The Epilogue

I thank all of you for taking the time to read my blog. Those who are reading it for the first time, it would be best if you click on "October" in the Archive section. Then you can read from the beginning to the end.

The journey has come to an end. The purpose was to find answers to my questions. And I have found the answers. In that sense it was a success. I had two main questions. Would I be able to live comfortably someplace in Delhi? And, would I find something interesting and meaningful to teach/learn in the medical school or in the social service field?

The first question can be easily answered with an emphatic up and down Indian nod :) I had a one room accommodation with hot and cold running water and electricity. The room was spacious and the surroundings were really good. I could walk around for several blocks without any problems. The food was not the best at the local eatery. But there was always Suneeta nearby :) I enjoyed my time there in the single room.

The second question I had in my mind was if there was any way for me to make a useful contribution to society. That question was answered in the negative. It was not the answer I was hoping for, but it was expected. So I was not all that surprised -- a little disappointed yes.

On the medical front I found that I could not provide a long term meaningful teaching and learning experience for the residents and myself. I had a good time on the medical floor which was staffed by hard working residents. They were lucky to have a very competent of department head teaching them. Other floors and departments were not so lucky. The young men and women were of the highest caliber everywhere. The problem is that the system that does not promote inquisitiveness, leadership and talent.  The emphasis here is on rote learning and passing examinations. Independent thinking, discussions, self-study and group projects are on nowhere in sight.

The medical school has one of the most concentrated areas of highly educated and intelligent people in Delhi. Even here a culture of incompetency, grandiosity and/or inferiority complex predominates in the people who are in power. Without the cooperation of the highest level of the administration of the medical school, there is no use of me going back.

On the social service front, I spent a lot of time with people working on the anti-corruption crusade. They are a bunch of dedicated people. I worked on the legal proposals that they are putting forth to establish an independent body to investigate corruption.  However they already have enough competent and experienced people working on it. I did not feel that I was able to make any difference. The important thing for me was that I tried. All you can do is try. Sometimes you succeed sometimes you fail. The destination is not everything but the journey is.

Last day in Delhi

Yesterday was pretty depressing. Today it is different. I am looking forward to getting home. There is excitement and anticipation, mixed with sadness. I have already packed two suitcases. Tomorrow I will be leaving early in the morning. The flight is at noon.

While walking past the college building I realized how nice the building looked! Just a month back it looked like such a piece of junk. Human beings are so malleable. The building certainly would be declared uninhabitable by any western municipality. The electric wiring is pathetic. The number of working toilets is far below the minimum required by the building code, the fire exits -- the less I say the better. But here in Delhi it is one of the better buildings. After spending six weeks here my perception has changed dramatically and I did not even know it. After another month I will be making statements like the ones made by one of ministers, “Delhi is a world class city!”

Second to last day in Delhi

Today is my second to the last day here in Delhi. There is certain sadness in leaving this medical school with the knowledge that I will not be coming back any time soon. I was hoping against hope that I would find some “connection” that would bring me back every year. I was hoping that I will be invited back. That is not going to happen. There is no room or field for me to make any positive contribution at this time.

Today is also the day to say goodbye to Dad. This is likely to be last time I will see him. It was good to see that he is such a good physical condition. He can still walk pretty good. He can hear everything. He eats really well.  When I first came here I took him out for lunch. He did not like the food. The next time he had food made for me even though I had told him that I would take him out to a different place. I did not want to eat at the ashram but that is what ended up happening. The next week it was the same thing. He said yes when I told him that we were going to go out, but when I got there he refused to go.

So the following week I picked up “Chole-Bhature” from Haldiram Restaurant and took it with me. Dad really enjoyed it so I asked him whether I could bring him the same next week. He said fine. I was so relieved. Chole-bhature (garbanzo beans with deep fried bread) is easy to carry and stayed pretty good for the one hour that it takes for me to pick it up and drive to his place. This week I called and told him I was coming over with chole-bhature, he said, “I cannot have chole-bhature every day! Bring something else!” Now I have to figure out what to take that will taste good after one hour of picking it up from shop. He can be a pain in the back. Well at least dad must be feeling good since he is himself again!

Dad is very sharp on some things but some things he is making up. It happens in old age and the medical term of this is confabulation. When a person cannot remember he makes it up. I know my daughter will say that her dad has done it all her life!

After lunch I said good bye to day. He asked when I was going to see him again. I said when it is the wish of God. He knew it is probably the last time he will see me. He had tears in his eyes as we said good bye.

Last two lectures to the Medical Residents

In the last two days, I gave two lectures to the residents. One was about medical malpractice law and related issues. The other was about my experiences in India. There were about thirty doctors for the medical malpractice talk. It was based upon a hypothetical patient who came to hospital in a very poor condition and later expired. The talk went well, everyone was very attentive and the discussion was good.

