caring - Biggest Private Hospital In Jaipur,Rajasthan ...

caring with

compassion:40 years

of santokba

caring with

compassion40 years of santokba

text and interviews: bhavana pankajphotographs: chandan gomes

4 5

santokba Durlabhji Memorial Hospital, Jaipur is a private, trust-managed, autonomous, fee-for-services and not-for-profit hospital that the late khailshanker Durlabhji conceptualised in the course of his daily walks with

Dr tarachand ji gangwal who was a friend, family physician and a dedicated and esteemed doctor of the time.

a prominent jeweller of the city, khailshanker ji’s heart was set on the idea of delivering the best healthcare to the people of rajasthan in an affordable package. santokba came into being on november 29, 1971, and was inaugurated by prime minister indira gandhi. it was the first private hospital in the state. it started modestly with only 80 beds and six specialities.

forty years on, it is a multidisciplinary, 400-bed, tertiary care hospital. it houses several wards, operation theatres, icUs, laboratories, utility services, specialities and super specialities, including one of the best blood banks in the country, catering to the entire state of rajasthan.

the avowed mission of the hospital has been to offer a broad spectrum of cost effective and humanistic clinical services that meet the highest international standards, to all patients, irrespective of caste, creed or class. it seeks to serve as a continuing medical education centre (cme) for doctors, teaching centre for Dnb candidates (Diplomate national board, Dnb, is equivalent to the mD/ms/Dm/m ch of other indian universities as recognised by the government of india and the medical council of india) and for those categories of paramedical staff (such as nurse, technicians and radiographers) who are invariably in short supply. in its constant endeavour to improve health care, santokba has provided a base for innovative research.

Located in the heart of Jaipur, santokba’s is a self contained campus with staff residences, a bank, post office, medical stores, dairy booth, canteens, an attendant’s complex (dharmashala) and other facilities. but the bottom line for santokba is to be more than just a grand building with splendid machines and emerging super specialities. it aspires to be a hospital with a sound heart.

after the demise of khailshanker ji, his elder son, rashmikant ji took over the management of the hospital. it is currently led by his younger son, yogendra Durlabhji (yogi).

© santokba Durlabhji trust

published bySantokba Durlabhji Memorial Hospital

cum Medical Research Institutebhawani singh marg, Jaipur 302004

october 2012

Designed and produced by Designations, new Delhi

contents

this book has been divided into four main sections, each affording a glimpse of the

hospital from a different reference point

page 14

1Photo Essay:

A Day in the Life of a Healthcarer an outsider’s view of the hospital, by photographer chandan gomes

page 98

2The Staff of Life

stories on, and comments by staff who have been with santokba for over 30 years

page 162

3Patiently Yours

a selection of stories from patients who feel a close bond with the hospital

page 178

4Reaching Out

first-person accounts by some beneficiaries of santokba’s outreach programme

“To care is, often, to heal.”

santokba introDUction10 11

what’s in a name, scoffs Juliet as she tells romeo that names are meaningless conventions. what she loves is the

person, not the name. what’s, then, in a number, if one may tweak the bard’s line? after all, numbers are simply mathematical.

and 40 is just another number that we believe falls somewhere between 39 and 41, an abstract entity like all others. or is it?

when an institution like santokba remembers, the numerical 40 represents life. it encrypts histories of men and of the institution they have built with love and labour, care and compassion. it becomes a silent gap between the voices of the past and the calls of the future, a distance from where the institution looks ahead, and behind. Very humanly, too, it pines for what is not. it strives to see things with objectivity, hoping to make them better.

in that gap, the institution recalls its humble beginnings as a tiny diagnostic clinic, and remembers, with nostalgia, its founders who have now converted it into a 400-bed hospital. it also recalls, with gratitude, some of its finest men and women – doctors, nurses, managers, technicians, accountants, guards, ward hands, cleaners, maintainers – and appeals to them to search their conscience, and reveal, without fear or favour, their thoughts about a place they have served for 30 long years or more. it knows such associations are rare in these times when most hospitals are more like hotels where people build contacts but not relationships. as one of our doctors points out, “you’ve got to be around for a while in order to form relationships!” santokba’s been around 40 years, and through such men and women, it

revisits the patients who have reposed their trust in it generation after generation.

when these men and women speak, santokba pauses, and listens. it takes some courage, perhaps, to do so. but to not hear your own inner voice is fraught with greater risk. These are voices of its soul. and they search it in so many different ways.

They are happy to see it grow even as they speak of the diminishing intimacy that must accompany growth. They witness death and birth every day, and know, full well, the constancy of change. yet, some hark back to the past. others accept the change. still others celebrate it. They acknowledge that, at santokba, people and relationships still matter but you don’t have to be a ‘somebody’ to be treated well. some insist that this hospital doesn’t merely treat patients. it tends to its sick, as in a family, and it is involved with their pain, and does whatever it can to ameliorate that pain.

some others strike a more personal note. if you are good at what you do, this is one place where no one will ever meddle with you. it is the place where they have learnt the difference between serving and ‘service’. They are proud of not having taken a single holiday in all their years here, of working for hours that stretched into days, of forgetting when their morning dawned, and when night descended. some of these voices relate to it as a child would to a mother, “it may have changed but, for me, i can say i continue to receive the same love and affection that i did when i started here.” some others are more like a mother to santokba, the child that has grown up but needs the tempering hand of experience. “for most of us, among the older set of nurses, santokba isn’t just a place of work – it is our very identity, our home, and we owe it to ourselves to give back a little of what we have received. we cannot

afford for our young nurses not to understand the culture of santokba because this would directly impact our patients…”

for some, santokba is an inspiration, encouraging them to excel themselves, by giving them their space, trusting them, and backing their worthy ideas. some wish it would do even more for the marginalised man in these times of expensive medical care, without compromising the quality of that care. “The patient was our focus when we began. Let’s keep it that way,” they say. some others are unsure about how to marry the emergent culture of a modern, state-of-the-art hospital with the ethos of a trust. some others ruminate. “care and compassion was the Usp of those who founded santokba. we were santokba. not everyone now is seen as an upholder of those values, and rightly so. The patient pays for his treatment and for medicine – that’s normal, and transactional. but what is it that he takes away from here which is invaluable to him – the feeling, that personal touch… that’s what builds relationships.”

all these voices – of loss and longing, of change and constancy – are the voice of santokba. but it believes that, in this medley, we sing of one theme – of serving with a smile, with empathy and care, even if it doesn’t always measure up to expectations – our own, and of others – and even when the effort isn’t without hitch.

The effort is in trying to select, and appoint, the best men for santokba. it is in procuring the best equipment and teams, whatever the damages. it is visible in the decision of a bright young surgeon to remain with us even when she clearly has better chances for personal growth elsewhere. santokba values that individual vision without undermining the collective. That balance takes effort. it attempts

40years of

santokbayears of

santokba

12 13

also to build corporate efficiencies without breaking the trusteeship heart. That heart beats each time a nurse works a double shift, when a doctor refuses his or her fees from a poor patient, when the management reaches out to an hiV+ child through its outreach programme, and to its own poor employee who is fighting to save his dying child.

The effort is in ensuring that a caller to santokba connects with a warm, human voice every time he calls rather than with an impersonal machine. it shines through in the secretary of the trust sometimes landing up at 4.30 am to work with the supervisor, and plugging the loopholes in the wards, the gardens, the stores, the furniture, the records… and in the supervisor who stays vigilant, irrespective of whether the visit happens or not. it reflects in people staying up all night to work without punching their cards in and out; and in trusting people to do their job without anyone peering over their shoulder. it certainly does not mean performance is not crucial but that people matter, and will continue to matter, at santokba. The strength of santokba is in its systems that work seamlessly, silently – the receptionists, billing and cash staff, ward staff, records and library personnel, class 4 employees… and technicians with whom few, if any, come into contact even as they spend a lifetime under a microscope, scanning samples.

so, even as we scope ourselves in a bid to discover the universe of the very small that sits under our nose, we know, also, that there is an ever-expanding world outside – with its own demands. santokba is also an organisation with 70 to 80 per cent of its people who are now young and, perhaps, more keenly aware of the changes. we’ve had different points of view on the increase in opD charges, for example. some agree it is essential for santokba to meet the advances of modern

medical care that includes an elegant, hygienic and uncluttered environment, and patient-friendly fixtures and furnishings. a bright, young and motivated surgeon talks with passion of new advances in bariatric surgery, and pushes his frontiers, and ours, further by asking why santokba shouldn’t offer these services too. if we’ve been able to move towards shining up our pennies, it is because our patient has always been our partner in progress, and in bearing the inconvenience of mounting costs that come with it.

santokba has its pushers and pullers. This appears to take it, sometimes, in different directions. The process may also bring up some strain but so many government hospitals are specimens of inefficiency and irrelevance, resulting from stability and sameness. is it possible that some of this strain may be for the good, even though it may not appear so right now? while processes and procedures are changing, santokba has a shared vision, and the patient is integral to it. we believe it to be part of our sanskar, and hope the churn will be beneficial to a hospital innovating in newer directions. The vision is our guiding star as santokba adds to its competent doctors and nurses, and lends a hand to those with similar Dnas as santokba’s in the spaces of education, livelihood and women’s empowerment. The vision may demand greater clarity as we tread the path. but as surgeon and writer Dr atul gawande says, we continue to be “interested in how you become good at something when you are an imperfect creature.”

we continue to be interested in listening to those who have been fundamental to the organisation for over 30 years – our own people in santokba, and to those for whom it came into being – our patients. Their candid accounts, first person or otherwise, are also stories of santokba as it marks its 40th year, and comprise

two sections of this book. another section looks at santokba on a wing as it soars out of its walls to reach out to the poorest man on the road, in an urban slum, and in a far-flung village to lend a hand in spaces of health, education, sports, livelihood and empowerment – the stories of outreach. we begin with a Day in the Life of santokba – a photo-essay that tries to catch a little of the throbbing spirit of the hospital, in black and white, in grey and bright and sometimes, in its silence, comes to be more eloquent than words.

santokba introDUction

SANTOKBA THROUGH PHOTOGRAPHS14 15

A DAy in the Life of A heALthcArer

a p

ho

to

ess

ay

glimpses of life in santokba through photographs

santokba throUgh photographs16 17

Patients come from villages over 200 km from Jaipur, on foot,

changing several buses, on trains and taxis, often navigating difficult roads

and tough circumstance.


Illness often comes bottled up with fear and uncertainty. To be able to deal with this ‘excess baggage’

is often a measure of success for a healthcare giver.


Santokba Enquiry facilitates patients with not only general questions regarding doctors, departments, OPD floors, timings etc but also provides, to the unlettered, help with filling their forms and other

necessary paperwork.


Patients with neurological disorders – stroke, spinal cord injuries, skull fracture,

epilepsy and Parkinson’s – may not necessarily have visible injuries.


Critical and intensive care units are predominated by inhospitable machines and wires, which are often frightening

for the patient.


In keeping with NABH guidelines, the nurse to patient ratio in the

Medical Critical Care Unit is 2:1.


The rule in Intensive Care is for only one person to be allowed to visit the patient very briefly during stipulated hours to minimise infection. But it was Pallav’s birthday that day, and his sister insisted she wanted to join her mother in wishing him happy birthday. Pallav was critical… The rule was put aside so that a young girl could say her

last goodbyes to her brother.


Santokba was the first among private hospitals in Rajasthan to start gastroenterology as a separate department in 1988. Today, the

department stands out for the volume of patients and its highly accomplished team of doctors. Gastroenterology also prides itself in a rare,

first-of-its-kind ultrasound endoscopy machine – among the very first in the hospitals of the state.


An endoscopic procedure in progress


The state-of-the-art Magnetic Resonance Imaging lab is a window to the future with its specialised, user-friendly and monitoring facilities. Santokba

has steered clear of the practice of offering extra commissions or cuts to doctors when they recommend investigations such as MRI and

ultrasound. Consequently, patients are advised such tests only when they are essential.


To be wired for an EEG can seem daunting – to a child, even more. A

considerate technician tries to put a young patient at ease so he can go through such

procedures feeling less wound up.


The Santokba Diagnostics Lab was the first in Rajasthan to be accredited by the NABH. It is

equipped with the latest and finest technology that ensures error-free testing. Men and machines make sure the turnaround time is just two hours or less, barring exceptions, in keeping with the NABH guidelines. Reports of a patient with dangerously

low levels of potassium, for instance, will find their way to the doctor through personal messaging, and

be on her desk in the minimum possible time.


Next only to the government SMS Hospital, Santokba’s is the second largest blood bank in

Rajasthan. Over 90 per cent blood donation is voluntary, and attendants who are unable to arrange

for units or are unfit never despair for this reason. The blood bank also has the only state-of-art NAT-

testing machine in the state which significantly reduces the time taken to check for infected blood.


Santokba has 24 hour Emergency services. Barring medico-legal cases in which the hospital provides only

primary aid for now, the Emergency always has a doctor, ward boys and other staff to wheel in patients at any given point during the day or night. Doctors are always on call, and the 24-hour lab, equipped to

carry out investigations accurately and efficiently.


Doctors who hear their patients, with or without their stethoscopes, are central to a hospital that cares.


Care is the essence of nursing and nurses at the heart of healthcare, making them, as William Osler said, one of the greatest blessings... taking a place beside the physician and the priest. The Matron visits every department

daily as part of the inspection process, and spends time with young nurses who are either from the Nursing School or fresh recruits to build a sense of

comfort and confidence in them.


Adhering to NABH standards, Santokba’s Paediatric CCU with seven beds has one nurse in charge of one baby.


Young mothers-to-be, their mothers and grandmothers before them have been our charge in the Gynaecology and Obstetrics Department. One of our most loved doctors holds close the baby girl she delivered. Earlier, she had also delivered her brother.


New mothers receive the gift of a sapling with friendly counsel on the importance of nurturing their newborn daughters.

Acutely aware of the need to care for both the girl child and the fast depleting tree

cover, Santokba heralded the movement in Rajasthan in partnership with the Nanhi

Chhaan Foundation.


Before a mother’s heart goes walking around outside her body, we try to keep it wrapped in soft, special and delicately embroidered blankets so long

as it is with us.


All visitors must secure a pass to see their patient but a mother is allowed free entry if her child is

admitted with us.


The super-specialist cradles the ‘very special’. The Department of Neonatology has been set up recently

for infants under three years.


Technicians in Santokba’s Orthopaedic Department are often cast in a role other than

the one in which they perform their routine duty to assist with the application and removal

of plaster casts, maintaining the cast room and equipment. It goes beyond – to chatting up a patient just out of the orthopaedician’s

room, expressing concern about his well being, going over the doctor’s directions again, and

offering advice on how to look after an injury, maintaining and exercising the cast limb.


The prosthesis and orthotics in the Limb Fitting and Rehabilitation Department have returned life and

mobility to thousands of patients.


Head of Physiotherapy, Ms Nanavati, with a patient who lost her husband and child in a bus accident. When first brought to Santokba, her body was still as stone. Rounds of physiotherapy, counselling and constant encouragement at long last put movement back in her hands and feet… a

moment of triumph for our patient.


It is difficult to tell an intern from a qualified therapist in the Physiotherapy Department – they are trusted

so, not just by senior therapists but also by patients for their competence and dependability.


Our speech therapist, Snehlata Kabra, waited quietly for nearly 20 minutes for her young patient

to utter his first words during therapy. The moment was caught seconds before he broke his silence,

with a hint of a smile.


The hospital has a special nine-bed ‘Colormasters Ward’ which houses destitute and

needy patients who cannot afford their treatment, and often have no attendants. These include IPD patients who have been with Santokba for over a month, those referred to the

ward by doctors, patients who come from the Outreach programme and ones whom the hospital discovers as ‘unable to pay’. The ward receives, on an average, three to four such patients every month. Each time a doctor refers a patient to the ward, he or she also forgoes consultation and visit charges. While all investigations and procedures are free

for a patient in the Colormasters Ward, he has to pay for medicines and other consumables. At least, on paper!

An individual doctor or the hospital, often, ends up rallying around the patient.


For people battling cancer and other terminal illnesses made tougher by loneliness, Avedana

is an oasis of hope and companionship. It is not uncommon to find students from the Nursing School take the weight off their feet and of the

others at Avedna in the evening, spending time with the inmates. Despite a tight academic schedule, one finds most of them nurturing

conversations and bonds with the terminally inn at the Ashram.


Inmates at Avedana Ashram

offer morning prayers.


While there is provision of comfortable seating and facilities such as multiple and quick access to pharmacies and eatables for attendants, OPD timings are designed so that local patients, and those from outside, can be staggered, and their waiting time is minimised.


Someone said, “Despite great advances in medicine, the biggest part of recovery is

attributable to the enormous healing power inside you...” We believe we simply provide

the setting for that process, and allow something greater to take over.


A group of specially-abled children with multiple issues such as speech impairment, epilepsy and mental retardation came to Santokba’s Ranthambore medical camp which was held as part of our Outreach programme. One of them, Vijendar, was

operated upon by Dr Sunita Ojha for a large tumour in his leg. Lasting four hours, the

operation was done free of cost.


