Modern Medicine, Traditional Medicine - all in the family

As we bade farewell to members of our family after a week-long stay in JP Nagar for Srimad Bhagavatam, we said:  ”Ok, bye. Next time we will have a get-together at my place - at least for four or five days.”

“Certainly. But, not just for 4 days, may be for 10 or 12 days,” reassured in unison both my younger sisters, in their 70’s. “ “You must be kidding,” I said. “No, we are serious. It is for cataract and retina treatments.”  

“My piece, “A Tale of Two Cataracts,” had  worked wonders, and they want my help with Narayana Netralaya where I had my surgery,” I guessed. No, far from it. Both sisters, and all their families, are ardent devotees of Sri Sri Ravi Shankar ji, and they planned to get it done from his Ashram. My place is the closest to the Ashram. Thus  began a two-week family reunion, all over again, so soon after the seven-day stint. 

Determined on their mission, both sisters did a terrific spade work. They knew that it was an uphill task to convince their hubbies and children for charting into an unknown territory - Ayurveda for eyes. Their own husbands and brothers have chosen the beaten track - surgery.

Hence they collected in advance sufficient case histories of happy patients at Ashram’s treatment. “In one Kalpathy Mami’s case,” they argued,  “she had a successful treatment months back. She has now brought all the way from Hyderabad her husband, with insulin as his parallel partner, for treatment. He was totally blind on left eye, but now after treatment he can read the first three lines of the Eye Chart.” A series of telephone calls to USA and UK back and forth ensued before both managed a go-ahead from all quarters.

At their request I accompanied them to the consultation room. After examining, the Ayurveda doctor confirmed a 12-day combo treatment of medication and eye exercises. In passing he apprised them of the possible adverse consequences after a couple of years should they choose modern surgery. “I wish I had waited outside,” I felt, as this observation will now haunt me for months and years. Anyway.

On the positive side, I could have with me both brothers in law, in their 80s, for full two weeks. In the days of yore, one of them was my role model for dress-sense, his command over English, his diction (a bit of artificiality notwithstanding), and the way he carried himself. As for the other, he is a Delhi-ite, like me. Hence soon after the engagement with my sister, we have been moving around together to movies, restaurants and what have you. “Rather than with your sister?” you might ask. 

They adjudged the grand seniors’ evening walks at Joggers Park as the salient feature of the stay, not to speak of the endearing qualities of SFV’s senior community with whom, they felt, it was a privilege to come in contact at these sessions. So much so that when a slight indisposition prevented the elder of the two from joining us for walk one evening, he was ill at ease with himself, walking restlessly to and fro at home, and stepping out to the balcony after every third round, to wave hands from afar to his new friends seated on the park bench engrossed in discussions on the day’s cricket, Ram Mandir, the MP’s fiasco in the airplane, 83 contesting for 1 seat at RK Nagar by poll caused by Jayalalitha’s death… 

The farewell session at  the park was marked by my brothers in law inviting their new-found friends to their residences JP Nagar and Bannerghatta Road, and the SFV seniors reassuring them, “Yes we would join Sundaram uncle on his next visit to your places.” Now the onus is on me. “We would no doubt miss the fresh, gentle breeze of the forest,” said one to which the other replied, “But you have the Ayyappa temple at 50 meters from your apartment, and I have a full-fledged market as I step out,” said the other, good at counting one’s blessings.

Amidst this multiplicity of activities there was yet another that was cooking but rather quietly. Yes, the lady of the house on her part, left no stone unturned to treat everyone with her different pan-India dishes morning and evening, trying to match her wits with everyone’s requirements: coffee with no sugar for one, double sugar for the other, and steaming coffee, between light and medium, and half spoon sugar for yet another (thank God, he (yes it’s me) didn’t specify 47 grains of sugar)…

As we saw the two families off in the cabs to their respective homes at the end of the session, one sister asked: “So, will the modern or traditional medicine take us back to the doctor again, after a year?” “Let us hope neither,” I said, as an incurable optimist.

