In today’s world, naming a baby is almost a competitive sport. Parents meticulously curate lists, debate meanings, consult astrologers, and even conduct online polls before settling on the perfect name. But in the 1970s, in the sleepy yet bustling medical campus of Sevagram, things were… different.
Dr. Shashi Prabha Ahuja—better known as Dr. S.P. Ahuja—was a well-loved paediatrician at Sevagram from 1973 to 1981. She taught paediatrics along with Dr. Mrs. Pushpa Chaturvedi, Dr. V. R. Deshmukh, and later Dr. A.P. Dubey. She and her husband, Dr. S.C. Ahuja, an orthopedician, came from Ludhiana and quickly became part of the Sevagram family. It was here that their two sons, Nitin and Tushar, were born.
Now 83, Dr. Ahuja’s memories remain vivid. She recalls the joy of welcoming her children into the world, but what stands out most isn’t their birth—it’s the fact that she and her husband didn’t name them.
That honour went to Manimala Choudhary, fondly known as 𝘊𝘩𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘪 𝘉𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘪—a name that meant “Little Sister” but was laced with irony. Far from being 𝘊𝘩𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘪, she was a towering figure in the organization, a woman with an uncanny ability to make things happen.
Dr. Ahuja chuckles, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Back then, parents didn’t fuss over naming their children. We were just delighted that someone as esteemed as Chhoti Behenji chose the names for us!”
To today’s parents—obsessed with baby name meanings, numerology, and star alignments—this might sound unthinkable. A mother letting another woman name her children? Impossible! But in Sevagram, life was built on trust. The hospital, the college, and the society weren’t just institutions; they were an extended family.
Chhoti Behenji was the kind of person who didn’t ask—she decided. And when she took one look at Dr. Ahuja’s newborns and declared, “Nitin and Tushar,” that was that.
No endless discussions, no frantic calls to grandparents, no flipping through baby name books. Just a nod, a smile, and two little boys who would carry a piece of Sevagram’s legacy in their names.
Would today’s parents allow such a thing? Probably not. But for Dr. Ahuja and many others of that era, life wasn’t measured in choices—it was measured in the love and trust of the people who stood beside them.
And maybe, just maybe, there was something beautiful about that.
