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I still miss him - I will never forget the great times we had together both in New York and Europe. It is hard to believe he is gone.

— A friend from Columbia

I was Gautam’s first girlfriend. We began dating our final semester of high school. At the age of 18, we pondered the meaning of our experience at Burroughs, determined to squeeze out every last drop of time with our school friends, and of course with each other. We were filled with hopes for our promising and unforeseen futures. When we went on our first date, Gautam expressed his intention to take me to the best restaurant in town. The exact location was to be a surprise. Our mystery destination turned out to be his home in Sunset Hills, where we shared a candle-lit dinner for two, exquisitely prepared by Gautham’s mother -- nothing but the best! To say that he swept me off my feet would be an understatement. Gautam launched head-long into our romance with reckless abandon. He lavished me with playful flattery, infused with a disarming sincerity and directness that was truly touching. Gautam looked beneath my exterior and endeavored to understand my values, my insecurities, my aspirations, and the things I considered beautiful and sacred. He taught me how to revel in spontaneity. He was so endearingly sentimental. As we departed for our respective colleges, Gautam didn’t let the fact that we were separated by several states pose a barrier. On occasion he jumped in his car on the spur of the moment and paid me a surprise visit! Our intense phone discussions during our freshman year only brought us closer and closer to each other. So much so, that when my over-protective parents realized that their 18-year-old daughter had fallen head-over-heels for an irreverent Indian guy in another state, they considered it a daunting distraction to my college experience and nervously imposed parental sanctions. I reluctantly complied, which ultimately led to the demise of our relationship. The clandestine nature of our time together has ultimately become such a sentimental memory for me. Ah, the perils of youth! Of course, Gautam set an unreasonably high romantic standard for measuring my subsequent boyfriends. As friends, Gautam and I kept in touch intermittently through the years, but had not spoken for at least two when I heard the news of his death. I understandably assumed I’d have all my life to get back in touch with Gautam, not knowing his time would be inexplicably abbreviated. My grief at the loss of such a beautiful and important influence cannot be adequately described. It leaves so many unanswered questions and a mixture of guilt, sadness, and rue. I suppose everyone who knew and loved Gautam is experiencing the loss in their own deeply personal way. To me, it brings to the forefront many changes I’d like to make in my own life: I want to be at peace with my professional and personal choices, whatever they may be; I want to make time for joy and spontaneous playfulness; to keep in touch with other friends with whom I’ve lost touch; to infuse my life with meaningful personal interaction; to be committed, but not obsessive in my pursuits. I want to keep a little of Gautam’s energy in my life. And I do feel he is watching over me and over his other dear friends & family to make sure we don’t forget him or his influence on our lives.

— Beth

I suppose it is a natural thing but there are times I am angry that Gautam is gone. There are times when I need him. G was on a quest and I was living vicariously through him. I wanted him to give me the answers, to show me the way. I miss him.

— George Miller

I was a member of Gautam's Coro Fellowship. He was an incredible young man. I was always impressed with his wisdom, kindness, and ability to be present and visit the future. His talents and more importantly his smile will be missed. I send my deepest prayers to the family and friends.

— Jah'Shams Abdul-Mu'm

As the New Year approaches I keep hearing the same theme: Goodbye to 2001, and good riddance. I understand the sentiment: Like so many, I had my share of hard times this year -- but Gautam's death is by far the most difficult and bewildering event I experienced. Gautam was someone so completely full of vigor, excitement, ideas, passion for life, for his friends and family, that it's nearly impossible to imagine his death. I attended his memorial at Columbia University a few weeks ago -- a magnificent event. I've been to too many memorials for people I know, amazing people who've died too young. More than any other, Gautam's was a service where the full person was brought to life: from Lauren Thompson's poignant testament, to Apurna's funny, heartbreaking rememberance, to Gautam's father's eloquent and restorative words, the service for Gautam truly captured the maddening, vivacious, brilliant, complicated, compassionate, and delicious person he was. Like so many, I loved Gautam beyond words. I think about him nearly every day, as I did before his death. And I think of him now not only with the deepest sadness, and it is nearly too deep to bear, but with extreme gratitude for having known perhaps the most charismatic and passionate person I'll ever meet -- and with a wonder at the intensity of his being that will never leave me. But the sadness is there, it is profound, and it is inevitable. I think incessantly of Gautam's father -- you are such a sublime, self-composed and tender man. I have the deepest admiration for you, and my heart breaks for you. I lost my father, and you've lost your son. I hope that we'll continue our nascent friendship -- that you'll come to New York again, or that I'll come to Minneapolis, and that we'll share a dinner in honor and rememberance of our loved ones. I think of Gautam's mother, who I almost met so many times before the memorial but didn't. I want her to know how beautiful I think her son is -- how beyond comparison in his everything. And, to reiterate what you already know, he spoke of you constantly and with more reverance than a son has ever had for his mother. He was mad about you. To his sisters: I am so sorry. I can imagine the profound loss you feel -- though I know I feel only a fraction of it. Please know that if there is any thing I can ever do for you, I am here. And I'd be honored if you'd consider continuing a relationship with me, though we didn't know each other before. Your brother and I were very close for a time, and I hope to share with you in the continuing life of his spirit.

