Namaste. Hamjambo. Sat sri akal. As Salaam Alaikum. Yalli madat. Good afternoon.

I am Amar Vidyarthi, and I am Sudhir and Nana’s eldest son.

Perhaps the only thing bigger than my father’s heart was his circle of family and friends. He was a man who would do anything for family, and who had friends from every walk of life. My dad was blind to race, caste, creed, gender, societal status, and religion. He cared deeply for his family and for friends. He loved spending time with them. Chatting on the phone (sometimes endlessly it seemed). Sending them messages.

He never forgot a name or a face, and – even though his memory started to fail him a little in recent years – he still could amaze us all with his recall.  He had a lifetime of stories that he loved to share.

The messages have been pouring in from those friends and family from around the world.

And – beyond sadness and condolences – there is one common thread, that my father always remembered them and made the effort to stay in touch… with so many people and for so many years. It has been an incredible testament to his genuine love for his family and his friends… and of course a testament to the wonder that is WhatsApp!

It is fitting therefore that we are joined today by so many people from all over the world, both here in person and online. I would like to acknowledge each and every one of you –– for honouring my dad with your presence. My mother Nana, my brothers Juna and Gautam, my sisters Poonam and Mercy, my nieces Amisha, Aaria, Saaya and Zuri, my nephew Vinnie, and I all thank you on behalf of our entire family.

My partner Shalini always says that it is not important to live a long life, but it is important that one should live a full life, a big life. My father was one of the lucky few who got to do both.

How then can I do justice to such a life – how do I tell the life story of one of life’s best storytellers. Please allow me to try.

Sudhir Kumar Vidyarthi was born in 1945 in Elementaita, where his mother’s family lived, and he grew up in Nairobi. As a young man he also lived in Tanzania when he first started working, and then in Uganda – a country he considered his second home – from where he had to flee Idi Amin’s regime as a refugee to the Netherlands and then on to the UK for a brief stint before returning to Kenya where he spent most of his life.

Dad never finished his formal schooling (I am told his teachers were relieved that he left early) but he made up for this through his voracious thirst for knowledge. He religiously read all the daily newspapers each morning, dropped everything for the evening news bulletin on TV, and had an obsession with the BBC World Service. It is no wonder that his business life came to revolve around printing and the media!

He was an entrepreneur who started his business journey while still in shorts, selling eggs around the neighbourhood.  Over the years, he was involved in many ventures and companies, eventually helping to build the family business Colourprint – now Chrome Partners – whilst also playing a key role as a founding shareholder at Radio Africa Group where he served as Vice-Chairman for over 20 years, and as chairman of EastFM.

He was also a political activist – perhaps taking inspiration from his own father the newspaper publisher and freedom fighter, Girdhari Lal Vidyarthi – and, along with his brothers Kul Bushan and Anil, he courageously took a stand against the Moi government, providing a platform for seminal publications such as Viva Magazine, The People, Finance and others. In this way, dad, his brothers, and Colourprint, played a critical role in Kenya’s second liberation, helping to usher in multi-party democracy. He was also an active member of civil society and served his community in many ways, including as a founder member of the Asian African Heritage Trust, where he helped to advance the cause of the Asian community in Kenya.

Dad always worked hard, “kal ka kaam aaj karo aur aaj ka kaam abhi”, he would tell us. “Do tomorrow’s work today, do today’s work now”.

But he wasn’t all about the work.

He had a passion for Urdu poetry that started when he was teenager. He could spend hours reciting shers and shairis from memory and always seemed to have an appropriate couplet, ghazal, or poem for each occasion. One of the things he loved most was sharing this passion with likeminded friends and I think at least half of his WhatsApp traffic must have been messages and videos about poetry that he sent all around the world.

He also loved to cook and to eat and to entertain. And he was truly a fantastic cook. So much so that I remember several occasions when we were invited by friends for a homecooked meal only to find out that dad was the one who was expected to do the cooking!

My father was perhaps most in his element holding court at a koroga, telling stories and jokes (mostly naughty ones) for hours on end. Supported always by our mum to whom he was married for 48 years. She quietly organised everything in the background, cooked all the accompanying dishes and desserts, playing the consummate hostess. Steadfastly by his side as she was for their 48-year long marriage.

As my siblings and I grew older, mum and dad opened their home, their deck at Hill View, and their hearts to our friends. We were very fortunate to have a father (and a mother) who allowed us to have fun at home – and who often joined the party! “Your parents are so cool,” is something we heard a lot, and so many of our friends have shared their memories of these times with us over the last few days.

Ultimately, my dad was all about people. And we – his family and friends – are his true legacy. His story lives on through us. And now it is for all of us to remember his story… his life… and the way he lived it.

So, my request to you all, is to please honour his memory by telling a joke, sharing a meal, calling or messaging a friend you haven’t spoken to for a while, reading some poetry, listening to a ghazal, or just spending time with family.

Perhaps we can all learn from my dad’s story and each live our lives as fully as we can.

As fully as he did.  

As read by Amar at his father Sudhir’s funeral on 17 August 2025