V V Sundaram

Maple 3195

29 March 2017

Seven-Day Religious Recharge Retreat

Whenever righteousness is at stake, or unrighteousness on the rise, I  descend on Earth (Yada yada hi dharmasya glanirbhavati…), said Lord Krishna in Bhagavat Gita. In my case, very much a grounded mortal, I say that whenever spiritualism in me registers a low ebb, I recharge it with a Satsang. A family function in JP Nagar came in handy this time.

It was Bhagavata Saptaham, a discourse on Srimad Bhagavatam, lasting seven days as the word Saptaham suggests. Why seven days, why not 9 or 11. King Parikshit, the lone surviving grandson of the Pandavas, thirsty after a hunting mission, went to a hermit nearby for water. The sage was in penance and the king thus could not elicit a response to his request. In anguish he hung on sage’s neck a dead snake that was lying nearby. This angered the sage’s son who cursed Parikshit that he would die of snake bite in seven days. The repentant Parikshit went to the banks of Ganges to spend his last days where Sage Sukacharya (son of Sage Vyasa) narrated to him Srimad Bhagavatam, clarifying his doubts on life, karma, dharma, spiritualism…in those seven days. Hence Bhagavatam recital is organised for seven days.  

The morning sessions were devoted to reciting Bhagavatam, a staggering 18 000 verses. The sheer length of the epic compelled Purohit to recite at fast-forward mode, in order to complete them in seven mornings. The narrative part was done in the evening. The event thus held the audience in sway from 7 am  to 1 pm, and from 6 to 8.30 pm for seven days. Though not prescribed, during the interim the ladies recited Narayaneeyam from 4.30 to 5.30 and Vishnu Sahasranamam till 6 pm to optimise the benefit from this religious sojourn. Thus for all the seven days it was full plate though the accompanying  breakfast, lunch and snacks sessions were not so. In keeping with the sanctity of purpose these were supposed to be moderate - just more than a home fare, but way off from a marriage feast.

It has been his experience, the Purohit shared, that whenever he performs Bhagavatam Saptaham, it rains on one or more  days, and he hoped it does so during the Bangalore session as well. Yes, it did, at least on two evenings. That augurs well, doesn’t it? However what kept me spellbound was the felicity with which he negotiated his way through 18000 verses like a pilot on a non-stop long-haul flight, turbulence-free.

As for the origin of Srimad Bhagavatam, sage Vyasa who compiled Vedas and several puranas, was a little disenchanted with his contributions.  Sage Narada, his mentor, advised him to bring out a condensed and compact edition covering the highlights of Vedas, Upanishad ad puranas. So did Vyasa in the form of Srimad Bhagavatam. Also, Dwapara Yuga was yielding place to Kali Yuga, and the prescription for Kali Yuga is Bhakti and devotion, as opposed to  penance and yagna for Dwapara yuga. Hence nothing could be more appropriate.

The word Bhagavatam primarily means the revelations of the Lord - Bhagavan Himself. One stays blessed by either reciting or listening to it. Even one verse a day would have the impact of a full recital. The Purohit reminded us that most of us are familiar with this verse in it: Krishnaya Vasudeva, Devaki Nandana ya cha. Nanda Gopa Kumara ya, Govindaya Namo Namah. Likewise if one recites once a day Srirama Rama Rameti Rame Raame Manorame, Sahasranama Tattulyam Ramanama Varanane, it is equal to having recited the entire Vishnu Sahasranamam. He alerted us that there are 84 lakh species in this world, and that we are born as humans after being born as all these species in 7.5 crore births. Thus it is imperative that we feel grateful for having had the human birth, make the most of it and, more than anything else, live up to it. And, with the easiest of prescriptions - Bhakti and Devotion - it augurs well to recite these at least once daily.

Well then, here is fulfilling today’s quota: Krishnaya Vasudeva, Devaki Nandana ya cha. Nanda Gopa Kumara ya, Govindaya Namo Namah, 

and Srirama Rama Rameti, Rame Raame Manorame, Sahasranama Tattulyam, Ramanama Varanane.

God bless us all.

E&OE (Errors and Omissions Excepted)

V V Sundaram

Maple 3195

21 March 2017

Tete-a-tete with seniors

The recent meeting organized for seniors is not the end of the road. It is just a beginning. I have had brief interactive sessions with at least four. All had their own interesting tales to share. 

