My School Years

My first 4 years in primary school were in Akola municipal school No 5. We had no desks and benches but long jute strips from one end of the class to the other. We used to keep our slate by our side. I was the first kid in school to have an unbreakable slate made of black painted metal sheet instead of slate stone. I was one of the rare students who had footware. Most others came barefoot to school. Only some wore our school uniform as the others couldn't afford the cost of a white shirt and khaki half pants. Then I went to another school for 5th where my grandfather was the managing trustee. But this has made a deep impact on me. Not only do I realise that I am one of the God's favourites but even today I am able to connect to and relate to economically weaker persons when I meet them. At that time my father was a lawyer. When he took up a position as a judge, he was getting transferred very frequently. So every year I was going to a new Marathi medium school in different parts of Maharashtra. I have studied in Nashik, Dhule, Ahmednagar, again Akola (with my grandparents) and finished off with SSC in Aryan Education Society's high school in Girgaon, Mumbai. Each of these schools had different school board with different curriculum. English as a subject was from 5th standard in Akola but 8th standard in Nashik. Sanskrit was not a subject in the school where I was studying but it was from from 5th in Nashik and I joined the school in 8th. The problem was that I could never have school friends, as by the time I could form a friendship, I was out of the school. The advantage is that, today when someone says he is from a particular town in Maharashtra, I can instantly connect with him/ her by mentioning my school near his place. After I finished my SSC, I had a choice of joining Xavier's, Jai Hind and Elphinston. I called up my Dad in his office to ask him where I should go and he said Elphinston, as it was walking distance from our flat in Colaba. BTW did I mention we changed houses 3-4 times during my SSC year as there was a long queue to get Govt quarters in Mumbai where my Dad was posted that year. We were in Malabar hills in his colleague's huge quarters, then with a distant relative in Merryweather road in Colaba and the in our own quarters in Majestic (erstwhile) Hotel in Colaba. 

After I was admitted to Elphinston, the first thing the principal did was to hold an English proficiency test for us "vernies". I was soo good in it that I was promptly placed in division H or J or some such alphabet far from A or B which were for Sr Cambridge and English medium schools. The lecturers were instructed to handle us with kid gloves while talking to us in English. We were made to attend special tuitions arranged by the college for learning English (FOC of course). 

Our side of corridor was for vernies and the opposite side was for the SOBO crowd with their Girlfriends. And here were, scared to be in a coed class for the first time in our lives. Our mortal fear was talking to girl. 

Anyway, I enjoyed both Bio & Maths and I don't remember getting stuck because of language of instruction. I did well in first year science. I don't remember how I got inspired to appear for IIT JEE but I did. My parents came to know of it when we received a letter of admission from IIT. 

In IIT I was a loner keeping to myself. How did I pass time? Not studying, as I hated studies but by
reading English novels whenever I could lay my hands on any book. I finished complete Ian Fleming, Sherlock Holmes, Neville Shute (I think that was the spelling) and best of all The entire set of HAROLD ROBBINS!  I found that all my adolescent fantasies were in those books and some more. The advantage was that through all my trash reading I picked up spoken English. So when I went to Yankeeland for studies I had little problem in communicating. 

So all in all I don't think I had any disadvantages by schooling in Marathi except no girlfriends in school and college! 

            

Why did an IIT student commit suicide?

 

I have been reading with interest about the case of an unfortunate suicide committed by an IIT student. Though as usual the politicians are using the sad incident to their own advantage, as an ex-student of IIT, I felt I should express my opinion about the incident.

I was a student of IIT Bombay way back in the late 1960’s. Even though some believe that studies were less competitive compared to today in those days (I don’t agree but more about it later) every year we used to have one suicide. It was a given that someone will end his life every year. So, suicides are nothing new to IIT.

