Matter of Fact

Category: Heritage & History

Documenting the legacy of MGIMS, Sevagram heritage, and medical history.

  • 𝗙𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗛𝗮𝗿𝗱𝘄𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗛𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗻: 𝗣𝗮𝗱𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝗕𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗵𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝗜𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗻 𝗧𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀

    𝗙𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗛𝗮𝗿𝗱𝘄𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗛𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗻: 𝗣𝗮𝗱𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝗕𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗵𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝗜𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗻 𝗧𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀

    In 1973, at the age of 17, I enrolled at Government Medical College Nagpur as a medical student. During weekends, Suhas Jajoo and I frequently commuted between Wardha, where our parents lived, and Nagpur, where our college was located.

    Our mode of travel? The third-class train compartments. Those berths were made of hard, bare wood, offering little comfort. Yet, we had no other option. Second class was financially out of reach, and first class was a luxury beyond our means.

    So, we learned to endure the discomfort.

    Fast forward to 1977. The Janta Party came to power, and Madhu Dandavate became the railway minister. Suhas and I had just passed our final MBBS exam. We were ready to start our internships in district hospitals and primary health centers.

    A remarkable change unfolded.

    Dandavate decided to add two inches of foam to the second-class berths. Suddenly, we found ourselves sitting and sleeping on soft, foamy berths.

    The transformation was incredible. Our journeys became pleasant. We continued traveling in non-AC coaches, but even in those, despite the heat and humidity, the foam-covered berths made travel comfortable and relaxing.

    I vividly recall his words in a newspaper interview: “What I want to do is not degrade the first class, but elevate the second class.”

    The Gitanjali Express was the first to benefit from this change. On the day after Christmas in 1977, the train journeyed between Mumbai and Kolkata with these new, padded berths.

    The Railway Board had wanted to call it the Eastern Express. But Dandavate, inspired by Rabindranath Tagore, named it the 𝗚𝗶𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗷𝗮𝗹𝗶 𝗘𝘅𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀. Portraits of Tagore adorned the train’s interiors.

    47 years have passed since then. Bombay has transformed into Mumbai, and Calcutta into Kolkata. Yet, amidst these changes, one constant remains—the Gitanjali Express still runs on the same route. It remains the most sought after train for travellers between Kolkata and Mumbai.

    However, few are aware of its rich history.

    In the past, the train stopped at Nagpur and Wardha. And it still does today. I can vividly recall those days. Despite being a long-distance service, we students couldn’t resist its allure. Although daily commuters and short-distance travellers were forbidden from entering the second-class compartment, that didn’t deter us. With youthful audacity, we would sneak in, eager to taste the forbidden fruit, to feel the plush comfort of those foam-covered berths!

    This initiative spread quickly. By the late 1980s, when I rose to the position of reader from lecturer at Sevagram Medical College, every second-class compartment boasted these plush, foam-covered berths.

    Now, we could undertake train journeys from Wardha to Bombay, Delhi, Calcutta and Madras in second class train compartments. The iconic holdalls, carrying sheets and pillows that had been our faithful companions on countless journeys, became obsolete, fading away like whispers in the wind!

    But for Madhu Dandavate’s visionary initiative, we would have remained resigned to enduring those unforgiving wooden berths.

    As physicians, we frequently console our patients with incurable diseases with the adage, “what can’t be cured, must be endured.” Without Dandavate, we, too, would have been compelled to seek solace in the same adage.

    #indianrailways

  • Surprise and Sentiment: Mr. SR Halbe’s Memorable 76th Birthday

    On May 10, an unknown number flashed on my phone. A few minutes earlier, I had received a message from the same number, introducing the sender as Mr. Halbe’s student and current colleague, requesting to speak with me about a surprise event for Mr. Halbe’s 76th birthday.

    The caller was Mr. Shrirang Padhye, a Mumbai-based chartered accountant. A former student of Mr. Halbe, he had known him since 1970 when he first met Mr. Halbe and his friend Mr. Damle. Mr. Halbe had taught him during his CA studies, offering valuable tips and tricks and helping him gain a solid grasp of finance.

    As we talked, it became clear that Mr. Halbe’s friends were keen to keep this celebration a secret. Aware of Mr. Halbe’s aversion to birthday festivities and his tendency to disappear days before his birthday to avoid any celebrations, his close friends, associates, former students, and inner circle devised a plan to hold a surprise event a week early, on May 18.

    Mr. Shrirang Padhye got my number from an email Mr. Halbe had sent. After thinking it over, I accepted the invitation the next day and quickly booked my tickets. Mr. Padhye also asked if I’d like to speak at the event since my name was on the list of speakers. I happily agreed to share some words in honour of Mr. Halbe.

    I reached Mumbai on Saturday morning and headed straight to Bombay Gymkhana from the airport in a taxi. The driver, a local Maharashtrian in his sixties with forty years of driving experience in Mumbai, engaged me in conversation throughout the journey. He shared anecdotes about the challenges faced by Ola and Uber drivers, local politics, and fearlessly opined on Balasaheb Thackeray and Uddhav Thackeray. He spoke about the real face of Sharad Pawar, the corruption scandals in politics, and the various deeds and misdeeds of politicians.

    He was an ardent admirer of Narendra Modi and often struggled to find words to praise the Prime Minister. As we drove through India’s first undersea tunnel between Marine Drive and Worli, his face lit up with pride. “Time the distance,” he urged, his voice brimming with excitement. “Even Americans in my taxi can’t believe this road! It’s world-class, isn’t it?” He glanced at me, eager to share his joy and admiration for the government’s achievement.

    Where did the idea of honoring Mr. Halbe on his birthday come from? Mr. Padhye revealed the story. In January 2024, Mr. Shriharsh Fene from The National Centre for the Performing Arts (NCPA) proposed honoring Mr. Halbe as he turned 75. His admirers—Mr. Shrirang Padhye, Mr. Dilip Nanda, and Ms. Shagun Kapur—who had benefited from his guidance and support for decades, eagerly embraced the idea. They decided to host the event at Bombay Gymkhana. Despite the availability of larger venues like the CCI Club, they chose the intimate setting of Bombay Gymkhana for a more personal celebration.

    To ensure a diverse and engaging program, seven speakers from different fields were chosen to speak on Saturday. Mr. Kushagra Bajaj and Ms. Shagun Kapur were to represent industry, Mr. Ravi Mandrekar from the cricketing world, and Ms. Chetna Gala Sinha was scheduled to speak as a social activist. Mr. G. C. Vasudeo would share insights from commerce, Mr. Yug Mohit Chaudhry would contribute his expertise as a criminal lawyer, and Mr. Anant Shinde was set to speak as an arbitrator. I was to represent Sevagram Medical College, offering perspectives from the field of medicine.

