In 1969, Dr. P.L. Vaishwanar—Project Officer and Head of Physiology at GMC Nagpur—arrived in Sevagram to help build India’s first rural medical college. He wasn’t focused only on bricks and mortar. He wanted to build people.
Before the college could welcome students, it needed a team—not just doctors and professors, but technicians and attendants who would breathe life into its labs. So, he took a bold step. Along with Manimala Choudhary and Dr. Anant Ranade, he selected a dozen young boys from Sevagram and nearby villages. None had degrees. Few had seen a laboratory.
Yet all were sent to Government Medical College, Nagpur. Not to sit in classrooms, but to learn by doing. They observed senior lab workers, mimicked their actions, asked questions, practiced over and over. Slowly, they mastered the basics : handling glassware, preparing reagents, cutting tissue, preserving organs.
Their names—Bhimrao Pradhan, Mohan Taksande, Ramesh Gaikwad, Ramdas Bhoyar, Ahirrao, Chate, Ramakrishna Ankar, Yadavrao Kale, Gyaneshwar Thakare, Sudhakar Bijewar, Keshav Wanmali, and Bharat Kolhe—would become part of MGIMS’s foundation. Within months, most were back in Sevagram, ready to serve.
Two more joined the principal’s office. Wasudeo Deodhe and B.K. Gawli. Both in their early twenties. Neither with a formal degree, but both with fire in the belly.
Ramesh Gaikwad joined the Anatomy Department. Bijewar and Taksande went into Physiology. Wanmali found his place in Pharmacology. Bhimrao Pradhan shifted to administration and eventually became chief accountant of the Kasturba Health Society.
In Anatomy, Gaikwad became indispensable. He prepared slides, preserved specimens, assisted during practical sessions. Over time, he became more than a technician. He was a guide, a friend, and a memory-keeper.
“There was a time we depended on slides from GMC Nagpur,” he said. “But soon we began making our own.”
Cadavers were scarce. Anatomy couldn’t be taught without them. Dr. G.M. Indurkar, then head of the department, arranged for bodies to be transported by truck from Aurangabad and Indore.
It was no easy task. Laxman Taksande, a young staff member, traveled with the truck, sleeping beside the corpses on the long journey. That journey became legend.
In the dissection hall, two attendants—Wahid Khan Saudagar and Ishwar Dhobale—were trained to handle the dead. It wasn’t easy. They were afraid at first. But they stayed. And for 35 years, they helped students overcome fear and learn with reverence.
Wahid passed away recently, while offering namaz. Ishwar remained the quiet, steady hand behind generations of dissections.
What held this young institution together? Not degrees. Not titles. Bonds.
“There were no posts,” Gaikwad recalled. “We were one family. We knew every student by name.”
When he retired in 2008, he didn’t just leave behind a lab bench. He left a spirit of service, quiet pride, and the memory of a time when young, untrained hands helped build something enduring.
Attendants. Clerks. Technicians. Accountants. They lacked degrees. They didn’t speak English. But they made up for it with grit and a fierce desire to learn.
This was MGIMS, when it was young.
