The MD theses, finally, are over. Focused research questions, great introductions, meticulous methods, well-laid out results and structured discussions. But what the theses won’t have this year is their most readable section – acknowledgements. The section, guides loved to leaf through in the close confines of their office. The section that boosted their self-esteem. The section that created an illusion in their mind that they were an embodiment of successful researchers, crafty clinicians and humane human beings.

Now that the residents are all set to submit their theses to the MUHS, Nashik, they would have to format the manuscript according to the revised rules and regulations. According to the MUHS, a thesis should be stripped off all identifiers: names, affiliations, and locations. The idea is that a manuscript, stripped of all identifiers would allow an unbiased and dispassionate review.

That is fine. Biases and prejudices do distort the assessment. But in the process, the University has deprived the guides of the pleasure that the acknowledgement section generated for decades.

Till recently, soon after the guides signed the thesis, and residents left behind (a parker pen) and a copy of fresh leather-bound thesis on their desk, the guides would quickly open the section that we were yearning to go through. No, this was not results, discussion or summary and conclusion. They were eyeing the acknowledgement section. They needed absolute privacy to read this section -word-by-word. For, they expected heaps of praise showered on them by their resident. And they were seldom disappointed.

What a wonderful series of adjectives the residents picked up to describe their guides- “brilliant, sparkling, knowledgeable, erudite, astuteโ€ฆ” Where else would the guides find those ego-pampering hyperboles: “lucky to have been trained under him”; “painstakingly explained and guided me at every step of my thesis”; “was an epitome of knowledge, wisdom and insight”; “his impeccable understanding of study designs and statistics helped me unravel the complexities of medical research”, or “it was dream come true to find such a mentor”!

For several years, I naively believed that these words came straight from the heart. Till a medicine lecturer shattered my blissful ignorance. “Residents write acknowledgments”, he said, “a couple of hours before they take the manuscript to the book-binder.” Tired, traumatized and tormented, they are no longer in a frame of mind that would let them write a creative prose. The baby – the thesis- is out but the placenta – the acknowledgments-needs to be delivered now. They need to design a section that would deftly disguise their guide’s whims, fancies, and idiosyncrasies. Instead, they want to paint their guides through the choicest of colours and hues. So who do they assign this task? In the good old days, a clever typist in the institute had a handful of ready-made templates โ€“ all that he needed to know was the guide and the department! Fervently typing 60-words a minute, in no time would he deftly generate an effusive acknowledgement, a write-up that would make an impressive reading. Sometimes, the residents would ask their convent-educated juniors to write flowery English. And now, with the Microsoft word on their laptops, residents have discovered that finding synonyms and paraphrasing the prose takes just a couple of mouse clicks!

And so, this week, as I would browse through my copy of the manuscript and try to find my way through the maze of graphs, tables and numbers, my eyes won’t find the section, so dear to my heart. The thesis, nameless and faceless, would lack those two pages that every guide privately read but never acknowledged in public.

Dear residents: do not destroy my illusory world. I will trust every sentence that you write to embellish your text. Do tell me that I did not acquire gray hair by a sudden flight; that my spectacular face showcases the distillate of clinical and research wisdom that I painstakingly gathered over years. Tell me that theses are tedious and irksome- even more difficult than twelve labours of Hercules- and but for me you would have toiled fruitlessly downward in the residency nights.