As part of the Outreach follow-up programme, children came to us all the way from Ranthambore for treatment. Here, they sit in saddle on the toy horses during a day-

long picnic organised by the hospital.


“That’s how a hospital should be cleaned; I am only doing what I

must do,” says Sonu, who is posted in the Emergency ward, “but because people don’t work like

that, it just seems extraordinary.” Sonu starts work in the wee hours of the day. He is only a few years

old in Santokba.


The in-house IT department at Santokba took about eight months to develop software which secures old records that can be recalled at the

press of a button from the record room. As per NABH guidelines, however, the hospital has

10-year-old records of IPD patients and five-year-old records of OPD patients.


Chief Administrator Badal Verma shares a light moment with the ward staff at the inauguration

of Santokba’s new building on 16th January, 2011. If, and when, employees battle out issues with administration, disrupting work isn’t their

style. They ensure that their protest disturbs neither the patient nor the hospital.


For the patients, more so for the attendants, doctors are gods in white coats. Their smile of

relief is a moment of immense happiness for us, and their gratitude, one of humility.

SANTOKBA THROUGH PHOTOGRAPHS98 99

The Staff of Life

the following section brings stories and first-person accounts of over 40 people on the santokba staff

who have served for 30 years or more in the hospital. they afford glimpses into santokba’s inner life through the

comments of its oldest staff

100 santokba throUgh its staff 101

he picked up the best worker award in november 1996. along with the image of the santokba

building incised on a silver shield came a fixed deposit of rs 2,500 which would convert to rs 4,000 after three years. “i built a window in my room with that money,” Durgadan khidiya allows a smile to travel to his eyes that light up from behind a huge pair of glasses.

his smile has also lit up the physiotherapy room which Durgadan has handled regularly for the last 23 years. it’s an honour not usually awarded a ward boy, he says. he comes early to work so he is there before any doctor appears. he leaves after everyone has left so that the place is spotlessly clean for the following day. when he is not bustling around, wheeling patients in and out, he can be found doing other jobs. he dusts the place, packs off the curtains to the laundry, oversees cleaning for special events and festivals... but, curiously, a happy, festive air wafts around the place all year round. “that’s because we work like a family here, we stick together, and fill in for each other,” he says. that makes Durgadan a pretty busy man but all he ever says to a patient is, “Bas, 10 minute mein aya.” it’s just a manner of speaking, he says, but Durgadan knows the difference it makes.

some time in 1975, they discovered Durgadan’s wife had stones in the gall bladder. a year’s treatment would cost 15,000 rupees. it was impossible for a ward boy to afford such treatment. that’s when “khailshanker Durlabhji jokingly told Dr ck pamecha to put my wife on one side of the scale, and money on the other side,” Durgadan reminisces. “i only paid a small part of the amount. he provided the rest. but more than that, he gave me the support, the solace when he put his hand on my shoulder... that was invaluable.”

sUpport, soLace

01 Durgadan joined santokba in august of 1973 at a monthly wage of 150 rupees. having done his rounds of the surgical ward and ot, he finally joined the physiotherapy Department in 1985. in the 37 years, he had a few chances to work elsewhere, even with the rajasthan police! “i would have made a good cop. i am the happy sort who can throw himself at his work, and forget all else. santokba gave me all i needed – a good salary, a house on the premises that made it so easy for me to be in and out of the hospital, and perform night duties. i could even make a little extra for additional duties if a patient asked. rashmi ji told me not to charge too much for it; so, when the temporary staff got paid 15 rupees, i charged 20… it gave me friends like sanga ram and kanhaiya Lal. i could never have left this place.”

neither can he forget his accident in 2004 when he was on an errand for rashmikant Durlabhji. “i would have been dead but for him. he waived all medical expenses. i had one person assigned only to look after me. and now yogi ji treats my diabetic son as his own boy. sonu has survived only because of the hospital,” he accepts, gratefully.

four generations, starting with his father, he says, are indebted to santokba. whenever duty summoned, he sacrificed rest and food – he still does. he’s never been late even one day of his 37 years here, has always filled in a leave application form, and is proud that he has never been marked absent. this “best worker” knows of only commitment and contentment as ways to repay that debt, only enthusiasm and alacrity to give back to an institution that has given him, among much else, such a nice, white uniform – “so much nicer than the crinkled one that the fellow at the government hospital wears”!

Durgadan KhidiyaWard staff, Physiotherapy

sta

ff

sto

rie

s


“beta, yeh kachra yahan pada hua hai, utha lena,” kamla prabhat sweeps the dust off her 37 years at the

hospital, and allows a peep into a powerful, vivid memory. “Beta, beta kar ke hi baat karte the Seth ji,” she says of khailshanker ji. “when seth ji passed away, his elder son, rashmi ji, organised a bus for all of us to be taken home first, and then to the cremation ground. to be included in his last journey... it meant a lot to me,” she says.

kamla prabhat’s collection of memories is small. all these years she has been busy, cleaning and clearing up at the hospital; changing and arranging sheets, flitting from one bed to the other, attending to one patient after another. they keep calling out for ‘Bai ji’, and bai ji good-naturedly tells them to wait till she has completed the task on hand. never an argument with a patient or an attendant in all these years! “and i clean the hospital like i do my own house, with love and pride,” she declares.

from a monthly salary of rs 20 at the rajasthan municipal corporation to rs 150 at santokba in 1973-74 was a quantum jump. she started with cleaning the steps, and then shifted to the wards. her job was to look after the patients – wheel them in and out of an X-ray or ecg room, help them to the washroom, bathe them, feed them, clothe them, clean them etc. Day after day, she went about her work, feeling neither ennui nor disgust. of course, it was her job but, more than that, it was that spirit of inclusiveness, the goodness of doctors, nurses, the families of rashmikant ji and yogi ji that touched her. “the hospital has looked after me in my hour of need. i have felt the care and consideration my son and husband received when i brought them here for treatment. we were given a card which allows free treatment and bed to five members of the family. the least i can do for this hospital is to keep it nice and clean. “what else is there to ask for,” she says disarmingly.

a cLearing of memories

Kamla PrabhatWard Lady

02


“will i remember Durlabhji hospital once i leave? you must be joking, asking

me this. of course, i will! but where am i going, anyway? i am always going to be around here... you’ll see!” kanhaiya Lal declares, quite cheerfully.

for someone who joined santokba in 1973 at the age of 15, the reaction is as natural as his journey from being a class iV employee to becoming a senior technician in the Department of radiology.

“i was visiting my sister and brother-in-law, gulab ji, who was in charge of the laundry at santokba. administrator shri harry paschkes probably saw me loitering about by the hospital gate. he wanted to know who i was, and what i was up to. i told him, and was promptly asked to report the following day in a white uniform. the next thing i recall was matron gaekwad telling me that my job would be to count the items for laundry, and to check the beds. that’s how i began,” kanhaiya Lal reminisces.

the next assignment was ot where there was much to do, and lots to learn. Dr radha sogani spotted the X-factor in the young boy, and recommended him to Dr bn bhargava. good radiologists and technicians were a rarity then – as now. the medical superintendent spoke with the chief radiologist, Dr Jp Udawat. one fine day, kanhaiya Lal found himself standing next to imaging machines.

“keep them clean,” said Dr Udawat, “and observe mr prasad. you will learn.” and isotope by isotope, kanhaiya Lal learnt. as understudy, he did his first chest X-ray, then abdomen and, finally, a pleased Dr

Udawat told him that he was ready to work independently. his own efforts, and the support of men like anuranjan prasad, brought him to the position he is at today.

“khailshanker ji would often put his hand on my shoulder, and ask me, ‘Kyun beta, kya haal hai?’ that was so reassuring. that one gesture filled me with confidence, and inspired me to do my best. i would always be called if seth ji or his wife needed an X-ray. they liked my work... i miss that time...” the pang evident in his voice.

“Par meri lagan yahin lagi hai,” he clarifies. the machines, the doctors, lifelong friends in samson bhaskar, Vishnu ji and murari Lal... santokba gave him all that he has learnt to love. several offers of enhanced salary were declined. one image alone stuck for life, and kanhaiya Lal did not need an X-ray machine to see it.

“Let me tell you a story,” he perks up. “a patient, admitted to the private deluxe room, required an X-ray of his arm but his condition did not permit him to lie down. he came to me from the ward, somewhat anxious. the machine there was smaller, and could not accommodate him. when he came to me, i did the X-ray with him standing. he left the place happy.”

kanhaiya Lal, too, will leave the place happy when he retires in 2013. he will be only 55. but he does not intend to work for anyone else. he has passed on his training and diagnostic rigour to the next crop of technicians. more than that, he has given them the strength to believe in themselves, something that this hospital gave to him as a young boy.

the X-factor

Kanhaiya LalSr. Technician, Radiology

03


he joined santokba as a liftman. he was offered the job of a phone operator but he preferred to go

up and down. Life had taught him to do that.

sixteen-year-old chhotuji came to santokba on february 18, 1975. a nasty train accident had taken away one of his hands, and left him with a mangled foot and severe head injuries. The doctors in bharatpur gave up all hope. he had 80 per cent disability, and only a slim chance of making it to Jaipur. chhotuji arrived in santokba, and straight into the caring hands of Drs kathju and nandini sahni, sanga ram in orthopaedics, and george in the X-ray department.

he got back his limbs, one of which was artificial, and also a job as the lift-man at santokba. Life, which was going downhill, appeared to be taking him up now. “i was the liftman for 18 years before shifting to the dharamshala and stores. finally, i came to the accounts department.”

Thirty-four years and six months… it’s a long time for someone who came here as a teenager, and will leave only in 2017 when he retires. “it wasn’t just free treatment. This place restored my life. it was the generous care and the sense of belonging that i got from the family, the doctors and the nurses. i forgot about the pain,” he says, and recites a few lines he wrote years ago:

“Mile yahan par saab Kathju, samroop bhagwanAur mili sahayika Nandini param pavitra mahaanRog bhavan mein daman karein, den sabko jeevan daanKarte kalyan nitya, yah sabke man ko bhayaMaat pita Santokba Durlabhji ka maan badhayaAchche sajjan doctor hamne yahan par payeJeewan labh paa karke rogi, khush hokar ke jaye…”

eLeVateD!chhotuji married, had a family, and made santokba his home. “i would have received this, and possibly more, in government service under the disability quota but i would have never known the love of a man called khailshanker ji who took care of me like a son. he won me over with toffees and dry fruits, slipped in a few notes every now and then, and persuaded me never to leave....” chhotuji kept his promise, and stayed on.

The former lift-man has, ever since, been trying to balance his accounts – giving back to others what he, himself, has received in ample measure. he would have liked, very much, to attend in the wards or wheel patients on trolleys but for his disability. however, anyone in need of blood or a little cheer can always count on chhotuji.

“ten years ago, naval singh soni arrived from mathura. a truck accident had damaged both his feet. he needed blood. i donated, and told him i could get others to donate because i knew people here. he recovered, and went back. but even now he calls me up, and invites me to his children’s weddings. he has told his entire family about me. it feels nice but i also know i am merely giving back what i got – years ago, someone donated his blood for me, someone i don’t know, and will never know.”

Chhotu SinghWard Boy

04


cheerLeaDer

“she had come to us, post operation of the femur, with a bipolar prosthesis. within four days of

her operation, she was walking with the help of a walker. when i saw this brave 104-year-old woman back on her feet, and reaching out for my head in blessing, i can’t tell you how i felt!”

praveen Upadhyaya doesn’t have to. for someone who has spent 30 years giving back the ground people lost from under their feet, there are several things that speak for him. he is one of the reasons why the physiotherapy department is among the happiest in the hospital.

patients from neurology, orthopaedics, paediatrics and several other departments are referred to him and his team. his conversation starter with each of them is an encouraging “you’ll be fine”. this reassuring voice has cheered up several hearts. “here, physiotherapy begins with psychotherapy,” he smiles, “and we try to restore the patient’s confidence. as he rides that hope, we attempt to transport him back to a life as normal as possible.”

“when i can prop up a 95-year-old, i can see he is happy. for me, that is a moment of triumph,” and a moment worth savouring for one who gave up his chances to secure a government job or of going abroad.

he learnt from his mentor, Dr mn kathju, to love santokba enough to never leave it for another assignment. “yogi bhai treats me like one would a brother. he often asks me if the department is running well, and if there is anything he can do to help us improve it further. i believe i have been given all possible chances to prove myself. i cannot ask for more.”

praveen Upadhyaya doesn’t. he knows the value of cheering on, and backing up. what he covets, however, are the blessings of his patients. these have kept him going all these years. “it is tough to leave your home after so many years. but whenever i have to, i merely want to be given a few hours to serve this hospital in any capacity.”

there is such a thing as emotional rehabilitation after all.

05

Praveen UpadhyayaPhysiotherapist


they’ve been the master grafts-men at santokba for the last 35 years. rai ji, who was the chief gardener

at the time the hospital was coming to bloom, picked ram narain mali and madan Lal mali for this very reason. Did they know how to make rose cuttings, he asked them. “yes”, they said, and landed the job. it needed precision, proficiency and planning. and they knew how to make a clean cut to propagate wider, more homogenous flowers – all done in-house, without buying the graft.

“making the cuttings, putting the stem of one plant on to the root of another quickly, and at the right time, is like surgery,” ram narain observes. “not all plants make it – in spite of our best efforts. but the sturdy ones go on to lend scent and colour to the lush greens of the hospital,” he smiles.

the two men also went on to learn many tricks of the trade from Buddha Baba, as they fondly called rai ji. he trained them to maintain lawns, and grow trees. he told them about the purple xenias, roses, cosmos, parsulas, kochias, penulas, and taught them to differentiate the seasonal plants from the annual and perennial ones.

over 30 years of hard work have yielded many new leaves and blossoms that catch the eye of all those who visit the hospital. “it feels good to hear patients appreciating our well-kept lawns. we are happy to see them rest under a green canopy, and proud that our work has come to fruition,” says madan Lal.

“we have learnt a lot here, received a lot. we will miss our flowers and trees because we raised them, and watched them grow from tiny seeds into huge trees. but we also know they are in fine hands. seth ji and his sons have nurtured this hospital like a good gardener. even when we go away, there will be someone sitting under its trees, blessing them: Tera bhala ho, achcha lagaya ped…”

tree time

06

Ram Narain MaliGardener

Madan Lal MaliGardener


sister grace ghose is an emotional woman, much moved by memories. she recalls the time when she joined

santokba after completing her nurses’ training at sms hospital. “i was very young then. seth ji was very fond of me, and would often ask me, ‘Beti, i hope you will not leave us’ and i would always shake my head. i got so much from this family,” she says.

she joined santokba as staff nurse in the medical ward after her nurses’ training at sms. there was only the first floor at the time. the hospital was spotless, and the services, prompt. emergency, wards or the icU, one had to just inform them about a fresh arrival, and things would happen like clockwork. the doctors were good, nursing care was excellent, and men like Dr mn kathju, Dr pD Joshi, and Dr pamecha were medical superintendents. a sense of discipline prevailed.

that made up the young nurse’s mind as she had watched patients suffering in a government hospital for lack of hygiene, and from high levels of infection. she wouldn’t settle for any of that, even if it came all dressed up as salary and the security of a government job.

thirty-four years on , and grace ghose has stuck to her word, and to her work at

nUrsing memoriessantokba. “we would do everything then, pack the gloves and syringes, prepare the trays. but, today, there are many more facilities, and lots more staff. the hospital has improved on many counts. we have already got the iso, and chances are bright that we will get nabh certification too. i’ve also seen some changes... not all of them to my liking.” her voice drops somewhat. “not all of us here know, and remember, the purpose of santokba. i miss the rigour, the respect we had for our seniors, the value for time and the relationship between the doctor and the nurse.”

“but then we have girls like rosamma, sheena, sheeja and bindu who are all devoted to their work. as long as they are around, santokba’s sun is unlikely to set,” she says. “i’ve spent a lifetime here – and it’s not been for money. i got married here, had my children here and also my grandchildren. yogi has treated me like family. i can’t leave my family, and go anywhere else now, can i,” she pauses, and, at long last, smiles.

(grace ghose retired in 2010)

Grace GhoseAssistant Matron

07


taking care

it’s been many years since she spent the 500 rupees ks Durlabhji sent her as gift. but her eyes light up as she

recalls one of her favourite memories of the hospital. “i sent him my engagement card. seth ji told our administrator, Joshi ji, – khayal rakhna,” she says, “and i received a gift voucher for 500 rupees. it was big money at the time, and my salary was only 350 rupees. i promptly encashed it,” she laughs. “then i invited him to my wedding. he couldn’t come but he sent me another 500 rupees, this time on behalf of the trust.”

much has changed in the hospital since. it has grown, and she accepts the implications. it means more responsibility, less time... more spaces, less contact. but sister briar rose paul isn’t complaining because some traditions gently remind her of the santokba that she joined on 13th march, 1973. one of them is that of taking care, of ‘khayal rakhna’.

