After Jimmy Carter, America did not have a president who had a vision that Americans are part of this world and world’s peace is their peace. I read Senator Obama’s views on health care delivery [NEMJ] and what he would do if elected. I am most impressed. I hope the Middle America realizes what an opportunity it has second time over [first was Al Gore] and votes for him.
Health care delivery and the costs are a major problem all over the world. Only few countries like the UK, Scandinavian countries have a fairly effective health care system. Though not foolproof at least in these countries one has access in the nationalized system. In the US you have to have expensive insurance and access to such insurance is impossible for many. Unnecessary investigations and procedures, lack of organized primary care are other serious problems. No one wants to become a general practitioner! The money he makes is not even a quarter of that of a organ specific doctor[specialist] More incentives to doctors opting for primary care[Obama’s promise] will go some way in solving the problem of providing universal health care.
Reforms come at a prize. One may have to pay more taxes and doctors [super specialists] may have to accept lesser incomes. But the working atmosphere and the beurocratic control will be less and not more if Obama’s plans succeed.
You cannot live peacefully in a world where there is so much of inequality in all aspects of life. If America elects senator Obama, there is some hope for peace not only for America but also for the whole world.
Those of you Americans, who read my blog, please don’t miss this opportunity.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Ananth Rao
Our lives are shaped by our environment. Our environment consists of both animate and inanimate. Animate environment has people, animals and plants. All these have had their influence on us and among the many people who did have a positive influence on me, the earliest one was Mr Ananth Rao.
Ananth Rao was my Primary/middle school teacher. It was a school located in a semi urban cum rural area. He taught Mathematics and English to a class of forty children of varying background, mostly poor and middle class with a few rich. Those days there were no private schools and everyone went to these state run schools. The teachers did not bother us much and occasionally when things went out of control, however, they made liberal use of the cane.
Ananth rao rarely used the cane. His teaching methods were revolutionary [I realize it now]. His teaching of arithmetic was by using examples. He would not put 8-4= 4 on the black board. He would make eight of us stand and make the rest of us count loudly the number. Then he would ask four of us to come and sit down. Then he would ask the class to count the remaining. That would be a lesson in subtraction.
Though the spoken language in that area was Kannada, Ananth rao spoke only English when he took English language class. He made all of us do the same. He would sit and correct each of us. Sometimes it would take the whole hour to correct a simple sentence but it would stay put in our minds. That was my first lesson in spoken English. It was also then I realized that speaking good English had nothing to do with writing good English.
He had another endearing habit. He would invite a few of us to his home few kms away from school. Some of us would go there after the evening game [unorganized in open fields] more to eat the goodies his wife made rather to learn. That was in the beginning. Later we got hooked to Ananth Rao’s other activities. He would keep us spell bound with stories .I had my introduction to Dickens, Hardy, Shelly, Keats, Wodehouse and Shakespeare there at his home. My interest in Hindustani classical music too had its origins there. Mr Rao had the sense to appreciate the beauty of nature and he would take us out to witness a rainbow or to see a flowering creeper next to his wall. Thus he sowed the seeds of interest in natural history, music and appreciation of colors [became an interest in painting later]
How did a primary school teacher acquire so much knowledge and interest in various fields? It is because he wasted no time and took pleasure in perusing his hobbies and more than anything else, took pleasure in introducing these to us children. He did this for the sake of satisfaction and joy and not for fame or popularity.
Sadly, despite his best efforts, he could not get me to take interest in mathematics and many times he called me muttala because of my inability to come up to his expectations of mathematical expertise. muttala is kannada version of mutt!.
But his efforts did not entirely go waste. My daughter excelled in maths and had Mr. Rao been alive he would certainly been happy.
Ananth Rao was my Primary/middle school teacher. It was a school located in a semi urban cum rural area. He taught Mathematics and English to a class of forty children of varying background, mostly poor and middle class with a few rich. Those days there were no private schools and everyone went to these state run schools. The teachers did not bother us much and occasionally when things went out of control, however, they made liberal use of the cane.
