Ashok Kumar Reddy K 10 months ago

I have known Viji for 32 years. A remarkable individual. He was at once boss, colleague and friend -- loved as much as feared.He was not without his quota of detractors and critics. But, I am proud to say, I remained his admirer all through.

Ashok Kumar Reddy K

V Ramnarayan 10 months ago

The first time I met Viji was when I bowled to him in an inter-college match and got his wicket. It was a great delivery--entirely unintended by me--that won me his respect forever. A couple of years later, I was married, with my wife still in her teens and I barely out of mine. We went to distant Valmiki Nagar—remember it was 1970, and Adyar was still out of bounds for good Mylapore boys and girls—for our honeymoon, flat broke as we were. Somebody forgot to tell Viji—and another Viji, PN Vijay, that they must leave the newlyweds alone, and the two Vijis visited us everyday, until one morning my father decided it was time for us to go home and bundled us into the car.

My next major encounter with Viji was when he and another friend Bharatan brought a dubious bottle of whisky made in some east European totalitarian state and adulterated in Chandni Chowk to my hotel room at the end of the first day's play in the Irani Cup match in 1976. I must have been the first Rest of India player to puke on the lawns of Oberoi Maidens!

In 1999-2000, just before the dotcom bust, Viji was chief editor and I sports editor at the portal Chennai Online, where he encouraged me to write the series Curdrice Cricket. The column gave me much pleasure and visibility as a chronicler. And I can never forget what he said about me to the whole team at a reunion. I was so moved by his generosity, I left the room in sheer embarrassment.

And before I forget, my wife Gowri and he were colleagues at The Hindu and had great respect and affection for each other. Viji was a brilliant, talented man with a cheerful disposition, even if the slings and arrows of life did not always give him something to cheer about. Au revoir, Viji.

Sucheta Dalal 10 months ago

Here is a nice adios posted by Chiddananda Rajghatta posted on my facebook page. Thought i would share it: Viji...one of a kind. Fine mind, great wit. We worked together in mid-80s and shared space in 1/3 INS Building on Rafi Marg. We were both early birds and got into office by 9.30 a.m (unheard of in newspaper offices), mainly to take a shot at crosswords. He introduced me to the cryptic; The Statesman had the toughest one those days, but Viji would crack it like a ripe coconut -- 20 minutes (legend had it that Mrs Gandhi could do it in 15 minutes and that was Viji's goal; he got there soon enough). Years later, I caught up with him in Chennai when he had briefly left journalism and had started a lending library at home -- at a time world was going digital. Typical of him...going against the tide. We were both Wodehouse buffs and over the years traded much Wodehouse trivia and other literary tittle-tattle. He was in U.S couple years back visiting Lavanya and we spoke on phone but couldn't meet. He was also a great golf and bridge buff and I believe he was in Pune for a bridge tournament when he passed away. Just like him. You played a great hand, Viji. Adios.

Lavanya 10 months ago

As Viji's daughter, all your memories are priceless. We were the best of friends and I couldn't have asked for a better father. He 'was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad'. Keep laughing, Dad!

vasanthi vasudev 10 months ago

It is truly hard to believe that �Viji� is no more. I had the pleasure of knowing him as a fellow bridge player who showed astonishing astuteness in unraveling the game, which was equally matched by his razor sharp wit and candor. He rarely spared anyone who did not� think enough� at the bridge table!
I saw him battle through physical and emotional pain with stoicism! Almost nothing could get him under the weather! He simply loved being a journalist; he and lived and breathed being one at all times! He could churn out articles at the drop of a hat and writing, even while in pain, was a healing balm. He loved his children very dearly and was very proud of their success. He hoped to wish away all his ailments and get back to golf and to travel to the many distant lands that were on his bucket list! But that was not to be�if only it had!
Vasanthi Vasudev