SP Kalantri
SP Kalantri
Exactly a week ago, I landed in Indore to visit my elder sister. But my heart tugged in another direction—toward someone I had to see. Dr. Karunakar Trivedi. That morning, I dialed his number. His voice, gentle and warm, hadn’t changed with time. He welcomed me without pause. By noon, I was standing before Trivedi …
“Yesterday, I took three drops of Sarpagandha—morning and evening. Walked and talked. Still, my blood pressure was 196/ 112. But there’s no cause for worry.” “I took three drops of Sarpagandha—morning and evening. Walked. Talked. Still, my blood pressure is 196 over 112. But there’s no cause for worry.” A letter. Dated October 28, 1941. …
This afternoon, while leafing through the brittle pages of a dusty medical journal, I paused. There it was—a paper from 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘐𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘔𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘎𝘢𝘻𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦, dated August 1942. The author: Dr. Sushila Nayar. I blinked. Could it be 𝘰𝘶𝘳 Sushila Nayar? The physician who walked beside Gandhiji and founded 𝘩𝘦𝘳 MGIMS? The young doctor who became …
Every institution has its unsung builders—some lay bricks, others teach, a few lead. And then there are those who, in quiet corners, type history into being. One keystroke at a time. Mr. Manilal Pathak was one such man. He was born on 5 February 1944 in Jethwara, a village in Uttar Pradesh’s Pratapgarh district. His …
22nd April. One Year. Exactly a year ago, in the quiet hours of the morning, Dhirubhai left us. He was 86. It still feels unreal. Time slows when I think of him. When Dr. Sushila Nayar invited him in 1982 to take charge of MGIMS, he hesitated. “I couldn’t even pronounce the names of half …
(December 9, 1931 – April 19, 2025)Dr. Keshao Narayan Ingley—known to all as Dr. K.N. Ingley—was born on December 9, 1931, in the dusty heartland of Buldhana. As the eldest of five siblings, he learned early what it meant to lead, to share, and to wait his turn. The home was always full—voices echoing through …
Remember Rama Jagtap? You should. The boy from Hinganghat village, the one who worked in the Paediatrics OPD in the late 1970s. Thin, eager, barely twenty, with eyes that held more hope than fear. He had just married. Life was beginning to bloom when a bolt struck from nowhere. Without warning, his services were terminated. …
When Dr. Kush Kumar first walked into Sevagram in the blistering summer of 1976, conversations stopped mid-sentence. He was hard to miss—tall, broad-shouldered, eyes probing behind thick spectacles. His English was flawless—precise when he spoke, elegant when he wrote. On rounds, his questions made residents squirm. In the OR, he moved like a man in …
The corridors of the Medicine Department in Sevagram in the early 1980s pulsed with an odd sort of rhythm, a melody not of footsteps or hurried whispers, but of letters. Not just any letters—𝙋s. I arrived in the summer of 1982, stepping into a world where initials carried more weight than full names, where the …
In the late 1960s, a young man stepped off a dusty bus in Sevagram. Tukaram Sitaram Gawande had traveled over 200 kilometers, seeking relief from a stubborn fistula. Kasturba Hospital, known for its Ayurvedic treatments, offered hope. The cure worked. But Sevagram offered something more. He stayed. Fate, however, had its own script. In April …