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.