Eye For An Eye(SUDESHNA MAJUMDAR) I never met him but I had heard a lot about his 'miracle cures'. Though Kesava Mohandas died over a decade ago at the ripe age of 93, his fame outlives him in the Malabar region of Kerala. "He gave me a second lease of life," says an uncle who almost lost an eye five decades ago when a ball hit it. Then, a strapping lad of 18, he was playing hockey with his friends when the incident that would have changed the course of his life occured. Uncle still shudders at the memory.

Mohandas's family had a tradition of treating eye ailments for over 200 years and this siddhi was passed on from generation to generation. Family folklore had it that one of his ancestors approached a famous Vaidyan for treatment of an eye ailment. Impressed by the efficacy of his medicine, the gentleman returned to become the physician's disciple and master the art. This was his adoption of the 'eye for an eye' principle.

The trials and tribulations of his childhood did not hamper Mohandas and he grew up to become a teacher in a district high school. He did not dispense with the family tradition and treated eye patients in his spare hours. The preparation of the herbal remedies demanded considerable time and energy, some taking as many as 14 days to prepare. But that did not deter him. He would nurture the herbs and painstakingly make the medicines.

In spite of the efforts he put in, he did not ask for remuneration from his patients and accepted whatever they gave him as a token of their appreciation. He never sent back anyone and treated poor patients free. What is more, he often helped them with cash and kind. His training and inborn skills helped him conduct 'operations' with local instruments without resorting to anesthesia. His methods were direct, not leaving much margin for imagination.

Several temple pachyderms of Kerala, including the legendry Guruvyur, were among his patients. In one instance, an elephant under his care got so attached to him that the beast refused to return to its master when the treatment ended. The physician had to escort the pachyderm home.

In those early days, there were hardly any worthwhile medical facilities in the country side. Often, he was the only hope for critical patients on the verge of losing their eyesight and they were rarely disappointed. With the crisis over, they would again return to their respective worlds, nervously at first, unwilling to believe that the danger had passed. In course of time, the experience would fade to a wisp of memory and they would get on with their lives as before.

The efficacies of his medicine soon expanded his small world much beyond the confines of his back-to-the-beyond village and town. Patients from neighbouring states and even NRI's thronged his house in their search for a cure after failing to get succor from other sources. He treated patients till his death. A non descript man who dedicated his life to others; a trait rarely found in the medical profession today.

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