Some physicians are known to write creatively, taking up pen alongside their stethoscopes. Ulhas Jajoo belongs to that creed. A Writer-physician or a physician-writer.
This week, Ulhas had his four Hindi books published. He writes about the people he admired, and those who shaped his life and times. He also picks up thoughts and narrations from the diary he kept, and the essays he wrote.
I browsed through all the four books. Having known Ulhas for five decades, his write-ups do not evoke a sense of unfamiliarity. All through these years, I have had the privilege of working with him, listening to his words and analysing his unusual approach to life.
This four-volume collection offers us a way to better understand not only one of MGIMS’s most-admired physicians, but also the people and experiences that influenced his work.
The book that I found difficult to put down was Patra Manjusha—the bunch of letters. The hand-written letters, almost all of them in Hindi, carry his signature style. Letter writing has become somewhat of a dying art in the modern world with WhatsApp, Facebook and cell phones conspiring to wreck the pleasure of handwritten letters. Ulhas’s letter present a whiff of nostalgia as he pens his views on wide-ranging subjects. The letters he wrote to Namita and Sumedh—his children, and their spouses— are indeed touching. Drenched with his deep love and affection, and coloured by his value-based philosophy, these letters come straight from the heart—not artificially adorned by pretentious prose. It is almost Ulhas talking with them face-to-face— the children all eyes and ears to him—gently guiding them in their lives, without ever appearing to be intrusive or patronising. They are heart touching, almost lyrical, and full of emotion—personal, intimate, and unflinchingly honest.
I realised that this book is Ulhas in his own voice—clean and compassionate—and nothing could be better than that. His words define what it means to be a father, a husband, a son, a colleague, a teacher, a friend and a guide.
I was thrilled to find a letter he wrote to me four years ago, when I had posted a blog post on my failed 200- km cycling adventure. And I was equally pleased to find a blog that I wrote in 2012, describing his struggle to cope with an incessant stream of loved ones who would come to see him when he had met with a minor accident.
Ulhas at times speaks and writes stuff that is a bit nuanced and complicated. We need to go over his words repeatedly to figure out the spiritual message he wishes to deliver. But, his letters— well, they bring so much pleasure reading—are remarkably succinct. Featuring 186 A-4 sized pages of letters that reveal a sense of purpose and a journey, the Patra manjusha is an awe-inspiring collection one wants to read again and again.
Whether he is ruminating on life and relationships, the travails and tribulations of medical profession, importance of self-reliance, greener environment, resurrecting Nai Talim, organic farming, khadi or himself, Ulhas’ letters ooze with his signature style and uncanny ability to see the world in an entirely different light. From his early Sevagram days through four decades of stint at MGIMS to his life in Wardha and Sevagram—these letters drip with freshness, intensity and sincerity that Ulhas has displayed all his life.
One gets a glimpse inside of the mind and heart of a khadi-clad, chappal-wearing startlingly smart small-town physician who is as easy talking with the villagers in their huts as he is teaching medical students at the patients ‘bedside.
My admiration for Ulhas grew several fold, almost overnight, as I finished reading his letters – a vivid display of the lost art of letter writing. I am so happy Ulhas never took to the keyboard and has no WhatsApp in his phone!
