The Good Doctor

Few know that the man listed by the "Illustrated Weekly of India" in the 80's as among the ten most prominent Namboodiris of the community ran away once from the Madras Medical College, unable to withstand the horror of cutting a frog on the dissection table. He fled to Kolkata and took up a job as a wireless operator.

Equally surprising is that when he returned after a while, he was allowed to continue his medical course. And he rose to become one of the noted neurosurgeons of his times. When he passed away in November 1995, in Tiruvalla, the people in Ludhiana did not hear of it. In his life time, he was wary of publicity and the rule was not violated even in death. Many people of Ludhiana and from other parts of the country who had experienced his healing touch fondly recall his qualities as a doctor. The cycle riding director of a prestigious Christian Medical College had almost become a part of a landscape and generations of medical students have a little bit to narrate of his missionary zeal and compassion.

His simplicity was legendary. When he became the first Indian director of CMC, he decided not to live in the huge luxurious bungalow and opted for an ordinary flat. His simplicity also got him trouble. Once when he boarded a first class compartment, the ticket examiner threw him out on the platform, presuming the 'ordinary passenger' had mistakenly boarded a wrong class.

Unfortunately for the TTE, a group of students who were a few yards away, rushed over and collared him. The doctor intervened and apologized to the frightened rail official for the discourtesy of his students. Once he incurred the wrath of a local ration shop owner because he would not allow him to jump the queue at the outpatient department. In retaliation, the shop owner would make the surgeon wait in the queue for buying his ration.
Whenever he passed through Delhi, he used to be besieged by church leaders and others with invitation to speak, he being a fascinating speaker. The words proceeding from him had an authenticity and not because of his scientific background; he was known, particularly among the faithful as a man who practiced what he preached. It was an enigma to many why the Namboodiris from the deep south choose to serve, all his life in an unromantic part of Punjab rejecting the many lucrative offers from the US and the UK where he had studied.

While suffering from a tortuous form of cancer, a rare type that had officiated only 12 persons in the whole world so far, he addressed the students and staff of the Tiruvalla Medical Mission Hospital. He told them that he would like to be treated by a compassionate physician rather than by an impersonal and unfeeling doctor who knew a lot. That is perhaps the most significant message he left for the medical profession.