IITs pick the best of best students from across the country through a highly competitive exam. Only the cream of the student crop is able to get in. It is well known that it is tougher to get into IIT than any of the top USA universities. So, all those entering the institute are used to getting top ranks in their schools and colleges. It is taken for granted by them, their family and friends that they will be at the top in any academic test they give. Now in IIT everyone is a topper so in the first few exams someone is at the top of the class and someone has to be at the bottom. The students at the bottom are just not able to accept this fact. If one of them is highly disturbed by this turn of events and can’t accept this situation, s/he may take the ultimate escape route of a suicide. It is extremely sad but true. This may not be the only reason for taking the extreme step but I think it is one of the major reasons.

What is the solution? I think the institute has taken steps in the right direction by providing psychological counselling to all the students. The people close to the student such as family and friends should also accept that bottom of the class in IIT is at the top of any other STEM institute in India and probably the world. It should also be clear that at the end of the course, the student at the bottom will also get job opportunities though they may not be as lucrative as the ones showcased in media. It is also important to understand that an IIT degree is only a stepping stone to one’s career and life. The topper from IIT may not be as successful in life as a mediocre student there, as he may have talents not apparent in studies.

Now coming to the question of parents and students complaining about how academics are getting more and more competitive day by day. Well in my time the population of India was half of what it is today but the number of seats in all IITs together were approximately 2000. Today the number of seats available are 16,600+ i. e. over 8 times what they were in 1960’s and 70’s. So, guys stop complaining and start studying! You don’t need to be a genius but a good logical thinker to clear the entrance exams.

Job satisfaction

 

10-year-old Gondya was a worried young man, I call him a man rather than boy because he was handling the responsibility of a man. He was an Adivasi (Indigenous people) cowherd with a flock of 10-12 cows. He had brought out his herd for feeding and drinking but there was no water to be found anywhere in sight. The small rivulet which was the regular place for drinking water had dried up in the month of April and his flock was thirsty. In fact, the oldest cow Radha was tottering on her weak legs and looked as if she would faint and fall down any moment. Finally, Gondya got down on his knees and started digging with his bare hands in the dried-up water stream. After digging for a couple of feet, some water started collecting in the dug out  pit.  The cattle started drinking one by one from the pit.

This was the scene that summer in the village of Ujjaini in Wada taluka where we had gone from Rotary Club of Thane to survey a site for constructing a check dam. Ujjaini is located in the hills and receives huge rainfall in monsoon, but all the rainwater flows down to the plains and then to the sea through rivulet located near the village. The challenge was to somehow retain at least a part of the rainfall to create a reservoir of water which would last through the summer. The solution was to build a check dam of about 3 meter (10’) height to block the flow of water. This would help in two ways. Firstly, it would hold some water upstream of the check dam and secondly it would raise the water table in the surrounding areas and recharge drinking water wells in the village.

Once we realised the need for the check dam was of primary importance to the life of the villagers and their livestock, the work started in earnest. The small dam costing just ₹ 10 Lakhs ($13,500) was completed in 3-4 weeks before the monsoon set-in in June. The rains are so heavy and nonstop that construction is not possible from June to September.

We inaugurated the dam in first half of June of that year and the rains came in time. We visited Ujjaini again after a year in the summer and that is when I experienced my Rotary moment. The same place where the cattle were nearly dying of thirst, I saw Gondya and his friends jumping in the check dam water for a swim! The dam was full in the month of April and there was enough water for cattle, farming, other uses and of course for Gondya and his friends to swim in till June.

These are the moments we Rotarians live for. These are the moments which stay with us for life. These are the moments when we feel we have touched the lives of our less privileged brethren. These are the moments when we feel we are giving back to the society which has given us so much more than others.

We again visited the village after 2 years and what a transformation we saw! In what were dry farms, we could see Mogra flower (Jasmine) plantation. I was told by the village head that they have started growing corn and vegetables around the village regularly. At least 800 people in villages around Ujjaini had benefited by the check dam.

Now that is what I call job satisfaction!

 

Memories of a traveller

The following was written for a young age India audience so please excuse the explanation for basics in US.

Memories of a traveller

It was August 1970. There were no mobiles, no ISD, no internet and most importantly no Google. So when I landed at New York’s John F Kennedy International Airport, I knew nothing about USA except what I had seen in Hollywood movies.