    By noon, almost all of Mr. Halbe’s friends had arrived. Out of the 42 invited, 40 were there in the hall. During introductions, many of them recognized me, thanks to the Covid articles I had written, which Mr. Halbe had shared with them.  

    Despite being tasked with picking up Mr. Halbe from home, Ms. Shagun Kapur, daughter of late Yes Bank co-founder Ashok Kapur, was told by Mr. Halbe that he would make his own way to the event. Mr. Ravi Mandrekar picked up Sulbha, Mr. Halbe’s sister, who was also unaware of the surprise celebration awaiting her brother. Both Mr. Halbe and Sulbha remained oblivious to the planned festivities.

    At the stroke of noon, Ms. Shagun Kapur quietly led Mr. Halbe into the dining area on the first floor of the Bombay Gymkhana. As he stepped into the room, his eyes widened with surprise, and a radiant smile illuminated his face. The warm applause from his friends welcomed him, adding to his astonishment. His gaze swept over the gathering, taking in the sight of familiar faces gathered to honor him. The emotions of surprise, joy, and gratitude mingled visibly on his face, leaving no doubt about the depth of his feelings in that moment.

    Barely able to conceal his emotions, he scanned the hall, recognizing the friends he had known for almost four decades. These were the people who had gathered to acknowledge the profound impact Mr. Halbe had on their lives. They were colleagues whose careers he had shaped and individuals who knew they owed much of their success to his influence.

    He sat down, tears welling up in his eyes. His voice choked and broke as he tried to speak. Normally articulate and known for his brilliant and incisive speech, Mr. Halbe struggled to find the words at that moment.

    Over the next hour, seven men and women took turns speaking, each sharing anecdotes, stories, and events that were truly inspiring and motivating. These heartfelt tributes painted a vivid picture of Mr. Halbe’s remarkable influence on their lives and careers.

    Mr. Dinkar Gangal, a senior journalist,  editor of Think Maharashtra and founder of  Granthali, was chosen to compere the program, adding his expertise and flair to the event.

    I was the first to speak. I started by talking about Mr. Halbe’s contribution to introducing the electronic hospital information system at Sevagram. He not only arranged funding for the project but also supported us in making MGIMS one of the few teaching hospitals in India to become nearly paperless. I mentioned how he helped provide laptops, MacBooks, and iPads to doctors and residents, making it easier for them to access patient data at the bedside.

    I then spoke about his significant contribution to extending health services to Melghat. I painted a vivid picture of the region’s poverty, illiteracy, superstitions, and lack of healthcare, which have led to high infant and maternal mortality rates and widespread malnutrition. I shared how Mr. Halbe brought funds and devoted immense effort, energy, and time to reach these underserved communities.

    Finally, I wrapped up with a cricket metaphor. I explained how Mr. Halbe played a traditional and orthodox game throughout his life. Yet, when needed, he didn’t hesitate to pull, hook, or hit straight sixes. What was most remarkable, I said, was that he always knew where his off stump was, guarding it carefully. He understands when to leave and when to defend.

    Kushagra Bajaj, a 47-year-old corporate czar from Mumbai, spoke next. He began by sharing how he regards Mr. Halbe as greater than his own parents combined, explaining the deep respect and admiration he holds for him. During the turbulent years between 2001 and 2009, when the Bajaj empire was undergoing a partition, Mr. Halbe stood by Kushagra and his father, ensuring that in the battle between David and Goliath, David secured his rightful place.

    Twice during his speech, Kushagra got emotional as he remembered those tough times. He talked about how they used to talk every day at 6:30, no matter where they were. Kushagra admired Mr. Halbe’s deep knowledge, great negotiation skills, and ability to think creatively. He praised Mr. Halbe’s honesty and integrity, mentioning his commitment to playing fair and never cutting corners. Kushagra even mentioned how he’d seek Mr. Halbe’s advice on personal matters, like whether to have another child.

    Chetna Gala Sinha, an Indian social entrepreneur lives in Mann Desh, a taluka in Satara district. She spoke next. Chetna talked about the tough times in 2010 when there was hardly any rain, causing a lot of suffering for people. It was especially hard on animal farming, putting the livelihoods of those who depended on it at risk.

    During the crisis, Chetna’s group helped by giving shelter, food, and fodder to animals, especially cows and buffaloes. She mentioned how Mr. Halbe supported them and got fodder from Barshi, a town in Solapur district.

    Mr. Halbe supported them and made sure they had enough money and supplies to keep the domestic animals from starving or getting thirsty.

    The project initially started with a thousand animals, but within a month or two, the number rapidly grew to 12,000. This growth led to the establishment of Chhaoni, a sanctuary for animals, including cows, buffaloes, and goats. Chetna’s story showed how Mr. Halbe’s support made a big difference in helping animals during the famine in Maharashtra.

    Mr. G. C. Vasudeo, a member of several professional organizations and with 39 years of industrial experience, shared his thoughts next. He reflected on his younger days and remembered how Mr. Halbe didn’t just give him answers but taught him how to find them himself. “Mr. Halbe didn’t simply offer me fish but taught me how to fish,” he said.

    Mr. Vasudeo shared how Mr. Halbe helped him get an articleship in the firm he wanted. He mentioned Mr. Halbe’s advice to approach Vijay Merchant, a famous cricketer, which eventually led to him securing the articleship. These stories highlighted Mr. Halbe’s mentorship and guidance, which greatly influenced Mr. Vasudeo’s career and life.

    Another speaker shared a heartfelt story about how Mr. Halbe had helped him during his time as a student. He remembered Mr. Halbe’s dedicated efforts, coming to the hostel to teach cost accountancy, and how just a week of classes made a big difference in passing his toughest exams.

    What really moved the speaker was Mr. Halbe’s selflessness. Even though he didn’t expect anything in return for his time, Mr. Halbe gave his all to help his students because he genuinely cared for them. This act of kindness left a deep impression, showing Mr. Halbe’s commitment to guiding and supporting the younger generation.

    Mr. Ravi Mandrekar, author of the book “Bouncer – The Story of David and Goliath in MCA,” recounted stories of corruption within the Mumbai Cricket Association (MCA). The MCA is a powerful state board in India and a major hub of Indian cricket, hosting the BCCI headquarters at the Cricket Centre within the famous Wankhede Stadium in South Mumbai, known for hosting international test matches since 1975.

