
The old principal’s office, once the heart of MGIMS in 1969, is now nothing more than a pile of rubble.
Today it lies in ruins.
In 1969, when MGIMS began, the principal’s office was a plain two-room building. It stood quietly next to the old hospital, where the Community Medicine department is now, almost touching Adhyayan Mandir. There was nothing fancy about it. It blended into the surroundings, barely noticed.
Yesterday, that quiet dignity met a dusty end. A JCB reduced the building to rubble—bricks, walls, doors, windows, everything. The foundation had grown weak, the walls cracked, and the structure had aged beyond repair. Like an old, rusted machine, it had served its purpose and was ready to be laid to rest.
For me, the building held special memories. In 1973, I cycled from Wardha to Sevagram along a narrow tar road, flanked by open fields and the occasional tree. I had come to collect the MGIMS entrance form. The building stood just off the Sevagram Ashram Road, marked by an iron gate known as ‘54 gates,’ after the office phone number. Inside, the air smelled of old paper and damp walls. Wooden almirahs lined the room, and simple tables and chairs completed its sparse furniture. I handed over Rs 10 for the form, filled it out, and submitted it there.
Dr. I.D. Singh was the principal then. A tall, khadi-clad Sardar, he was soft-spoken and modest, a gentle soul. He balanced his admin duties with a spiritual side, leading evening bhajans and playing the harmonium with quiet grace. His warmth left a mark all who met him.
At that time, MGIMS shared its entrance exam with AIIMS and BHU Varanasi. In the summer of 1973, I took my exam in Nagpur and waited for the results. I cleared the first round and was called for an interview. But by then, I had already joined GMC Nagpur. I never attended the MGIMS interview. I wasn’t destined to be an MGIMS alumnus.
Life moved on.
Yet, that little office lingered in my thoughts. Its simplicity and warmth stayed with me over the years. It wasn’t just a building; it was a witness to dreams and beginnings. The first MGIMS batches would always remember that.
As the dust rose, it felt as though a piece of history was being carried away. Time moves on. Old things make way for the new. The building is gone, but its spirit—rooted in simplicity and purpose—remains in my memories.
It took me back to July 1971 when I attended my interview for the lecturer’s job. Dr. I.D. Singh, Dr. K.K. Trivedi, and Dr. Nigam were on the panel in the same building where my destiny was decided. Between the office and Dharmanand Hostel, where the first-year lady students stayed, there was a tennis court that once hosted university matches.
Dr. I.D. Singh was a talented singer and often played the harmonium. I still remember him singing ‘मन तड़पत हरि दर्शन को आज’ in Raag Malkauns. He also enjoyed playing bridge, and I had the chance to be his partner, playing against Behenji.
This building will always hold a special place in my memories.
Lovely write-up!
Thank you, Sir, for sharing these memories. The building means a lot to all of us, and your story of the July ’71 interview brings it all back. Dr. I.D. Singh’s singing, the harmonium, and the tennis court are unforgettable. It’s lovely to hear about your time playing bridge with him. These memories will always stay with us. Good old days.
You are the perfect link between our glorious history and the bright future of MGIMS, keeping each of us deeply connected to the roots of Sevagram. Warm regards! 🙏
Thank you so much for your kind words!
This evokes such mixed feelings. I can relate—I’ve seen the buildings of both the schools where I studied being demolished, only to be replaced by new ones. I’ve had similar experiences with ancestral homes too.
It really does stir up mixed feelings. There’s a sense of loss, almost like saying goodbye to a part of yourself, especially when it’s tied to memories like school or an ancestral home. It’s bittersweet—a reminder of how time moves on, even when we wish it wouldn’t.
Dr. Yogendra Pal,
I feel deeply sorry—some heritage buildings should have been preserved. My heart aches. If Gandhi Kutir could be preserved, why not these structures? They hold memories of the early days when MGIMS began.
I still remember joining MGIMS in 1969. Our college started with a big hall where we used to do dissections. Dr. Kane was our first professor of Anatomy. For many of these buildings, we contributed through shramdaan.
It’s heartbreaking to hear this. 😢😢
Yes, I remember staying there for a day or two. It saddens me to see that while the hospital has grown with state-of-the-art technology, little has been done to maintain the beauty of the landscape. The nearby park looks like a ruin, the tennis court lies barren, and many places feel abandoned.
I wish efforts were made to preserve nature and enhance the surroundings so that those returning to visit could still feel the warmth and charm of the place. 🙏🎉✨
Nostalgic.
Dear Dr. Kalantri, once again, a masterpiece that brought back so many memories! I took the exam in Delhi and was selected for MGIMS in 1973. I’ve completely forgotten what the fee structure was at MGIMS in those days. Could you help me recall?
Feeling nostalgic! I too studied in this building at KVM. Where is the Dean’s office located now?
The Dean’s office is part of a complex housing all administrative offices, including those of the Secretary, Accounts, and Engineering. Close to Kasturba Vidya Mandir, Type 2 quarters, and Vivekanand Colony. You might have overlooked that the Dean’s office has been there since the 1980s, long before you joined MGIMS.
I remember staying here for a month pending allotment in kabir colony in Nov ’89.
Yes, I joined in 1970. This was the office back then. Late Mr. Deshmukh was a clerk at the time, and Dr. I.D. Singh was the Principal. He used to sing with a harmonium, “तू प्यार का सागर है, तेरी इक बूंद के प्यासे हम.”
I was also called for the interview, but like you, I had already been admitted to GMC.
You’re destined to be the opening batsman of the class of 1973 at GMC Nagpur!
Kindly send all the pictures of old hostel ,and the college. The last I saw them were in 1969 batch silver jubilee function that was organised in Sevagram in1995.
Great write-up, as always.
Our 75th batch shared the entrance exam with AIIMS and BHU. The interview was held here in Sewagram, and we traveled on a rainy day from Wardha to reach this location. We sheltered ourselves in the same simple office, protecting our documents from the showers. That evening, we celebrated the results.
The building, simple yet serene, made a strong impression, and we visited it many times.
Sir, your excellent description has made me nostalgic and refreshed the great connection we share.
Thank you, Dr. Kapil Gupta, for your kind words. It’s always a pleasure to hear from you and to reflect on the shared experiences that have shaped our journey. Your thoughts are much appreciated.
I arrived in 1983 with my nomination letter for admission from the state government. KS Sachdev was the Dean at that time. I met an official—someone named Gawli, I believe—and completed the admission process.
I must admit, I felt a bit disheartened seeing the office that day.
However, I soon adapted and spent many memorable years there. Today, I find myself reminiscing about those golden days—the teachers, seniors, classmates, juniors, staff, and, of course, the entire MGIMS family.
Sir, you have beautifully captured the nostalgic feelings that I experience whenever I walk or run through these lanes where I grew up and completed my education, from Nursery to MD! Whenever I am in Sevagram, I jog to the Ashram and beyond to complete my quota of 10 km on alternate days. I rest under the shade of the lone banyan tree still standing in front of quarters No. 12 and 13 of the MLK colony, where I spent my childhood playing during summer holidays with other children. The tree’s familiar scent transports me back to a time when life was simpler, yet no less precious, and its enduring presence reminds me of the journey I’ve traveled, from innocence to experience!
It’s heartwarming to read your nostalgic reflection, Dipti. I live just behind the banyan tree where you rest, so feel free to drop by whenever you’re catching your breath—I’m sure it will add even more to your cherished memories of Sevagram!