As a 20-year-old first time outside India, my heart wasn’t going dhak dhak but ka-boom ka-boom! I was sweating, nervous and jittery. I looked up at every face in the visitors’ gallery to see if our distant relatives had come to receive me. I got more nervous when I couldn’t spot them. Fortunately, the signage was clear and I landed up at the customs desk. My baggage had all kinds of Indian food items and my specially stitched clothes. More about the clothes later. The customs officer asked me in his strange accent for my x-ray. Yes, we had to carry a chest x-ray with us, and it was inspected in customs. He held it towards light and nodded. And I thought to myself, does every customs officer have to be a Pulmonologist in USA? The officer saw me sweating in the air-conditioned hall and immediately suspected I had something to hide. He made me open all my bags, and started rifling through them. His face lit up when he came upon a brown paper bag (Remember we had no plastic bags then) with some grainy powder inside. He carefully opened the bag and was shocked to see black powder in it. He was sure he had caught a drug smuggler (Or at least his mule or carrier). Those were the days of peak use of marijuana, LSD etc. and India was known for its laissez-faire attitude to drugs. All this while I was only thinking where do I go once I get out of the airport, if no one has come to receive me. It was only when the officer asked me in a loud voice what the powder was that I realised something was wrong. I took one look and told him “Its tea powder”. The officer had probably never seen tea powder outside a tea bag and maybe not even seen a tea bag (Tea was a ladies’ drink in USA. “Real men drink black coffee”) doubted me and went off looking for someone to consult. He probably went looking for the office secretary, who would be the only woman in Customs Dept in those days. In the meanwhile, I was still looking for Mr Karkhanis in the gallery and finally spotted one Indian frantically waving at me. He had not met me earlier and later he told me that he recognised me because I looked like my cousin whom he knew!

Anyway, the officer came back after some time and told me I was cleared to go. I heaved a sigh of relief, packed my bags in a hurry and went out to meet Karkhanis. But let me rewind to a day earlier. I left Bombay by Czechoslovak State Airlines (CSA Airlines) in a Russian Illyusin Il-62. Why CSA you

ask? Because they had the cheapest Bombay- New York ticket. During the flight, a lot of us asked for water to drink. This totally shocked the stewardesses. They didn’t know that water could be used for drinking. In Europe they only drank beer or wine. They had to get some water from the sink for us to drink.

Now this aircraft had limited flying range. So we took off from Bombay and landed in some middle eastern airport for refuelling. Maybe it was Istambul. There we were asked to disembark and go to the terminal building because they could not refuel while passengers were inside. It was considered too dangerous.

After taking another halt and change of planes in Prague, we were on our way to USA!

In US, the Karkhanis family was very hospitable and the father asked his sons to show me New York. I did some rubbernecking in Manhattan and saw an impressive show in Radio City Music Hall. What is rubbernecking you ask? Well that’s what locals call tourists because the tourists stand on the footpath (Sidewalk to Americans) and keep looking up at the tall skyscrapers blocking the commuters who are in a hurry. Until today, I don’t know if the Karkhanis family was extra hospitable to me because they had a marriageable age daughter or because it was their way of treating any relative visiting New York.

My next leg of journey was New York to Columbia, Missouri where my grad school was (my Post Graduate college in Indian English). The New York – St Louis flight was uneventful but the St Louis – Columbia flight was on a 12-seater propeller aircraft. Navigation was simple. The pilot just followed the highway.

Now came another tension filled time. After landing at Columbia airport, which was smaller than any of our village S.T. stands, I didn’t know where to go. So I looked around, saw a car with a Taxi sign on top, hopped in and told the driver to take me to some hotel in Columbia. He dropped me at a decent place and zoomed off. That was another moment of reckoning for me. Apart from the bank draft for my first semester’s expenses, I had exactly a total of $80 in cash on me. After paying the cab driver, I had $70 left with me. I had no idea how much a hotel would cost and how many days I will have to stay there.