Ananth rao rarely used the cane. His teaching methods were revolutionary [I realize it now]. His teaching of arithmetic was by using examples. He would not put 8-4= 4 on the black board. He would make eight of us stand and make the rest of us count loudly the number. Then he would ask four of us to come and sit down. Then he would ask the class to count the remaining. That would be a lesson in subtraction.
Though the spoken language in that area was Kannada, Ananth rao spoke only English when he took English language class. He made all of us do the same. He would sit and correct each of us. Sometimes it would take the whole hour to correct a simple sentence but it would stay put in our minds. That was my first lesson in spoken English. It was also then I realized that speaking good English had nothing to do with writing good English.
He had another endearing habit. He would invite a few of us to his home few kms away from school. Some of us would go there after the evening game [unorganized in open fields] more to eat the goodies his wife made rather to learn. That was in the beginning. Later we got hooked to Ananth Rao’s other activities. He would keep us spell bound with stories .I had my introduction to Dickens, Hardy, Shelly, Keats, Wodehouse and Shakespeare there at his home. My interest in Hindustani classical music too had its origins there. Mr Rao had the sense to appreciate the beauty of nature and he would take us out to witness a rainbow or to see a flowering creeper next to his wall. Thus he sowed the seeds of interest in natural history, music and appreciation of colors [became an interest in painting later]
How did a primary school teacher acquire so much knowledge and interest in various fields? It is because he wasted no time and took pleasure in perusing his hobbies and more than anything else, took pleasure in introducing these to us children. He did this for the sake of satisfaction and joy and not for fame or popularity.
Sadly, despite his best efforts, he could not get me to take interest in mathematics and many times he called me muttala because of my inability to come up to his expectations of mathematical expertise. muttala is kannada version of mutt!.
But his efforts did not entirely go waste. My daughter excelled in maths and had Mr. Rao been alive he would certainly been happy.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Quack adversary
The first few patients who come to any doctor are not the best ones. These are the ones who come either because their own doctor is unavailable, or they owe him [their own doctor] money and cannot pay and sometimes for another opinion. It is only later on that they come to you out of choice. It is thus a hard grind to build a good practice and it takes years, as any GP will tell you. When I began practice the competition was not only from qualified ones but also from the innumerable quacks around. One of these had a formidable reputation for curing all the ailments by just feeling the pulse and went by the name of pulse doctor
One of this pulse doctor’s patients was brought to me by his mother. The boy had evidence of early malnutrition with the typical protuberant belly, discolored hair, pallor etc. I spent a patient half an hour trying to make her understand the importance of proper nutrition and how to make a nutritious meal with in her means. I gave her a prescription for a cheap hematinic and a wormicide and instructed her as to how this should be administered. She listened to me with a bored expression and took the prescription and went away. At that time I did not know what a formidable fellow the pulse doctor was! This was made clear to me within the next three days.
The lady came back and began her angry salvo, ‘What kind of a doctor are you? With your medicine my son nearly died. The pulse doctor saved him in time. You are still young and may not know the powerful effects of these drugs. Here after you be careful’ she ended, panting for breath. I couldn’t make head or tale of what she was speaking. I asked her what had happened to her son? ‘What happened you ask? I gave the medicine you gave and the boy passed hundreds of worms and many were sticking out of his bottom, and I ran to the pulse doctor and he pulled them out, he told me that you are young and inexperienced [true] and without knowing gave too strong medicine and so many worms came out, he said they should be removed few at a time like his medicines do. ‘You better be careful next time around, the next one may not be as considerate as I am to you.’ With this parting threat and without waiting for my explanation she went away.
10 years later.
That was a nasty day. I had returned after making my fifth house call and dog-tired I was but yet to start my evening surgery. There were some patients but they made way for an obviously sick person who was brought in by his attendants. I had not seen him before. History and clinical examination revealed possible pulmonary tuberculosis with cavitation, which proved to be so later on with a sputum examination and X-ray.
