Every year on 5th
September, we in India pay tribute to our teachers by celebrating the day as Teachers
Day, in memory of Dr Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, a renowned philosopher and the second
President of India, whose birthday, 5th September, was chosen to
honour his belief that education is the bedrock of society and teachers are its
architects. Dr. Radhakrishnan believed in the importance of education and the role
of teachers in fostering education. When some of his students sought his
permission to celebrate his birthday, Dr Radhakrishnan, suggested that instead
of celebrating his personal birthday, he suggested that this day should be
dedicated to the selfless service of all the teachers in India. Accordingly, 5
September 1962, his 77th birthday, marked the first observance of Teachers' Day
and the tradition has continued ever since. This day provides us an opportunity
to recognise the vital role the teachers play in shaping the lives and future
of students.
This day also reminds us
that in our ancient civilisation, teaching was never seen as a mere
profession—it was a vocation, almost a sacred duty. This is evidenced by a
masterpiece timeless invocation of a verse which captures this spirit:
“Gurur Brahma, Gurur Vishnu, Gurur Devo Maheshwara,
Gurur Sakshat Param Brahma, Tasmai Shri Gurave Namah.”
(The Guru
is the Creator, the Preserver, and the Destroyer. The Guru is undoubtedly the
Supreme Reality. To that illustrious Guru, I bow in reverence.) The above text is
part of the Guru Gita of the Skanda Purana. This sacred text is presented as a
dialog between Goddess Uma (Parvathi) and Lord Shiva, where Lord Shiva explains
from the mount Kailasa to his consort the significance of the Guru in the path
to Spiritual liberation.
Living up to this tradition of reverence for Guru was the brilliant physicist Nobel laureate, Sir C.V. Raman. In 1954, the first Bharat Ratna awards were announced in India. The illustrious list of the awardees included Dr. Radhakrishnan in whose honour we celebrate this day, C. Rajagopalachari, and Prof C.V. Raman. An anecdotal reference cited by Dr APJ Abdul Kalam, provides an insight on Prof Raman as a dedicated teacher. Dr Kalam recalls in many of his lectures, which has also been covered in Indian Express, that an invitation was sent to Raman by the Rashtrapati Bhavan to receive the nation’s highest civilian award, Bharat Ratna. Yet, Raman sent a polite letter of regret, informing that he would not be able to make it to the ceremony. The reason was not a prior international commitment which he had or ill health. It was a commitment that Raman - presumed he had, to one of his students, a devoted PhD student whose thesis submission deadline coincided with the Bharat Ratna receiving ceremony of Prof Raman. For Raman, his duty as the PhD guide of his student was paramount, even over a Bharat Ratna reception award for him.
This anecdote, chronicled by President APJ Abdul Kalam, is a story of dedication of Raman to his PhD student. Dr. Kalam called it the finest demonstration of Raman the teachers’ devotion to his student. For Raman, the truest award was not the medal which would be conferred to him in a monumental ceremonial hall, but the successful completion of a student’s work.
Subrahmanyan
Chandrasekhar, Sir CV Raman’s nephew, carried forward the same ethos of
commitment of the teacher to their students to another level in his own career
as one of the twentieth century’s greatest astrophysicists. His scientific
journey itself illustrates how brilliance can coexist with humility. In the
1930s, as a student barely in his twenties at Cambridge, Chandrasekhar worked
out the physics of electron degeneracy pressure inside dying stars. He showed
that above a certain critical mass—now immortalized as the Chandrasekhar
Limit—a white dwarf could not support itself against gravity and must collapse
further, ultimately giving rise to neutron stars or black holes.
