Mr Chairman, thank you for giving this wonderful opportunity to speak on behalf of my fellow classmates.
In my younger days, my father used to tell me there are three kinds of noble jobs—teaching, preaching and healing. Out of these, only one can be more nobler than the two, and I sincerely believe if I say teaching is the greatest of all profession, that one could take up during one’s lifetime, none of us won’t beg to differ.
To give my statement its due credulity, there’s no other person except the one whom we’ve been having this function for. There may not be many other teachers like our respect and revered Sir SK Ghosh, who live up to the standard and the quality of being a great teacher.
Sir, it’s been an honour and a grand privilege to be able to be nurtured and taught by you. We, as a student of economics, have known many new things that were before, esoteric and alien to our mental faculty. The way you turn hard-core theories into a piece of cake is something not everyone could do. Moreover, having being told that you came here way back in the 80s in this part of the most racist hills of the north-east, just to teach some tribals economics, I, as well as my fellow students, give you our utmost respect for your audacity and sincerity.
It is said that a successful teaching career is not measured on the amount of accolades or citations that one’s procured; but the number of successful people that one has produced. By this definition, you have stood on the podium of success. You have produced some of the highest ranking bureaucrats, intellectual and thinkers of our state. And we, your last batch of post-graduate students, want to reassure you that the list will continue in the coming future.
You are a father-figure to us. You’ve always been generous to us and your affinity is beyond comparable. You treat the most brilliant and imbecile alike. You never discriminate on the ground of religion, gender or outlook. You have truly changed the way we stereotype the mainlanders, and we will always cherish your magnanimity and benevolence. We hope that the other faculty of this department will follow the algorithm you’ve developed—of generosity and affinity.
On being told that you wouldn’t be able to teach us in the last semester due to some ailments, our shock and grief had been profound. It was one of the most rueful things students had to accept during their master’s. Our marginal utility had plummeted sharply, and there were no close substitute because our demand for your lecture was perfectly inelastic. No one could fill the gap you’d left behind and as a result, the social welfare of our class was decreased sharply. This has been empirically supported by the GDP, or the result, of the previous semester.
There is one universal truth one has to accept in life—the end of something. To quote Keynes, ‘In the long-run we all die.’ is an analogy that even you have to part ways with us. Your retirement is like an inflationary pressure that every economist tries to prevent but eventually fails. So, with the utmost respect and the warmest gratitude, we, the class of 2016, bid you farewell with the hope that your diabetic feet would turn into a happy feet for the remains of your lifetime.
PS: Humbled and blessed to be able to speak on behalf of my classmates.