The talk about my experiences in India did not go as well. I told them that the most frequent question I had been  asked was,"Is it better to go to the USA or stay in India?" I answered that medical doctors would be better off in USA unless they had strong family ties or obligations or if their families were very wealthy.

Then I talked about how the residents kept complaining about the poor facilities and lack of basic equipment. They were right in their descriptions but I told them that they were not doing all that they could do. They could still make things better by their own actions. It was not right to say that you are not going to do the proper thing just because others are not doing it. I think I got a little carried away and it did not go over well with the audience:(

Respect -- sometimes welcome sometimes not

When I first saw the security officers at every gate, I was a little worried. They might check every person's ID and I had none that entitled me to get onto the hospital and college campus. I had asked the Dean to give me a letter of introduction, that he had approved, but it never materialized. However, soon I learned that if I walk confidently and carry a stethoscope, I could go anywhere on the campus. Most of the time the security officers would get up from their chairs and salute me. I liked the respect they showed.

But there were times when the respect was not welcome -- like riding in Metro and the young men getting up to offer me their seats because the seats were reserved for the "old and disabled"!

The other time when this respect was not welcome was when strangers, sometimes in their forties or fifties, called me “uncle.” With utmost respect they would ask me, “where is the bus stop? Uncle!” Whatever little hope I had of looking like a young man have been dashed forever. Coloring my hair and mustache was not fooling anyone. I guess there is no use coloring my hair anymore. But if I do not color my hair I end up with the same statement in USA. They say it differently but it means the same. In my office, patients have asked my three or four times, “You are not retiring anytime soon? Are you?” On the golf course other golfers have asked me, “You are retired. Aren’t you?” This has always happened when my hair and mustache were as white as Santa Claus’.

Last Few Bites in India

Today I found out that I am going to be here in Delhi for only five more days. (My travel agent informed me that my return flight is booked now, before I did not have a definite return reservation.) So I have decided to eat plenty of what is not available in Los Angeles. See how my mind works :) I have decided to live on a balanced diet. I am going to eat plenty of fruits and then balance them with plenty of sweets! I have already described the sweets. Most of the fruits here are plentiful in Los Angeles like mango, watermelons, cantaloupes, apples and papayas. But there are some that are not available back home.

This is my favourite, Gauva. It is of a consistency somewhat firmer than an apple. Normally you eat the skin but I am peeling off the skin, just in case. It is not very sweet, just enough to make it delicious. The grapes are just to give you a perspective.

Cheekoo looks like a big kiwi fruit. But it is nothing like a kiwi. The inside is brown, my favourite color, just like me :) It has one or two large black seeds and the rest is delicious. You have to peel the skin.

Orange looks like an American orange but it peels off like a tangerine and is sweet like an orange. They have American style oranges too, they call them Keenu here. When I was here these were called Mousambi. Who knows when and why the name got changed.

I faintly remember this fruit Sitaful. It has outside appearence like a pineapple. Inside each piece comes off like pieces inside of a pomegrantes. Each piece has a large seed. There is hardly any pulp and the pulp is slimy and very sweet. No wonder I do not remember this fruit. It is not my favorite.

A Night at the Movies

I wanted to see a Bollywood movie while in India, the Indian style. So I had asked Suneeta if she would like to go to movie with me. She had not seen any movie in a theater for over a year, so she was happy to go. Her husband works so late that we left him out. So it was three of us, Suneeta, her teenage son and me. We gave the task of choosing the movie to the teenager.

I want to give a little background for those who do not know my experience with Hindi movies. When I was in High School we used to live in an Army Camp. There was an open air movie theater just for the army families. My dad paid a monthly fee and we all could go as often as we wanted. The theater was about two hundred yards from our house. The theater showed three different movies every week. It would screen a Hindi movie four times a week, an English movie once a week and another regional Indian language movie once a week. I used to write down the title of every movie that I saw there. I still have the list. When the list went to 150, I decided to quit. All the Hindi movies had one story, the same story in all movies. A man falls in love with a woman. The villain comes in between. There is fist fight and the hero gets his woman. (They were supposed to be boys and girls, but the parts were played by over-thirty actors.)

So in the last thirty years I have not been able to sit through many Hindi movies. I think I have seen one, because I was with my brothers and their wives in New Jersey.

So I was expecting another one of those boy meets girl and triumphs over the villain story. It was a pleasant surprise to see this movie about a quadriplegic man who is asking the court to allow him to end his life. There was not much of a story line but it was very well done. It had only a few songs at appropriate times and no fist fights! The movie lasted only two and half hours. Not the usual four hour movie with thirteen songs.