“i came here from ajmer, looking for a government job. walking along with a friend one evening, i happened to see this lovely building, and said to her ‘i wish this were a hospital’,” she remembers. her wish was granted because it was, indeed, a hospital. “i saw the name sDmh. i knew this was where i wanted to be.”

briar rose paul hasn’t gone anywhere else since.

santokba nurtured the nurse in her. within its spotless, clean setting was the spirit of service – the two mainstays for a nurse like her. there was so much to learn – be it in ent, in ophthalmology, in the cath Lab – and she soaked in every bit. “matron gaekwad took regular classes. the hospital was still young, with just a handful of people. so, we were expected to run around,

and help others, once we had done our own work. we learnt a lot in the process.”

the tradition of teaching and learning in santokba continues, even though it has become institutionalised with the setting up of the nursing college. “classes are now held for new recruits even though they may have done their training elsewhere. they need to match our home-grown nurses who are put through rigorous training in practically every department. see, nursing in santokba is not a job, it’s an attitude,” she says. “it isn’t always that senior nurses are called upon for help. but it is very satisfying when, every now and then, a young trainee or colleague seeks help. Just the other day, someone wanted me to show them how to fix the iV cannula, something i had not done in a while. when i was able to do it in the very first go, i can’t tell you how thrilled i was.”

she may not be able to tell – but it is easy to see how small joys add up to 37 devoted years at santokba. she is happy that people at the hospital remember her birthday, and celebrate it with a party. or that she can have a phone chat with an old friend in another department, that snacking on warm memories, while sipping tea with fellow nurses, is so much fun, and that knowing accounts, it returns and investment advice will happen automatically so she can focus her attention on her patients. santokba has given her this pride in her profession, confidence in self and admiration from her family.

and what happened to her aspirations for a government job? “oh, i filled those forms many times, even joined once but came back. there were other positions, too... but i just refused and returned.”

(briar rose retired in 2011)

Briar RoseNurse

Low res

08


it was november of 1981, she remembers. she was on duty from 8 am to 3 pm. it was past 4.30 pm

but work, like the baby she was carrying, kept growing.

she had trained at sms but started practice at santokba. sister annie chacko knew a hospital was only as good as its care. she also knew that good nursing care wasn’t only about administering medicine, injections and iV fluid. it also meant being a mother to patients like ramachandra. Dr nandini sahni had done a laparotomy – a surgical procedure that involved making an incision through the abdominal wall to gain access to the abdominal cavity – on the 15-year-old boy who had arrived from a village around Jaipur. his was a complicated case, and he had to spend two months at santokba without any family by his side.

annie chacko devoted the two months to ramachandra – sponging, bathing, and feeding him, changing his clothes, and staying awake at night. “fifteen years later, he still writes to me, and calls aunty chacko every year to wish her happy birthday. he invited me to his wedding, and said he would send a car to fetch me,” sister chacko says. “even today, his face is as clearly etched in my memory as it was when i first saw him,” she says, even as a smile glistens in her eye.

so, that day in november 1981, the good nurse was winding up her commitments in the female ward. her patients had predicted her baby – annie chacko was full term in her second pregnancy – would come any time that same day. she went back home, only to return five hours later where Dr suhasini shetoot delivered abhilasha. “all the patients and their relatives dropped in to see me at 5.30 that morning. they blessed my daughter – i was touched, and felt so happy,” she says as she reconnects

with a time when she came to santokba in 1977, and walked straight into the male surgical ward – under the falcon eyes of Drs mn kathju and bn bhargava.

“Dr kathju would call me chakku,” the matron’s gravity gives way to a girlish giggle. “he would never tell us what he needed during an operation or dressing. we simply had to know the next thing he needed. he and Dr bhargava taught me versatility and precision, lessons that remain forever engraved in my mind.”

these lessons she is happy to revise when a senior resident like Dr Varun kaul asks her to teach him how to aspirate the fluid from the lungs of a patient of pleural effusion. “it is so wonderful that he still tells everyone that i taught him to do the procedure,” she says. it also feels good when a younger colleague, sister alice, says, “we saw the way sister annie chacko worked there... ortho, gs, Urology, eye, ent, neurology... all departments under one ward. it was inspiring and exciting.” for someone who learnt from men like Dr kathju and Dr bhargava, nothing would, henceforth, be too difficult.

nothing too difficult except, perhaps, for leaving santokba when she completes 34 years with a grateful hospital that has honoured her with the award for the best sister-in-charge, and elevated her to matron prematurely. “the hospital is my family, and it has looked after me like its own. nothing else matters, and no other place is even half as good,” she says contentedly.

(matron annie chacko retired in 2011, and was succeeded by sister rosamma.)

matronising santokba

Annie ChackoMatron

09


“the father was very critical, and in icU. his four sons had assembled at santokba. they

all wanted to see him. i told them to go in one by one. after a while, the eldest son sought permission to go in because the father wanted to have a word with him. i said i couldn’t allow him since two of the brothers were already inside. eventually, he went in to see his father but returned and said – ‘it’s useless now. he is no more.’ it hit me then. Later, i went to khailshanker ji to apologise. he simply said, ‘you did what you had to. but, sometimes, we need to discriminate’. ”

indu badgel learnt to discriminate. she recalls several instances where she was tested as the pro of santokba. “a young father, with a baby in his arms, was trying to manouevre past the guard to see his wife and the elder child who was admitted in the hospital. as per hospital rules, children under 12 are not allowed inside the paediatric ward beyond the stipulated hours. i walked out of my room, and enquired. the 2-month-old needed to be fed, and the mother couldn’t have left her sick child alone. i asked the guard to let them in every time they needed to,” ms badgel says. she had learnt a lesson she would never forgot – if a rule violates life, bend the rule.

her first test, however, at santokba was when she applied for the post of pro. khailshanker Durlabhji had seen a pro at work at Jaslok, and wanted

one for his hospital as well. an eminent panel of interviewers, comprising brig tk narayanan, Dr bn bhargava and Dr nL sharma, began by asking her difficult, even challenging, questions. “what is the crime for which one is punished for failure, and freed if one succeeds?” “suicide,” the young law graduate replied, and santokba got its first pro.

“years later,” remembers ms badgel, “another man was seriously ill in the icU. the family was from outside Jaipur, and holed up at the dharamshala. the children knew their father wished to see their mother but also knew that she would not be allowed in. they came to me with a request that she be allowed. i sought Dr ashok Jain’s permission. she could go in but not for too long, he said. the patient’s condition was serious, and he

pUbLic as reLations

could collapse any minute. the children brought their distraught mother to me. i sat her down, insisted she have a cup of tea, and told her to pull herself together for the sake of her children and her husband. the husband and wife spent some time together before i went in to fetch her. the man was in tears. ‘i don’t know how to thank you,’ he said. ‘my wife was in a very bad state, and i needed to explain things to her.’ he died the next day. the death shook me up but it also comforted me to know that i had been able to do my bit for a dying man and his family.” even today, ms badgel, 70, believes that their blessings have protected her through her trials and tribulations at santokba.

thirty-five years down, she has dealt with people of all kind: young, old, newborn, dying, noisy, quiet, offensive and courteous. with some of them, she has formed extraordinary relationships. patients see her visiting the icU, and ask, “you are doing such commendable work here. but aren’t you scared you might catch an infection?” no, ms badgel says, simply because she is doubly blessed – by the patients and by the doctors who are always there to take care of her in such an eventuality. Life as a pro, she admits, hasn’t always been easy, considering there are all kinds of people she runs into. “but the trustees and the family have been so good to me. i have never been made to feel like a subordinate. khailshanker ji indulged me so much that he even signed a written order to change the exit for dead bodies when i told him i was petrified of the sight, and would quit the job,” she smiles.

“i had a very short temper to begin with but santokba taught me that life is fleeting, and anger, futile. i have witnessed birth and death here. it is just that interim period where we arrogate so much power and control to ourselves…. it’s been humbling to see gentle giants like Dr pk sethi and Dr mn kathju. i learnt from them that it takes more than medicine to heal and

to soothe the patient. i’ve seen the care and consideration of the nurses here – they have taught me never to forget that the patient is the only reason i am here. i know, today, that comforting an attendant is half the job done, and i have learnt, from patients like kallo, the power of restraint and silence.”

kallo, the eunuch… where to send kallo – a patient of Dr nandini sahni – to the male ward or the female surgical ward? should this unusual case even be admitted? the pro was firm – no patient should ever be turned away from santokba, not on account of gender. kallo was sent to the male ward where he suffered, silently, the barbs before being shifted to the female ward. “he was a model patient – disciplined, decent and very co-operative. every time i asked after him, he would just say, ‘with you around, all is well.’ he would ensure that the place was always clean. even after he was discharged, he would bring patients to the hospital, get the ayahs to clean a dirty bathroom, and help the nurses to take a patient to ot… and continued to do so until he passed away. there was so much i learned from him,” she says softly.

all these lessons have altered her life, admits ms badgel. she is at peace, and believes in god whom she sees every day in the hospital. work is her mode of worship, and she intends to do it for as long as she can. “i came here as pro, stayed as pro, and hope to go as pro,” she says, sounding like the gritty lawyer she was before coming to santokba.

(ms indu badgel retired as pro in 2011.)

10

Indu BadgelPublic Relations


sweep anD soUr

his son was ill. om prakash Junj brought the boy to the hospital where he was admitted

to the paediatric ward. as was the norm, khailshanker ji came that morning, too, and went around the ward, asking after every patient. when he asked om prakash how his son was doing, the distraught man told him that his boy’s name did not figure on the medical card which facilitated free treatment to the santokba family. it meant he would have to pay for his son’s treatment. “seth ji promptly asked me to get a form, and signed it. else, a clerical error would have meant a huge cost to me.”

it’s been several years since the incident happened. but om prakash Junj remembers it like it was yesterday. he joined here as a cleaner in 1975. four months down, he was on the rolls of the hospital as cleaner. “the municipality offered 150 rupees as salary – 60 rupees less than the 210 rupees santokba offered. that was a huge difference at the time. today, my peers in the municipality get more than i do, and it is not as though i don’t feel the pinch. Lekin mera dil nahin mana yahan se jaane ke liye,” says om prakash.

the heart knows some of its precious gains too – of receiving 500 rupees as a token of the hospital’s appreciation to a committed employee, unforgettable memories of going for annual lunches hosted by khailshanker ji, and lasting friendships that sweep the losses away. “seth ji would host an annual lunch for all of us. we would try telling him about a problem then, and he would say, ‘we’ll talk about this but later... you must eat first.’ it meant a lot to me, and to go to him every sunday where we could speak to him, directly and frankly, about our difficulties,” says om prakash, moved by the memory.

for 36 years, om prakash has cleaned, and wiped, and swept the wards and corridors of santokba. another four years before he hangs up his boots and brooms but “i could never leave for any other place because i don’t see myself working anywhere else. it’s just not as nice. this hospital is like a wonderful large family with its caring doctors and patients who come from all over. i am proud to be part of this family. Bas ek hi baat hai – cycle pe chalte hue chhote bhai ko car mein jaata hua bada bhai ruk kar pooch le ki tum kaise ho,” om prakash smiles again, “i trust it to happen, and that’s all that matters.”

Om Prakash JunjCleaner

11


sparks anD pLUgs

he believes electricity to be a synonym for life at santokba. the word emergency implies

different things to him. a power breakdown is an emergency – in critical care, intensive care, ots, ventilators, wards... is the generator up and running? has the supply resumed? has anyone checked the integrator if it is working, and followed it up with a phone call? why is a certain part in the hospital without electricity in spite of the generator? which part of the hospital needs power on priority?

“when i came to santokba as an 18-year-old, bhagwat ji taught me about air-conditioners, controls, faults and the importance of emergency in a hospital,” says babulal sharma.

today, babulal is more than an electrician. in 37 years, he has brought himself to an enviable spot where men like the late brig tk narayanan, erstwhile head of pathology, have called him to revive a microscope or any other lab machine which had been declared all but dead. “he would direct me, and i would rack my brains, and give my time – and it meant a lot of time. but when the machine sprang back to life, he would thank me and say, ‘see, we retrieved the machine, learnt so much, and also saved the hospital money’. ”

whether electricity or money, he says he learnt the value of saving from men like khailshanker ji. “this is your hospital. work with care, with compassion, with honesty, he would tell me,” says babulal, who hasn’t allowed the nanosecond technology to diminish his passion for economising and recovering the littlest of

machinery. “the hospital gave me – a young roadside electrician – a sense of security and stability. it was small when i came – we were just the three of us to look after the electrical works. i learnt the art from bhagwat ji – how to reach the patients in the ward, how to fix the oxygen, and distribute the load in emergency… i have woken up at dead of night in the line of duty, and worked 48 hours non-stop when my reliever could not make it. i have seen how doctors and nurses deal with patients here – they give their best to restore the patient’s health. and i am convinced that there is little – be it an ordinary electrical machine or complex endoscopy equipment – that does not lend itself to recharging and repairing. it is this sense that has made me serve the hospital with integrity and honesty.”

another two years, and babulal would have retired. he has worked well and hard in all the years he has been here. he has wired next-generation electricians like prem prakash sharma, and taught them the watts and switches of the trade. he does a 9 to 5 shift now, and looks after maintenance and repair. circuits may have sometimes broken for him. he would have liked to have more chances to work at full potential but is content to work under ‘guru ji’, as bhagwat ji is famously called in santokba. “even today, bhagwat ji summons me when there is a tricky job – Babu tu yeh kaam kar,” he says.

you can’t hide a good spark, after all!

12

BabulalElectrician


invoice and bad debt are terms with unusual connotations for the accounts officer of santokba. in his entire term

of service, he has listened to the former so that he never accrues the latter. “i joined santokba as receptionist-cum-telephone operator. three years later, i was sent to the accounts section as chief cashier. i wasn’t very educated. but when my chief accounts officer, hirabhai tholia, told me never to give or take a single paisa from anyone, i knew he had taught me a lesson for life.”

it’s a lesson that bhanwar singh hasn’t forgotten in 35 years, and his accounts – never crammed, and always balanced – have been clean as a whistle. he is almost adamant about keeping records, and getting receipts. he deals with payments for the entire hospital, including store purchases, making cheques for staff and others, and gets them signed by secretary of the trust, chief administrator or advisor to the secretary, depending on the departments.

hundreds of people call him every day to check if their cheques are ready. from an equal number, he demands bills or invoices. “please come, i tell them, if their cheques are made, and leave a copy of the receipt with me. at work, no favours are sought, and none given. i learnt from hirabhai the merit in balancing the books before the day ended. my accounting cycle opens every day in the morning, and closes at the end of the day. Jo karna hai, woh aaj karne layak hai. that doesn’t leave me too much time for chat sessions over cups of tea,” he says tersely.

with equal honesty, he confesses, also, why he joined santokba. he wasn’t qualified enough, and did not want to be in a transferrable job. this outspokenness brought him to accounts but not without some tough tests. “i had sealed the cash-

of inVoices anD Debtsbox that day when our old-time chartered accountant, ns rathore, landed up at my desk at 1.30 pm, demanding to get the cash checked. i refused, asking him for a letter of authority. he called hirabhai, complaining that ‘the boy’ was refusing to do his bidding. hirabhai stood by me and, finally, i did get the cash checked – it was accurate to the last paisa.”

honesty and accuracy make bhanwar singh an asset that santokba re-employed after his retirement in 2005. his request to be allowed to visit his home for a few days before rejoining work had been turned down. “rashmikant bhai said to me – you are a worker. what will you do at home? i felt satisfied that i was considered necessary enough to be around,” he smiles, “and, frankly, the hospital is equally necessary for me. my work is my stress buster. i am on my seat at 9 sharp. i have a few friends – kalyan ji and radha rani in the billing section. i don’t watch television, and the last film i saw amar akbar anthony,” he laughs.

he is glad he works for a hospital that cares for its people. “i met with an accident in January 2007, and fractured my leg. Dr Jayant sen took care of me. thirteen of the 40 days that i took off from work were spent at the hospital. Woh iss hospital ki care hi thi jo mujhe mili.”

working honestly and diligently is his way of giving back to santokba the love he feels he has received. what the accounts officer takes by way of the odd diary, pen or sweets on Diwali or holi, he gives back by helping people who come for treatment from his village.

it’s about balancing the books at the end of the day.

Bhanwar SinghAccounts Officer

13


surgery was imperative soon after Dhruv was born – without intestines. twenty years later, every following year on his

birthday, mother and son come to the hospital to renew a grateful connection with the doctor who corrected a congenital disorder, and secured a life.

Dr nandini sahni – now a 40-year veteran at santokba – admits to feeling good about it. “a lot depends on individuals – both doctors and patients. many doctors – good doctors – treat patients, and believe it to be the end of their work. for many patients, too, the doctor is a thing of the past when illness and treatment become history. but when a patient returns to a doctor year after year and, sometimes, after a few decades, the doctor has the satisfaction of knowing she may have done something right.”

she would have done something right. when a son comes to her simply because she operated upon his father or a patient returns for a second round of surgery to the surgeon who performed one 30 years ago, it must mean that they have retained not just a wound well closed but also a taste of her care and concern, besides, of course, the occasional meals she is known to bring from her own house.

