How did students get into MGIMS five decades ago? I asked a senior professor of pharmacology—an alumnus of the MGIMS Class of 1970—and he shared his story. It’s a charming throwback to simpler times, full of serendipity, sincerity, and a touch of destiny.
𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙖 𝙋𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙣’𝙨 𝙎𝙤𝙣 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝘿𝙤𝙘𝙩𝙤𝙧
The year was 1969.
I hadn’t even heard of Sevagram.
Back then, I was chasing engineering. Maths was my stream in Higher Secondary, and I had topped the VRCE engineering merit list—Rank One. That should’ve been it. But my father—strict, uniformed, resolute—had other ideas. He wanted a doctor in the family.
So, I gave in. Enrolled in First Year BSc Biology at the Institute of Science, Nagpur. It felt like diving into unfamiliar waters, and I was barely afloat. The year passed, exams came and went, and then—something happened.
My father, a police inspector, got transferred from Yavatmal to Wardha.
We packed our things, shifted to our new house, and I was sent on a mundane chore—to find a flour mill and get wheat ground. I took the tin and wandered through the bylanes of Wardha, searching for the thump-thump rhythm of a chakki.
And then—fate stepped in.
In the queue at the mill, I saw a familiar face—one of my BSc classmates from Nagpur. Smiles. Surprise. Laughter. A quick catching up.
Then he asked, “Did you apply for MBBS at Sevagram?”
Sevagram?
I hadn’t even known there was a third medical college in Vidarbha. Admission cutoffs at Nagpur medical colleges were out of reach for my 60.4%. But here was another door, cracked slightly open.
“Last date must be close,” he warned.
I ran home, told my father. Next morning, he put on his police uniform and took me straight to the MGIMS office in Sevagram. I still remember walking in beside him—me nervous, he firm.
The last date had passed.
But after a conversation with Principal I.D. Singh, a late application was allowed. I filled it on the spot, paid the ₹100 late fee, and walked out clutching an admit card. The exam was just nine days away.
Nine days.
I hadn’t studied Physics. At all.
On exam day in Nagpur, Physics questions looked like Sanskrit. I couldn’t even finish the paper. I walked out with no hope.
And still—I ranked 5th. All India.
Then came the interview. My cousin in Nagpur had a friend—Rajendra Shukla, a committed communist—who got testimonials from social activists like Saroj Khaparde and Mr. Purohit. They also coached me for the interview, even taught me how to talk about “social service.”
The interview wasn’t in a hall, but in a modest house just opposite the college gate. Inside sat a panel: Principal I.D. Singh, both Behenjis (Dr Sushila Nayar and Manimala Chaudhari) , Santoshraoji Gode (President, Zila Parishad, Wardha), Rafique Zakaria and Pratibha Patil (Cabinet Ministers in Maharashtra state) , a few Gandhian elders, maybe some more.
They asked why I wanted to join MGIMS.
I told the truth. “My father wants me to be a doctor. This is my last chance.”
They looked at the testimonials. Someone asked, “What did you actually do during the Mominpura communal conflict?”
“Whatever Rajendra Shukla asked me to,” I replied.
More questions. Then Pratibha Patil leaned forward, asked softly, “What does your father do?”
“Police inspector.”
She smiled.
“That is social service, boy!”
The room broke into laughter.
Days passed. I traveled with my father to Hinganghat, where he had been posted. We were staying at the police station, eating whatever Pathak Auntie cooked in the back quarters.
Then the postman arrived.
A telegram.
PROVISIONALLY SELECTED.
The whole police station burst into celebration. Sweets were distributed like it was Diwali. Someone shouted, “Even a policeman’s son can make it!”
And I? I stood there quietly, telegram in hand, heart hammering in disbelief.
I had made it. 𝗕𝗮𝗷𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗽𝗿𝗮𝘀𝗮𝗱 𝗟. 𝗣𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝘆. 𝗠𝗚𝗜𝗠𝗦 𝗖𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝟭𝟵𝟳𝟬. 𝗥𝗼𝗹𝗹 𝗡𝗼. 𝟰𝟰. I eventually retired as the professor of Pharmacology from BHU, Benares.
But the MGIMS days are unforgettable. They shaped my life.
And that’s how I—almost an engineer, nearly lost in Physics, sent to grind wheat—found my way to MGIMS.
Not planned. Not predicted.
But unforgettable.
#MGIMS #medicalstudent #sevagram #sushilanayar