I was 13 when I had to go to Delhi from my boarding school for a national debate competition. The school would figure out the travel but we had to find our own places to stay.

Trouble was, I didn’t know anyone in Delhi who I could stay with. This risked me getting cut from the team. Weird, I know. But that’s how it was for some reason.

A couple of months prior to this competition, we had a few visiting students from Doon and some students from schools in Delhi who were staying on campus.

These kids were the best of the best in their schools. The Doon kids were headed off to Harvard. Top grades, very well read, excellent mentors.

Out of the kids from Delhi, one kid stood out. A really tall, handsome boy with a funny gait. Who spoke very well and had incredible clarity of thought for someone who was just 17 (I think).

His name was Pavan Singh Ahluwalia. The son of Montek Singh Ahluwalia. I didn’t really know then what that meant but I remember someone telling me that he was Mr. Manmohan Singh’s right hand man.

We’d all spent a lot of time with each other over the past few weeks and Pavan very sweetly offered to have me stay at his house in Delhi.

Grateful for not having to drop out, I agreed.

I slept in Pavan’s room (he was still back in my school).

His room is still etched into my brain. A tiny little room lined by bookshelves. And the entire bookshelves filled with National Geographic magazines.

I’d never seen so many in my life. A sea of the most beautiful yellow.

His mother welcomed me warmly into their home. This strange Gujarati kid that she’d never met. And asked me what’s meal preferences were.

(She even made her younger son, Aman, take me to Wimpy’s for a burger).

The only uncomfortable bit was their dog, Sultan (if I remember correctly) who was in heat and kept humping my leg.

Of the few nights I stayed with them, Mr. Montek Singh Ahluwalia came home just one night. And we had dinner together.

Spaghetti. Surrounded by framed newspaper cartoons of him.

I was mesmerized by that household. Curios collected from travels abroad. The stimulating conversation. Books everywhere. The warmth shown to a scrawny boarding school stranger.

When it came time to say goodbye, I thanked Pavan’s Mum profusely. I never knew what she did for a living. I didn’t even know she was famous. I just thought she was incredibly gracious.

She gave me a little gift as I left. A small magnetic travel puzzle, Tangram. I still have it to this day.

My daughter plays with it now.

Today I learnt that Pavan’s Mum passed away after a long illness.

And although I’ve had no contact with them since I left their home all those years ago, it made me sad.

RIP #IsherJudgeAhluwalia

Thank you for being kind to me.