“we were just a handful of people when the hospital began in 1971. we had very few reference points. we had a building, a structure from where the spirit of the hospital could function. these people – with their own set of values – were the spirit; they were the hospital. we believed that patients were people with flesh and blood, not bed numbers, and they needed much more than medicine. they needed to be cared for, for their physical, psychological and emotional needs. care and compassion became the Usp of santokba,” says Dr sahni who joined the hospital when it was still just a small maternity home.

these values, says she, are best imparted through living them, and are easier to imbibe

fooD, feeLing anD morewhen the larger vision is conducive and shared. “i can’t teach but you can learn. i received a lot from the Durlabhji family, and i learnt so much from seniors like Dr kathju. i did not ever want to leave santokba because, in 40 years, i found the space to grow. i discovered patients who became family. i did my ms after i joined here, and went on to do a master’s in paediatric surgery. building long-term relationships entails staying with the institution for a certain period of time. it calls for looking beyond limited and limiting ideas of self-growth and interest.”

but it is equally important to value doctors and nurses for their fine work. “we have good doctors even now. the hospital must nurture them so that they, in turn, can serve patients with care and consideration. for a lot of doctors, too, it is easier now to switch jobs. so, the sense of mutual dependence must be encouraged both ways. often, one hears patients in santokba lamenting the fact that things have changed. but there are some, from among the younger lot, who are committed to the idea of service. one would like to see more of them because they are the ones who can infuse new life into the institution.”

the greater the number of such doctors and caregivers in the hospital, she says, the sooner will patients recover, and discover santokba to be the epicentre of care and compassion. santokba, Dr sahni suggests, must continue to be rooted in these founding values even in changing times.

“the name of santokba is associated with these values. that association will draw, as always, people from in and around the state. it has grown, and continues to be the heart of healing, of health and life. the feeling our patients carry back with them, once they leave us, and the quality of their contact with this heart will determine the strength of that centre,” she concludes quietly, with conviction.

Dr Nandini SahniHOD General Medicine

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kinD worDs as remeDy

the only time gita sitaram flouts her ‘duty’ is when the secretary of the trust takes a round of the

Luxury Delivery room. “Seth ji hamare namaskar ke jawab mein haath hilakar hamein baith jaane ke liye kahte hain. Lekin apan ka farz to hai khade hone ka. Unke kahne se hum baith to nahin jayenge.”

farz, or a sense of duty, has been gita bai’s mantra for the 30 years and more that she has been at santokba. mop, broom et al, the ward lady is meticulous when it comes to her work. it’s Dettol and soap solution for cleaning the floors, three parts of water and one part of hypochloride for cleaning the washrooms. Used cotton goes into the yellow bag, waste paper into the black bag, all plastic and bottle in the red, and glass pieces and the like go into the blue bag. she is proud of her work, and grateful that it is valued at santokba.

“it is virtually impossible to see such cleanliness and care in a government hospital – a very important reason why i never wanted to move to government service. Infection control se log aaye the, bahut

khush hokar gaye, aur hamari tareef bhi ki,” says gita sitaram, who stays enthusiastic in the face of the drudgery of sweeping, mopping and cleaning, day after day, year after year for so many years. where does this dedication spring from? “Yahan chutney-roti achchi mil jaati hai. Jab rahna yahin hai, to kaam to aisa karna hi chahiye ki doosre wards ke log bhi poochen!”

that, perhaps, is also her way of saying thank you to the hospital that stood by her during her husband’s heart surgery.

LDr in charge, sister arati adhikari, lauds gita bai for always being ready to lend a hand – wiping the floor along with a crease on a worried forehead. “often, we have women patients without a female attendant. from fetching water for the patient to baby-sitting, gita bai is always there, never refusing anyone or saying it isn’t part of her duty.

“Mareez ki aadhi bimari to achcha bolne se hi chali jaati hai... hamein achcha lagta hai jab itne patients hamein dhanyawaad karte hain. the only way the hospital can do well is when the patient goes back, feeling he has been cared for in every possible way – when he feels the doctor’s been kind, when the nurse has looked after him, and the ward lady has kept his surroundings clean. Uski khushi mein hum sab ki khushi hai, aur tarakki bhi,” she says as she gets back to her floor.

Gita SitaramCleaner

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my DUrLabhJi

16 more often than not, a glass of water and a cup of tea do not add up to a box of sweets. but

when a senior staff nurse fetches water for a thirsty patient, recovering from orthopaedic surgery, and buys him a cup of tea another time, the equation may change!

sister alice r nath, who retired in 2011 as assistant matron, and in charge of the surgical ccU after 35 years, will vouch for it. “Hamein patient ka dukh dikhai deta hai... i have had patients – in both the medical and surgical wards – who would wait for me to come and fix the iV for them. years ago, a very adamant asthma patient would not let anyone administer the iV to him. i went to him each time, cajoled him, and told him how important it was for him, and only then did he relent. occasionally, if i went on leave or had an off, he wanted to know why i had not showed up, and conveyed his displeasure,” she smiles and says, “Yahan service karke shanti milti hai. i was trained at sms but then matron rt John asked me, and some of my batch mates, to join santokba. i haven’t looked back since... and never once regretted quitting a government job.”

much has changed since sister alice nath joined santokba as a staff nurse. it is a bigger hospital with many departments and many people, most of whom, she feels, are not known to the new management.

“yogi ji doesn’t know most of us – and i think it would be nice if he did know us a little more. an occasional meeting or a get-together could be a good way to do so.” the management could be more considerate towards members of the senior staff too. “it is important to hear them out, their problems or grievances from the wards... this can only be for the good of the hospital.”

“in spite of all these changes, there is one thing that remains unchanged in all the years i have been here. it is the humanitarian view, and the life-long friendships forged here. even now, whenever i go back, everyone – from cleaners and ward boys to people from the office and nursing colleagues – raise their hand in acknowledgement. a senior doctor like Dr subhash kala always asks me: ‘To sahab, kab aa rahe ho vapis?’”

soon – at least that’s what she would like. she smiles hopefully, and says there are, at least, another couple of years before she hangs up her uniform. “i have recently said no to another corporate hospital which asked me to join them. it’s either back to my Durlabhji or i am happy to sit at home. whoever the owners of santokba, i am the one who has worked here – isliye mera Durlabhji, ab bhi hai, aur aage bhi rahega.”

Alice R NathIn-charge, SCCU


a patient asks me ‘Doctor Sahib, operation mein dard hoga?’ i tell him, ‘Dard to hoga, cut hai, par hum dard ke liye dawa bhi denge.’

you have to be honest with the patient, and temper that honesty with compassion. that’s the measure of a hospital’s care. for nearly the 40 years that i have been here, i have shared, with my patients, everything that was worth sharing – the extent of the disease, the extent of health we can try and bring back, the healing that we can offer, the alternatives... and we have done well.

such interaction between the doctor and his patient takes care of half the problem. the latter knows what to expect, and is free to make his choices. such a doctor or hospital has already set the process of healing in motion. we built this hospital with the conviction that the patient was supreme – it was for him, and because of him, that we existed. he was our raison d’etre. and that is why, 40 years later, every patient – whether from a village or a city, in a general ward or in a deluxe room – is a Vip for me. i don’t do surgeries any more owing to my advanced age, but i tell my younger colleagues and assistants that, but for this unknown, ailing man, we would all be twiddling our thumbs.

to connect with the patient depends a lot on the individual doctor. we were just a handful of us when we started, and i had to simply tell my colleagues, Dr bothra or Dr singhvi, to please come, and look at my patient. but systems have evolved. procedures and processes are part of institutionalisation. so, we now have a formal process of reference which can be somewhat daunting for someone like me.

the past is always more romantic than the present. so it is tricky to say whether doctors, today, are less compassionate. circumstances vary. they may be tackling different kinds of patients. they may be seeing a larger number of them. besides, there are individual needs of the doctors as well. it is equally important for us to select our doctors with care, on the basis of merit and ability. it is important to find out what kind of people they are, what their personal philosophy is, how willing they are to set aside their own biases, and to get along with other doctors, nurses and patients, and whether they can adapt to the culture of santokba. these

questions merit answers, and they are not difficult to find through a process of rigorous questioning.

so yes, santokba has grown. that it continues to care is evident in the stream of patients who come here every day from far-flung corners of rajasthan and from neighbouring states. we started with everyone predicting our demise. we took up the challenge. there is a lot more competition today but our hospital is always full. we, as its founders, were keen it grows, and all we were interested in was that every patient obtain quality medical care. god was kind – it grew – and we’ve been able to get to where we are today. our charges are all computerized. that makes things transparent for the patient. if they add up to say, 20,000 rupees, he knows he will spend more or less that amount. it is vital for a hospital with such unquestioning, loyal patients that we strive to provide better services always – a new ot, a competent, caring doctor, a better ward, more nurses – so we can justify the increasing cost of health care.

i remember, sometimes, i would operate upon a patient on a given day, and the surgery would not go off very well or i had to close him up temporarily. i would operate upon him two days later or, sometimes, even the third time. but we would make sure he did not pay again because we were clear the error was ours. and we could take such decisions independently. i think that independence and integrity are invaluable, irrespective of how large an organisation becomes.

for myself, let me say i have experienced a lot of love and respect from this hospital and its management. they give a lot of attention and regard to a senior doctor like me. i suppose it’s got something to do with the spirit of santokba. a clean, aesthetically done up building, good woodwork and nice chairs for patients are good form, and required in these times. equally necessary is to keep that spirit shining... i think we’ve not done too badly on that count either.”

“Every patient is a VIP for me.”

Dr bn bhargavahoD, Urology, former medical superintendent, and one of the founder-doctors at santokba

17

who have served 30+ years at santokba

staff comments


to be told that the hospital needs you, and wants you to continue, even after nearly 40 years of service, is flattering for an electrical supervisor, particularly one who tends to blow a short fuse rather

quickly. but they’ve accepted me with all my faults – and i have received from them without ever having to ask. that is why i always feel i belong to this place, and this place, to me – and when you feel so, you want nothing but the best for santokba.

when we began, the facility was expected to cater to only 70-80 in patients. but foresight is critical when you are building a hospital. i knew the numbers would grow. so we planned for it. we used a 10 sq mm cable where only 1 sq mm was needed. today, that has proved to be a good decision – and i hope this forethought, and the freedom to execute, continues. for example, oxygen points in ots were limited to begin with, and not all patients could be accommodated then. now every room has them. the upshot of this, however, has been that the requirement has gone up to 400 litres of oxygen but the path we have for its distribution allows only for 200 litres. something like this will require re-visiting since we will not be able to change it once it is operational.

if the supply to the ac plant in the new building is cut off because of a fault, all procedures – starting with doctors conducting their opD – will come to a halt. i will try and provide an alternative in the interim. but, unlike the old building which i know like the back of my hand, coming up with a workable solution will be relatively difficult for the new opD block where my charge is only to maintain electrical supplies. handling an emergency in the new block isn’t all that simple. but, as the electrical supervisor, i would like to measure up to the smallest of emergencies. i draw my inspiration from men like mr Joshi, Dr katju and Dr bhargava who took risks, sought opinions, and backed suggestions, even from people like me. that instilled in me a sense of responsibility and belonging.

i came to santokba over three decades ago, raw and untaught. bhagwat ji was the electrical supervisor. we were short on staff, and i had ample opportunity to learn and to do. he taught me everything about

air-conditioners, electricity and cables. Unhone bahut sikhaya hamein aur bahut support kiya. that instilled in me a love for learning. his help and encouragement gave me the confidence to handle emergencies, difficult situations all by myself and without his help.

while working alone gave me faith in my own ability, working with colleagues like babulal ji and Durga ji gave me a sense of comfort. Kaam AC plant ka ho ya koi aur bada fault, zaroorat padne par hamesha haath bantaate hain. Do aadmiyon ke kaam mein jab teesra jud jaata hai to kaam jaldi aur hanste-khelte khatm ho jata hai.

i know i could have been an electrician anywhere – in a hotel or at a factory. but working in a hospital is totally different. all services here are emergency services – be it a breakdown in the ward or ot or a critical patient on a ventilator. Yahan zindagi ka sawaal hai, aur mujhe tatparta se kaam karna hota hai, main koi der nahin kar sakta. if it means coming back after work or returning at night for an important piece of work, so be it. the feeling that my work may save a life is more fulfilling than any other.

much has changed since i commenced my career here. khailshanker ji knew every patient because he spent time with each one of them. on the other hand, yogi ji is someone who is very particular about cleanliness, about the smallest detail – where a chair should be placed so as to make the patient comfortable, for example. the plastered flooring in the wards now has tiles, beds in the wards and labour rooms have been changed. our staff has been doubled, too, so that time lost between a breakdown and its repair is minimised, and the patient gets uninterrupted care.

i joined here at a salary of 210 rupees. today, i draw 17,000 rupees which is more than sufficient for me. i have been promoted to supervisor although, for the moment, i am drawing my previous salary. incentives are important, and one feels happy to receive them. but one doesn’t work for them. i have never, in all these years, asked for anything... and i am content to know that there hasn’t ever been a single complaint against me. the desire to serve, however, is still strong. if the hospital asks me to stay after i retire in January 2012, i will. meanwhile, i am trying to pass on the knowledge i have inherited from my seniors so that the tradition of care and repair never breaks down at santokba.

“They’ve accepted me – with my faults and fuses.”

bhagwat falaksr. electrical supervisor

“My fulfilment comes from knowing that my work may have saved a life”

chothmal Jangidelectrical supervisor

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18


even as i speak to you, i am waiting for a patient from narnaul whose family called to say that they were coming to see me. as i have done so often in the past, i will return to the hospital, and

see him once they are here, this very night. i don’t know how much i can help but i wouldn’t want my patient to feel neglected, to feel that no one cared. whether or not i am on emergency, i have always done this as a rule – and for no other reason except that i should sleep peacefully, and so should my patient.

it isn’t inaccurate to say that care in the wards isn’t like it was, say, 20 years ago. there was a sense of belonging among the earlier generation of caregivers. this was ‘my’ hospital. but now, it is like living in a rented house. some think of the house as their own, and keep it like that. some others think of it as a rented place, and live in it without much sense of love, ownership or responsibility.

things are changing everywhere. people switch jobs the moment they sense a greater opportunity. so with the medical profession... we, at santokba, are part of this larger change. and yet, we are seeing the fourth generation of patients now. they come from places such as narnaul, mahendragarh, makrana and nagaur, and they come seeking doctors by name. they wouldn’t do that if they weren’t happy. it is a matter of satisfaction for any doctor that he or she is so well regarded. but it is equally true, that if they come looking for me, they come to santokba and, in that sense, i am the hospital. patient loyalty is still our pride and a good gauge of whether they have felt cared for or not.

a corporate hospital is run differently from one that is managed by a charitable trust. as a senior doctor, i may not always agree with the prevailing mix, in santokba, of these two modes. a trust-run hospital, for instance, will not spend so much on beautifying the building. on the other hand, it is equally true that the present administration is driven by a strong desire to provide the best medical care to people.

as medical superintendent, i would say we have already set into motion some processes aimed, primarily, at the well-being of the patient.

barring a few beds in intensive care, for example, all beds belong to the hospital after 7 pm, and no patient is denied admission for want of a bed. this, like any other change, isn’t without its attendant problems. a doctor is well within his rights to ask for his bed to be vacated for his day-care patient but the patient of another doctor may still be occupying that bed. so, for starters, we have said that bed allocation to each doctor will be decided on the basis of the number of patients he sees, on an average, on a given day.

advancing ot hours is in the offing, too, so that the patient has to stay empty-stomach for only the shortest possible time. i am also proposing we start our opDs earlier since there is a sudden rush of patients after 10 am, and ten files are made in as many minutes. but the wing is empty between 9 and 10. this way, we can minimise the waiting time of outstation patients who arrive in the city in the morning.

we hold departmental meetings regularly where doctors have a chance to express opinions, and requirements of the very best machines and equipment are sanctioned, based on merit. this is vital. we realise the patient cannot be compromised any further. he may feel happy with being provided an ac but his happiness disappears if he has to shell out another 100 rupees from his pocket.

santokba has changed because it has grown. but its feeling, its desire to care with passion as well as compassion, is still alive, and pushes us towards making it a patient-centric hospital. the outlook of yogi ji is different from that of his predecessors. he wants to create more and more facilities. his ruling emotion is to make santokba comfortable, and a place that looks after the patient in the best possible way.

the outreach programme is part of that emotion. we have been holding medical camps, so far, in places which don’t have easy or any access to good medical facilities. we must now focus on following up, say, every three months. but the programme, which entails free services to the catchment areas, illustrates the spirit of santokba. the change, then, is only in the execution of the vision while the core philosophy remains unchanged.

