Good morning and Jay Shree Krishna everyone,

On behalf of my mother Tara Vyas, my sister Nimisha Bhatt, and all of us who loved him deeply—thank you very much for being here today to celebrate the life of our father, Arunkumar Bhogilal Vyas.

We’re grateful that so many family members and friends could be here today—including his youngest brother Jayprakash Vyas and so many of our extended Vyas and Bhatt family who made the journey from near and far. Your presence means the world to us.

Dad was in good health and sharp-minded right up to a few months ago. Mom and he would go on daily walks together, and they never missed their weekly shopping trips to the nearby stores. But he contracted a lower back infection which gradually limited his mobility and finally required hospitalization. We were fortunate to bring him home and celebrate his 90th birthday on April 9th, surrounded by the whole family.

A week ago, we had to take him back to the hospital due to a chest infection. Initially, he seemed to be improving—but he began to decline rapidly in the last 2 days. Mom, Nimisha, and I were fortunate to be with him on the last day. We took him for a chair ride around the hospital floor, fed him kadhi, bhat, and shaak—along with his favorite shrikhand—before putting him to bed on Sunday night. A few hours later, while he was asleep, his heart slowly stopped. Dad passed away relatively peacefully in the early morning hours of April 28th.

Dad was born in 1935 in the beautiful coastal city of Mombasa, Kenya, to Bhogilal Chhotalal Vyas—the second of 8 children; they were five brothers and 3 sisters. Like his father before him, my dad became a school teacher. He taught thousands of high school children while in Kenya for 30 years before migrating to the US in 1986 so that Nimisha and I could have a better life. Mom and Dad settled in Frederick, Maryland, and they later moved to New Jersey to be closer to both Nimisha and me.

As the eldest son in Kenya, he started teaching at 19, and took over supporting the Vyas family after my grandfather retired—making sure that all his younger siblings were educated and supported as they grew up and started their own families.

Since my grandfather was very strict about whom he could marry, he and Mom patiently waited over 10 years before they finally got married in 1969. During that time, he raised his nephew and niece (Bimal and Kuku) as his own children—and continued in the same spirit with other nephews, nieces, cousins, and family friends—always making sure they were able to reach their highest potential in education and life in general.

He was a man of calm strength, quiet discipline, and deep devotion—to his immediate family, to his principles, and to the extended Vyas family and friends. He wasn’t someone who sought the spotlight, but the light in him always shone through. Whether it was the way he greeted people with warmth and genuine interest, or how he remained steady in moments of chaos—our father embodied grace under pressure.

He was deeply committed to family—devoted to living with humility and faith. But he never forced his beliefs on anyone. He loved meeting people—and socializing and maintaining relations with distant family and friends.

He loved to travel all over the world—and made sure to visit with family and friends and distant relatives everywhere he travelled. He liked simple pleasures—like going on a picnic or going swimming in the ocean, visiting safari parks and national parks. That spirit of joy and connection shaped who we are today—and continues to guide us as a family.

As a father, he gave us both space and structure. He didn’t lecture—he lived with quiet integrity. Never scolding or punishing us but thoughtfully taking time to explain everything. And his humility and kindness left a stronger impression with everyone than any words ever could. He was the anchor of our family and the entire BC Vyas family—steady, dependable, and always there when it mattered most. He was "Jee"—the best father, beloved uncle and favorite grandfather.

Over the last 2 years, I had the privilege of living with him and Mom, and spending more time with him than I had in many years since I left for college. Nimisha and I saw his vulnerability, his strength, and most of all—his love—for his children and grandchildren, extended family, and friends. Even in pain, he carried himself with dignity. And even when words became few, his eyes spoke volumes.

When someone passes, we often say we’ve lost them. And we have definitely lost a great soul. But I don’t believe I’ve lost my father. I carry him with me—in my choices, in my values, in my voice, in my heart. I see him in the faces of my children, in the family traditions and rituals we continue, and in the silence between breaths.

He taught me how to live—and now, in his passing, he’s teaching us how to let go with love. If we as a family have achieved anything, it is because we have stood on the shoulders of a giant.

So today, we don’t just mourn—we honor and celebrate. We remember. And we thank him.

Thank you, Dad, for everything. For your life, your love, and your unwavering presence. We are better because of you.

Jay Shree Krishna.

Om Shanti. Om Shanti. Om Shanti.

Send to someone

Share this obituary with others

https://everloved.com/life-of/arunkumar-vyas/obituary/

Copy