I write this brief biographical sketch of my father, Debabrata Basu, not understanding fully the contributions he made to statistical theory. I never had the knack for mathematics my brother did, and no one understood this better than my father. But I always did well in arithmetic, algebra and geometry only because my father took the time to sit down with me and explain why things were the way they were. He took issue with my teachers who favored learning by rote. "Never try to memorize formulas," he said. "They are a recipe for failure." As a young woman, I sat in on some of Baba's classes at the Indian Statistical Institute and at Florida State University. The classroom is where my father felt most at ease; the slight stammer that grew more pronounced when he was nervous faded when he faced his students. I could see how they admired him and how beloved he was as a teacher. Unlike most of my professors who stood at a podium and unfurled tattered notes from worn leather briefcases, Baba rarely used any reference materials or books even. He spoke from memory, as effortlessly as he breathed air. He told his students to stop taking so many notes and instead, give their undivided attention to his examples and counterexamples. He told them to question everything. He despised examinations. Instead, he often asked his students to come chat with him in his office during which he would assess the full breadth of the knowledge they had gained. Anirban Dasgupta, who was a student of Baba's at ISI, edited Selected Works of Debabrata Basu, published in 2011. In the book's introduction, Dasgupta wrote that my father's classes were "the best I have ever taken on any subject in my life." Another student, Gaurisankar Raychaudhuri, wrote about my father in an ISI alumni newsletter: "The novelty of his teaching was remarkable. He would reduce any complex problem to a simple coin-tossing or a dice-rolling problem. I found this to be the outcome of a rare quality and wisdom." 0123456789().: V,-vol