When Chandrasekhar presented his profound work before the Royal Astronomical Society in 1935, his senior contemporary, Sir Arthur Eddington, one of the greatest astrophysicists of his time, ridiculed it publicly as “stellar buffoonery.” The humiliation in front of a distinguished audience coerced Chandrasekhar to leave the U.K. and take up a position in the United States at the University of Chicago. Chandra joined at the Yerkes Observatory, Chicago University in 1937 where spent more than a quarter of a century, a large part of his scientific career. Despite the personal humiliation, Chandra never spoke disrespectfully of Eddington, continuing to refer to him with regard and respect as his mentor and guru. It was an act of dignity rooted in the very ethos of Guru–Śhishya Parampara—to respect the lineage of knowledge even when wronged. It resonates with the epic story of reverence that Ekalavya had for his imaginary guru, Dhronacharya. The epic tale of Ekalavya, who offered his thumb as guru dakshina to Dronacharya, is the ultimate, albeit extreme, symbol of this commitment. It speaks to a reverence that places the Guru’s word above one’s own ambition. S Chandra coming from a background so deeply rooted in these Indian ethos, practiced and exemplified this ethos in his respect for Eddington, who literally had ended his career in Cambridge. Although the criticism of Eddington was a devastating blow that delayed recognition to Chandra for decades, yet Chandra never publicly expressed bitterness for Eddington. He continued to respect Eddington, acknowledging his debt to him. In this, he exhibited a grace that is the hallmark of a true shishya—understanding that the path of learning sometimes requires weathering a Guru’s imperfections.
S Chandrasekhar embodied the timeless reverence for Guru as seen in the verses Guru Gita of Skhanda Purana. Chandra’s biographer, Kameshwar Wali, based on an anecdotal reference – that has now become one of the great legends of Chandra, which President John T. Wilson loved to tell - chronicles the commitment of Chandra to his students. Prof S Chandrasekhar would drive over a hundred miles from the Yerkes Observatory to the University of Chicago every week, to teach an advanced class in astrophysics to a class of two students: T.D. Lee and C.N. Yang. His selfless investment as a Guru to his two students, honed their genius. Years later, they won the Nobel Prize in 1957 for overthrowing the fundamental law of parity—a true act of intellectual destruction of dogma, a lesson well-learned from their Guru. Lee and Young were just 32 and 37 when they won the Nobel Prize contrary to their Guru – Chandra, who had to wait for another 26 years to receive his coveted Nobel Prize, in 1983.
Dr. Kalam, a legend shaped by teachers, loved to narrate the story of his mentor, Prof. Satish Dhawan. In 1979, when the first Indian SLV-3 mission, headed by Kalam, failed it was Dhawan, the Chairman of ISRO, who faced the criticism including facing the combative press for its failure. Prof Dhawan, as a true Guru, shielded his team and his protégé Dr Kalam from criticism. A year later, when the very same mission succeeded, Dhawan credited Kalam for the success of SLV 3. In this act, Dhawan defined leadership not as command, but as service—the highest form of being a Guru.
Yet in today’s world—inundated with online tutorials, artificial intelligence, and instant information—it is fair to ask: do we still need the Guru? The answer, as India’s history and science both testify, is an unequivocal yes. The Guru has never been merely a transmitter of information. The Guru is creator, preserver, and destroyer—creator of knowledge, preserver of tradition, destroyer of ignorance and ego. The Guru is both timeless and timely, yet utterly relevant in an age of artificial intelligence.
Today, as we celebrate the Teachers Day, we are not just celebrating a profession. We are celebrating our national ethos, which continues to whisper, albeit attenuated largely, in the corridors of our premier institutes, where a professor stays back to guide a struggling student, motivates his students just as Prof MM Sharma did to one of his Shishya, Mukesh Ambani, who as a mark of his reverence to his Guru, pledged a whopping Rs 151 Crores to the ICT, where Prof MM Served. It echoes in the determination of a scientist who chooses a thesis submission over a national award.
The Guru-Shishya Parampara is India’s timeless principle for excellence. It exemplifies that the highest knowledge does not come from AI or from the vast digital resources; it must be transmitted, with compassion, integrity, and sometimes, immense personal sacrifice by the Guru to the students. From Kailash, the abode of Lord Shiva, from where he passed on his wisdom to Parvati, to the laboratories where Raman and Chandrasekhar nurtured their students and future Nobel laureates, the message is consistent: a civilisation that honours its teachers ultimately honours its own future.
On this
Teachers' Day, we bow to them all—Tasmai Śrī Gurave Namaḥ.
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