Holi in Sevagram always brings back memories of Dr. M. L. Sharma—the man who taught pharmacology with flair and led MGIMS through its formative years, shaping the college well beyond its adolescence.
In the classroom, Dr. Sharma was a performer. Anyone who learned pharmacology from him will tell you—it wasn’t just a subject; it was a spectacle. He didn’t lecture; he entertained, weaving humor and sharp wit into every lesson. A joke here, a story there, and suddenly, the toughest drug mechanisms made perfect sense. The lab wasn’t just a place for experiments; it was his stage. Even after retirement, he would stroll into classrooms, his presence commanding yet familiar. “My class is an orchestra,” he would say with a twinkle in his eye, “and I just make sure everyone plays their part.”
As Principal, Dr. Sharma was an entirely different force. Always impeccably turned out in his khadi bush shirt, trousers, and sandals, his signature sleeveless coat added a touch of quiet authority. He walked the fine line between discipline and understanding, navigating student antics and faculty concerns with equal measures of firmness and empathy. His office door was always open—sometimes for a reprimand, often for a joke, but always with a listening ear. He had a remarkable knack for knowing when to rein in troublemakers, when to let things slide, and when to throw in a chuckle to lighten the mood.
But on Holi, Dr. Sharma shed both the white chalk of the classroom and the blue pen of the Principal’s office to revel in unrestrained color. Gone was the buttoned-up administrator; in his place emerged the true celebrant. His square jaw, bushy eyebrows, and thick-framed glasses—usually so composed—dissolved into streaks of pinks, greens, and yellows. Holi in Sevagram in the ’70s and ’80s meant one thing: Sharma-special jokes. Drenched in color, cross-legged on the ground, he spun stories that left students in stitches. He wasn’t just a teacher then; he was one of them, laughing, playing, and living the festival as only he could.
Even now, decades later, old students still hear his voice, still see the colors, still feel the joy. Dr. M. L. Sharma wasn’t just a teacher, a principal, or a mentor—he was an era. And what an unforgettable era it was.