“Change is in implementing the vision; the vision remains unchanged”

Dr gr singhvimedical superintendent

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“Care within can transform into compassion without”

Dr gc bothrahead of Department, paediatrics

we don’t treat patients here, we tend to the sick... we look after them for they need more than medication. we are involved with their pain, and we try and reduce it any which way we

can. to someone like me, who has been around for over 38 years, and has been associated with the philanthropic work of the trust since 1969, this idea forms the very core of my own work here.

parents come to us from all parts of rajasthan, from haryana, Up and mp with their sick children. if i happen to be on leave, they call to ask when they can come. we are the only paediatricians they know, and they are willing to wait, for several days sometimes, depending on the child’s condition, so that they can see their long-trusted doctor. this isn’t about familiarity alone, it is about trust and a sense of security that comes with reason – and the reason is we care.

as hoD, i had requested for an intensivist in paediatric care. he is someone who helps to maintain life by preserving organ function till such time as we can take over. we have an intensivist now. our results have improved, and our output is much better. i can safely claim we are the best paediatric Department in the entire state.

we started by providing much-needed medical care to the needy at affordable rates. forty years down, more so in the last couple of years, santokba is more visible. the hospital has better equipment, more departments, more patients, good-looking outdoors, better basic facilities... an attendant, for instance, doesn’t have to run around, looking for a cup of tea or a decent meal.

but people, more than machines, sustain a tradition. the right kind of people, fairly selected, justly compensated, and kept satisfied and happy, deliver their best. that’s the end to which i try to work in my department. talking to one’s people in the department, and finding out what’s bothering them, even at a personal level, mentoring them when needed, cautioning them where necessary... this airing of views and resolving issues, internally, has worked wonders for us.

i am not suggesting that matters should never be referred to the very top. but i would prefer to keep it as a last option, not the first. the current secretary of the trust is very supportive and straightforward – equally ready to give his go-ahead to a new idea as he is to owning up a just decision taken by an hoD. something that would take a week normally, requires just a phone call from a trusted doctor, and decisions are taken on the spot. that’s been my experience for as long as i remember.

at the same time, i am a passionate supporter of group work. the very purpose of a hierarchy of medical superintendent, heads of department and departmental supervisors is to be part of a collective voice, and take that collective voice to the top, with honesty, efficiency and sincerity. that’s care – internally – which can transform into compassion – externally – for the patient.

santokba looks after its people – and that is why i am still working here, six years after retirement. it’s more than 40 years since i first joined at the Durlabhji clinic. we built this hospital with our

own hands, and it is not easy to leave something you have built yourself, something which is yours in spirit and in substance. even today, i feel the same way because i still get that sense of belonging. yogi ji listens carefully to every suggestion that’s good for the hospital – irrespective of where the suggestion comes from. to me, this inclusiveness is care, and it has manifested itself in several different ways over a period of time.

i remember brig. tk narayanan joining santokba to head the pathology lab. Unse devotion to duty, discipline aur punctuality seekha. he would arrive before the scheduled hour, and was always willing to serve a patient himself. the least that a patient here expects from us is to be spoken to with sympathy, he would say. a former brigadier, but always such a team man! he would draw blood samples himself, and organise urine samples – and in doing so, he taught me that no job was too small to be done with care. Log cleaner ki wait karte the lekin woh apne haath se sab kar lete the. this is the way i function even today. i don’t think twice about working at blood donation camps where the team is small, or giving first aid to a patient, or looking after someone who is sick and throwing up – and most of my younger colleagues have accepted this as a way of life at santokba.

there is a difference in outlook between the old and new generations. and yet, i can say, of my department in the blood bank, that we are extremely fortunate to have state-of-the-art equipment to test for hiV, eLisa, rheumatoid arthritis, ccp and others but, more importantly, we have a team that works hard at making our reporting accurate. that is important because the line of treatment depends on investigations. Doctors clinically correlate but, at our level, even if there is a shadow of a doubt, we repeat the test – though such cases are rare.

today i am section-in-charge, and i arrive before time. this hasn’t, and shouldn’t, come from fear; it should come from an internal discipline, from attaching value to what each of us does… and i feel this internal discipline should be encouraged.

“Internal discipline comes from the value we attach to our work.”

gk menonblood bank

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no person ever visits a hospital out of choice… he comes only when he is helpless, and it can’t feel very nice to be without a choice. so, when he goes home, he should go back with a

positive feeling, happy and healed in every way possible, including at the last point of call – billing. this thought has been my guiding force for as long as i have served here.

i retired as assistant accounts officer in 2005 after 33 years of service, and rejoined to look after billing. i had, in fact, joined the nursing home in 1969 as a lower division clerk, and the post of assistant accounts officer was specially created for me at santokba. in all these years, the one thing i have done is to work with love – to reciprocate, in some measure, the love i have received from this place. Zaroorat padne par 24 ghante, 36 ghante bhi kaam kiya hai, ek chhota sa break lekar vaapis kaam par aaya hun. Thakan hui ho, aisa kabhi yaad nahin padta. in fact, i am happiest when i am working because i enjoy it – my work is not a duty that i have to do. my energy and enthusiasm come from the way i feel about the hospital, and my gratitude stems from all the encouragement, respect and affection i have always received from the Durlabhji family. this support has helped me learn new processes and technologies with the zeal of a young person.

Until computers appeared 20 years ago, we did all the billing manually. i hadn’t ever seen a computer but learnt on the job because i realised things were changing – i had to adapt to them. i had all the 4,000-odd billing codes on my fingertips and, gradually, computers became easy. it is important, i think, to learn new things and, having learnt, let go of them also… but learning aids independence. i have tried to pass on this learning to the new people in the department but the levels of interest vary now. so, yes, the hospital may have changed on some counts since i have been here. but my feeling for santokba remains unchanged, and i do feel i am receiving the same affection from this place and its people as i have all these years.

i will retire in a couple of years after 35 years of work at santokba. it is the only hospital i have known in my entire career as a nurse; it is the only life i have known, outside of which i think i would be quite lost.

the hospital has become big now; it has the best facilities and adequate staff. even so, the pace of work has caught up with everyone, and we always seem to be short on time. but for that very reason, it is also important that there be a link, a bridge between the hospital and its younger crop of nurses, someone who can pass on valuable knowledge about how to handle all kinds of patients as well special procedures like iV cannulation and traction, training and overseeing work in the wards.

when i was young, seniors like sister Deshpande and my ward in- charges taught me a lot. there was mutual co-operation and care for each other. we shared our little joys and sorrows together. i have tried to pass on whatever i have learnt to the younger nurses in the firm belief that the best nursing traditions must survive. part of the learning happens formally, by teaching and training. but a lot of it, i feel, also happens when younger people simply imbibe skills, values and practices in the presence of an experienced person. that’s what makes an institution unique.

in four or five years, the veterans will have retired. the young staff nurses have already started asking us who will teach them once we are gone. for most of us, among the older set of nurses, the hospital isn’t just a place of work – it is our very identity, our home, and we owe it to ourselves, and to our home, to give back something of what we have received. we cannot afford for our young nurses not to know the culture of santokba because this would directly impact patients. as i said, i have learnt a lot as a young nurse – and for all that i have learnt, and in gratitude, i wish to continue to work here after i retire. i think it may be good for the hospital – for the current crop of nurses as well as the senior ones – that the latter are retained as a bridge to santokba’s beliefs and values.

“Senior nurses are a bridge between the younger nurses and Santokba’s values”

Lalithamma rajin-charge, orthopaedic ward

“My work at Santokba has never felt like work.”

kalyan sahai sharmabilling in-charge

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142 SANTOKBA THROUGH ITS STAFF 143

i joined santokba in January 1971, retired in 2003, and was then given an extension. my first assignment was to cook for harry paschkes who was administrator at the time, and my first salary

was 200 rupees and a bicycle to fetch vegetables.

paschkes sahib liked my cooking. after he left in 1972, rashmi ji asked me to stay back at the hospital, and i started cooking for the 20-25 girls at the college of nursing (when brig. tk narayanan set it up), and also cooked in the mess till 1985. rashmi ji’s friends would tell him ‘Uske haath ka khana kha kar 4-5 kilo vazan badh jaata hai, Khan itna achcha khana banata hai.’

thanks to Dr nemish shah, then visiting cardiologist, i got a chance to work in muscat, Dubai. i made good money but returned to india in 1991. the hospital kindly took me back, and gave me a very decent salary. thanks to this, i could build my own house, and have my four daughters married.

it’s been 40 years. Seth sahib and Rashmi Bhai ab nahin rahe par Yogi ji ne, aur hospital ne, mujhe chhoda nahin.

Main jab se dekh raha hun, tab se Khelubhai ke liye yeh haspatal mandir jaisa tha. Sabka bhala sochte the. he would often go to the general ward, even when he wasn’t well himself... bachchon ke sar pe haath pherte the. Rashmi ji ne apne pita ke kaam ko mazboot kiya. Woh aise vyakti the jo purane kagaz ko bhi value karte the. Log kehte hain Yogi ji bahut kharcha karte hain... lekin jo hospital number ek tha, use number ek pe hi to rakhna chahte hain... he hasn’t touched the general ward rates, but when people can afford an ac and other luxuries, why shouldn’t they get them?

he always asks everyone how the hospital can be improved. he does what he thinks is right but he asks everyone – that is not a small thing. Pata nahin kiski kaun si baat samajh mein aa jaye. Unke liye koi chhota-bada nahin hai. he was a young boy when i first saw him... i was invited for his wedding and reception. i get 10,000 rupees today, and have received a lot of respect and affection from the family and the hospital.

yogi ji told me once that he sits with his parents till such time as they both fall asleep. it left a deep impression on me. i can’t do very much except to pass on some of the values i have learnt here to the younger generation but they need more patience and commitment.

i have made food for many, many people all by myself, picked up baskets of food, and climbed all the way to the ot on the fourth floor to feed the staff. many guests in the guest house come back late, and sleep late. i have stayed up till they return. i have worked 24 hours so

many times and, even at 65, i haven’t felt tired. i have never been marked absent in 40 years, and i tell my son to work with honesty and devotion to this institution.

the only one thing that i now want is to go on haj... wife ko aeroplane ki ride karana chahta hun, ek baar Haj karva dein...

Post script: in february 2011, khan sahib made his pilgrimage to mecca, and performed the Umrah, which is the lesser or minor pilgrimage, the haj being the major pilgrimage. santokba facilitated the travel, three months after which khan sahib breathed his last at the place he knew as well as he did his cooking.

“Jab se mujhe yaad hai, woh Mecca ki mitti choomna chahte the. the hospital paid for the tickets and the travel. he came back very happy, and brought back dates for yogi ji. he couldn’t stop blessing the hospital since he came back. he would say, ‘Hospital ki bahut tarakki ho’. yogi ji, chief administrator badal Verma and other people from the top management came to pay their condolences. i am very grateful his wish to make this pilgrimage was fulfilled,” says khan sahib’s son, nasir, who works with the blood bank at santokba.

“Ek rupaiye ki bajaye 25 paise mein kaam chalate the aur kaam khatam hone se pehle na khud khaate the, na khaane dete the,” remembers raees bhai who assisted khan sahib at the guest house. ramesh chauhan, now a peon in the chairman’s office, was once khan sahib’s understudy. he recalls, “9.30 par Chairman Room ke bahar mere saath chai peene aate the, kabhi kabhi ice cream bhi khilate the... always told me that if i made a mistake, i should admit it, apologise, and move on. work was worship for him. all festivities had to take a backseat if there was work to be done. Number 1 Chef kahte the unhe... bahut barkat thi unke haathon mein – teen ke liye pakate the, aur terah khaate the. he would give us food with his own hands... a bit like saas-bahu where he was the mother-in-law in the relationship while raees bhai and i were the daughters-in-law,” he smiles, in memory of a man without whom the story of santokba wouldn’t taste quite the same.

“It’s been 40 years, but Santokba and I haven’t been able to leave each other”

(Late) bundu khanthe man who cooked for, and fed guests and residents of santokba all his life

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after 33 years of serving at santokba, i am convinced this is one place where goodness is easily found. if you are good at your work, no one meddles with you. if you are honest, no one can

touch you. starting with the family, down to the management, doctors and staff – everyone is ready to lend a hand and, in spite of some trying phases, it is difficult to go away from here. for instance, i had an offer from fortis, and i also got the appointment letter. yogi ji told me he might not be able to make good the difference but he could try his best to compensate me better. when you hear such a thing, it is tough to quit.

Corporate hospital mein aapko koi apna nazar nahin ayega. Yahan aapko maalik ho ya management, doctors hon ya staff - sabse help milti hai. if the secretary of the trust writes a discount to a poor cancer patient, the doctor or surgeon will write off his fees, and the staff will do double duty or overstay if needed... and it is done quietly, without much ado, and it is done sympathetically. people are important in santokba, relationships have meaning here – and that is a rare thing to find in some of the best hospitals. Yeh sirf Santokba mein hi ho sakta hai.

outside of government, santokba would be one of the few places where you have ‘old-timers’ –people who have spent 30 years or more in the same organisation. this, itself, is eloquent testimony to the relationship the hospital has enjoyed with its people. old timers nurse a feeling for their hospital – be it electricity, water, medicine, cotton or spirit, they are prudent with their resources. one old timer amidst 50 people is like a safeguard – just his very presence ensures that, for example, five gauze pieces are used instead of 10, or people do not use five spirit bottles when two would suffice.

santokba has grown: there is more staff, better facilities, more departments and better technology. growth needn’t be isolating, it can be complementary. the entire hospital stands to benefit when doctors, staff and administration work together, single-pointedly towards taking care of the patient – that’s the end goal for all of us here.

as a long-time perfusionist, my job is to operate the heart and lung machine. when the surgeon is operating, my role is to control and maintain the organs of the body. Mujhe lagta hai ki hamara hospital surgery ke daur se guzar raha hai. Uske control ko behtar tareeke se chalane ki zimmedari management aur staff ki hai. the management must play the responsible surgeon, and the staff should be a good perfusionist.

i remember once the space where the artificial Limb centre is housed currently was in a mess. i was asked to tidy it up. i cleaned it, found some old mats to spruce up the place, and set it up. khailshanker ji

saw it, and remarked ‘Kya Mary, tumne to ise Raj Mandir se bhi badhiya kar diya’. raj mandir was the best local cinema hall at the time. such appreciation for something so small! it was very significant for me. irrespective of who we were, and where we came from, he cared for us, treated us like friend and family.

when i came here in January 1972, it was just a budding hospital – a handful of patients and a few doctors, some departments. we set up more departments, opD, icU, ot, hostel, school, avedana ashram… i remember every single thing that i have done with my hands. i was sent to bombay to train so that i was better equipped to perform new tasks in a rapidly growing hospital. it wouldn’t have been possible but for the encouragement that i constantly received from the Durlabhji family. whether it is the ms, the administrator or doctors, everyone has accorded me love and respect. i live on campus, and also have a telephone in my room. people are very attentive and considerate if i am not well. no one has ever made me feel that i am only a nurse. if i didn’t feel looked after, i wouldn’t be here. i would have left long ago to be with my family who have been imploring me to return.

but that’s true not just for me. i now look after avedana ashram, the hospice that can house 100 terminally ill – mostly cancer – patients at a time. people from villages in haryana, Up, mp and rajasthan come to Jaipur for radiation. they have a place to stay even if they go elsewhere for treatment. every facility is provided free of charge. we perform the last rites for the deceased patient according to his religion if he doesn’t have a family or resources to do so.

the nuns who work in the hospice serve selflessly. they clean the crumbling, maggot-ridden bodies of the inmates, feed them and clothe them, counsel them and pray for them. other hospitals have neither the time nor the facility to undertake such service. it’s the same with the mortuary for which we get calls all night long from hospitals all over the city. the beautiful thing is not just that there are these facilities but that there are people behind these facilities who have been working in the spirit of care and love. “We should all play the good perfusionist as

Santokba undergoes a phase of surgery.”

m.a. Quereshiperfusionist

If I didn’t feel cared for, I would have gone back to my family long ago.”

sister mary VJin-charge, avedana ashram

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when i look back at my 35 years in the hospital, a few names come to mind – anuranjan prasad, george ninan, kiran Langar, kanhaiya Lal… these people taught me all that i

know about X-ray. from being a dark room assistant, i am, today, a senior technician – that’s because i learnt from scarcity, from absence. we were just a handful of people when i joined. we started with only one ot, we now have four. we had a handful of X-ray machines. we now have some 40-50 portable ones. there is a lot more staff now. along with these changes, though, the spirit of hard work seems to have changed too...

in all these years, i don’t remember when my day began, and when it ended. there have been days when i processed 300 films in a day. and today, also, i can work more than a 20-year-old can. i can run to the ot, to the ward, with the portable without a problem. Jab koi bolta hai yeh meri duty nahin to bahut gussa aata hai mujhe! having said that, i would also say let’s have our own mri machine and ct scanner so that the young generation today has a chance to absorb new technology that improves their chances of getting better jobs. we had a chance to learn so much because the X-ray machine was ours: we could try our hand at it, fail and be pulled up. but we learnt in the process. the pathology lab has 12 vacancies for training, and all of them get filled every year. but only two of the six seats in radiology are taken. it will be excellent for our young people if the X-ray training is accredited and approved like our path lab training.

santokba is a supportive, nurturing place. i quit here twice because i did not want to work as a class iV employee. but a couple of my colleagues brought me back, and i was sent to Dr kathju who sent me to radiology. ever since, this has been the place for me, and it will be until i retire.

i can never forget the time when my husband died of a heart attack. everyone – right from the Durlabhji family to my nursing colleagues – was with us throughout. the matron, sister annie chacko, and all

my nursing colleagues were always around us. it was like one big family. each one did what each one could do… that’s santokba.

it cares, and inspires everyone to care, too. here i have learnt the meaning of service before self, how to work with integrity, and always keep the patient’s interest and rights in mind. it’s been 40 years since i joined here in 1972, and was, fortunately, re-employed. it’s the kind of place that makes it difficult to not want to work here. it’s been a while since i left the wards as i now head the central supply department where all medical supplies of the hospital come. we have adequate staff and adequate provisions, work is divided well… and our requests are met.

at my age, i have been given an assignment where i don’t have to run around too much. it’s been very rewarding, my time here. some of my younger colleagues who i meet occasionally now regret having left santokba – it’s the best place to be in, they say.

