In the good old days, life in Sevagram was simple. The roads were dusty, the air always hot, and the village felt far removed from bustling cities. Yet amidst this simplicity, something rare filled the air—humility.
Once upon a time, the heads of departments and deans were more than just figures of authority. They were approachable, connected to the people they served, and didn’t hesitate to step down from their offices to do the little things—like meeting a young applicant at the railway station.
Dr. Rajkumar, the head of Surgery in the 1970s, was one such leader. In the summer of 1973, Dr. Ravinder Narang, a young surgeon trained at PGI and AIIMS, had come for a faculty interview for the position of Reader in Surgery. After spending a night on the boys’ hostel terrace, battling mosquitoes, he was certain of one thing—he wanted to leave. The dusty roads, bland food, and hut-like homes held no allure for him.
After the interview, with his suitcase in hand and selection letter in his pocket, Dr. Narang stood at Wardha East station, ready to board the GT to Delhi. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘐 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘚𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘮, he thought. But then, he heard the roar of a Lambretta. Dr. Rajkumar appeared, his face filled with urgency. “Please don’t go,” he pleaded. “Stay for six more months. We need you. Things will get better.”
Dr. Narang hesitated, but Dr. Rajkumar’s sincerity won him over. He agreed, and before long, Sevagram became his home. Dr. Narang spent the rest of his life there, becoming known for his extraordianry surgical skill.
Was this just an isolated story? Far from it. Ten years later, history was destined to repeat itself. In 1983, young Jayaram Anbalagan, an Anatomy teacher from Vijayawada, arrived for a faculty interview. As the train stopped, he was surprised to see Dr. K.S. Sachdeva, the dean, waiting for him at the railway platform. There were no phones, WhatsApp messages or emails—just a telegram and an old-fashioned, warm welcome.
Anbalagan was selected, quickly grew fond of the college, and spent 23 years teaching at Sevagram, where his students still remember his unforgettable lessons.
Without the Deans, their scooters, and that human touch, would Dr. Narang and Dr. Anbalagan have become a part of Sevagram’s legacy?