With deepest love and sympathy,

— Katie

Living in a city where grief waits for everyone to reconnect with their past, I have heard a lot of difficult news lately. None has been as tough to bear as Gautam's passing. Even though I only spoke with Gautam twice since graduation, I will deeply miss him.

When I think of Gautam I feel his infectious laughter.

For that I am thankful.

— Andy Lottman

To Gautam’s family:

You don’t know me, but I feel I know you. I’ve been at a loss for words since I heard the news, and what I can only imagine must be your profound heartbreak. I am so sorry. Thank you for giving us Gautam. He was larger than life. Beautiful, confident, charming, and smart. He was infuriating and exhausting and challenging and you couldn’t help but love him.You know how certain people say just the right thing at the right time and it means so much to you that you always keep it with you so you can bring it out when you need to? I probably have ten – and two are from Gautam. The first was when I was 17, a freshman at Vassar with a crush on Gautam’s best friend. I found myself leaving a party and running into Gautam. He talked to me for a while and then said, “You know, Rachel. You have so much potential. You could be anything if you’d stop trying so hard.” Flash forward ten years, I saw Gautam for the first time since graduation. He looked at me, smiled, and said, “Look at you. You grew up beautiful.” What can I say? The boy had a knack. He got me every time. (As I write this, I smile when I think of the hundreds of women who probably feel the same way.)Gautam moved at the speed of light and he loved absolutely everyone. In those brief moments when he stood still, he enveloped you with his energy and you felt blessed. I was always amazed and grateful when I had Gautam’s attention. In fact, at Vassar, the guys had a game where they assigned points to a “sighting” of a particular person. Seeing Gautam was worth the most points. (I think it was 50 to others’ 5.) A moment with Gautam was a rare and special gift that we all saw the value of even then. He’d be on the other side of the world and then he’d be around the corner calling you to come out for a drink. Once I flew into Miami on a last minute trip, left a message for Gautam in New York and 30 minutes later he’d returned the call and was on his way to meet me in Key Largo. And then he stayed. He even convinced my parents and their friends to start a new religion with him as the center.The last time I saw Gautam he came to my office “to print out a couple copies. I have a disk. I just need to print it. No time at all.” Six hours later we had brainstormed the chapter names of his book and printed out umpteen copies of the 300+ page manuscript. (I still have the disk.) All the time he was dissing my life in corporate America... with his feet on my desk. When he called the next day for a few more copies, I printed them (Of course. Could anyone ever say no to Gautam?), but sent them down with my assistant. I guess I wanted him to think I was strong and important and not to be messed with. How stupid of me. Gautam always told me that he and I would know each other for the rest of our lives. We will. You’re a rock star, Gautam. I’ll never forget you.

— Rachel Rapaport

I remember Gautam well from Vassar College and I'm deeply saddened to hear the tragic news of his incredibly untimely death. Gautam and I lived on the same floor in the same dormitory, Raymond Hall, in 1987. Gautam was a sophomore when I was a freshman and he was always friendly, welcoming and warm. He always made me feel accepted and always said hello with a caring smile when I would pass his room just a few doors down from mine. Though I never got to know him extremely well, I remember quite a few conversations in which I discovered him to be an articulate, intelligent, sensitive and fun-spirited human being. He always laughed because I called him "Siddhartha," the Buddha's other first name. He always seemed to have a light heart and a peaceful radiance: he was a bright sunbeam for all of us who knew him. I know you who were close to him must be missing him terribly. My heart is grieving with yours. My grandmother's mother used to say that in this world we remain alive as long as one person speaks our name with love.

Gautam, we are many, and our love speaks your name.

Sincerely,

— Jim Ramey