“We must get our X-ray training accredited”

murari Lal sharmasenior technician, radiology

“Santokba stood by my side when I lost my husband”

olive georgein-charge, csr

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146 santokba throUgh its staff


i joined here as a ward boy in 1977. i wasn’t so well educated but Dr raghubeer singh, the radiologist at the Durlabhji clinic, and my technician friends, the late nanchu ram and

Jugal kishore mishra, and nizamuddin Qureshi taught me. chief radiologist, Dr Jp Udawat, took me under his wing when i was 28. he taught me everything about X-ray. whatever i know today as a Dark room assistant is because of all of them. Dr Raghubeer Singh se seekha ki galati karo to sach sach bata do. Bahut sari filmein kharab ho jaati thi mujhse aur Dr Udawat se daant bhi khayi hai. i remember i would be upset about it. Galati ki hai to daant bhi padegi! Lekin mein sochta hun ki woh daant nahin padti to mein yahan tak pahunchta hi nahin. it’s like being in a family – where people who love you, also have the right to scold you. they scold you only because they care. if they didn’t, i, for one, wouldn’t be where i am.

i was a matriculate when i joined santokba, and started working in the garden. six months down, Dr gr singhvi kindly put in a word for me, and i found myself working in the operation theatre. starting

with the greats such as Drs bn bhargava, sn kakkar, Jp Udawat, pk sethi, mn kathju, and sharada rao right up to khailshanker ji and rashmikant ji… i had everyone’s blessings. they all liked my work but i also always had the freedom to go elsewhere if the prospects were better. not only did the Durlabhji family and senior doctors assure me that i could join the government hospital but also gave me letters of recommendation if i ever chose to do so!

i stayed – partly owing to personal constraints but also because i wanted to. it is a rare blessing when your workplace becomes your family. i am grateful to Dr ashok Jain and to Dr subhash kala for what they did for my wife who is a heart patient. even now, i feel the concern when i take her to the cardiology department for a follow-up. sometimes, when my children have had to take her to the emergency, the doctors have attended to her very well, irrespective of whether they know our family or not. that’s the special thing about this hospital – you don’t have to be ‘somebody’ to be treated well here. Kisi ko jaante ho ya na jaante ho, ilaaj itna badhiya hai ki dil khush ho jaata hai – ilaaj karane wale ka bhi, aur saath aane wale ka bhi.

so many people from my village come here for treatment because they have heard about santokba from me. Ek channel banta hai, cycle ki chain jaise. Chittorgarh zila se ADM Bhairon Lal Garg bhi ilaaj ke liye aye the kyonki unhe jaankaari thi ki main yahan hun. the hospital has grown – may it grow always! both as an employee and as a patient, my experience tells me that growing does not mean growing apart. even today, if senior doctors like bn bhargava and siddharth consul see me from afar, haath oopar kar ke namaskar hota hai… woh yeh nahin sochte ki main mazdoor hun, barabar baitha kar chai ka cup pilate hain.

i will retire in 2013 but i would like to continue working here. one remains stable, occupied and healthy if one is working. yes, there is money as well – but that has never been my primary concern. my bhava has been of service. Jansewa mein hi raha. Koi bulata hai to adhi raat bhi chala jaata hun, kisi ko Ambulance mein daal kar ghar tak chhodne bhi chala jata hun… ilaaj bhi karaya hai kayi logon ka… and i have received much more than i have given. the doctors and the entire santokba family looked after me so well when i underwent an open heart surgery.

whether it is medical care, the doctor-patient relationship, work culture or support from the management, the gardener in me still sees santokba as a tree. Usme patte, phool, phal, tana hai, jadein mazboot hain. Shakhayein to girti rehti hain, patte jhad jaate hain, phool aur phal bhi samapt ho jaata hai. Lekin is ped ko samapt nahin kar sakte aap… kyunki neenv achchi hai.

“Santokba is the tree that stays green even when its branches dry up, and its leaves fall.”

om prakash purohittechnician, operation theatre

“If people scold you, it’s because they care.”

padam chandDark room assistant

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i have been working here for a long time… 33 years now. i work eight hours on my shift. as i work – whether i am cleaning the bathroom, the ward or attending to a patient’s call – my mind goes

back to how we would work nights to scrub our verandahs and corridors. khailshanker ji would do the rounds of the hospital after we would do our round of cleaning up. that’s where we saw the heart of this hospital – and how he would reach out to a poor patient – kabhi paise se, kabhi pyar se woh har ek ki madad karte the. we would also feel the same concern he had for all of us workers as well. it was like being part of a large family where we could approach the head of the family with our problems.

the family has grown. but, along with that, our needs, too, have grown. i wish, when i look back, for santokba to look at those needs – whether it is salary, pension or medical allowance – and give its people a sense of equality and security. Itne saal mein aajtak kabhi kisi ne hamare saath galat vyavhaar nahin kiya. Kisi doctor ne aaj tak hamein ‘na’ nahin kaha. Lekin achcha hota agar staff ke regular check-up ki suvidha ho jaati. a hospital needs more than goodwill to carry on; so with people who work there. yet, it becomes difficult to go elsewhere, having worked here even for a few years. i will say, however, we would like to meet yogi ji sometimes, and get an opportunity of speaking to him directly.

the government hospital pays better, and has several benefits. Lekin yahan ke doctors bahut achche hain. Staff ki badi madad karte hain. they prescribe medicine or treatment informally, without asking for our files, and insisting on other formal procedures. they do it for me, for my family, and my grandchildren… and for everyone who works here. Paisa thoda kam bhi ho, lekin yahan pyar bahut hai.

it is this that travels far and wide, and brings even poor patients here. they are willing to do whatever it takes to be treated here. they trust santokba with their lives.

(prem ramdayal retired in 2011)

i came here, broken in body and spirit after a serious accident. khailshanker ji gave me a job – and another life. he was, and will always remain, an inspiration. we remember very fondly and,

perhaps, with some yearning too, the days when he would come and meet each one of us, and seek out each patient, and ask how he was doing.

times have changed now. the number of patients has grown from 50 to 500. we understand that intimacy of the earlier kind is not possible. and yet, they haven’t changed so much. honest transactions, impartial billing, and empathy for the patient… we’ve stayed the course. these are qualities which flow top-down.

i have found myself surrounded by so much goodness here that it is difficult to stray. today, many patients tell me that they draw courage from my life when i pass through the wards on my wheelchair. when people wonder how my colleague, kalyan ji, can pick up a broom, and sweep our workplace or i can dust our tables, my only reply is – in a home, no one tells you to do things. you do them because it is yours.

“In a home, you do things because it is your home, not because someone tells you to do them.”

radha ranibilling section

“Paisa thoda kam bhi ho, lekin yahan pyar bahut hai.”

prem ramdayalward Lady

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it’s been 34 years since i began working as a cleaner in santokba. summer, winter or rain – just the four of us washed, cleaned and mopped the external areas from 6 am to 5 pm with a short break

in between. Log bahut kam the, kaam bahut zyada, lekin phir bhi 10-12 ghante kahaan aur kaise nikal jaate the, pata hi nahi padta tha. During his regular rounds, khailshanker ji would, sometimes, spot a piece of paper lying on the ground. he would always appreciate the cleanliness first, and then say ‘Beta, uss kagaz ko wahan se utha dena.’ he was a good man. his recognition of my work meant a lot to me. yes, i have collected garbage, cleaned wards and blocks and critical care units, cleaned pans and soiled patients while filling in for ward boys, collected dirty bandages… lekin yeh to mera kaam hai aur maine kewal apna kaam hi kiya hai. i am not educated. at best, i would have been a ward boy – of course, that would have been nice.

a government job would have been good with all its perks and pensions. but i don’t regret not taking one because i see my work at santokba as more than work, i see it as sewa to the patient. and there are so many who have expressed their gratitude, and said a warm ‘thank you’ so many times before leaving the hospital.

i have good friends like manoj, shyam Lal, puran and Dinesh. people like Dr ashok Jain, Dr madhulika, Dr kala and Dr kapil gangwal – to name a few – have been kind. they have done so much good to so many people, and done so without fuss. Dr gangwal, for example, has often given me sample medicines for my arthritic pain so i can save some money. even the other doctors don’t always insist on getting a formal file made but prescribe medicine, particularly if there aren’t too many patients. senior people like meghraj ji have commended my work – and these things more than make up for the lack of facilities of a government job, and become reasons for people like me to stay on till the very last day.”

the bathroom of the paediatric ward was a dirty yellow when matron gaekwad told sister-in-charge bina Dave to try me out. i scrubbed all night with brick, stone and concrete. at the

end, i delivered a clean, white bathroom, and also landed a cleaner’s job in the hospital. from the time i accompanied my mother who used to work here, i wanted to serve in santokba. so, yes, i got a job, but it was more than a job. i could have got one with the municipal corporation as well but yahan par kaam mein adab bhi hai… you feel you are valued, that your work means something to someone. i work in both male and female wards. the patients and attendants say whenever baba ji – that’s what they call me – is on duty, the wards look spic and span. acknowledgment from patients means a lot to us class iV employees.

my mother received 6000 rupees and a plaque from the management in recognition of her good work, and i, too, have received 500 rupees. in 36 years, my salary has gone up from rs 150 a month to rs 11,000 a month – but i am still at the post of a cleaner. newcomers have received more opportunities to prove their worth than old-timers have. i would like to believe it hasn’t affected the quality of my work but i think the management should try to address this issue.

“Khailshanker ji’s recognition of my work meant a lot to me.”

ram prasad piyalcleaner

“It’s gratifying to know your work means something to someone.”

ramesh chand ramprasad

cleaner

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i have worked in practically every ward in the hospital ever since i joined santokba in 1976 – wheeling patients in trolleys and wheelchairs, taking them to opDs, for scans and X-rays, changing

their clothes, cleaning them, and doing all of this with a sense of joy. it’s been fulfilling to simply know that i work in a place where doctors like nandini sahni not only treat their patients but also bring them food from their own homes, and provide free medicines for those who cannot buy them. i learnt the spirit of service and kind-heartedness from her. she does so many things herself, things that are normally part of our duty. and seeing her, i have learnt the value of being able to do things with your own hands, and the freedom that comes from it.

that’s been the tradition of the hospital. i remember khailshanker ji was always there to lend us an ear; he was concerned about each one of us. we would talk to him directly, and our problems and disputes were resolved amicably, at home. this hospital was, and is, home to us. if i cannot, for some reason, come to the hospital, i don’t like it. Sirf naukri karne ki baat nahin, yahan aakar mareezon ki sewa karne mein sukh-santosh milta hai.

not too long ago, a few children had come here. they were orphans and poor... poor like us. they needed to get their X-rays and some other tests done before commencing treatment. i took them around – aur mere saamne hi unka sara ilaaj muft hua hai. i felt so happy because i could identify with them. a member of the staff whose bill exceeds a certain amount also receives the same compassion from the hospital.

i am happy to see that santokba has grown. but it has brought about a reserve – and many of us are taking time to get used to that. but the tradition of care and kindness in santokba is the axis around which all change happens here.

my favourite story about my time in santokba goes back nearly 40 years when i joined here. my father wrote to me from kerala. the letter landed at the official address of

khailshanker ji in Johri bazaar. Like every day, he came to the hospital the next day with the letter, and gave it to me saying – ‘write back to your parents. they will be worried about their daughter who is in a new city…’ . in his voice, i felt i heard my own father. since then, i never felt i was away from home and family. and that, i suppose, is the reason why i couldn’t ever leave this place in spite of better offers. seth ji would come twice a day, and ask if i was doing fine. when my son was born, he was always concerned as to who i had left him with.

we were a family. Doctors would come to the lab, headed by brig. tk narayanan at the time, discuss certain cases, and suggest redoing a certain test. similarly, we would inform the doctors in case of an abnormal or unexpected report. the primary concern was the patient, and, together, we would take care of him.

the hospital has become so much bigger now. we have the best machinery in our blood bank. we make our suggestions, and the management supports them very much. our standards for quality control are among the best. we have virtually all facilities that staff, patients and attendants may require. there are some bottlenecks still but many processes are faster now than ever before. for example, every floor in the new building now has a collection centre. the wards send the samples to us instead of our having to run around to collect them from every floor. on the other hand, there is also a difference between attending to 10 patients a day and 100 patients a day. nursing, our highpoint, should be reviewed, and we must know how, and in what areas, to find our middle ground. yet, i can say that the emotional bond which was formed so long ago has only become stronger over a period of time.

“When Santokba treats a poor man for free, it is as if I have received that kindness.”

rukmani Deviward lady

“Our standards for quality control are among the best. We have the best

machinery in our blood bank.”

saramma menonsupervisor, blood bank

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i have spent a wonderful 40 years before i retire in 2012. from a carpenter, i have become a maintenance supervisor, and have got my hikes. Hospital ne hamari imaandari ko dekha, aur maana ki ham kis

tarah se itne saalon se yahan kaam kar rahe hain. Apne parivaar ki tarah maana hamein, vishwaas kiya aur zimmedari di, use nibhaane ki suvidha di. if i have been able to create belts to secure patients in wheelchairs and trolleys much before the nabh even stipulated it, it is, primarily, for these reasons.

we have made in-house iV stands for the ot, medical trolleys, ac stands, medical, folding iron beds right here in our workshop – all at a cost 40 to 60 per cent less than the market rates. it gives me a sense of pride that we could save our resources, and route them for something else. Very recently, we were asked to make ac stands for the ot. the first thing i did was to rummage through my materials in the workshop. i found a 12-foot channel, and the work was accomplished. there is a sense of achievement one feels – and this a very personal thing… i don’t feel the need to talk much about it.

brig. tk narayanan has been an inspiration. here was a man who took half of his salary because he wanted to serve the hospital, and would tell young people like me that service in a hospital is never wasted. i have tried to prepare the second command of younger colleagues who can take over when i leave, and for all the erosion of values we talk about in the new generation, i would say you cannot generalise. all that the management must see is that a hospital needs maintenance, and those that do that job – plumbers, electricians, carpenters, welders and lathe machine operators – are valuable. people, like buildings and things, also need maintenance. if they can devote more attention to this area, things will improve radically.

when i joined the hospital, the ms, Dr kathju, said to me: “if a patient throws up, and there is no tray at hand, keep your hands ready. if a patient is angry and abusive, keep your

patience ready.” i was 16 then. from him, i learnt the difference between naukri and seva. forty years later, these words are as clear in my heart, and as memorable as they were the first time i heard them. i was in the ot in 1973 when a patient threw up while they were administering anaesthesia to him. instinctively, i placed my hands in front of him.

brig. tk narayanan taught me what duty was. he told me to report before the duty hour, and leave after. every morning, i arrive here feeling i am entering a temple, with a desire to serve. i have organised several blood donation camps in the area comprising sikar, Jhunjhunu, churu, nagore, bikaner and ganganagar. at least 10 patients from these places come here every day because they know that there is an ss bhatti who works at santokba. several times, they call me in the middle of the night, and i ask them, ‘Haan sahab, kya aadesh hai?’ i try to expedite the delivery of the lab reports and, sometimes, i arrange for blood for them. my happiness comes from knowing that i am of use to someone. i know that i wouldn’t have received, anywhere else, the love, trust and work i have received here from rashmikant ji and yogi ji… and it will be my privilege if they ask me to stay after i retire in february 2012.

“The hospital reposed trust in me, and gave me the space and freedom to innovate”

satya narainmaintenance supervisor

“My happiness comes from knowing I am of use to someone.”

ss bhattiLab technician

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by the time i retire in 2013, i would have completed 35 years as a nurse in the hospital. of these, i have put in 15 years in the cardiac cathlab, and worked with some very fine doctors such

as ashok Jain, nikhil parikh, subhash kala and gL sharma. i learnt by watching Dr Jain – and i learnt how important kindness was. there was, and is, no scope for harsh words with someone who comes to our hospital in despair and distress.

santokba is not merely a habit for me. it’s an anchor, and a giver of kindness. my husband is diabetic, and i am grateful for the way he has been looked after here. many of my peers have found it difficult to leave santokba after joining. we are happy with relatively less – because there are things that are more important than money. i would, in fact, like very much to stay back even after retirement if the hospital will retain me. i feel it is important to teach the younger crop of nurses just as we were initiated by the likes of matron rt John and matron gaekwad.

