Sahadev Chirayath Funeral & Expenses Fundraiser

My dad, Sahadev Anthony Chirayath, died in my arms January 26, 2024 in California. Just as he held me on his chest after I was born, I held him in his final moments. He was surrounded by those who love him, and died nearly four years to the day after my sister Leila passed, and two years after his brother Verghese. I am heartbroken by his loss, but now even more grateful for all the gifts he gave me, my sister, my mother, and so many countless others in his life.

When I detected a new extrasolar planet in high school, our family name Chirayath was given to an asteroid, a remnant of our solar system’s formation, to honor my father. My dad drove his motorcycle up to the top of Mt. Piños, hours from our apartment, to join me on countless freezing nights behind the telescope, bringing me food and a shared fascination for the cosmos as I doggedly pursued what many thought was a lost cause for a kid. My father often did not have the technical expertise to help, but never wavered in his faith in my abilities. We nearly careened off the mountainside once when dad came to my rescue after everything had iced over one week and I was trapped. Dad sparked a passion for science and exploration in me that guides my soul and career to this day. My father treated me like a Pinball Wizard in his finest moments and I am so proud to be his son. My dad’s Malayali surname, Chirayath, meaning people of the sea, now sails amongst the stars in the outer asteroid belt. The asteroid’s eccentric orbit befits an individual who readily offered the mnemonic ‘SA DEV, like sardonic devil,’ to anyone who cared to ask how to say his name.

My father was fundamentally a poet. He published several pieces of writing, but the buildings he designed, upon which our society depends, were also poetic. He was a foundation to me, and as a structural engineer, to countless others on California’s unstable ground. Dad held his reverse Polish notation calculator in the same high regard as the greatest architects, poets, philosophers, and musicians of this world. So many are the beneficiaries of the buildings and bridges and countless other structures he gave life to with a passion that has me photographing joists and joints to this day.

His attitude in life he would like to say is like his blood type, B+. Dad cycled the country with his friends, wrote plays and poetry, strummed the sarod, took us camping, and inspired his children to pursue their wildest ambitions with fervor, discipline, and frugality. He did this while navigating a foreign country, America, that was not always welcoming to him, but which he loved like no other, carrying everywhere a copy of the constitution and instilling in his children an appreciation for a country that welcomed the world’s tired, hungry, and poor; its huddled masses yearning to breathe free. My father lived the American Dream and was one of the greatest patriots I knew. At once, he was ever proud of his India, the largest democracy in the world he would remind us, intoning the national motto Satyameva Jayate, ‘truth alone triumphs.’

The amazing education I was able to receive from Stanford and Moscow State University in Russia taught me about the wonders of the universe and Dad was always there when my scholarships and jobs couldn’t make the bills. I learned that the brightest stars live the shortest lives. Dad’s favorite through my telescope was Sirius, its brilliance, like his, radiating with the light of dozens of suns. I relished every minute with my father, from the Shakespeare, Bulleh Shah, and James Joyce he would recite to me, to the Indian music concerts that suffused my childhood in ragas, starched kurtas, and incense that would whirl together well into the early hours of the morning.

Dad, your core elements are the stuff of stardust, the result of cosmic grand events, mergers of neutron stars and supernovae. You were my cosmic gift, your stardust giving me life and a yearning for exploring this universe, pursuing my dreams, and fulfilling the wildest hopes of your ancestors. You always called me Captain and envisioned me blasting off to Mars. I am living the American dream you created for us. I work for NASA, invent new technologies to explore our world, look for life within and beyond Earth, and have become a professor and National Geographic Explorer. I owe so much of this to you know you were so proud of me. I am sorry you will not get to meet your grandchildren, but so much of you lives on in me that I feel you will guide their lives and values too.

Ved: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NdZcvZXmt7U

Sahadev was also proud of his daughter, Leila Chirayath. He supported her through Harvard and every time she was stranded or in need, from Ghana to Brazil to Cuba and DC. Leila tackled head on some of the greatest inequities in the world that my father exposed us to through trips to India, his own story, and always reminding us of Juvenal’s “luxury is more ruthless than war.” Leila was taken from us too early and it was one of my father’s greatest sorrows.

Leila: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oQZJ4ot4ONQ

My dad was loathe to ever ask for help, a trait he passed on me. He always gave so generously to friends and family, without expectation. He invoked ‘neither a borrower nor lender be,’ whenever I questioned him emptying his retirement and savings for others in need. This generosity was inspiring. In his final act, he donated his organs, corneas, bones, and other parts of his body so that others could see, heal, and live once more.

Yet, this generosity also resulted in my dad having no resources left in his final decade. When he could no longer support himself and had medical issues that prevented him from working, my husband, Andrew, and I bought him a home, paid all his medical and living expenses, and became his primary caretakers.

My family and I would be eternally grateful if you are able to contribute to my father’s memorial service, cremation, and care expenses. I am organizing a service for Dad this summer in the San Francisco Bay Area so we can all gather and commemorate the amazing man he was to us all. I shall keep you updated once I am able to make the arrangements, but anticipate holding a service in Palo Alto in late May 2024.

I miss you dad. Rhombu Thanks Muruga.