I told the patient the diagnosis and the treatment options. I also told him how with the prescribed treatment he should get better in a year [those days we were giving one year’s treatment]. I also told him to come daily for streptomycin injections.
I wanted to enter his name in my records and asked him. He said he is Dr------, my friend and foe the pulse doctor! Later when I came to know him better, I learnt that he was a qualified doctor! After this episode he sent me a number of patients whom he couldn’t handle and remained my friend till he passed away some years ago.
One of this pulse doctor’s patients was brought to me by his mother. The boy had evidence of early malnutrition with the typical protuberant belly, discolored hair, pallor etc. I spent a patient half an hour trying to make her understand the importance of proper nutrition and how to make a nutritious meal with in her means. I gave her a prescription for a cheap hematinic and a wormicide and instructed her as to how this should be administered. She listened to me with a bored expression and took the prescription and went away. At that time I did not know what a formidable fellow the pulse doctor was! This was made clear to me within the next three days.
The lady came back and began her angry salvo, ‘What kind of a doctor are you? With your medicine my son nearly died. The pulse doctor saved him in time. You are still young and may not know the powerful effects of these drugs. Here after you be careful’ she ended, panting for breath. I couldn’t make head or tale of what she was speaking. I asked her what had happened to her son? ‘What happened you ask? I gave the medicine you gave and the boy passed hundreds of worms and many were sticking out of his bottom, and I ran to the pulse doctor and he pulled them out, he told me that you are young and inexperienced [true] and without knowing gave too strong medicine and so many worms came out, he said they should be removed few at a time like his medicines do. ‘You better be careful next time around, the next one may not be as considerate as I am to you.’ With this parting threat and without waiting for my explanation she went away.
10 years later.
That was a nasty day. I had returned after making my fifth house call and dog-tired I was but yet to start my evening surgery. There were some patients but they made way for an obviously sick person who was brought in by his attendants. I had not seen him before. History and clinical examination revealed possible pulmonary tuberculosis with cavitation, which proved to be so later on with a sputum examination and X-ray.
I told the patient the diagnosis and the treatment options. I also told him how with the prescribed treatment he should get better in a year [those days we were giving one year’s treatment]. I also told him to come daily for streptomycin injections.
I wanted to enter his name in my records and asked him. He said he is Dr------, my friend and foe the pulse doctor! Later when I came to know him better, I learnt that he was a qualified doctor! After this episode he sent me a number of patients whom he couldn’t handle and remained my friend till he passed away some years ago.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Sprucing up
Recently I was away on a two weeks holiday. Made use of the opportunity to get my clinic premises done up. I gave a bare outline as to my ideas of what needs to be done to my architect and friend of many years and went my way. My friends and patients know me better than I myself do and the result of the facelift was much better than it would have been had I supervised the proceedings.
You might wonder why I did spend a packet of money to do up a place which was in no real need of sprucing up. The answer is simple. I was bored looking at the same walls, colors, pictures and wanted something different to look at which would make me happy. I had bought a metal multicolored fresco to adorn the wall facing me and had got the widow glass painted with flowers and falling leaves by a professional artist. The drab off white colours of the walls were replaced with bright yellow green and orange with partial wooden paneling.
Gifted away my old unwieldy desk and big and high examination table and replaced them with small wooden desk and a low couch. My geriatric patients often found it difficult o climb on to the old table and now I am sure they will like the new set up. The floor was re-laid with dull brown sand stone.
When I came back I was faced with this brilliant transformation. A kind of mini miracle in a matter of 15 days. A dull clinic with drab interiors was transformed into something beautiful to look at and work with in. When I told my friend how happy I am, he said, ‘most of the workers know you and wanted to please you and the result is this. There is work done for money and work done for love and what you see is work done for love’
You see my friends, the advantages of being a doctor!
I am happy to be working from the new premises, but what about my patients? Majority of them noticed the change and were happy. There were quite a few who were so immersed in their problem that the change went unnoticed and there were a few who noticed the change but were a bit apprehensive and one or two of them were bold enough to ask me, ‘ doc, I hope you are not going to hike your fee’!