Unlike earlier times, we have many girls now who come from the north of the country, along with those from the south. several of these young girls train at smaller hospitals. Unlike the ones who pass out from the santokba nursing school, the former are not so competent in clinical work such as monitoring the vitals of the patients, giving them sponge baths and checking their blood pressure. students from our nursing school have the advantage of having worked in practically all the wards, and, so, they are competent by the time they take over as staff nurses.

Unfortunately, they now leave for government jobs or for work abroad unlike most of my generation for whom this has been an ideal place to work. i would be very happy if i can give to the next crop of nurses some of what i have received. our patients have always given us very good feedback on nursing care. that gives me a sense of pride, and i would want to keep it that way.

i was 18 when i got my first job here as a ward boy. it’s been 35 years since matron sahib spotted me hanging around with a cousin, met us, and offered us jobs at the hospital. in all these years, i have worked

everywhere – wards, icU, ccU, all the three ots, the X-ray section, laboratory, dharamshala and done my duty at the gate. Kaam karne wale ke liye kahin bhi achcha hai. but the reason why path lab will always be my favourite place is because i picked up some english there – something i always wanted to do but couldn’t. During my time there, i would try and read prescriptions, reports and forms or ask the technicians about the tests that had been recommended, and how much they cost. i feel fortunate to have worked among such wonderful people as Dr bc sangal, mrs sangal, Dr Dipali bhargava, mr and mrs menon, Dr Joshi, Dr mn kathju, and Dr Jp Udawat who were generous, affectionate and always willing to explain things, even to a ward boy.

and then there was khailshanker ji. there wasn’t a person he ever turned away without fulfilling his request. but that was the culture of this place. i remember my nephew was seriously ill, and the government hospital did not a have an empty bed. i brought him here. then administrator shri pD Joshi not only ensured he was admitted but also waived our bill of some 4,000 rupees. the same sentiment was the driving force for Dr ashok Jain whom most of us consulted on everything, starting with the common cold to cardiology. one time, i came down with severe diarrhoea, and went to him. he walked in, saw me as i stood waiting outside his room, attended to his first patient, and then asked me to come because he knew i had taken time off from work. that kind of sensitivity is a rare thing – and Dr Jain extended it to everyone. when you work in such an environment, you tend to pick up some things unconsciously. today, i am happy to do whatever i can for our patients. when they stay here for a long time, they become family to us. i remember a patient of Dr pramod behari mathur’s who was paralysed waist down. when he – his name was paramjeet – was finally relieved, he offered me a job, and asked me to come with him. there was so much affection in that parting that i still remember him after so many years.

the hospital has changed since i joined. i have been trying to talk to the new people about the traditions of this hospital – about dedication to one’s work, and about serving the patient so he leaves content and happy. that is, perhaps, the only way i can repay my gratitude to santokba.

“I learnt the value of kindness in Santokba.”

thankamma samuelin-charge Urology ward

“I learnt English in the path lab at Santokba – and a dream was fulfilled.”

trilokchand mehraward boy

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160 santokba throUgh its staff

i will retire in 2012 after 37 years of work in this hospital. everyone has to leave eventually, like i will, but i do think that those desirous of working a couple of years more should be allowed to do so – 58

years need not be a norm. as my first place of work, santokba defines me; it has given me everything that i cherish today – the rare values of selfless service and care, the love of a parent from khailshanker ji, and a lifelong friend like sister briar rose. it has given me an identity – and i can wish nothing but the best for the hospital. i pray that the warmth, the respect and recognition that we got in such abundance from khailshanker ji continues to be the foundation on which santokba grows.

“Santokba has given me my identity.”

Usha guptastaff nurse

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162 163SANTOKBA THROUGH ITS STAFF

Patiently Yours

a pool of first-person accounts from patients, old and new who delve into the waters of memory to tell their stories and,

through them, the story of the hospital.

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“It’s difficult to understand the sum of a person’s life. Some people will tell you it is measured by the ones left behind. Some believe it is measured in faith, some say by love. Other folks say life has no meaning at all... I believe that you measure yourself by the people who measured themselves by you.”

the bUcket List by rob reiner

Dr bn bhargava, about as old as the oldest pillar of santokba, or maybe even older, says, “we started this hospital with the utmost clarity that

the patient was supreme – it was for him, and because of him, that we existed. and that is why, 40 years later, every patient – whether from a village or a city, in a general ward or in a deluxe room – is a Vip for me... i tell my younger colleagues and assistants that, but for this unknown ailing man, we would all be twiddling our thumbs.” and in saying so, he gives us a sense of the symbiotic relationship that santokba has with its patients. it measures itself by those who measure themselves by it.

ashish baid, for instance, says he has known only one hospital ever since he was born – santokba, which is where he was born. as were most of his cousins, all brought into this world by Dr sharada rao. his children followed in their father’s footsteps – and so did their cousins, all delivered by Dr fayyaz. he holds their finger, and brings them to santokba today, just as his parents did many years ago. “from a fracture to a heart bypass, delivery to diabetes, paediatrics to cardiology, santokba is the first name that comes to mind, so naturally and immediately, as an answer to all our health problems. you associate a certain negative sentiment with a hospital... that it will fleece you; that the people there will make you run around, that they are more interested in the money they make off you than in your well being. all these fears never crop up when you know there is a friendly, caring hospital like santokba in your neighbourhood.”

ashish speaks on behalf of several such people for whom ‘Durlabhji’ is synonymous with good, trusted medical care. three generations of his family have come to santokba, and seen it evolve, over a period of time, in terms of facilities, technology and doctors. but, like many others, he believes that a hospital can hire the best professionals, and buy the best technology. what it can neVer buy is ‘feeling’. a patient may feel he is either in the right hands or he may not, depending on that imperceptible something which comes through in the concern and readiness with which a doctor listens to his patient. it reflects in the

gentleness with which a nurse inserts a cannula into a vein or watches over, for hours on end, a jaundiced infant as it undergoes light therapy. it shows up in the cheerfulness with which a ward lady cleans up a patient, and in the quickness with which billing personnel hand you the gate-pass.

a long-time patient at santokba, haji yasin khan, says, “Arre sahib! Sab jaante hain mujhe yahan, sab! when i first came here as a patient 30 years ago, men like khailshanker ji, Dr bhargava and Dr kathju nurtured this garden with sympathy and care for the poor patient. not only did i keep returning, along with my family, i also brought in countless patients. Yeh bageecha utna hi mera hai, jitna kisi aur ka… 30 saal pehle jab dekha tha to hara dekha tha, aage bhi hara rakhna ke liye kaam karna padega.”

Dr gr singhvi, one of the senior-most doctors, and now medical superintendent, says santokba isn’t untouched by the changes in the medical landscape of the profession. in spite of these changes, santokba is witnessing the fourth generation of patients now coming to the hospital, looking for doctors by name. “patient loyalty is still our pride, and a good measure of whether they have felt our care.”

the feeling of being genuinely cared for drives faith, confidence and loyalty in the heart of a patient. naeemuddin’s mother recalls, with feeling, how Dr singhvi called her, even while she was away in medina, and in very trying circumstances. “Mecca mein unhone phone karke mere haalaat pooche. Unka phone aaya to itni jaan aa gayi ki mein khadi ho gayi aur Tawaf poora kiya... itna pyar-mohabbat se bolte hain ki meri aadhi bimari theek ho jaati hai.”

mr sindhuraj miglani, who went through 15 agonising years with his thalassemic daughter, feels so indebted to the hospital for looking after bhawna until she received the bone marrow transplant in 2010. “if we have been able to come thus far, it is only because of god, and santokba. they looked after her, and after so many other children like her, with so much love... doctor ho ya sister, lab ya blood bank, mein har karmachari ka shukriya ada karna chahta hun jinke sahyog ki vajah se hamare bachchon ka itna bada dukh bahut chhota ho gaya. the memory of that kindness gives me the strength and confidence to ask the hospital to provide nat-tested blood to poor patients

free of charge, and to effect some concessions in the opD charges for our children.”

patiently yours is a pool of first-person accounts: warm sometimes, sometimes cynical, and at other times, conflicting… a pool which reflects santokba honestly – warts, moles et al. these are stories of men and women, some of whom wear santokba on their sleeve; others who have seen it grow from a tiny seed into the tree of life; and still others who speak of its limitations, and yet cannot dream of going to another hospital after so many years of togetherness. as the 80-year-old haji yasin, who sees himself as one of the ‘patriarchs’ of the santokba family says, “Aana to yahin hai, ab aur kahan jayenge.”

the stories that follow tell of families who have been associated with santokba over generations. they also recount the promise of a first-time mother that her budding relationship with santokba will flower into the next generation because “just talking to Dr fayyaz put my fears at rest. i knew i was in the kindest and most capable hands possible. i have had my brush with corporate hospitals which are more like five-star hotels. but i know if i have another baby, i will choose only santokba.”

many doctors – even good doctors – says Dr nandini sahni, believe treating patients to be the end of their work. for several patients, too, a doctor is history once the illness is over. but when a patient returns to a doctor again and again, year after year, and, sometimes, after decades, the doctor has the satisfaction of knowing she may have done something right.

the measure for santokba, as for any hospital worth its care, is its patients. “my wife teases me for being an agent of santokba’s. i keep recommending it to all our friends and family,” ashish baid smiles. there are, probably, many like ashish who feel it is difficult to describe what they have received from the hospital. so, rather than try, they keep returning to santokba, asking it to do something more for them.

introDUctionpatientLy yoUrs:


our relationship with santokba is pricelessnaeem-UD-Din

in november 2009, i accompanied my mother on haj. before we left, Dr gr singhvi gave us a letter of reference which, in the event of her falling ill in a

foreign land, could be passed on to a local doctor there for help. we have known Dr singhvi since 1972 when we started taking my grandparents to him. my father, haji mohammadeen, mother, brother, wife and everyone else in the family have all been consulting him; and he has been our doctor for all seasons. whether it is blood pressure or fever, heart ailments or orthopaedic issues, we have sought his advice on everything. in fact, he recommended we see Dr shailendra shrivastava for her knee issue as well. we had, earlier, gone to another city hospital where she had been advised surgery, and also been given a date for the operation. but Dr shrivastava aspirated the fluid from the knee. subsequently, Dr singhvi took her under his care. she is quite well now, and can walk long distances easily.

Dr sahib is a very considerate man. my mother believes she only needs to speak to him over the phone, and half her troubles are over. she tells us, ‘Woh pyar-mohabbat se bolte hain to meri bimaari kam ho jaati hai. Aur jo dawa dete hain, us se turant fayada ho jaata hai.’

something similar happened during the haj. it was December 2009. she probably caught a chill in all that rain and cold, and developed breathlessness. we found

out that a government doctor – Dr anjum – had accompanied the pilgrims to mecca but we were in medina by then. somehow, i got hold of her number, and called her. she, in turn, spoke to a local doctor in medina who read the reference letter Dr singhvi had given to us, and instructed us on how the medicine should be taken, and also explained all the precautions that we had to take. meanwhile, i called my son, shahid, who gave Dr singhvi the entire lowdown. sure enough, Doctor sahib called us in medina, and spoke to my mother for a long time while i was taking her for tawaf around the holy shrine. in the middle of several lakhs of people where one could barely hear one’s own voice, my mother was talking to Doctor sahib at santokba, telling him how she felt. after the call, she was so energised that she managed to complete the ritual! Aur kya kahein, Doctor Sahib ki jitni tareef ki jaye kam hai!

all this while, we were in constant touch with Dr singhvi till such time as we returned home. stopping en route in bombay, she again felt very uneasy that we thought she may not pull through. i called up Dr singhvi who spoke to the doctor in the airport ambulance that we had called. he advised the latter an injection and some oral medicine. we were so relieved to see her get well enough to travel back home soon after she took those medicines. Later, he sent my

son to ahmedabad with medicines for my mother who was still not out of the woods. he is a special doctor with a gift for healing people! he makes our association with santokba so very special.

ever since we came to know him and Dr bn bhargava in 1972, who operated upon my uncle for a serious liver condition, our faith in santokba has grown. Tab unki tabiyat itni kharab ho chuki thi ki unpar kapda rakh diya tha doctors ne. but Dr singhvi appeared, examined him, and had a word with Dr bhargava, following which my uncle was wheeled into the ot once again. Dr bhargava and Dr singhvi treated him jointly, and my uncle lived another 30 years after this incident. Tab se Durlabhji pe bahut vishwaas ho gaya hamein. Wahan jo facilities hain, safai hai, woh bahut badhiya hai aur log bahut bhale hain. it’s a small thing, perhaps but if i go to the chemist there, and run short of money for the medicines, i have never had to come back empty-handed.

our connection with Durlabhji will remain even when Dr singhvi retires. howsoever busy he may be – i can’t remember a time when he has not responded to our call. we can never thank him, except for telling our friends and near ones to go to santokba because it is always good to share, with others, the valuable experiences of life.

stories of patients:1

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blood tiessinDhUraJ mangLani, father of bhawna


it was god that we met as Dr rajiv bansal (paediatrician at santokba), and put the life of our three-month-old daughter in his hands. he was so

concerned about my child, and looked after her with such care! finally, she went through a bone marrow transplant (bmt) in 2010 in Delhi. i can say, without a doubt in my mind, that but for Dr bansal, the blood bank and santokba, my daughter would still be battling transfusions and injections. we owe our happiness, our daughter’s very life, to them.

bhawna was our first born, and we were beside ourselves with joy. but, in the first couple of months, we discovered our daughter wasn’t as full of life as children her age ought to be. she looked sallow and sickly. on our paediatrician’s advice, we had her tested for haemoglobin which turned out to be dangerously low at 5-6 at the time. bhawna needed hospitalisation.

we were bewildered, not knowing what to do. friends pointed to santokba where we first discovered our baby was thalassemic major. this was a fatal genetic blood disorder, and she would need to receive blood transfusions every two weeks, and take extremely painful drug injections, through an infusion pump, to remove excess iron every night of her life. we were in a state of shock, and to watch our baby go through the very first of the 250-300 transfusions was also the first stab of anguish for us.

people would routinely ask my daughter if it wasn’t painful to go through all those blood transfusions and injections 15 days a month, and she would reply, with a smile, ‘now, i am addicted to it.’ but we know this smile took miles of agony to reach. eight hours of transfusion would appear like eight months. each moment of sitting outside Dr bansal’s opD chamber was excruciating. but we would wait because we saw there were so many like us who Doctor sahib was busy attending to.

but there were silver linings in our cloud. the laboratory staff would always give us priority when i took my

daughter’s samples for cbc and sgpt tests to get the cross-match before every transfusion. i, and so many other parents like me, did not have to pay any blood processing charges. the services were absolutely free of cost for thalassemic children. starting with Dr bansal, everyone in the hospital – nurses, lab technicians and staff at the blood bank – were so kind and full of concern... hamare bachchon ki itni badi takleef bhi kuch chhoti lagne lagti thi. Jab dukh mein sahyog karne wale log achche hon, to aapka dukh bahut had tak kam ho jaata hai.

starting at three months, bhawna kept visiting santokba until she was 15. at the blood bank, Dr gajendra gupta was very supportive. this was the only hospital in the country at the time where we got nat-tested blood for bhawna so that we could eliminate all chances of her contracting hepatitis c. Dr bansal would instruct us to maintain her blood count at 10, come in for regular transfusions, and prescribed a combination of oral medicine and injections to clear the iron deposits from her body – and we followed his instructions to the t.

we were glad we did. when we – as members of the thalassemia society – went to Delhi for the annual conference on thalassemia with our children, we felt so blessed for the care that santokba had given to our children. the other children, from across the country, paled in comparison, literally. our children looked good, they looked bright. their facial bones were not deformed as they are in so many other thalassemic children. their teeth were lined up properly. their skin wasn’t pale, and their energy levels were so much better. i know this wouldn’t have been possible but for Dr bansal’s rigorous and careful follow-up with us, and Dr gupta’s co-operation. in fact, Dr bansal has helped us so much, even with collecting funds for our society which, in turn, underwrites medical costs for parents who cannot afford the treatment of their sick child.

santokba sees the need of the patient when it gives. they have let us use their auditorium, free of charge, to host the world thalassemia Day every year for the last 15 years or more so that thalassemic children have a platform to perform, a playhouse to enjoy a few moments of their very painful life. the thalassemic ward at santokba and their blood bank rank among the best anywhere. but it is not just about facilities that we have received at the hospital, it is in the manner rashmikant ji treated us... jis tarah ka pyar aur dular Yogendra ji ne

hamare bachchon ko diya hai, hamein lagta hai ki hum isi parivar ka hissa hain. my daughter says santokba is her second family. after all, she does have blood ties with them! i am grateful to the hospital that she lived to undergo bmt. it would be wonderful if they would make nat-tested blood free for those who cannot afford it, and cut down on opD charges for our children.

also, i hope, some day, very soon, santokba will upgrade to doing the transplants as well so that more children like my daughter can say:Main toh ek kali thi, phool banaaya aapne, Iss kathin zindagi ko jeene laayak banaaya aapne

Dr Gajendra Gupta, Head of Department, Pathology and Transfusion Medicine:

“Bhawna, I recall, was a kindergarten girl, dressed in a nice check shirt and skirt. She would always come from school with her parents for her monthly transfusion. She required regular iron chelation due to the excessive iron she received from blood transfusion to meet the oxygen needs of her body, the frequency of which increased as she grew.