After taking the help of a reluctant desk clerk in getting my room door open, as I didn’t know how to open the door, I looked for a phone directory. In it, I looked for a Kulkarni, Deshmukh or Deshpande and to my surprise, I found a Deshpande! Even bigger surprise was his reaction when I told him I had just arrived and was staying in xyz hotel. He said o man are you crazy? That hotel is expensive! Pack your bags we are coming to pick you up. In half an hour my doorbell rang, and in walked a stout Deshpande and his wife. He arranged temporary accommodation for me with some bachelor friends and on that welcome note I ended my journey to USA and started my journey in USA!

By the way about the clothes. My Dad had spent a lot of hard earned money in stitching me 3-4 suits, Nehru jacket etc. which I never got to use as I saw everyone on the streets wearing shorts in August!

Indian and Western Civilisations

Whenever I am alone and idle with nothing to do, I like to reason out the “why” of events around me. It's interesting to try to understand what caused a trend or an isolated event. One of the historical facts is the divergence of Indian and Western civilisations. Both are great in their own unique way but are poles apart. here's my take on the subject.

Indians were great thinkers. As a STEM student I cannot accept that Indians were flying planes in ancient times but the mythology does show that the Indians had the creative power to think of flying (Pushpak Viman), nuclear fission (Bramhastra), indestructible nature of matter/ energy (Punarjanma, Anaadi Anant). The concepts of Bramhand, Zero, study of astronomy show that the Indian mind was far ahead of contemporary societies at that time.

Problem was the method of teaching and sharing of knowledge & skills. Knowledge was (and

is) power. Skills are valued. Indians understood that and they shared their knowledge only with their offspring and trusted Shishyas. Knowledge & skills were not documented properly. This was probably due to the fear that it may fall into “wrong” hands (anyone who was not son/daughter or trusted Shishya) and would dilute their “Power”. The teaching was only by word of mouth. Though this did preserve the power in the hands of the elite, it had three detrimental consequences. One, the knowledge was lost if some wise man did not share it with anyone. Second, the knowledge degraded over generations, as oral knowledge lost something in communication (e.g. Chinese whispers). Third, if one offspring was not as intelligent as the knowledge demanded, he/she was asked to learn by rote. This became a rule rather than an exception and the knowledge became a meaningless ritual. It also meant that original thinking was discouraged. One was not supposed to tinker with what was taught. It was a “Given” without any logic. One was not allowed to question the wisdom of a Guru.

This is where the Western civilization differed from Indian. They documented every discovery, invention and knowledge. They invented the printing press through which knowledge was spread in its entirety within the society without loss in communication. It was tested and questioned by peers thereby bringing in many perspectives and sharpness to the knowledge.

Another area where Western civilisation differed was the way work & occupation was looked at. Every society wants to reduce manual work so that its people can have an easier life. Indians with their feudal setup used the less privileged to do their menial tasks. Westerners invented machines. As a result anyone working with their hands and legs was considered “Low caste” in Indian society but anyone who was a craftsman was respected in Western civilisation. The highest authority or Bramhan was one who only did thinking or teaching and got all the manual work done by others. The lowest rung was the craftsman or labour who did work useful to the society. An ironsmith was creating hulls and swords but he was low caste. He had no incentive to innovate or to improve his product, as he received no appreciation or reward. A farmer created food for all but he was treated poorly and had to share fruits of his labour with all. As against this, the westerners valued watchmakers, shoemakers and soldiers for their skills. And from these thoughts came the early scientists who would work with their hands in

Chemistry labs or for inventing labour reducing machines and of course for creating better guns. The results are apparent to us. Indians with their inward thinking remained rooted here as against the Westerners who used their guns, ships and action oriented war strategies, to conquer the world.

I believe today’s civilization needs machines to ensure that humans do not have to toil endlessly to earn a living but it also needs to look inward to reach a higher level of knowledge and self-realisation. Fortunately with global communication and free movement of people, today we are at a point in history where the Indian and Western minds and capabilities can come together to form an egalitarian society with respect for all and degradation of none.

