I have been a schoolteacher for over 30 years now. In that time I have been involved to a greater or lesser extent in the lives of some 3000 children. It is a privilege and, for the most part, a joy, to share their hopes, their successes, their failures too. Sadly, there have been occasions such as this. Only last year I stood at the back of this very room – then, as now, there was standing room only - and listened to Phil Warde, a colleague, speak with a painful amalgam of pride and despair over the body of his 19 year old daughter, struck down in her prime by a brain tumour. Phil is a deep man, but had no faith to help him on the road to acceptance. I am not a particularly religious man. I am as confused about the mystery of death as the next man and I have no particular words of wisdom in this regard to comfort either you or myself at the loss of Sandeep. I know that the Shettys are Hindus and your faith must be a tremendous support to you at this time. You know that Sandeep’s immortal soul lives on and that in some mysterious way he will reap the benefits of the many virtuous qualities which he had in abundance and which all of us here can recall. I am a Classicist. The Greeks of the Trojan War had no greater insight into death than you or I. They believed in the importance of the here and now, but also in the importance of memory, that you should live every day as if it is your last, to make an impact on your fellow men, and sow a seed in them of the memory of you. Sandeep has sown such a seed in me, and I suspect in everyone present here today to celebrate his brief life.
This last week I put up on the Staff Room notice board some photographs of Sandeep and Swifts House in his last couple of years at School. I also put up a more recent picture of the 1997 Leavers Reunion dinner. The seed which I will always keep within me is Sandeep’s smile. It is the smile of the Buddha, a smile which exudes calmness and reassurance, serenity and equanimity, the qualities which made him an absolutely outstanding House Captain and Deputy Head of School. He was the last House Captain of Swifts before the School reorganized itself with a co-ed Sixth Form. He, like Rohan several years before him, was in charge of some 70 boys between the ages of 13 and 18 and that calmness and reassurance set the tone for the House. There is a lot of testosterone flying around in an environment of 70 teenage boys, but under Sandeep Swifts was a civilized community, competitive and ambitious, but always with a sense of proportion, fair-play, and mutual respect, for the oldest and the youngest. This is not a balance which many boys with that sort of responsibility on their shoulders find easy to maintain. Responsibility never changed Sandeep. And he brought that calmness and reassurance to his dealings with me. It’s only now that I have laid down the reins of House magisterial responsibility after 25 years that I have finally realized what a stressful job Housemastering really was – and is.
Sandeep was always a wonderfully calming influence on me. There was no such thing as a crisis. He was unflappable, totally efficient and with a wonderful sense of proportion. I always remember an incident when the assembly routine was reorganized and I forgot to tell the House. School assembly duly took place while Swifts were having a House assembly! I remembered five minutes into our meeting and felt as if the ground was about to swallow me up. ‘Does it matter, sir? Does it really matter?’ Sandeep asked. ‘Matter? Of course it matters. It looks as if I haven’t got my finger on the pulse,’ I replied. ‘Only Looks, sir? You should be so lucky!’ said Sandeep, with his trademark mischievous grin which put the whole thing into perspective. ‘Anyway, I don’t suppose they’ll even notice we’re not there,’ he added. And they didn’t! I always remember that episode: how well it illustrates not only a sense of proportion, but also a strength of character and independent judgement. He kept his head when all around were losing theirs in the certain knowledge that all would be well.
Sandeep wouldn’t have become Deputy Head Boy without his many talents and personal qualities. His academic record was first-rate. It had to be to read Medicine at Bristol. He was a strong all-rounder and a great team-man. He was a very able sportsman in his specialist fields of tennis (where he captained the school, I recall) and Eton Fives (where he was in the first pair), but he was also Captain of the 3rd XV on the rugby field. Rugby wasn’t quite a matter of life and death in the 3rd XV – not quite – and these boys played for enjoyment. They could have had no better captain than Sandeep, whose temperament was perfect for such a role. Sandeep lacked the physical robustness of Rohan (although he was undoubtedly quicker!) and this counted against him on the rugby field, but in the 3rds, his quality stood out. I remember him scoring a try against Mill Hill with a coruscating outside break. I was standing behind the posts as he scored. I shall always remember his smile as he put the ball down. ‘Rohan never taught you that outside break’, I said. His reply, without a moment’s hesitation: ‘If he ever made a break, Rohan got car sick’.
We will all have our different memories of Sandeep. I am sure that we will enjoy sharing those memories together back in Deans’ Hall after we have said good-bye to him. For me, my memory of Sandeep is a feeling - the feeling that all will be well. Dayanand, Rita, Rohan, Rachana and Selina, don’t worry…’All will be well’!
RKMowbray
Housemaster, Swifts, 1986-1997,
Monday, 14th October 2011
Post-script:
Johny Rhys-Davies has written a song for Sandeep. It is accessible at the following link:
http://soundcloud.com/johnyrhys/blazing-smiles
Sandeep’s name means ‘Blazing’ in Sanskrit.
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