    Mandrekar, a cricket player and passionate cricket activist for three decades, talked about the hidden dishonesty, scandals, and deceit in the association. He remembered how Mr. Halbe fearlessly stood up to powerful forces in the organization, aiming to bring back ethics and integrity to the world of sports. Mr. Halbe’s bold actions left a lasting impact on the cricket community, ensuring that fairness and justice were maintained.

    Yug Mohit Chaudhry, a well-known criminal lawyer recognized for his work in advocating for the abolition of the death penalty in India and for contributing to the London School of Economics blogs, shared his thoughts next. With impressive academic achievements, including a scholarship to Oxford for a doctorate in English, a law degree from Cambridge, and a book based on his doctoral dissertation on Yeats, Mr. Chaudhry’s qualifications are impressive.

    In his eloquent speech, Mr. Chaudhry highlighted several qualities that make Mr. Halbe respected: his honesty in speaking plainly, his courageous advocacy, his steadfast commitment to doing what’s right, and his exceptional expertise in his field. Through his words, Mr. Chaudhry emphasized the deep impact of Mr. Halbe’s character and values on those fortunate enough to know him.

    Anant Shinde, who had a longstanding connection with the Walchand group and had been Mr. Halbe’s school and college mate, also spoke to share his thoughts. Reflecting on their shared past, he shared childhood memories and stories that revealed different aspects of Mr. Halbe’s personality. Through these recollections, Anant Shinde provided the audience with a better insight into Mr. Halbe’s character and background.

    This occasion warranted a cake uniquely made to reflect Mr. Halbe’s deep interest in cricket and corporate law. The friends carefully ordered an artful cake to reflect Mr. Halbe’s deep interests in cricket and corporate law. In the middle was a cricket bat and ball, showing his lifelong love for the sport, while surrounding them was a meticulously sculpted book on corporate law, symbolizing his expertise and dedication in the field.

    Mr. Halbe received a special gift—a small silver statue of Goddess Saraswati. This thoughtful present symbolized respect for knowledge and wisdom, qualities Mr. Halbe values. Engraved on the statue was a heartfelt message capturing Mr. Halbe’s essence, reminding everyone of the admiration and respect they hold for him. 

    This modest gift perfectly suited Mr. Halbe’s preference for simplicity over grandeur.

    Nowadays, birthday celebrations tend to be grand and formal affairs, filled with noise, speeches, decorations, and elaborate meals. But this one was different. It was simple, informal, and cozy. Only those who knew Mr. Halbe well were invited. There were no politicians, bureaucrats, or media big shots—just a warm and homely atmosphere.

    I’m sure Mr. Halbe found it touching and satisfying, and for me, it was truly special and inspiring.

  • Leading the Way: Introducing MGIMS’s New President

    Leading the Way: Introducing MGIMS’s New President

    The Kasturba Health Society in Sevagram, which oversees MGIMS, is about to embrace its third President in its illustrious 55-year history.

    Dr. Sushila Nayar, the visionary founder, led the institute for 31 years, from 1969 to 2001. Following her passing, Dhirubhai Mehta assumed leadership, guiding MGIMS for 24 years. Sadly, Dhirubhai passed away on April 22, 2024, aged 88.

    Nature abhors vacuums. And so do organisations. They too seek to fill leadership positions promptly to maintain stability and momentum.

    MGIMS urgently needed a successor who could seamlessly continue Dhirubhai’s legacy. The criteria were clear: the new leader had to be seasoned, deeply rooted in MGIMS, financially astute, and have climbed the organization’s ladder.

    Mr. PL Tapdiya, a seasoned chartered accountant perfectly fit the bill. Today, he was elected as Dhirubhai’s successor.

    As he steps into the role, he brings a fresh wave of anticipation and hope, injecting the organization with renewed vigour and optimism.

    Born into poverty in 1945 in a village in Wardha district, Mr. Tapdiya’s journey mirrors that of countless successful individuals who have triumphed over adversity to attain greatness.

    Orphaned at a young age, he was raised by his mother, who, despite being barely literate, worked tirelessly as the family’s sole breadwinner. During his early childhood, he and his mother faced numerous hardships together, with no one else in the home to provide support. A lack of money made each day difficult. Lack of resources and limited access to proper schooling further compounded their challenges.

    He fought all odds. Through thick and thin, he stood firm. But his academic talent showed early on. At just 21, he conquered all four subjects in the CA exam on his first attempt—a feat achieved by only a select few. Becoming a Chartered Accountant at such a youthful age defied expectations and set him apart from his peers. He distinguished himself as the rank holder in the all India CA rankings. This accomplishment is even more astonishing given that, at the time, the pass rate for the CA exam hovered at a mere 3%.

    In a daring step, during the late 1960s, Mr. Tapdiya set up his own CA practice in Wardha, becoming only the second professional in the town. Despite his growing professional responsibilities, he generously volunteered his time in Sevagram. He offered to manage the finances of the emerging organization without expecting any payment in return.

    In 1966, Mr. Tapdiya arrived in Sevagram, just two years after the establishment of the Kasturba Health Society. At that time, MGIMS had not yet been founded. Dr. Sushila Nayar was seeking individuals who could deliver results, and her eyes promptly recognized Mr. Tapdiya’s financial expertise.

    He took to finance at MGIMS much like Yashaswi Jaiswal took to cricket—effortlessly and impressively.

    From that moment on, Mr. Tapdiya blazed ahead, never looking back. With a stellar track record dating back to his arrival in 1966, he earned profound respect from his peers at KHS.

    In Sevagram, Mr. Tapdiya climbed the ranks, from member to trustee, and eventually vice-president. Dr. Sushila Nayar and Dhirubhai Mehta trusted his financial skills. His profound understanding of the organization, its history, and finances made him a dependable leader. A person whom colleagues could always count on— through thick and thin.

    In the past two years, Mr. Tapdiya emerged as the heir apparent to Dhirubhai Mehta, playing a crucial role in fortifying the institute’s financial base. His business acumen and attention to detail, His business acumen and attention to detail, coupled with his tendency to micromanage the institute—a style perceived as both advantageous and potentially restrictive—have empowered him to skillfully navigate MGIMS through various challenges.

    These challenges have ranged from navigating government regulations to overcoming financial limitations, all while keeping the institute in the pink of financial health.

    In his voluntary capacity, Mr. Tapdiya has opted to shoulder a wider array of duties and managerial responsibilities. Beyond merely managing day-to-day operations, he has assumed a key role in shaping the organization’s strategic vision and decision-making processes.