But let me tell you, it does make a lot of difference, if you brighten up the place, to your well being.
You might wonder why I did spend a packet of money to do up a place which was in no real need of sprucing up. The answer is simple. I was bored looking at the same walls, colors, pictures and wanted something different to look at which would make me happy. I had bought a metal multicolored fresco to adorn the wall facing me and had got the widow glass painted with flowers and falling leaves by a professional artist. The drab off white colours of the walls were replaced with bright yellow green and orange with partial wooden paneling.
Gifted away my old unwieldy desk and big and high examination table and replaced them with small wooden desk and a low couch. My geriatric patients often found it difficult o climb on to the old table and now I am sure they will like the new set up. The floor was re-laid with dull brown sand stone.
When I came back I was faced with this brilliant transformation. A kind of mini miracle in a matter of 15 days. A dull clinic with drab interiors was transformed into something beautiful to look at and work with in. When I told my friend how happy I am, he said, ‘most of the workers know you and wanted to please you and the result is this. There is work done for money and work done for love and what you see is work done for love’
You see my friends, the advantages of being a doctor!
I am happy to be working from the new premises, but what about my patients? Majority of them noticed the change and were happy. There were quite a few who were so immersed in their problem that the change went unnoticed and there were a few who noticed the change but were a bit apprehensive and one or two of them were bold enough to ask me, ‘ doc, I hope you are not going to hike your fee’!
But let me tell you, it does make a lot of difference, if you brighten up the place, to your well being.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Himalayan Yathra
I took two weeks off and spent time visiting some of the more important pilgrimage centres in the Gharwal Himalayas. Gangothri, Yamunothri, Kedarnath and Badrinath are places to which we [mainly Hindus] have been going since time immemorial. Mention of these places has been made even in scriptures and thus it must have been nearly 5,000 years since these journeys are being made. Why and what drove them to take this none too comfortable [downright dangerous then] journey?
Yamunothri is the origin of the river Yamuna and Gangothri is that of Ganga [in reality the origins are some way further up in the Gangothri Glacier]. But the places the pilgrims can go are the farthest they can go. These rivers are the life blood of the country and the earliest settlements of our ancestors were on the banks of these rivers and worship of these rivers thus dates back to pre history. Thus the worship and veneration has gone into the psyche of us Indians.
What about Badri and Kedarnath? Both have temples dedicated to Lord Shiva and are located at heights of around 12000 ft. After an arduous climb, you reach a place where there is a kilometer wide flat land surrounded by high rise mountains with snow caps. These two are places of indescribable beauty. My guess is that the pilgrims and other seekers must have been able to reach this height and could go no farther. They must have been awed by the beauty of the land and must have felt the Devine presence and a place where even death was welcome!
So much for the history and feeling. Now to come to some real facts. At all these places the approach is narrow and made even narrower by ill placed and kept petty shops. Garbage and dirt is strewn all over. Mendicants and beggars harass the pilgrims at every step. The shrines made up of black granite are grimy because of grease and floors are slippery. There is disorder and noise everywhere. I tried imagining how it would be if one removes all these and leave just the shrines. In my mind I saw a picture which was heavenly. It was impossible to hold on to this image as realty was otherwise.
I came back with the impression that we have no respect for our heritage and treat these great places with contempt. The sad part of the whole thing is that we even don’t know that we are sullying these shrines!
The redeeming feature of the trip was the spectacular Ganga Aarthi on the banks of the river at Haradwar. The ceremony, lasting for half an hour where in ten priests pray in praise of the mother Ganga with multi layered lamps. The evening I saw this spectacle there must have been more than 5,000 people witnessing with rarely seen discipline. I believe this thanksgiving ceremony has been going on for the last 1,200 years nonstop.
I returned home with the feeling, how nice it would be if our people show the same respect downstream and stop polluting this great river which at places is nothing but a flowing cesspool.