The Warkaris

Ganoba was clearly in distress. Even a layman like me could see that his breathing was laboured, his eyes showed pain, his feet were swollen and he was so tired, that he could barely walk. The junior Doctor who had just got his degree in general medicine, pulled him out of the long line and made him sit before checking his BP & pulse. He then called the senior, who did the same. With the limited equipment available at our open air medical camp on the highway, there was there was not much else the Doctors could do to diagnose what was wrong with Ganoba. They gave him some medicine and with a worried look (Its rare to see a worried looking Doctor around his patient!) told Ganoba to stop walking and take a lift from the next available vehicle. And I saw that there were many who would be more than willing to give a lift.  I asked the Doctors what worried them. They both said he was showing all signs of an imminent heart attack. While he was taking the medicines I asked Ganoba a few questions. It turned out he had walked 150 kilometers, yes you got that right, 150 kms and had still about 100 kms to go to reach his destination. He was a farmhand and this was his annual time off from work. I didn't have to ask him what his destination was. Like the million plus other men, women and children, he was on his annual pilgrimage called “Wāri”, to the over 800 year old[1] deity in Western India known as “Vithoba” or “Viththal” or “Vithumai” in a small vilage called Pandharpur. There were many such Ganobas in the Wāri. One told us he walks every year from his village which is 600 kms from Pandharpur. (Yes I did check on Google Maps and found the figure to be correct).

The main Wāri takes 19 days to reach a distance of 250 kms from Alandi near Pune to Pandharpur with 3 days of stopovers. This means a trek of about 15kms per day for 16 days! Olympians will train for this kind of arduous trek and all I could see were malnourished but hardy villagers doing it with a smile on their faces. They not only walked but danced, sang and rejoiced their love for their own Vithoba. They are the followers of Wārkāri sect of Hinduism, who are vegetarian by choice, non violent and don't believe in caste system! All castes were walking shoulder to shoulder, eating from same pot and drinking the same water. For a 400 year old sect, this is quite a social revolution.

Warkaris walking to Pandharpur

But this gathering which can beat any staged Hollywood spectacle, got me thinking in another direction. I saw, no, experienced the energy, the enthusiasm, devotion and the sole purpose of over a million people who had nothing else in common. What brought them together? What makes them do this painful exercise year after year? Just Faith. Faith in Someone they believe in, faith that He can bring them salvation, faith that all their worldly worries and pain could be taken care of by Him. I personally do not believe in many aspects of religion such as violence for the sake of religion, blind worship, meaningless rituals, bad traditions etc but I do believe in the power of faith. I have seen faith cure mental depression, addictions and even terminal deceases. And to be honest, in many cases the faith was placed in the wrong kind of person!

All the major problems in India are due to our loss of faith in anything and everything. We don’t or rather can’t believe in people, systems or rule of law. Why don’t we have a single leader we can trust to do the right thing? Why do we victimize every honest man? How do we create a group of leaders in whom we can repose our faith? The present system of governance only encourages nepotism, casteism, dishonesty and populism. It only creates false demi-gods. 

Devotion to Viththal is not painless. It takes consistent effort of years of trekking to get to his image. But millions do it. Removing the problems and creating a country with happy citizens will also take a lot of pain. Where do we make a start?

I have no simple solution but I do believe that each one of us has a part to play. Each one of us has to sacrifice, each one of us has to strive to be the person in whom others can have trust. Each one of us must strive to reach our own Viththal if not be one ourself.

To complete my story of Ganoba, he took the pain relief medicines, Dispirin and the advise we gave him, got up from the chair and with his walking stick, walked. He walked one step at a time not knowing if he will reach Vithoba in this life or in his afterlife. But he walked with a firm resolve not looking back even once.

What was I doing there? Well every year for the last 15 years, our Innerwheel Club of Thane, which is a club of spouses of Rotarians, conducts a 2 day medical camp along the route taken by the pilgrims. From the last two years, we Rotarians of Rotary Club of Thane have also joined them in this noble venture.

And today after this experience I am not only humbled by their simplicity, commitment and drive but I am also emotionally a much richer person.

---

[1] Wikipaedia https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vithoba_Temple,_Pandharpur & https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vithoba#cite_ref-karve_23-1

Why I am a Rotarian

The first quote I heard about Rotary International, was by management guru Late Sharu Rangnekar. He used to say “Those who can’t become Presidents in their company, become Presidents of Rotary Club”. So you can imagine my reaction as a senior executive in a large corporate, when a visitor would present me a visiting card with his designation in a Rotary Club on it. I used to say to myself, “Oh no, not one more of those small timers with big ideas about himself”.