    Finance has always been Mr. Tapdiya’s forte, and it still is. He’s applied his expertise in finance to many areas such as hospital operations, campus expansions, construction projects, negotiations with agencies, equipment procurement, and staff appointments.

    He excels at preparing budgets and balancing sheets.

    Recall Tata Steel’s iconic 1990s ad campaign, “We Also Make Steel,” or the recent autobiography by Subash Chandra Garg, the former finance secretary, titled “We Also Make Policy.” Mr. Tapdiya appears to have drawn inspiration from these examples—his role extends beyond finance to encompass a wide array of social, educational, and health initiatives.

    With his new leadership, MGIMS is poised to excel in medical education, research, and healthcare delivery. Under Mr. Tapdiya’s guidance, the institution is set to reach new heights.

    Yet, can Mr. Tapdiya lead MGIMS to greater success? “Will he, or won’t he?” That is the query on everyone’s lips.

    This skepticism is not unwarranted. Like the 700-odd Indian medical colleges, MGIMS too is grappling with daunting challenges. Let me outline some of them.

    In the past decade, MGIMS has encountered setbacks impacting its capacity to attract both students and faculty. In 2014, it was mandated to discontinue its pre-medical test (PMT), a longstanding source of pride. With NEET supplanting the MGIMS PMT, the institution lost its autonomy to adhere to its own selection criteria and secure postgraduate seats for its students.

    It also lost a key feature: two assured MBBS seats for the children of MGIMS health workers, an incentive crucial for retaining its faculty.

    Many new medical colleges have opened nearby—both for-profit and state-run medical colleges—making it harder for MGIMS to grow. AIIMS in Nagpur, just a 45-minute drive from Sevagram, has further diminished the competitive advantage of MGIMS.

    Faculty turnover is a challenge. Senior members retire, and middle-level teachers leave. New talent influx is low, affecting research and teaching quality.

    The medical education scene has shifted. Students now prioritize skills for PG entrance tests over traditional classroom or bedside teaching. Their aim? Securing coveted PG seats.

    Senior residents, too, feel the pull. They’re less interested in hospital work and more focused on acing superspecialization entrance tests.

    On top of everything else, a medical college must secure government grants, maintain a robust bottom line, ensure hospital statistics continue to improve, manage funded research projects, navigate political relationships, and address talent shortages.

    What used to be a smooth process of obtaining annual grants from governments has hit a rough patch. Cuts, delays, or outright denials have become the new norm.

    Hospital doctors, once satisfied with teaching, patient care, and research, now seek additional income through private practice—a practice long frowned upon within the institute.

    The allure of money in the private health sector has led many physicians to consider leaving their current positions. They seek roles that allow them to teach while engaging in private practice, a tempting prospect for those looking to boost their earnings.

    The challenges are numerous, potentially formidable, and seemingly insurmountable.

    Despite the challenges MGIMS faces— and I’m not painting a picture of a dark, cloudy sky alone— Mr. Tapdiya’s appointment as President is seen as a new ray of hope amidst the dark clouds.

    What gives me optimism? MGIMS’s history. It was once seen as an experiment in medical education, located in a village where students were said to “sweep the ground, clean the toilet,” and have “classes under trees.” These practices made students question their choice of college and shattered their image of studying in a medical college.

    However, they were mistaken. Their initial assumptions were proven wrong as they discovered that there is more to MGIMS than meets the eye.

    MGIMS rapidly outgrew its humble beginnings and flourished under the leadership of Dr. Sushila Nayar and Dhirubhai Mehta. Students and faculty came to understand that medical education in Sevagram offered much more than they initially perceived. Graduates left the institution enriched not only in medical knowledge but also in ethics, values, confidence, and skills.

    Against this backdrop, Mr. Tapdiya—known for his straightforwardness, never mincing words and always calling a spade a spade—faces the daunting task of steering MGIMS through turbulent waters. The question looms: can he rise to the occasion and lead the institution to safety?

    Let me draw upon the cricket metaphor once more.

    As he takes his stance, will he emulate to Rahul Dravid’s batting style, mirroring his repertoire of traditional cricket strokes—straight drives, cover drives, square drives, leg glances, cuts, pull shots, and hook shots ? Or will he become an ‘impact player’, known for unorthodox shots and boosting the run rate? Will he put English cricket’s all-out attacking style—”Bazball—to its ultimate test? With the run rate surging, can he display modern cricket’s creativity — the helicopter flick, switch hit, and reverse scoop—to boost the team’s performance under pressure?

    Will he follow the familiar road of tradition, or brave the uncharted path of unorthodoxy? It’s a tough call. Only time will reveal which path he chooses.

    Nevertheless, we extend our best wishes for his success in all his endeavors. We are confident that just as Mike Brearley’s smartness, creative ideas, and knowledge transformed England into an unbeatable cricket side in the late 1970s, Mr. Tapdiya’s leadership will steer MGIMS towards becoming an institution that posterity would proudly admire.

  • Dhirubhai Mehta

    Dhirubhai Mehta

    (1936-2024)

    It is with deep sorrow that we announce the passing of Dhirubhai Mehta, President of Kasturba Health Society, Sevagram, who left us this morning.

    He was just about to turn 88 this weekend.

    Born on April 27, 1936, in Songadh, a village 28 km west of Bhavnagar, Gujarat, Dhirubhai came from a middle-class family. His upbringing was influenced by his parents’ values: his mother’s deep religiosity and commitment to moral principles, and his father’s emphasis on instilling strong moral values in their nine children despite limited resources. These formative influences deeply shaped Dhirubhai’s character and worldview.

    He went on to preside one of the best medical schools in the country.

    Dhirubhai’s schooling was in a Gujarati Medium school in his village where he studied up to the 7th standard. A brilliant student, after matriculation, he joined the Sydenham College of Commerce and Economics, Mumbai and in the summer of 1957, he graduated with a B.Com (Hon) from Mumbai University. He then pursued Chartered Accountancy. To finance his education and support his family, he gave tuitions and worked part-time. He passed both CA examinations on his first attempt, earning his CA degree in 1961 and becoming the 5635th certified Chartered Accountant in the country.

    Fascinated by Khadi and inspired by Gandhi’s principles, Dhirubhai embraced Khadi at a young age, starting in 1954. He strongly believed that Khadi bonded rich and poor, and equated Khadi to self-reliance and self-government. The seeds of patriotism and virtuousness were sown early on in Dhirubhai’s life.

