Science, Stories and Sevagram: A Physician-Teacher's Reflections
SP Kalantri Last Thursday, a plane crashed in Ahmedabad. In just a moment, 274 lives were lost—people on board and on the ground. As the news scrolled across my screen, something stirred deep inside me. A long-healed scar began to ache again. In that moment, I was transported back 25 years—to another plane crash, another tragedy, another … Read more
Yesterday’s Air India tragedy in Ahmedabad, where 241 lives were lost within moments of takeoff, has left the nation grieving. For many of us, the news brought a wave of shock and sorrow. For some, it also stirred the memory of another flight, another heartbreak, from a time long past. In January 1966, 𝗟𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘁 Mahajan … Read more
When Gandhiji was assassinated in January 1948, the world Dr. Sushila Nayar had built her life around collapsed. She was just 33. In the chaos that followed, she threw herself into relief work—rescuing abducted women from the violence of riot-torn Punjab. Something inside her had broken. She had lost Bapu. And with him, the compass … Read more
Long before Sevagram became a sprawling campus of healing and learning, something quietly profound took root beside the Biochemistry lab on the ground floor of the old Kasturba hospital. It was 1969. The college was just finding its footing—and so was its library. A single almirah, 35 books, one table, and two chairs. But what … Read more
Bhupendra Nath Das—widely known as B.N. Das and one of the earliest members of the MGIMS library team—called me this morning. Now in his early 80s, his voice quivered with emotion as he reminisced about Dr. R.V. Agrawal’s role in establishing the MGIMS library. B.N. Das, then a 24-year-old from Calcutta, would later retire from … Read more
August 8, 1968. A date like many others in the national calendar—almost forgotten. But in a modest meeting room in Delhi, something quietly historic stirred. Three minds met. The agenda: to build a medical college in Sevagram Morarji Desai, Deputy Prime Minister and Finance Minister, was from Delhi—famoulsy frugal. Beside him sat Vasantrao Naik, Chief … Read more
This evening I was walking past the old Kasturba Hospital building—the one that now houses the Department of Community Medicine. I had walked past it hundreds of times, but today, something made me stop. There it was: a small, weather-beaten board that read “𝗗𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝗥𝗼𝗼𝗺.” It hung askew on the aging wall, its rusted edges … Read more
𝘎𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘯, Pendsey. 𝘞𝘪𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘩𝘵 𝘦𝘴 𝘐𝘩𝘯𝘦𝘯? 𝘜𝘯𝘥 Happy Birthday! It’s the 18th of May. Like always, I wake up thinking of you, 𝗗𝗿. 𝗦𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗱 𝗣𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀𝗲𝘆. For years, I’d call and surprise you with my rusty German. You’d laugh, loudly. “𝘝𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘋𝘢𝘯𝘬,” you’d say. Your accent was better. Your joy, louder. That laugh still echoes. … Read more
I must admit that I, too, was—and still am—a medical teacher who guided—or is misguided the more appropriate word?—over three dozen postgraduates in writing their MD theses. I do not wish to stand on a pedestal or adopt a “holier than thou” posture. I have erred, misjudged, behaved badly, mishandled situations, and at times, been … Read more
“So, what’s up?” I asked the young postgraduate from a neighbouring medical college. He had just run into me on the road. “I’ve finished my thesis, sir,” he said, sounding both relieved and battle-weary. “Now preparing for the MD exams—just two months to go.” “That’s done?” I raised my eyebrows. “Already?” “Yes, sir,” he nodded. … Read more