Yamunothri is the origin of the river Yamuna and Gangothri is that of Ganga [in reality the origins are some way further up in the Gangothri Glacier]. But the places the pilgrims can go are the farthest they can go. These rivers are the life blood of the country and the earliest settlements of our ancestors were on the banks of these rivers and worship of these rivers thus dates back to pre history. Thus the worship and veneration has gone into the psyche of us Indians.
What about Badri and Kedarnath? Both have temples dedicated to Lord Shiva and are located at heights of around 12000 ft. After an arduous climb, you reach a place where there is a kilometer wide flat land surrounded by high rise mountains with snow caps. These two are places of indescribable beauty. My guess is that the pilgrims and other seekers must have been able to reach this height and could go no farther. They must have been awed by the beauty of the land and must have felt the Devine presence and a place where even death was welcome!
So much for the history and feeling. Now to come to some real facts. At all these places the approach is narrow and made even narrower by ill placed and kept petty shops. Garbage and dirt is strewn all over. Mendicants and beggars harass the pilgrims at every step. The shrines made up of black granite are grimy because of grease and floors are slippery. There is disorder and noise everywhere. I tried imagining how it would be if one removes all these and leave just the shrines. In my mind I saw a picture which was heavenly. It was impossible to hold on to this image as realty was otherwise.
I came back with the impression that we have no respect for our heritage and treat these great places with contempt. The sad part of the whole thing is that we even don’t know that we are sullying these shrines!
The redeeming feature of the trip was the spectacular Ganga Aarthi on the banks of the river at Haradwar. The ceremony, lasting for half an hour where in ten priests pray in praise of the mother Ganga with multi layered lamps. The evening I saw this spectacle there must have been more than 5,000 people witnessing with rarely seen discipline. I believe this thanksgiving ceremony has been going on for the last 1,200 years nonstop.
I returned home with the feeling, how nice it would be if our people show the same respect downstream and stop polluting this great river which at places is nothing but a flowing cesspool.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Head ache which was not
Mrs. R does not see me as frequently as she did earlier on. Now a grandmother pushing 60, she divides her time between her grown up, well settled daughters abroad and her husband who is here. Therefore when she did visit me the other day, after a lapse of two years, it was a pleasant surprise. Looking at her well preserved person and happy face, my memory went back to over thirty years ago when she first visited me.
Mrs. R was then a young bride married to an up and coming business executive. She came from a semirural background from Andhrapradesh, with small town lower middle class upbringing and could hardly speak English. My smattering Telugu left very poor impression. But what saved the day for us was her ability to speak Urdu with a typical Telangana accent. My Shivajinagar/Cox town patients had forced me to learn the language and thus we could make reasonable conversation and that has stood the test of time. Now she speaks very good English but the Lingua franca between us has remained Urdu!
Soon after her marriage she was thrown into a very unfamiliar and quite unsettling life. She was not familiar with the corporate social life with its own dress code, mannerisms; habits of eating and other norms of behavior which often conflicted with her upbringing. Her husband was a nice enough Youngman but expected her to fall in line, the earlier the better. Inability to speak good and properly accented English was a major disadvantage.
So, young Mrs. R started getting spells of acute anxiety associated with fear. Evenings, when other young persons look forward to, became the times when her anxiety was at its worse. This was the time when she was forced to attend parties and she would dread these outings. Her worry and the feelings of inefficiency and inability to please her husband [he did not say so] added to make her lose whatever self esteem she processed.
Her young husband made her agree to see a psychiatrist who made a prompt diagnosis of panic attacks and put her on medication. These medicines made her worse. This was the time she came to see me.
The presenting problem was frequent episodes of head ache. The history was very typical of migraine. At her first visit she did not reveal her miserable social life. That came later when we became sort of friends. It was not difficult to counsel her as to how to manage her life. With her husband’s active cooperation and her own basic ability she overcame most of her problems and in the course of her life became a fairly successful corporate wife and a hostess.
The headaches however persisted and she would suffer a day or two and get better whatever may be the medication. I even started suspecting whether she made up the headaches so that she can consult with me and unburden herself of whatever may be the problem that was bugging her at that moment. These come and go headaches persisted and both of us were happy. I with the knowledge that she will definitely get better whatever is the medication and she with the knowledge that the head ache came in handy to have a chat with her doctor.