    On May 1, 1966, Dhirubhai married Nandini Bajaj, daughter of Shri Radhakrishnaji Bajaj and granddaughter of Shrikrishnadas Jajoo, a revered freedom fighter and prominent Gandhian. This union not only brought Dhirubhai into the Bajaj family but also connected him to the Bajaj Group, a corporate powerhouse. The support and encouragement he received from the both Bajaj played a huge role in his personal and professional growth. He had a long and fruitful tenure with the Bajaj Group, spanning three generations—Kamalnayan Bajaj, Ramkrishna Bajaj, and Rahul Bajaj—over five decades.

    Dhirubhai was not born into riches, nor was he ever spoon-fed success and fame. But he always believed in himself and made it big in his life. He had a razor-shop financial mind and uncanny financial wizardry. In 1966, he met Mr. Kamalnayan Bajaj, the architect of the Bajaj group. At Mr. Bajaj’s behest, he joined Bajaj group in 1966 until two decades later, he voluntarily, and prematurely, retired from professional life in 1986.

    With no influential connections, Dhirubhai Mehta’s ascent was swift. He impressed the Bajaj family with his expertise in finance, investment, taxation and corporate management, coupled with a touch of humor and wit.

    During the early seventies, he played a crucial role in navigating a prolonged legal dispute between the Bajaj group and Piaggio of Italy over the Vespa scooter, showcasing his dedication and expertise. Throughout his tenure, he earned the trust of key figures within the Bajaj family, emerging as a valued confidant.

    Throughout his tenure with Bajaj, he earned the trust of Kamalnayan, Ramakrishna, and Rahul Bajaj, becoming a valued confidant.

    Decades later, when a family dispute erupted between Kushagra and his father Shishir on one side, and Rahul along with three other cousins (Shekhar, Madhur, and Niraj) on the other, the Bajaj family sought Dhirubhai’s help to resolve the conflict. True to his impartial nature, Dhirubhai refused to take sides and facilitated a memorandum of understanding in February 2004. Although the solution he proposed didn’t endure, this event underscores the immense trust the entire Bajaj family placed in Dhirubhai.

    Beyond his contributions to the Bajaj group, Dhirubhai served on various regulatory committees and held a directorship at Mukand Iron & Steel Works Limited. His commitment to ethical principles extended into every aspect of his professional life, earning him respect and admiration in both business and political circles.

    At the age of fifty, Dhirubhai faced a difficult decision. He decided to quit Bajaj Auto and work full time in the not-for-profit health and education sector. “It was a tough call for me,” he admitted. “Nirad and Maitry were still pursuing their education, with Nirad aspiring to complete his commerce studies at prestigious universities in the USA. It required financial resources. However, my family stood by me and fully supported my choice.” His children ultimately pursued careers as chartered accountants. “It seems to be a genetic predisposition,” he would joke, “but I’m glad they achieved it independently, without relying on me or asking for financial assistance.

    Although his professional moorings were in business and industry, Dhirubhai began wondering if it was worth spending all his life in the corridors of the corporate world.

    Had Dhirubhai continued his stint, Bajaj Auto shares would have touched new heights, but a medical school would have been a loser.

    From the land of capitalism, Mumbai, he came to Sevagram. Sevagram was not a new place for Dhirubhai- his wife came from Wardha and he used to visit the city frequently because Bajaj group office was located in Wardha. He did earn money during his Bajaj days, like a capitalist, but he became trustee of his wealth and decided to give up further earning of money after he had crossed 50.

    Over the next four decades, he donated generously, supporting the cause of the education of girls and even donating substantially to the very institute he was presiding. A true Gandhian to the core, Dhirubhai strove consistently to bring in the timeless principles of the Mahatma in the boardrooms of the corporate world and conference rooms of leading NGOs.

    Dr Sushila Nayar, the founder President of Kasturba Health Society and Director of Mahatma Gandhi Institute of Medical Sciences, Sevagram, was running a medical school in Sevagram. Although the central and the state governments took care of three-quarters of the budget, Dr. Sushila Nayar found it difficult to raise her own share—25%—year after year.

    In 1982 Sarla Parekh, the Mumbai based founder trustee of the Kasturba Health Society introduced Dhirubhai to Dr Nayar and suggested she use his financial wizardry in managing the medical school. Dr Sushila Nayar saw Dhirubhai’s role to help her in the progress and development of the medical school and requested him to join the board of the Kasturba Health Society, an offer he gleefully accepted. He started devoting his substantial time for the institute.

    In 1986 Dr Sushila Nayar offered him the post of vice-president.

    When he joined, MGIMS was run on a modest budget of 80 lakhs per annum. Dhirubhai brought his financial expertise to Sevagram, managed the cash flows, and helped the institute not only with a solid financial group. Over the course of 40 years, under his guidance, the KHS budget grew substantially to 240 crores.

    In the late nineties, following a heart attack, Dr Sushila Nayar gradually handed over all responsibilities of managing the organisation to Dhirubhai. Seen as an heir apparent to Dr Nayar, Dhirubhai ensured that the medical school didn’t deviate an inch from the principles laid down by his mentor.

    “In 1982, when I arrived in Sevagram, I couldn’t even spell or pronounce half the names of the hospital departments,” Dhirubhai would often humorously remark, showcasing his self-deprecating wit. He quickly learnt the intricacies of the job and in the Nehruvian mode, brought distinguished academicians on the board of Kasturba Health Society, asking them to play an active and meaningful role in spreading scientific temper in the institute. He was instrumental in bringing Dr Manu Kothari, Ashok Vaidya, Dr Gupta, BS Chaubey, GM Taori—to name just a few—on the board of Kasturba Health Society.

    Dr. Sushila Nayar passed away in January 2001. The governing body of the Kasturba Health Society unanimously elected Dhirubhai as the president of the Society soon after. Dr. SP Kalantri, professor of Medicine at MGIMS, who had good fortune and privilege of working with him for four decades, wrote in the institute’s 2001 bulletin, “At a time when the medical schools in the country are going through a serious financial crisis and are being accused of producing masters of mediocrity, Dhirubhai faces a tremendous challenge. He has to uphold his mentor’s distinguished legacy and fulfil her dreams. We only hope that he upholds the bright torch of the MGIMS “aloft, undimmed and untarnished” and ensure that its light reaches the poorest of the poor.”

    Dhirubhai stayed true to these ideals. Neither the commercialization of medical education, nor the proliferation of medical schools in the country, nor the expansion of private for-profit hospitals in the vicinity of Sevagram could deter him or lead him astray from his principles.

