Michael Millner

Thinking back on my earliest memories of Gautam, I was
struck by how many of his many distinctive qualities
were already very much on display in our first few
meetings. But the more I thought about it, the less
coincidental it seemed. Gautam was always completely
comfortable just being himself, letting his unique
personality radiate fully in every situation.

My first encounter with Gautam was in seventh grade.
Our headmaster made it a point of pride to know the
names of all the incoming students. I remember Gautam
charging up to him and laughing as he watched Mr.
Cissell struggle to come up with a pronunciation close
enough to pass. Gautam wouldn't let him get away with
just trying to spell his name either. He insisted
that Mr. Cissell try to say it, and Gautam took great
enjoyment in the headmaster's fumbling attempts.

I was amazed by his confidence and boldness, by his
eagerness to engage with people, even those to whom
most of his peers would have been uncomfortable
talking. Here was this chubby kid, one of very few
people of color in our school, calling attention to
himself and his exotic name where others might have
hoped to fade into the background and escape notice.

I was also struck by his sense of humor. Gautam was
always willing to laugh about himself and others, and
at the world in general and in all its absurd
particulars. He never took anything too seriously,
least of all himself.

And perhaps most notably, I saw for the first time
Gautam's compelling charisma and charm, born of a rare
openness. Gautam assumed a familiarity, a level of
comfort, even with people he'd just met.

Gautam had a unique ability to draw people out, to get
even the most reticent among us to open up. He shared
openly about himself, holding nothing back, and he
asked you to do the same. His openness was
disarming-Gautam was someone you just couldn't keep at
arm's length. He would talk about anything, and it
just felt like bad faith not to respond in kind. I
know that for me, this was a profoundly liberating
experience, and Gautam had this effect on many people.

My next memory was of giving Gautam a ride in the
family van down to a Burroughs football game several
hours away. I barely knew him, yet for the first of
many times throughout our childhood and adult lives, I
was no match for his amazing powers of persuasion. My
whole family was along for the ride, and Gautam
regaled us with stories throughout the ride. Within
minutes of departing, Gautam had a van full of
strangers completely spellbound with a story of coming
upon an illuminated tennis court in Florida that was
so beautiful and pristine that you could eat off it.
Of course, he couldn't help scaling the fence to
experience it first-hand.

Gautam displayed an amazing knack for being able to
see the sublime where most people saw only the mundane
(or, as he might say, "myoondane"-for someone so
articulate, Gautam's butchery of the English language
was always amusing). Where most people would not even
have stopped to notice, Gautam had an ecstatic
experience.

Gautam could delight in and be excited by a bowl of
Lucky Charms, a game of wiffle ball, or his favorite
song or movie of the moment. He could appreciate even
a passing glance on the face of a character in the
background of a scene, and get you to understand its
brilliance and hilarity too, where again, absent his
perception and enthusiasm, you wouldn't even have
noticed.

The story also reminded me of Gautam's boundless need
to explore and of the energy he poured into
accumulating first-hand experiences. It was never
enough for him to hear or read about something, or
even just to see it. He had to experience it for
himself. All over the world, and plumbing the depths
of the ordinary world right around us, he plunged
himself headlong into his life, never holding anything
back. And just as he climbed the fence so he could
play on the tennis court that night, he was climbing
fences all of his life, refusing to let the barriers
that would deter others slow him down.

He left us too soon, but he squeezed more than a
lifetime's worth of experiences into his short life.

And throughout all his travels, he went with an
extraordinarily open heart, always ready to be touched
and moved by what he encountered, and to connect with
the people with whom he came into contact.

What a storyteller! Gautam experienced his life, and
then could make it come to life again in the telling
and retelling. It was always a wild ride piggybacking
on his energy, enthusiasm, and sense of adventure,
whether actually being brought along, or just being
transported by his descriptions. I know that to this
day, everyone in that van still remembers the story of
that tennis court as if we had been there too.

I spent Thanksgiving with Gautam a few years ago, and
my partner Catherine's family finally got a taste of
the Gautam Sundaram experience. When her father heard
about what happened, he said, "I only met him for an
afternoon, but I know I'll never forget him." Similar
experiences must be true of thousands of people around
the world. It is difficult to imagine the number of
people whose lives he touched.

As sad as it is to imagine a life without him, and as
much as I will miss him, I know that just as Gautam
could bring his experiences back to life as he shared
them with others, so he will always remain alive and
vibrant in the infinite memories and thoughts of the
many, many of us whose lives he touched and enriched.

It is overwhelming to imagine the energy that went
into being Gautam, and it must surely have been
exhausting to sustain the kind of intensity with which
he lived his life, and now, I wish him peace.