This happy state lasted almost 15 years when her head aches took a serious turn. Her visits with the head ache became more frequent and lasted longer and the usual medications did not seem to work. I kept asking her whether she has any new stress which she has not discussed with me. She kept denying and to a good measure added that she was never more comfortable with her mental state than she is now. She also said the headaches have changed character and location.
Despite her assertion that the headaches she was getting are different it took me three months and a bout of vomiting [by her] to think differently from the usual migraine head ache. Even then, more to satisfy her than with any conviction that I would find any pathology I asked for a CT brain which had just then become available.
To my utter surprise there was a fairly large ring lesion with surrounding edema in the periphery of parietal lobe exactly beneath the area where she was complaining of ache. Now I had the rather onerous job of explaining to her that she had tuberculosis of the brain and she needed a year’s therapy. I took my time and explained over a period of an hour to her and her husband the intricacies of treatment. I could not help telling her that I should have listened to her when she told me that the aches were of a different nature and asked for the test 3 months earlier. The relationship built over a decade came to my rescue. Instead of telling me,’ I told you so, you stupid man’ [she would have been justified in calling me so] she said, ‘I must thank you for asking to doing this test which clearly showed what I am having and is curable, I was so worried that it could be cancer’
Within two weeks of therapy her head aches subsided and she went through with the year’s medication without any problem and fully recovered.
Interestingly, throughout the year her migraine headaches did not appear but they promptly did within three months of cessation of anti TB therapy!
She must have guessed, she said with a smile, ‘I have not come for head ache doctor, but to check with you this problem I am having and went on to explain, which is another story I will write about some other time.
Mrs. R was then a young bride married to an up and coming business executive. She came from a semirural background from Andhrapradesh, with small town lower middle class upbringing and could hardly speak English. My smattering Telugu left very poor impression. But what saved the day for us was her ability to speak Urdu with a typical Telangana accent. My Shivajinagar/Cox town patients had forced me to learn the language and thus we could make reasonable conversation and that has stood the test of time. Now she speaks very good English but the Lingua franca between us has remained Urdu!
Soon after her marriage she was thrown into a very unfamiliar and quite unsettling life. She was not familiar with the corporate social life with its own dress code, mannerisms; habits of eating and other norms of behavior which often conflicted with her upbringing. Her husband was a nice enough Youngman but expected her to fall in line, the earlier the better. Inability to speak good and properly accented English was a major disadvantage.
So, young Mrs. R started getting spells of acute anxiety associated with fear. Evenings, when other young persons look forward to, became the times when her anxiety was at its worse. This was the time when she was forced to attend parties and she would dread these outings. Her worry and the feelings of inefficiency and inability to please her husband [he did not say so] added to make her lose whatever self esteem she processed.
Her young husband made her agree to see a psychiatrist who made a prompt diagnosis of panic attacks and put her on medication. These medicines made her worse. This was the time she came to see me.
The presenting problem was frequent episodes of head ache. The history was very typical of migraine. At her first visit she did not reveal her miserable social life. That came later when we became sort of friends. It was not difficult to counsel her as to how to manage her life. With her husband’s active cooperation and her own basic ability she overcame most of her problems and in the course of her life became a fairly successful corporate wife and a hostess.
The headaches however persisted and she would suffer a day or two and get better whatever may be the medication. I even started suspecting whether she made up the headaches so that she can consult with me and unburden herself of whatever may be the problem that was bugging her at that moment. These come and go headaches persisted and both of us were happy. I with the knowledge that she will definitely get better whatever is the medication and she with the knowledge that the head ache came in handy to have a chat with her doctor.
This happy state lasted almost 15 years when her head aches took a serious turn. Her visits with the head ache became more frequent and lasted longer and the usual medications did not seem to work. I kept asking her whether she has any new stress which she has not discussed with me. She kept denying and to a good measure added that she was never more comfortable with her mental state than she is now. She also said the headaches have changed character and location.