But destiny ruled otherwise. I had to shift to Thane a few years back and didn't know a soul in the city except one couple who happened to be Rotarians. When I said I was worried about not having any friends in this new place, they said, “Rajeev don’t worry, just join my Rotary Club and you will have a great time in Thane”. And boy did I have a good time! From the day I started attending weekly meetings of the club as a prospective member, the who’s who of Thane would introduce themselves to me and would invite me to dinners & get-togethers. I would also get to hear some eminent speaker every Tuesday evening. But after a few months, the novelty wore off and I started losing interest. Then suddenly one day, the President Elect called me and asked me if I would like to join his Board of Directors. When I asked him what that meant, he said don’t worry we will guide you. And guide they did. As a Pulse Polio Chairman, I was taken around 35-40 centres in Mumbra & Kalwa and I learnt how dedicated Rotarians and Municipal employees were Making a Difference. This opened my eyes to a totally new aspect of Rotary. I realized Rotary is not just wining and dining but lot of solid work for the community. As I handled various other portfolios in subsequent years, I realized what a great institution Rotary is. The theme I liked was, “Fellowship for Service”.

Since I have spent my career in a hierarchical corporate world, what I enjoy in Rotary is the challenge of getting volunteers to work as team without any authority over them. I am highly impressed by the amazing organizational structure, succession planning and strategic vision, where at the stroke of midnight of every June 30^th, the entire organization from top to bottom changes but the institutional values, strategic aims & objectives remain the same.

I am proud to belong to an International community which gives me the privilege of entering into any Rotary meeting anywhere in the world and of being accepted there as one of them. As a Rotarian, I get credit for any good work done by any club anywhere in the world.

Rotary gave a higher aim to my life which was caught up in busy corporate life with its politics, pettiness and greed. It gave me relief from frustration at the corruption and wrongdoings in the society around us. But best of all it gave me hope for the humankind. 

Thank you Rotary.

My Thane of Future

Compared to most of my friends who have been born and brought up in Thane, I am a new comer with just 9 years here. But my love for this great city is no less than theirs.

What with housing construction activity going on at feverish pitch all around, Thane is definitely growing today but I feel this growth is not one which is going to contribute much to the city but will only burden it in future in terms of additional requirements of utilities and infrastructure like power, water, educational institutions, transport, highways, health care etc. Thane will only become more and more a suburb of Mumbai without any identity of its own. It will be a residential base for increasing commercial prosperity of Mumbai.

For a city to really prosper on its own, it must add value to the state and the country. It must thrive economically on the goods and services it provides to the society outside the city. It must think young, be innovative and continuously reinvent itself.

For a long time Thane had a solid manufacturing base in Textiles, Engineering, Chemicals and Pharmaceuticals from small, medium and large scale industries. It generated revenue for the city government, gave employment to thousands and attracted talent from all over the country. Today almost all large industries have either shut shop or shifted their base elsewhere. Many medium and small scale industries are in doldrums. Just a drive through Wagle Industrial Estate will suffice to prove my point. High cost of labor, low level of skills, smaller scale of production and cheaper imports have made manufacturing here unviable for many of these industries.

Thane city needs to create an identity for itself distinct from that of Mumbai by using its strengths to its advantage. Firstly it has real estate which is cheaper than Mumbai. Due to its proximity to Mumbai and a green national park, it can attract top Indian and International talent which looks for cosmopolitan environment with clean living. With all the new residential construction in progress, it can comfortably house a large workforce. It is close to two International Airports of Mumbai, one of which will hopefully come up in the next few years. Most importantly, due to its geographically small area for a large metropolis, it must have environmentally friendly industry so that its citizens have a clean life.

