Nature India | Indigenus

An ace biologist through the eyes of a lensman

India mourned the death of eminent biologist Obaid Siddiqi, who was knocked down by a moped last week (on July 26, 2013) while taking a stroll near his residence. Friends and colleagues paid rich tributes to the scientist known for his go-getter attitude and towering personality. His students and co-workers wrote heartfelt memoirs  of the man they adored and worshiped calling him the ‘Renaissance Man’ and the ‘Catalyst of a culture of creativity‘. India’s Prime Minister Manmohan Singh said Siddiqi was among that crop of scientists who helped lay the foundation of the country’s scientific research effort.

At 81, Siddiqi had a long list of achievements — to name just a couple, he had set up the molecular biology unit at the Tata Institute of Fundamental Research, Mumbai, in 1962 and founded the National Centre for Biological Sciences (NCBS), Bangalore, in the early 1990s. His work on the the fruit fly, Drosophila melanogaster, led to a deeper understanding of the mechanisms of brain cell functions and heralded the dawn of behavioural genetics.

We heard from many scientists this week telling us about their rich association and life-changing interactions with Siddiqi. We put together some of these anecdotes in our feature “India mourns loss of ‘aristrocratic’ & gutsy molecular biology guru“.

And then we heard from science film maker Matiur Rahman, who has been tracking Siddiqi’s life sine 1983. Rahman was still a student of mass communication at Jamia Millia Islamia then. He sent us some rare pictures he has clicked of Siddiqi. And some more from the scientist’s personal archives. The most appropriate thing, then, was to invite him to write a guest blog that paid a pictorial tribute to the handsome biologist.

So, here’s Matiur Rahman’s impression of Obaid Siddiqi, with rare pictures, many of which will be seen by friends and colleagues for the first time:

13I first came to know about Prof. Obaid Siddiqi while researching about India’s top scientists for a TV programme. For some strange cosmic (read administrative) reason, the series never got produced. But my teacher Prof. James Alexander Beveridge, suggested I keep the theme alive for a future production.

In 1988, I was told that Prof Siddiqi would be visiting Hyderabad to participate in the inaugural function of the establishment of a new laboratory by the Council for Scientific and Industrial Research (CSIR). It was called the Centre for Cellular and Molecular Biology (CCMB) in Hyderabad.

Problem was, I had no idea what Prof. Siddiqi looked like. As I passed the administrative block at CCMB, I saw a huge scaffolding with a bamboo ladder leaning against it. A graceful old man was perched upon it with his back to me – it was the celebrated artiste M. F. Hussain, who looked down at me briefly before turning back to his canvas. Someone else stopped beside me to gawk at the spectacle — staring intently at the flying brush strokes of the master painter. I was about to ask him how Hussain, perched at such a height, could judge the viewpoint of a spectator on the ground.  Before I could do that, the man turned to me, eyed my odd looking camera and asked me what I was up to. It turned out that besides being a scientist, he had a keen interest in photography. That was how I first met Prof. Obaid Siddiqi. Pushing his spectacles up a bit, he said, “See you at the sessions”. And he was gone.

16Some 25 years later, we were walking again together. This time, not in Hyderabad. It was Bangalore and the location was the TIFR National Centre for Biological Sciences, which he helped found. As we walked from his lab to the canteen, Prof. Siddiqi spoke in measured tones, remembering how we had met years back. Nobel laureates from the world’s best known biology labs had flocked to Hyderabad to participate in CCMB’s inaugural function — among them were Francis Crick & Robert Edwards. When Prof. Siddiqi rose to speak, he presented a picture much unlike a typical scientist. He spoke right after Severo Ochoa, discoverer of the Kuru virus — a well-fed but stodgy fellow. In contrast, Prof Siddiqi looked dapper — handsomely lanky, with stylish wavy hair and a piercing look — he almost looked like the Bollywood heart throb Shashi Kapoor. Down in the audience, I was busy wrestling with our tapes and cameras. But secretly I was elated, that one of our own, was outshining the best and brightest in the molecular biology fraternity.

2In 2008, I met him again, to shoot a full television story on his life and times for a series we call “Mind Find”. He walked into his office with a graceful stoop, as if he was carrying an invisible load of huge books on his back. Sadly, this series is yet to see the light of day – I still haven’t found a sponsor or an affordable slot on any of our TV channels.

We watched him quietly, as he paused at his work table, looking blankly into the distance — like he was trying to remember something or maybe, planning his day.

Next, he peppered us with a barrage of questions — the interviewee was suddenly the interviewer. He wanted to know why I was so keen to tape him. He wanted to check if I knew any biology. Convinced we weren’t jokers, he opened up, and before I knew it, we were coasting through his past life, his journey in molecular biology.  How does a brain ‘know’ what it knows. How does it ‘remember’, how does it ‘store’ information, what chemical changes take place when nerve cells talk among themselves.  These were things that fascinated him — and in his telling, we got hooked ourselves.

3Interview over, it was time to get some glucose. Despite being the founding director of NCBS, he didn’t sit down in the VIP corner and order lunch. Instead he lined up with everybody else, holding that standard steel thali, till his turn came.

Switching to chaste Urdu, he chatted about his other interests – photography and sarod. Cricket took up so much of his time, he said, that he had to switch to tennis.

As I look back at those tapes today, I notice the good professor picked up just twenty five handsome wrinkles over the twenty five years that separated our two interviews.

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(Matiur Rahman can be contacted at matiurrahman@gmail.com)

Comments

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    Keshava Datta said:

    There might be a small mistake here.. CCMB was founded in 1977.. Can the author check please?