    Dhirubhai adhered to the organizational ethics to the hilt—ensuring fairness, honesty, transparency, efficiency and displayed zero tolerance for corruption. He had people working for him, but he had a tight rein on every part of the process.

    “All I want is for MGIMS to provide top-notch education and healthcare that’s accessible to all,” he would summarize his philosophy in a straightforward statement.

    Under his leadership, MGIMS completely unlinked itself from the sponsorship of drug industry, successfully ran a low-cost drug initiative in the hospital, and introduced various essential initiatives. The list includes a hospital information system, a unit for adopting newborns of unwed mothers, trauma centers, medicine department buildings, ICUs, a Cath Lab, dialysis units, alcohol and drug de-addiction centers, a mother and child center, and a palliative care center. He also oversaw the construction of numerous hostels for medical students and residents.

    Dhirubhai’s passion for public health was evident in his nurturing of the community medicine department, where he encouraged innovation and supported the implementation of new ideas and concepts.
    Melghat, nestled in the Satpura mountain range in Maharashtra, is home to the Korku Adivasis. The villagers faced limited healthcare access and poor infrastructure, with malnutrition-related deaths often making headlines. Recognizing this urgent need, Dhirubhai Mehta and Mr. SR Halbe, his associate and a family friend, established a healthcare center. They secured full support from MGIMS, urging residents, physicians, and nurses to devote themselves to serving this underserved community, reflecting their dedication to addressing injustice in healthcare.

    Dhirubhai also made a point to personally visit the center. During these visits, he offered hope, encouragement, and moral support to its healthcare workers, further solidifying their commitment to improving healthcare access in Melghat.

    Never one to mince words, Dhirubhai Mehta fearlessly expressed his views, unafraid of the repercussions. He was known for his courage in speaking truth to power, never hesitating to call out injustice or hypocrisy.

    During the tumultuous 20 months of the national emergency, declared on the night of June 25, 1975, a pall of gloom descended upon the nation. The citizens felt shocked and stirred. Throughout this period, an eerie silence prevailed. Individuals offered praise to the rulers of the Emergency regime. Civil servants, when asked to bend, crawled without hesitation.

    While still employed at Bajaj Auto, he boldly opposed the state of emergency enforced by Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. This was a courageous stance, considering his full-time corporate responsibilities, yet he fearlessly stood against what he perceived as a threat to democracy.

    In the midst of these challenging times, when Jayaprakash Narayan (JP) was diagnosed with chronic kidney disease and transferred from PGI Chandigarh to Bombay’s Jaslok Hospital, Dhirubhai was actively working with the Bajaj group. Despite the looming threat of arrest, Dhirubhai and his wife, Nandini, showed remarkable courage by faithfully visiting JP at the hospital, providing him with food, books, and their time. In those days, JP was regarded as the most “dangerous man” in India by Indira Gandhi’s regime. Despite the risks, Dhirubhai stood in solidarity with JP’s cause and took proactive steps to raise funds for the movement, undeterred by potential consequences such as job loss or arrest.

    In that era, he considered JP as the conscience keeper of the country. Until JP passed away on October 8, 1979, Dhirubhai and Nandini became a part of their extended family. Dhirubhai fully supported him, funding his causes and taking care of the organisation.

    He threw himself into the activities of the JP movement with unmatched zeal and passion. He stood among the throngs supporting the JP movement, fearlessly raising slogans against the emergency. He shuttled between Patna and Mumbai, fearlessly confronting those who opposed the movement.

    Nandini and Dhirubhai went above and beyond, assuming the key role in organizing JP’s daughter’s wedding—Janaki wedded Kumar Prashant—where they not only facilitated the sacred ceremony of Kanyadan but also shouldered the responsibility of ensuring every detail was meticulously attended to, symbolizing their steadfast support for JP’s cause and their deep personal connection to his family.

    Dhirubhai was also a long admirer of Vinoba Bhave but was disillusioned by Vinoba’s tacit support of emergency, which he called Anushasan Parv. Dhirubhai didn’t hesitate to take cudgels for JP’s movement and wrote strong letters to Vinobaji arguing that his support to the emergency was inexplicable.

    Dhirubhai was closely associated with several trusts, including the Kasturba Health Society in Sevagram, the Saurashtra Trust, The Janmabhoomi Group in Ahmedabad, Swami Shivananda Eye Hospital in Rajkot, Kasturba Gandhi National Memorial Trust in Indore, Gandhi Peace Foundation in Delhi, Gujarat Vidyapeeth in Ahmedabad, Navjivan Prakashan in Rajkot, a hospital serving tribal population in Melghat, and Gandhi Memorial Leprosy Foundation in Wardha. He dedicated his time, effort, and funds to support these Non-Governmental Organizations. Unlike many trustees who merely hold the title, Dhirubhai approached his trustee roles with incessant commitment and dedication, a rare quality in today’s context.

    Kind, loving, funny, and always thoughtful of others, Dhirubhai knew how to encourage and boost the morale of those who worked in adverse settings.

    Dhirubhai had a tendency to have strong likes and dislikes. As one who always trusted his intuition over objective assessments, he once famously said, “Don’t try to confuse me with data. I have already made up my mind.” Indeed, all during his Sevagram days, he earned the reputation of being a quick decision maker, sometimes throwing caution to the winds.

    “I love to take risks in life. And my intuitions and risk-taking ability have paid off, most of the time,” he once remarked. His willingness to embrace risks reflected his confidence and adventurous spirit, leading to many successful endeavors throughout his life.

    He had a deep love for literature, delving into works in both English and Gujarati. While Gujarati was his native language, he expressed his thoughts in English. Each morning, he would begin by perusing half a dozen English and Gujarati newspapers, and as the day progressed, he eagerly absorbed Gujarati poems, dramas, novels, and historical texts.

    Amidst his busy schedule, he actively monitored the stock market. Remarkably versatile, he effortlessly moved between the spiritual guidance of Makrand bhai and Murari Bapu from Gujarat, the corporate world, voluntary not-for-profit organizations, and the Bombay Stock Exchange, displaying remarkable dexterity as he shifted roles.

    In February 2016, he teamed with Mr Sheshrao Chavan to author a 551-page book “Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel- A Man of Few Words and Many Triumphs”. He also wrote hundreds of articles expressing his view on different matters of national and social importance. His articles always carried his frank viewpoint on many financial and political decisions.