High end Information Technology is one area which fulfils all these requirements and utilizes the advantage of Thane. By high end I mean IT developmental labs and high end software development activity and not call centers which are more suitable for upstate smaller towns. Where to put this industry? With manufacturing in shambles, Wagle Estate comes to my mind as a perfect fit for IT industry. MIDC should buy back all the land it can from present lessees / owners, many of whom will be more than glad to do it. Those industries and residents who want to continue business, should be consolidated in one area of the estate with proper compensation for their disruption. MIDC should consolidate the present smaller plots into large land parcels, construct world class infrastructure like roads, electric power supply, top class public transport and offer the land to large Indian and International software giants for setting up their base here. Each land parcel should be minimum 4-5000 sq Meters to ensure that only the biggies enter the fray. It is high time we abandoned our mindset of small is beautiful and invite those who can provide employment opportunities to maximum number of skilled people.

With so many persons working here, other businesses providing services to those people will also grow dramatically. Restaurants, malls, transport, automobile, travel and similar industries as well as educational institutes will expand, opening up more opportunities for businessmen as well as people working in these industries.

How long will it take? Maybe 5 years with a Chandrashekhar at the helm or more with someone else; but we are talking about Thane for the next 60-70 years; so this is a small time invested for a long term gain.

Internationally, Thane will have its own identity as a knowledge center. Its citizens will have cleaner, better life with less commuting and more facilities created by the revenue rich Municipal Corporation. Maybe the TMC will compete with this newspaper for the title of Thane Vaibhav!

In short if Bangaluru and Hyderabad can do it why can't Thane?

A Physical Experience

It is a painful experience to have a slipped disc. Though all the doctors said what I had was a minor slipped disc, the pain didn't feel so. I went through the rigors of a general physician, medication, an orthopedic surgeon, more medication, an MRI and then finally a physiotherapist. And this is where my story starts.

The orthopedic referred me to a “Really good physiotherapist with Yoga knowledge” in my city. I promptly took her appointment for consultations and asked for directions to her clinic. I was given complicated directions ending with a walk in a gap between two buildings. When I reached there on time, with my wife waiting in the car in a no parking zone, I found that the Physiotherapist was sharing the clinic with a Psychiatrist on time share basis. There were three small beds in one room with no partitions. The beds were of the width of an examination bench. For the doctor there was a table & chair with two chairs for the victims, I mean patients. On one of the chairs was sitting, I later found out, a salesman. He was selling some kind of heating pads. The Physiotherapist was on the phone reminiscing about her college days with some professional colleague. It seems she was checking references of the salesman and the product. After the call she was more excited than the salesman. The Physiotherapist was expected to sell these pads to her patients and earn some commission on the sales. I was so nonplussed that I don’t remember whether I was left standing or was sitting on one of the beds.

While I waited for the next 20 minutes or so listening to the business transaction, in walked the Psychiatrist. He was immediately marked as the first likely prospect by the Physiotherapist. The Psychiatrist admitted that in the opinion of his wife, he is a soft target for all salesmen and he buys anything and everything that he is offered. So much for learning the science of Psychiatry. When the salesman realized that he could notch up a big sale to the Psychiatrist, he started pitching for the same “commission” offer to him. The Physiotherapist put an immediate stop to this encroachment on her sales territory, curtly telling the salesman that the Psychiatrist was her customer.

After this deal was through, I was ushered to the patient’s chair and the Physiotherapist stood around loudly reading my medical file to all those present there and beyond. She had to stand because the Doctor’s chair was now occupied by the Psychiatrist. At the end of the public reading of my ailments and the treatment suggested, she called her assistant and asked me to lie down on the bed. The assistant rolled up his sleeves and started approaching me. At this point, I had enough. While listening with one ear to the Psychiatrist's patient's woes, I politely suggested that it would be only proper for me to know what the treatment was going to be, before my body was dismembered and disposed of. With a look of infinite patience, the Physiotherapist explained that I will be taught some simple exercises and in five such sessions I should expect substantial relief from my pain. I told her I will come back the next day with sufficient time on my hand so that I don’t have to worry about my wife being arrested for parking in No Parking zone right in front of a Police Station.

Now comes the most surprising part. I did go for the treatment the next day onwards! As for results, the verdict is still out. Will update soon.