignity, service, and affection never truly ends. Shri Bansi Lal Tikoo Ji will continue to live in the memories of all those who worked with him, learned from him, respected him, and loved him. I consider myself fortunate to have known him as my senior officer, mentor, colleague, and dear friend.

Please take special care of your mother, Rani Ji, and convey my respectful condolences to her. I pray that she may find courage and consolation in the love and support of her children and in the honourable life your father lived.

Surrinder, I am with you and your family in this time of grief. If there is anything I can do, please do not hesitate to let me know. It would be an honour to support the family of a person for whom I had such deep respect and affection.

May Almighty God grant eternal peace to the noble soul of Shri Bansi Lal Tikoo Ji and give strength, courage, and patience to the entire family.

With deepest sympathy, respect, and heartfelt condolences,

May the memories of his gentle smile
Bring comfort through the days ahead;
Though he has left this earthly home,
His love and guidance remain widespread.

A noble life does not fade away,
Its light lives on in hearts it knew;
May peace surround his cherished family,
And strength be granted to each of you.

May his soul rest in eternal peace,
Beyond all sorrow, pain, and care;
And may the Almighty hold him close
In His everlasting love and prayer.

Hi, I have three insightful stanzas, woven with the memories, to offer you, Surrinder, both sympathy and a tribute to your father’s persistent legacy.

**I** 

When Sandeep, my son, spoke the sombre words, my restless heart stood still, 

A wave of grief, a heavy ache, a void no time can fill. 

I saw your father’s gentle gaze, his wisdom, calm, and grace, 

The mentor who with patient hands first taught me how to trace 

The finest threads of quality, in all that we would do— 

Oh Surrinder, the world grew dim, the day he left your view.

 

**II** 

The breeds we built with pride and care, the BL, S2 we set apart, 

Wove silk so strong and rich and bright, it stunned the expert’s art. 

They came from lands across the seas to marvel at his skill, 

Yet still he stood with humble heart, unmatched in strength and will. 

That golden thread he spun in life now binds us still as one— 

A legacy of light and truth, a race he truly won.

 

**III** 

The shop, the car, the bonds of old, the warmth of shared delight, 

The care he held for Babli’s path, for Ravinder’s guiding light, 

And you, Surrinder—cherished son—the apple of his eye, 

To me, he spoke of you with boundless love, beneath the valley sky. 

So, hold your mother, Rani, close, and let your sorrows flow— 

His love endures beyond this life, and in your heart shall grow.

Sham Misri