A great gift from Radhakrishnan

AS I look out of the library’s French window from my carrel desk, the fog swirls in languidly, enveloping the terrace with its stone-pillar railings. Beyond the green lawns, the cedars and pines sway intermittently, shaking off raindrops. Behind them rise the blue mountain ranges, solemn and eternal. For a moment, I lift my eyes, tired from working on my laptop for three straight hours on my research paper, and I feel both refreshed and elated. My eyes are weary, yes, but my mind is wide awake, intoxicated by the rigour of academic labour.

There is a joy in thinking deeply, in connecting threads no one else has connected, in seeing patterns where none seemed to exist. Research is an addictive adventure — an exhilarating exercise of questioning, critiquing, analysing and creating. Here, in this rarefied air, I am freed from the monotony of household chores, burdens of routine life and the noise of the world. Here, I am allowed — no, expected — to do just one thing: think.

This freedom is not accidental. It is a gift from Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, the philosopher-President whose birth anniversary on September 5 is celebrated as Teachers’ Day. He chose not to keep this magnificent Viceregal Lodge of Shimla as his summer retreat. He could have claimed it as an emblem of power. Instead, he opened its gates to scholars, turning a colonial throne into a sanctuary of thought. In 1965, he dedicated this estate to the Indian Institute of Advanced Study (IIAS).

When officials debated whether the Lodge should continue as a presidential summer retreat, Radhakrishnan posed a different question. Should such a magnificent public property serve a ceremonial function for a few weeks each year, or should it become a vibrant centre of scholarship year round? The answer he gave was more than practical — it was philosophical. He believed that ideas, not ceremonies, shape a nation’s destiny. The President’s summer residence was relocated to a smaller ‘Retreat’ at Chharabra, freeing the Lodge for uninterrupted academic use.

Today, his vision suffuses every corner of this institute. The IIAS was founded with a simple yet insightful mandate: remove scholars from the everyday responsibilities of teaching and administrative duties and provide them the time, space and companionship to think freely. In return, they would enrich the nation with intellectual wealth.

As I sit there, a colleague from Telangana works quietly at his desk across me. He comes from a shepherd community, self-taught and self-made, and now dedicates himself to documenting indigenous methods of herd immunity. His passion humbles me. His journey, like mine, is sustained by Radhakrishnan’s bequest.

The Lodge no longer echoes with imperial decrees. Instead, it resounds with the debates of scholars. In gifting this palace to knowledge, Radhakrishnan proved that true power lies not in occupying grand rooms but in filling them with ideas.