Reflections on Medicine and Life by Dr. S.P. Kalantri
Fourteen years ago, on this very day, 𝗗𝗿 𝗕. 𝗦. 𝗖𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗯𝗲𝘆 left us for good.
Even now, nearly four decades later, my residency days at GMC Nagpur return with startling clarity. I still see him stepping into Ward 23: immaculately dressed, tie perfectly knotted, suit crisp, shoes shining, and his English as flawless as his clinical judgement.
(12 July 1942-17 November 2025)
In the Sevagram of the early 1970s—when nights seemed darker, trees stood taller, and time itself moved at an unhurried pace—a young man arrived with a small kitbag, a quiet smile, and a heart that beat for badminton.
Twenty-four hours can change the trajectory of a clinical case—or a life. Looking back at a pivotal day in the wards, these memories serve as a reminder of the thin line between crisis and recovery in the practice of medicine.
Our GMC Nagpur batch of ’73 is a little emptier today. Remembering Rajendra—a dear batchmate from B Batch, Roll No. 117—and those quiet moments on the dissection hall benches where our lifelong medical journeys first began.
Yesterday, I wrote about the miracle pill that found a home in every drawer and pocket. Today, I reflect on the post-miracle buzz—the warnings about its darker side, from weakened bones to fading B12 stores, and the delicate balance of clinical care.