My First Blog Post

Between everything and nothing

I often sit back and ponder how much the earth has revolved on its axis in the last 40 years. What has changed so dramatically in the last four decades! Everything, I suppose or maybe, nothing. Between ‘everything’ and ‘nothing’ lies an emptiness which I cannot fathom.

If I had opted to become a doctor in the late 70s, it wasbecause the tales of both my grandfathers had influenced me tremendously in adialectic manner. My paternal grandfather practised in the district of Rangpur in undivided India (now part of Bangladesh). I was told that he was also anactivist who sought independence from the British oppression and hence spent quite a few years behind the bars on charges of sedition. Whilst he was in the jail, villagers from far and near used to bring whatever grew in their land, tosustain a mammoth joint family of some 80 odd members. I cannot imagine such athing in today’s world where every doctor is looked upon with suspicion; the practice of medicine having degenerated to a transactional contract between a seller and a buyer. He died sad and lonely far away from his place of work,bereft of possession and pride- thanks to the Nehrus and Gandhis of the time.

My maternal grandfather on the other hand was a pathologist,who delved deep inside the human body and discovered many fascinating happenings in human organs afflicted with different diseases. To maintain academic credentials amongst a white majority medical faculty under the BritishRaj was challenging to say the least. His work featured in many noted Europeanjournals of his time. By the end of the first decade of independence, he started losing his faith in integrity of academics and clinical medicine in equal measure. By mid-1960 he took retirement, vowing never to see the face of ahospital ever again. He kept his promise until his last breath in 1986. I spenta lot of my childhood with him, gazing at the enormity of his library, in hisbedroom, listening to his unblemished recital of Sanskrit verses from Meghdutamand Abhigyanam Shakuntalam, split with reminders to pursue a career in mathematics and never to talk of medicine.

I was nurtured amidst two tales of dedication and brilliance in Medicine which ended in despondence, desolation and disillusionment. I preferred to hang on to essence of their lives rather than the bitter endings.This is probably the reason, why I hold on to the same hope I harboured 40years ago. A hope not to see children begging in the streets or dying in scoresunder the pretence of overcrowding and encephalitis.

‘Therapeutic Medicine’ now rests in the backyard of the wealthy and ‘Preventive medicine’ which could reduce the burden of disease inthe poor remains non-existent. Healthcare is a commodity, advertised, brandedand sold to the highest bidder. All at the behest of consecutive governments, who thought it best to outsource healthcare to the private players. Yet, we plough on with the hope that one day we will not have to turn back a child witha curable cancer not because he cannot be treated, but because he has verylittle hope of surviving due to lack of nutrition and sanitation.

This is where my story begins- a little bit of me and theworld around me every day.