A Honeymoon with the ECFMG
Devmani recalls it with a dry, affectionate wit. Two weeks after their wedding in Delhi, Sharad appeared for the ECFMG examination—and passed.
“The honeymoon clearly worked,” she says, her tone light, but precise.
The anecdote reveals something essential. There is, in him, a certain steadiness—an ability to move forward without fuss. Even in school, while others chased shifting ambitions, his gaze settled early. The heart interested him—not as metaphor, but as mechanism. The choice of cardiology came quietly, and stayed.
The Nagpur Years
He was born in Calcutta, not far from the house once inhabited by Rabindranath Tagore, but it was Nagpur that shaped him.
His father, Surindra Chand Jaitly, worked with the Indian Bureau of Mines and edited the Indian Mineral Yearbook. Precision, discipline, and economy of expression were not taught; they were lived. His mother, Nirmal, brought a different inheritance—rootedness, quiet strength, and an instinctive regard for learning. She passed away in 2021, leaving behind a family that had, in many ways, fulfilled her quiet expectations.
Sharad’s schooling took him across cities—Mount Carmel Convent in Dhantoli, Cambridge School in New Delhi, and Bishop Cotton School in Nagpur. By the time he completed his Senior Cambridge, he had earned the National Science Talent Scholarship.
He went on to St. Francis de Sales College, Nagpur, where a pre-medical BSc brought him honours in both Chemistry and English—an early indication that science and language would continue to travel together.
At Government Medical College, Nagpur—the 1973 batch—he found both discipline and direction. He earned honours in Physiology in his first MBBS year, alongside Jayant Pande, and was elected Secretary of the Debating Society. It was a time when argument was taken seriously and language carried weight. Seniors such as Vivek Kulkarni and Ved Prakash Mishra (1972 batch) dominated the debating circuit, setting a standard that younger students absorbed as much as they admired.
Tirora: Where Medicine Stripped Down
If Nagpur trained him, Tirora tested him.
A rural Primary Health Centre, far from the order of teaching hospitals, brought together four young doctors—different in background, with little in common except circumstance. What they encountered was not structured medicine, but its raw edge: outbreaks, uncertainty, and decisions made without the comfort of protocol.
During a cholera outbreak, Sharad did what was required—and then went further. He observed, recorded, and wrote. The resulting paper, published in the Journal of the Indian Academy of Preventive and Social Medicine, became his first—marking an early shift from treating illness to understanding it. His co-interns during this period included Siddhartha Kumar Biswas, Abhimanyu Kapgate, and Kailash Murarka.
Tirora did not transform him. It clarified him.
He went on to complete his house jobs in Medicine under Dr. Mrs. Lata Patil and in Pediatrics under Dr. Mrs. Deshmukh during 1979–80. For his postgraduate training in Internal Medicine, he worked under the late Dr. P. Y. Deshmukh—then Professor of Medicine and later Dean of Government Medical College—an influence that stayed with him long after the training years had passed.
Across Oceans, With Direction
When he moved to the United States, it was not an act of departure, but of extension.
Cardiology became the centre of his work. Over time, he completed board certifications in Internal Medicine, Cardiovascular Disease, Nuclear Cardiology, and Advanced Ultrasound Imaging. The years that followed were spent in teaching, research, and clinical practice—eventually as Clinical Professor at Mount Sinai and the Albert Einstein College of Medicine.
For two decades, he led a major nuclear cardiology programme in New York. Technology evolved rapidly around him; his work adapted, but did not lose its clinical anchor.
Patients remember something simpler—the attention.
A Family, and Its Continuities
At home, the disciplines of medicine and inquiry continued in quieter ways.
Devmani, an oncologist-hematologist with a deep commitment to palliative care, brought her own rigour to the shared life. Their children chose different paths, but with a similar seriousness—Rishi in technology, Pooja in law, and Muni in media.
Muni, the second son, worked closely with his father in later years. Together, they built MuniMeterHealth—a digital platform for teaching cardiology, designed to remain open and accessible.
He passed away in 2019. The work changed shape after that, but it did not cease.
The Work Continues
In March 2026, after years of work with a small team of engineers, Sharad was granted a United States patent for a cardiovascular device—smaRt heaRt™—designed to help identify individuals at risk of sudden cardiac death. The work has drawn attention in academic settings, including recognition at the University of Connecticut.
What matters more to him, however, is where it might lead. The effort now turns toward making the device accessible—beyond specialised centres, into settings where such risks often go unnoticed. Plans are underway to take it to India and Europe, once the practicalities allow.
The device also carries a more personal direction. Its future development, along with proceeds from his writing and the MuniMeterHealth platform, is intended to support the Muni Foundation—an initiative established in his son’s name, quietly linking innovation with service.
Over the past decade, Sharad’s work has moved across teaching, writing, and innovation, without seeking attention.
MuniMeterHealth has grown into a widely accessed teaching platform, reaching learners across countries. His book, Finding the Human Element, published in 2021, reflects on the quieter aspects of medical practice—attention, presence, and continuity. Its Hindi translation, मानव तत्व की खोज, co-authored with Devmani, extended that conversation further.
Much of this effort now flows into the Muni Foundation, established in his son’s name.
2026 — Awarded a United States patent for the cardiovascular device smaRt heaRt™, developed to aid risk stratification for sudden cardiac death. The work received academic recognition at the University of Connecticut.
Among the early graduates of Government Medical College, Nagpur to receive a U.S. patent for a medical device.
Sharad perhaps is the only and the first GMC’ite in the 78 yrs history of the entire GMC graduates to be awarded this honor!In Devmani’s Words
Devmani observes that when he turns to nature, he does so completely. A walk is never just a walk. It becomes a quiet exploration—through wooded trails, along rugged coastlines, sometimes for miles. He returns not empty-handed, but with small tokens: leaves, ferns, stones, flowers. Each carries a story—of survival through storms, ice, and time. He speaks of them with the curiosity of a botanist, as if they were old companions who have endured and blossomed again.
His regard for life extends to the smallest of creatures. An ant, a frog, a turtle—none are too insignificant to be noticed, or gently moved to safety. Birds, too, seem to recognise his presence. They gather, as though aware he is home.
Water offers him another kind of refuge. In the brief East Coast summers, the pool becomes his second home. He swims at odd hours—sometimes at sunrise, sometimes under a quiet, star-filled sky. He calls it his “sanity hour,” a time claimed for himself before the day resumes its demands.
And yet, place him in a gathering and he shifts easily. He will dance until the music fades, carry a tune when asked, and, at a family havan, recite Vedic mantras with ease and precision. At times, Devmani admits, she wonders whether she married a cardiologist or a quietly accomplished pandit.
Through all this, one thing remains constant. His first instinct is always toward family. He encourages his children to aim high, to stay grounded, and—well into their adult lives—still expects, half in jest and half in earnest, a daily “progress report.”
The Measure of a Life
From Tirora’s uncertainty to New York’s precision, the arc of Sharad Jaitly’s life is not defined by milestones alone.
It rests, instead, on something quieter—continuity of purpose.
Medicine, for him, has remained what it was at the beginning: an engagement with the patient, sustained over time, shaped by attention rather than assertion.