Despite her assertion that the headaches she was getting are different it took me three months and a bout of vomiting [by her] to think differently from the usual migraine head ache. Even then, more to satisfy her than with any conviction that I would find any pathology I asked for a CT brain which had just then become available.
To my utter surprise there was a fairly large ring lesion with surrounding edema in the periphery of parietal lobe exactly beneath the area where she was complaining of ache. Now I had the rather onerous job of explaining to her that she had tuberculosis of the brain and she needed a year’s therapy. I took my time and explained over a period of an hour to her and her husband the intricacies of treatment. I could not help telling her that I should have listened to her when she told me that the aches were of a different nature and asked for the test 3 months earlier. The relationship built over a decade came to my rescue. Instead of telling me,’ I told you so, you stupid man’ [she would have been justified in calling me so] she said, ‘I must thank you for asking to doing this test which clearly showed what I am having and is curable, I was so worried that it could be cancer’
Within two weeks of therapy her head aches subsided and she went through with the year’s medication without any problem and fully recovered.
Interestingly, throughout the year her migraine headaches did not appear but they promptly did within three months of cessation of anti TB therapy!
She must have guessed, she said with a smile, ‘I have not come for head ache doctor, but to check with you this problem I am having and went on to explain, which is another story I will write about some other time.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Success
Indian news papers have publicized the dwelling house that Mr. Mukesh Ambani is building in Mumbai. When completed it will be the most expensive house in the world. Mr. Ambani is one of the top five richest men in the world and very successful businessman and industrialist. The house is meant for his small family of four or [is it five?]. We Indians have a tradition for ostentatious splurging and Mr. Ambani is no exception [he may not think so]. Going by the prevailing parameters Mr. Mukesh Ambani is a very big success.
I came to know Mr. Chinnappa when he was a teenager, 30 years ago. Then he was trying to get through his school final. He lived with his sister and she fed and clothed him. His own father was too poor to look after this boy. The sister’s family had just enough to manage and one additional mouth to feed was gracefully accepted.
Chinnappa got a small job as an operator in a cinema hall and also started working for me part time, to supplement his income. His duties then and now involve cleaning up my clinic and house, doing odd jobs, shopping and paying my bills. When the cinema hall became a multiplex he lost that job. He had become quite popular amongst my friends and began visiting a friend and patient of mine who has become demented, twice a week so that his [patients] wife could get a few hours of relief. He goes every other day to another elderly couple’s house to help them with their shopping and gardening. He thus makes more or less the same kind of money that he used to make when he was a screen operator. More than the money part of it, he has become extremely useful to all of us. Not very intelligent, but very honest, punctual and trust worthy, Mr. Chinnappa has not once complained about life and his lot.
I am not comparing but success is relative and doesn’t necessarily mean financial. There are many kinds of successes and my friend Chinnappa’ s is one such.
I came to know Mr. Chinnappa when he was a teenager, 30 years ago. Then he was trying to get through his school final. He lived with his sister and she fed and clothed him. His own father was too poor to look after this boy. The sister’s family had just enough to manage and one additional mouth to feed was gracefully accepted.
Chinnappa got a small job as an operator in a cinema hall and also started working for me part time, to supplement his income. His duties then and now involve cleaning up my clinic and house, doing odd jobs, shopping and paying my bills. When the cinema hall became a multiplex he lost that job. He had become quite popular amongst my friends and began visiting a friend and patient of mine who has become demented, twice a week so that his [patients] wife could get a few hours of relief. He goes every other day to another elderly couple’s house to help them with their shopping and gardening. He thus makes more or less the same kind of money that he used to make when he was a screen operator. More than the money part of it, he has become extremely useful to all of us. Not very intelligent, but very honest, punctual and trust worthy, Mr. Chinnappa has not once complained about life and his lot.
I am not comparing but success is relative and doesn’t necessarily mean financial. There are many kinds of successes and my friend Chinnappa’ s is one such.
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