    On August 14, 2022, Nandini, Dhirubhai’s wife, passed away at the age of 80 after battling diabetes and high blood pressure for years, which eventually affected her kidneys. When her kidneys failed and she required dialysis, Dhirubhai arranged for her to receive treatment at home instead of spending hours in the hospital three times a week, ensuring her comfort during the process, which lasted for a year and a half.

    Nandini, a talented poetess with a profound understanding of Hindi literature, chose not to live in the shadow of Dhirubhai’s accomplishments. Instead, she published several acclaimed books and shared her poems on various life themes across the country, establishing her own identity. Her passing marked the end of their 56-year partnership and deeply affected Dhirubhai, leading him into a brief period of loneliness.

    Despite facing personal challenges, he made sure to attend all meetings, both in Sevagram and Delhi, to keep the institute running smoothly.

    Sevagram held a special place in Dhirubhai’s heart and soul. Just a fortnight before he pased away, he had visited Sevagram and actively participated in all administrative decisions. His wife often remarked that he lived and breathed Sevagram every day of his life. In the final stage of his life, nothing mattered to him more than Sevagram medical college.

    After his wife passed away, even though he lived alone in his spacious apartment on Laburnam Road in Mumbai, tended to by dedicated staff and his loving daughter who lived nearby, he chose not to relocate to Sevagram. Despite the better accessibility of health facilities and the chance for increased interaction with loved ones that Sevagram offered, he stayed rooted in Mumbai. Perhaps, the spirit of a true Mumbaikar ran deep within him, keeping him tied to the city he called home.

    He dedicated his thoughts and efforts to preserving the tradition and culture of the institute he had been associated with for four decades.

    Since its inception, MGIMS has had a tradition of requiring all first-year medical students to spend a fortnight in Gandhi’s Ashram shortly after their admission. Here, they learn medicine under the guidance of their teachers while also imbibing the values of self-reliance through practical tasks such as sweeping floors, washing clothes, cleaning utensils, and attending prayer sessions at 5 am. Additionally, they learn the art of spinning yarn, a skill advocated by Gandhi. Dhirubhai took a keen interest in these activities, often engaging in free sessions with the students to discuss the relevance of Khadi and Gandhi in modern times. During these interactions, he not only addressed their questions but also gained insights into their unspoken concerns and needs, particularly those who were unfamiliar with village life. He also attended social service camps alongside the students, where they stayed in dormitories in villages. Here, he freely mingled with the students, joining them for dinner and providing guidance, which he took great pride in sharing at social gatherings.

    During his frequent visits to Sevagram, which occurred nearly every month, he made it a routine to tour the entire campus during his 5-kilometer walk. This allowed him to observe firsthand the developments on campus and stay attuned to the pulse of the institution. At the crack of dawn, he would open his doors to the staff members of the medical college and hospital. People would come in with their concerns, grievances, and personal matters, finding in him a patient listener who tried to assist them as much as he could.

    Some visitors took advantage of his openness, exploiting his kindness for personal gain. Despite being aware of his vulnerability to flattery, Dhirubhai remained accessible to all, leaving his doors open to anyone in need. “I must know why they knock,” he’d often say, showing his commitment to addressing everyone’s concerns in the institution.

    “In our quest for greatness, Sevagram must not stop working hard. Let’s come together to embrace new ideas, use technology, and build more facilities to make sure everyone in our community can access healthcare,” he would passionately advocate, repeating his vision in every meeting, year after year. In the twilight of his life, mindful of his failing memory and physical strength, he often lamented, “If only I had more energy, I could have realized many more dreams for MGIMS.”

    Despite his sincerity, dedication, and intelligence, Dhirubhai had his share of weaknesses. He enjoyed name-dropping, often boasting about his associations with ministers, prime ministers, and governors. His continual recounting of his closeness to Sharad Pawar bordered on excessive. This vulnerability to flattery and sycophancy made him susceptible to exploitation.

    He was a victim of “I, me, and myself syndrome,” earning him the sobriquet of “I specialist” from his colleagues.

    His weakness for food was well-known on campus. Faculty members capitalized on this, personally delivering home-cooked breakfasts and meals tailored to his Gujarati taste buds.
    Dhirubhai also struggled with strong-willed individuals who refused to conform to his directives. Shailaja Asawe and Vibha Gupta, both considered for the position of Secretary of the Kasturba Health Society, declined because they wanted to work independently.

    As he aged and his memory declined, Dhirubhai stubbornly clung to his position as the president of the Kasturba Health Society, despite losing the ability to effectively manage the organization. He would spend hours in his office with administrative staff and management personnel, yet failed to make any decisions. Instead, discussions would veer off-topic into personal stories and anecdotes, leading to a paralysis of decision-making and organizational problems.

    Even as his memory faltered, he resisted grooming a successor or delegating authority, creating awkward situations in board meetings.

    This pattern persisted at Sevagram, where Dhirubhai struggled to identify or mentor a successor. In board meetings, despite his wit and courtesy, he maintained a tight grip on power, discouraging discussions, debates, or dissenting opinions.

    During my frequent interactions with Dhirubhai, I discovered another aspect of his life: his deep religious devotion. He dedicated an hour each morning and evening to performing Puja, and whenever he was in Sevagram, he made it a point to visit the Goddess Durga temple in Wardha every day. Standing before the idol in the temple for nearly 15 minutes with closed eyes and a serene expression, he would offer his heartfelt prayers to the Goddess. “I owe everything in life to Amba Mata,” he would often say. “I am because she showers incessant blessings on me and stands by me through thick and thin.”

    This deep faith and trust in God, coupled with a strong belief in fate, stood in sharp contrast to his personality. Despite his reliance on divine guidance, he also saw himself as the master of his own destiny, taking responsibility for all his actions and their consequences.

    On Saturday, April 20, Dhirubhai was admitted to the Bombay Hospital for what was presumed to be viral pneumonia. Forty-eight hours later, today, on April 22, he passed away peacefully, with his son Nirad and daughter Maitry by his bedside.

    Dhirubhai dedicated four decades of his life to Sevagram, tirelessly striving to ensure that the institute maintained its position at the forefront of healthcare in the country. He refused to compromise despite the temptations of privatization and profit-driven medical practices.

    His commitment and integrity set a standard that will be challenging to match.

    As we bid farewell to a multifaceted talent, we are reminded of the immense impact he had on Sevagram and the countless lives he touched through his selfless service. His departure marks the end of an era for Sevagram, yet his legacy will continue to inspire and guide us in the years to come.