If ever you spot an elderly man in his 80s, with a decade less appearance, short in stature but alert in nature, rather in a hurry circumambulating Maple and Pine buildings, it is Dr Audityan of Maple (yes, that is how he spells his name). BTW he is  Vidya Sen’s father - just in case she is more popular. He is always on the go to break his own record to complete a round.  

He did his MBBS from India’s premier institution, All India Institute of Medical Sciences, New Delhi. Family circumstances forced him to take up a job soon thereafter. He joined Armed Forces. A few years of service, and he thought that it was time he did what he could not earlier, do his Masters in Medicine. But then there were technical snags on eligibility because of the long gap between graduation and his proposed post-graduation. His mentor in AIIMS found a way out, bending the rules and not breaking them, and Dr Audityan was all set to pursue MD. The turn of events back home once again deprived him of this privilege. “So near, yet so far,” he laments.  But his patients hold a different view. “What if he is not an MD? Very few doctors in Coimbatore can match his instant diagnostic ability and minimal prescription practice,” confides a Coimbatore client of his, who visits his son in SFV. So, Dr Audityan Sir, ends justify the means, and your impeccable services to the suffering humanity in your own setting eminently entitles you to rest on your laurels.

Very few can miss the Made for Each Other couple doing rounds in the Joggers’ Park, unfailingly every morning. You guessed it right. I mean Chetan Sharma and Nidhi. For the past nearly a year (ever since we shifted to SFV, to be precise), both the families have been vying to invite the other for a chat over a cup of tea.  But suddenly the day before yesterday my intercom rang. “I am Chetan,” said a voice from the other end. “Sir, could you both come over for tea this evening, please?”  As he walked us through his meticulously done up apartment, we chanced upon an old black and white album, and asked him if it contained his childhood snaps. No, his father was a minister in U.P., and the photos featured him with Jawaharlal Nehru, Dr Rajendra Prasad, Yashwantrao Chavan, and a few others. As for Chetan himself, we saw him as a teen-ager standing rather shyly near Indira Gandhi who was having dinner at their place. What could be more rewarding than this, I asked him, only to see him shy away, the same way as he featured in the snap. Then there were several photographs when he was on the Board of Directors of the Kanpur Stock Exchange, with several well-known personalities in the field. 

Joggers’ park is undoubtedly a place where you make friends. One couple - either on the threshold of, or recently qualified to be hailed seniors - walked up to us and said, “I am Gautam and she is Nandini, my wife. We have moved in recently to Oak. Moments later came Nandini’s parents, walking in slow motion - slower than us, that is. They introduced themselves too. The Gautams are from Mysore where his great grandfather was a Vedic and sanskrit scholar having imparted training to the then Maharaja of Mysore on these. We invited the four for coffee later. 

Last evening I had the pleasure to join a lonely occupant in the bench near the Swimming pool. He was Mr Chandran, who retired as the Chief Architect, PWD, Government of Kerala. Yes, he is Dr Ajay’s (Oak 2062) dad. He has several architectural marvels to his credit (including probably the High Court of Kerala?). More important, he was the recipient of gold medal from Prime Minister Narasimha Rao at a special ceremony. The 780 small houses that he built on behalf of of the State of Kerala was adjudged the best among what different states of India had constructed in Latur to rehabilitate the earthquake victims.  Following on Dad’s footsteps is Dr Ajay.  He was awarded 5 gold medals by the Mysore University for his academic achievements. The University promptly handed him back all the fees they had collected for his studies. Like father, like son. (It was very nice of Mr and Mrs Chandran to have accepted our short-notice invitation for coffee. They return to Trivandrum on Monday.) 

Yes, at a Kavi Sammelan in Delhi years ago, a mediocre poet had once said: Kahate hai, Dilli mien bewaqoofon ki kammi nahin. Ek dhoondo, hazaar milega. Juxtaposed to that I would say something on a positive note. SFV mien intelligent logon ki kammi nahin. Ek dhoondo, hazaar milega.

V V Sundaram

Maple 3195

02 March 2017