  • Unstoppable: Dr. Chhabra’s Impact on Medicine and Beyond

    Unstoppable: Dr. Chhabra’s Impact on Medicine and Beyond

    As the news sinks in, some may rub their eyes in disbelief. Others may find their ears reluctant to accept the truth. Some might dismiss it as a cleverly planted premature April fool story.

    However, the truth does not change: tomorrow, Dr. Shakuntala Chhabra shall leave Sevagram for good, marking the end of an era. On Sunday, she will bid farewell to the institute she has called home for nearly five decades.

    In the long corridors of this remarkable institute, Dr. Chhabra walked briskly, always striving to complete her never-ending To-Do list. Despite her petite frame, she exuded immense strength and resilience. She commanded attention like a force of nature. With a brisk stride and words flowing incessantly, she radiated an energy that transcended her physical presence. Indeed, her speech often outpaced her thoughts.

    Leading the department for half of its illustrious history, she played a major role in safeguarding the well-being of countless mothers and newborns. Her impact on the black cotton soil of Sevagram is undeniable. Her footprints of dedication and discipline are very visible.

    In the bustling wards of the Mother and Child Wing, Dr. Chhabra stood as a demanding professor, setting the bar high for her residents. Her determination shone through her gaze and a voice filled with conviction. She challenged her students to push beyond their limits, to stretch their abilities, and to surpass even their own expectations. Encouraging them to dream the impossible.

    Her words cut through complacency and mediocrity. They demanded nothing short of her residents’ best. With each bedside round , she would ignite a fire within them, urging them to reach higher, to dig deeper, and to be ready for the challenges that lie ahead.

    Her residents, many of whom have now become senior consultants and professors themselves, recount stories of her surgical prowess in handling complex gynaecological disorders—an achievement that has elevated her to legendary status in the operating theatre.

    Her residents, now senior consultants and professors themselves, fondly recall Dr. Chhabra’s remarkable surgical expertise in managing complex gynecological disorders—a skill that has earned her legendary status in the operating theater. “It’s as if her fingers were equipped with point-of-care ultrasound probes,” remarked one resident. Another described her as having a “Midas touch,” able to breathe new life into the most challenging cases. “She possessed an innate ability to navigate through surgeries with precision, monitoring every aspect of the patient’s condition—from medications to vital signs and blood transfusions,” shared an anesthetist who had the privilege of working alongside her.

    Sure enough, working with her was no easy task. She was often relentless, leaving her residents teary-eyed as they struggled to keep pace with her never-ending red-circled corrections on their MD thesis manuscripts. Many would feel drained, turning into zombies as they revised tirelessly to meet deadlines. Her lengthy rounds in the wards and OPDs, extending into the late hours, along with her formidable presence in the labour rooms and operating theatres, could overwhelm even the strongest of hearts. Nevertheless, during those three years of residency, they acquired skills in Ob Gy that few could match in the country.

    It was a time well spent; many vividly remember even today.

    But to me, she will be remembered for the remarkable institution she painstakingly built in Sevagram—a sanctuary for children of unwed mothers, facilitating their adoption into loving homes.

    She named it Aakaksha.

    As if her contributions were not already enough, she went even further, extending her reach to a neglected tribal population 150 miles west of Sevagram, ensuring safe deliveries and providing a secure childhood for impoverished tribal communities.

    Melghat became her Maika.

    Despite being born into a business-oriented family in Gondia, Dr. Chhabra pursued an academic medical career. In 1966, she enrolled at Government Medical College Nagpur, where she obtained her MBBS degree in 1970. Subsequently, she pursued a Diploma in Obstetrics and Gynaecology (DGO) in November 1973. MD followed in April 1975.

    Interestingly, she holds a unique distinction at Nagpur University as possibly the only student to complete her concurrent DGO and MD in just two and a half years.

    Curious about her choice to pursue Obstetrics and Gynaecology, I asked her what led her down that path. She replied, “Medicine was my first love, and Ophthalmology was a close second. Obstetrics and Gynaecology wasn’t even on my radar. As destiny would have it, during my internship, I began to develop a liking for Ob Gy. The rest is history.”

    How did she arrive in Sevagram? She arrived during a tumultuous time in Indian history. In the last week of June 1975, Prime Minister Indira Gandhi declared a state of emergency, leading to countrywide uncertainty and unrest. It was amidst this upheaval that Dr. Chhabra joined MGIMS as a lecturer in the Department of Obstetrics and Gynecology and Postpartum Program barely two weeks after the emergency was proclaimed in India.

    She came here, trying to verify the myths that the medical students wore a Khadi dhoti and learned under a tree. Fortunately, these turned out to be only myths. Dr. Sushila Nayar and Dr. ML Sharma asked her to join before 7 July 1975, the day the Medical Council of India was set to arrive to approve the courses. At that time, Dr. P. Nayar led the department, with Dr. Kasturi Lal serving as the associate professor. Dr. Acharya had departed for Iran, leaving the department with just two lecturers, Dr. Chella Hariharan and Dr. Kane.

    And she stayed put, becoming an integral part of the Sevagram success story. Over the five-decade inning, she not only headed the department but also led the hospital, the medical college, and governed the society that runs the medical college. She proved herself to be a stern administrator who did not have “No” in her dictionary. Every task, no matter how mundane or routine, was deemed “very, very urgent” in her vocabulary.

    A noteworthy incident to highlight: Dr. Chhabra survived a snake bite on May 13, 2001, coincidentally on Mother’s Day. Despite the paralysis caused by the Krait, she remained undeterred. After a week in the hospital, she recovered from the venomous bite and resumed serving her patients, leaving a lasting impact in the medical field.

    After nearly fifty years of dedicated service, Dr. Chhabra is all prepared to bid farewell to MGIMS tomorrow.

    Dr. Chhabra is seeking new challenges, eyeing a role at a multi-specialty hospital in Shirpur, a town in Maharashtra’s Dhule district. Shirpur holds significance as the hometown of Smita Patil, a renowned actress in art-house and parallel cinema. Smita Patil’s own tragic demise in 1986, due to childbirth complications at Jaslok Hospital, just a week after delivering her baby, underscores the pressing need for enhanced maternal healthcare in tribal communities.

    Aware of this history and inspired by Smita Patil’s legacy, Dr. Chhabra aims to tackle childbirth-related issues, particularly among tribal communities in the adjoining Dhule, Nandurbar, and Jalgaon districts.

    Farewell, Chhabra madam. You are among the rare few whom God created to serve humanity. With such models no longer being created, your life story stands as an open book from which we can all learn.