I always saw her innocent smile, and felt it was our responsibility to help her retain it. We provided her the safest possible blood transfusion at the right time, and kept all our equipment and personnel updated. Finally, her father informed us that they had consulted a BMT specialist, and Bhawna was ready to undergo a bone marrow transplant. This would be the final cure for her, after which she would not need blood transfusion or iron chelation. For us at the Blood Bank, this was well deserved after years of long effort and care.

We see Bhawna occasionally now, a tall, pretty lady with curls in her hair... waiting to fly. She comes for occasional phlebotomy post BMT, which will also be discontinued soon enough. And then, we would need a special appointment to see her!”

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a case of Like attracting LikehaJi yasin khan

Decades ago, i read a small piece of news in the daily paper about a hospital four hours away from my native village of fatehpur, sikar, in

Jaipur. the news item had very nice things to say about it, and heaped fulsome praise on the doctors of the hospital, the quality of its care, and the way it was run. i decided to find out for myself. when i reached Jaipur, i discovered every bit of what i had read about santokba Durlabhji was true. Jo padha tha, vahi dekha. the legend of khailshanker Durlabhji coming to the hospital every day, meeting every patient, and asking how each of them was doing, if there were any complaints, the friendly doctors, the caring nurses, the sparkling cleanliness… everything was true.

and i did not just see it from the sidelines. i experienced its care first hand. i have been relatively free since my children settled down, and have spent many years helping people get quality medical care, and seeing they are healed and well. i would often get queries as to whether there was a good hospital around that would take care of heart issues, diabetes, bones, stomach… i knew there was one remedy for all ailments. so i would put the poor villagers in a van, and pack them off to santokba because i knew almost all the doctors there. i would go to khailshanker ji, and tell him they couldn’t afford the treatment but needed it as much as anyone else. Unko kehta tha mein ki ghareeb aadmi hai, ilaaj bhi chahta hai, jeena bhi chahta hai, paise hain nahin, to kya karega? he would ask me to put all their expenses on his account. i was so moved by this spirit of service that i kept coming back. if a hospital could do so much for the poor, i could also contribute my two pennies. those were the days of big-hearted men like Dr bn bhargava who thought nothing of sharing a cup of tea, biscuits and a joke with someone like me who would wait to take the patients back home after their opDs, investigations or follow-ups.

my son-in-law was seriously ill when i brought him here. i remember it was Dr bhargava’s ot day, and he was rather stressed. i met him, and told him i had brought him a patient. he said, ‘sorry khan sahib, but i’ve really lost it today, and won’t be able to see your patient.’ i let him know who the patient was, smiled at him, and said, ‘take your time, doctor sahib, i’ll wait here till you find it’. he looked at me, and laughed heartily… and, of course, came back to attend to my son-in-law! past 80 now, i still keep bringing patients in, averaging 20 a month. i have the mobile numbers of

most doctors where i can call them, and my patients are attended to even if i cannot come.

i don’t see myself as just another patient who comes here seeking to be healed. Mera apna stones ka operation hua, dil ki bimaari ka aur kamzori ka ilaaj hua. but for me, it has been a case of like attracting like, a two-way relationship. Dr Bhargava aur Dr Singhvi, in do ke baad mein senior hun yahan! i care about this garden called santokba, and want to see this hospital – my hospital – flourishing. Bageecha hara dekha tha, hara rakhna ke liye kaam karna padega….

technology and modern equipment are a huge advantage if these are accompanied by self-restraint and the spirit of selfless service, the discipline of khailshanker ji and the heart of a man like Dr mn kathju who would refuse his fees when i brought him a patient because he saw it as his chance to serve. he would say, ‘Arre Khan Sahib, paise lekar kya karenge, aap to khud kitni mehnat kar rahe ho! Jao, jao, sab ho jayega.’

patients in santokba are growing. the staff should increase too. the hospital has good doctors such as Drs patni, kala, malpani, gautam sen and rajesh bhojwani. i brought my wife here yesterday for gastro surgery. Dr bhojwani saw us, and greeted us with ‘Aa gaye Khan Sahib!’ Dil ko sukoon mila unse baat karke. people like him inspire confidence. this ‘feeling’ is key for santokba, as is a looking-back to its glorious past to unlock a bright future.


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we had done our homework well before we met her. we had been told about this doctor at santokba who would do her

utmost to ensure that our baby was delivered normally. the moment i met Dr fayyaz, i knew i was in the best hands possible. it gave me tremendous confidence to hear her – she was, unmistakably, capable. i did not want to go through a c-section and, unless it was absolutely necessary, she wasn’t going to rush me into it either. she was someone for whom my interest as a first-time mother-to-be was most important. that clinched it for me.

i live and work in Delhi, and i was very happy with my doctor there. but my parents are in Jaipur. the meeting with Dr fayyaz set all doubts at rest, and i knew my baby would be born at santokba.

santokba was care personified. one gets qualified and experienced doctors in hospitals. here was one that gave me special comfort. it made me feel alright. that’s the speciality of this place. you feel you are in your own niche, like being home. i did not want to go to the common labour room. santokba has a Labour Delivery room (LDr). clean, warm, pink, welcoming and accommodating of my family which was with me, and was looked after as well as i was.

Just before aina was born in the LDr, i went into distress, and my blood pressure fell. Dr fayyaz came running to see me. a young doctor from her team sat there for the next five hours, holding my hand and soothing me. Dr fayyaz discussed the possibility of a c-section but she assured me, time and again, that she wouldn’t take a hasty step. that put me at ease – and i suppose aina too! she entered the world a normal child.

santokba is care personifiedaaysU

and this world was full of loving and kindhearted people. sister mamta yadav taught me how to feed a cranky aina. Lalita baiji kept the LDr spick and span, and doted on me as though her own sister was going to have a baby. sister priyanka yadav held aina for several hours in her lap without sleeping a wink, and asked my father and husband to get some rest. the day after her birth, aina was diagnosed with jaundice, and had to be put through photo therapy. the paediatrician came to look her up late in the night. fortunately, the LDr also had its own nursery where aina was. but she was uncomfortable with the therapy – which is when sister Josmi kJ stood next to the incubator like an angel, watching over our baby for 11 hours, and reassuring us that she was safe.

aina recovered, and we returned home, happy with our little gift. we were, and continue to be, aware that our gift came wrapped in the care and warmth of santokba. it has filled us with so much happiness that we have been telling all our friends about our experience. the doctors are excellent, the nursery is nice, the nurses are kind, the sheets, clean, and you can even smell the disinfectant!

i have had my brush with corporate hospitals which are like five-star hotels, squeaky clean and very organised in terms of spaces for attendants etc. but i know if i have another baby, i would choose santokba yet again because it has that intangible something that becomes visible as a mother’s touch, and makes me feel special.


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way back in 1974, when my son was born, there was this very nice, small but impressive building that had come up. Dr

sharada rao was my mother’s gynaecologist and friend since her days at bikaner. we went to her at santokba, and she delivered my son. the love and care with which she looked after my wife marked the beginning of our long association with the hospital.

back then, i also remember khailshanker ji would come to visit patients. if he saw three tube lights on, he would promptly switch off two. not that electricity was in short supply then or anyone talked about saving power. but that kind of vision ensured that this child and maternity centre got a doctor like tarachandji gangwal to come on board. it expanded, and became renowned for its cardiology, orthopaedic and gastroenterology departments and more. santokba has grown; it has become bigger, better – and there is a difference between mere change and growth.

This hospital is a tree of life.

in 2009, my father was diagnosed with boils on the walls of his gall bladder, caused by hepatitis b. we went to our familiar space – santokba – where my daughter was born, and where we had visited countless ailing friends. the doctors are excellent, the care is good, the staff is honest, and the place, clean. the decision to take him there came naturally and quickly. Dr anurag govil was my father’s gastroenterologist. and what a magnificent doctor he is! at one point, my father wanted my cousin, Dr ram chhuttani, who is amongst the foremost surgeons based in the Us, to come and see him. he couldn’t make it then but asked us to send him the reports, investigations etc. after seeing them, Dr chhuttani wrote back, saying that we were absolutely on the right track. subsequently, he met Dr govil, and also saw how he had plastered the insides of my father’s stomach. he told us, later, there was nothing else that he could have suggested, and wondered if he could have done a better job!

santokba has been a very happy experience for us. a couple of times when i took my father for a review, i found it easy to wheel him from one department to the other without unreasonable delays – and without jumping the queue. this conviction… this belief is shared by friends of ours who come all the way from cities like bangalore for routine checkups to santokba

it is the tree of LifeJaimini Uberoi

because they know they will not be taken for a ride. a friend who is a long-time resident of bangalore comes to this hospital because he is so confident that no doctor at santokba will advise him unnecessary tests just to jack up their bills. you see, the trust this hospital inspires makes it extraordinary!

this is no surprise with such wonderful doctors working at santokba. there was Dr ashok Jain, who is no longer with the hospital, but i remember he would most gladly come home as a friend when my father was sinking. i quite miss him… he is what Dr trehan was to escorts. but there is anurag (govil) who is such a gem! i have called him up at any time of day or night, and he has promptly responded. he is the kind who will leave you his email id if he is travelling abroad. there’s Dr periwal in radiology, Dr anil Jain at the pks Limb and rehab centre and the young Dr riti in physiotherapy. santokba is full of wonderful people. i tore an ankle muscle, and was out of action for a pretty long time. i started with a little medicine and exercise but finally, between Dr anil Jain and Dr kapil gangwal, they ensured i was not only back at work but also enjoying a holiday in a special shoe that Dr Jain’s team customised for me.

we’ve been long-time residents of Jaipur. for that reason, our long association with the Durlabhji family, and the fact that we know, closely, many senior and junior doctors also creates such a positive experience for us. having received such care from santokba, i can only want this to be extended to everyone else, and i am certain it is. i said santokba has grown. with it, many people have come into the hospital. while amenities like food are excellent, and the wards are really clean, the pressure on opD’s, caused by rising patient influx, needs to be eased down, particularly because we live during times of infection. Yet, in the middle of all this ebb and flow, it is the goodness at the heart of the hospital which is constant. It shows in the services of its staff and the warmth, in the personal care of doctors. And that makes Santokba the hospital it is.


santokba throUgh its patients174


Jab chalna chahta hai, tab Papa, Papa kahta hai. Hum bolte hain ki jao apne pair lekar aao. then, he toddles on his knees, and gets his artificial feet so

noiselessly that we can hardly tell he is around. with one shoe in his hand, and the other hanging from his teeth, bhavishya is quite a sight! he puts a smile on our face when he dances to a song or jumps off the chair – something we never imagined he would ever do. it wasn’t easy for us to see him lose both his feet, and a hand, to gangrene when he was just a couple of months old. after doing the rounds of a couple of private hospitals, we brought him to santokba where we went to see Dr anil Jain in the Limb and rehabilitation centre.

to begin with, my sister – bhavishya’s mother – her husband and all of us in the family were quite shattered and confused. we did not know what was in store for the little boy who was, otherwise, so playful and bright. Dr Jain ne use dekha aur bole ki hum poori koshish karenge ki Bhavishya doosre bachchon ki tarah chal-phir sake. Ek saal ke aur bachchon ki tarah yeh bhi support ke saath zaroor chalega.

bhavishya was nine months then. two months later, he got his first pair of feet. Aur woh chala. Hamare liye yeh chamatkar se kam nahin!

the miracle started with Dr Jain’s enormous effort to get our child to stand up on his own feet. i don’t know the technical details but i do know it is not so easy to make an artificial prosthesis for such a small foot. the material of the foot is very soft, and it is light enough for bhavishya to wear. but if, and when, we run into problems with it, Dr Jain is accessible and all help. when bhavishya outgrew the earlier set of feet, Dr Jain and his team made him another pair.

Doctor sahib has taken great care that bhavishya started walking when he was one. he told us if that were delayed, the other milestones of bhavishya’s recovery would also be pushed back. we have been coming here for over a year and half. Pichchle 10 maheenon mein unhone hi hamein phone kiya hai aur follow-up ke liye aane ko kaha hai. his keen interest in the well-being of our child, his ability to take us into confidence, his concern and genuine happiness at the boy’s progress gives us strength. he encourages us, and that makes us want to show up for every appointment.

santokba is a miracle worker for Us UncLe shrikant meena on his nephew, bhaVishya meena

we are grateful we are in such good hands. bhavishya’s parents and the entire family want him to be a good, independent human being more than anything else. our experience at santokba gives us hope that he will be.

Dr Anil Jain on Bhavishya: It was an unusual case – the first of its kind in the 20 years of my career. I wasn’t sure, to begin with. After much research and consultations with my seniors and colleagues, I found out that such an infection was unlikely to recur in the child’s body. It was important to reassure the parents, also, that their child would grow up normally before we commenced treatment. Once that was done, we decided on a plan of action for him, and shared the plan with the family.

Using sponge to make toes would have been uncomfortable for a baby. So, we made small moulds and carved out the heel area so that his foot could fit snugly into it. Making such a foot wasn’t easy – it was difficult to fix any material into such a small space. We used Plaster of Paris for the mould, very soft material for padding, and a plastic socket to mount it on the foot. This was a special Jaipur Foot for Bhavishya which had toes and fingers.

He walked with support on his first birthday. Now, he walks without support. I have seen him jump off a chair. He is a revelation every time I see him. There is a sense of satisfaction. We will soon give him a functional prosthesis for the lost hand – and we would like Bhavishya to learn how to use the remaining part of his hand, along with his normal hand.



Reaching Out

santokba’s outreach programme reaches out to over 300,000 underprivileged people in

the urban slums of Jaipur and far-flung villages of rajasthan with free or subsidised treatment. it also partners with like-

minded organisations and individuals in the spaces of health, hiV support, education, sports, livelihoods, female

infanticide and environment.

SANTOKBA THROUGH ITS OUTReAcH 181180

what could be the possible connection between a hospital trust and the son of a household help who dreams of becoming a doctor?

why does that hospital become the marketing arm for a group of disabled, anonymous, rural women who make sanitary napkins that have neither a brand name, nor fancy clientele? how does the wish of a motor mechanic’s daughter to become a shooting champion matter to a bunch of men and women who’ve spent most of their waking life dispensing medicine and doing surgeries? what prompts a doctor to feed a sero-positive child being treated in her hospital with home-made breakfast?

what, indeed, would have gone through the mind of an ‘emerald king’ who drove past some pavement dwellers

but long after this man has gone, santokba continues to go beyond the walls and walkways of its sprawling structure in the heart of Jaipur. it has entered the urban slums of Jawahar nagar, and gate-crashed the University campus, Jhalana Doongri and sarthak manav kushthashram with free mobile, medical care units and opD services. it pays for the education of that little boy so he can realise his dream to become a doctor. it has put a young badminton champ on a flight to guatemala so he can play his game at a world paraplegic event instead of shuttling around for those tricky sponsorships. it has ensured that a promising slum girl goes to an english-medium school so she can shoot for gold as she grows up.

a heart that melted on a freezing winter night years ago now flows as something of a tradition in santokba. the legacy has changed hands. khailshanker ji would quietly slip in a few rupees under a poor patient’s pillow, and adopt a young disabled girl as his daughter for life. today, his successors adopt, as their own kin, an sos children’s Village, and an Umang that works for children afflicted with spastic cerebral palsy. Disha, bal bhavan, sahyog sanstha, Vatsalya, iVe, faith and many others are ‘sister’ organisations with, as secretary of the trust, yogi Durlabhji, says, “Dnas similar to santokba’s”. santokba holds the hand of each. it walks along with them, aiding and encouraging them. the sorority grows with each passing day. institutions proliferate, themes change – yet that which connects remains constant!

with each passing day, this outreach finds fulfilment when a cancer-stricken woodcutter from rural rajasthan seeks, and finds, refuge with avedna ashram, the hospice at santokba. one of the few in india, the hospice fills the void of an absentee state facility by providing free shelter, food and palliative care to many in the last stages of paraplegia or cancer. it steps in when family and friends may grow weary, as a place where compassion is free, and life is rationed. it walks in when the world walks out.

“free treatment is one thing, and taking good care is quite another. it’s that care and tenderness which is rare to find. santokba gives us both,” says smriti singh, the founder of faith, an ngo that is home to several hiV+ children in Jaipur.

santokba started the freeship programme in the hospital for everyone – especially the weaker and the needy. since

on his way to work – and returned to cover them with blankets during clandestine outings at night? whatever this man – khailshanker Durlabhji – thought may not be so easy for us to say. but what he did is there for us to see. and in it are the answers to many of the questions.

he built a small clinic way back in 1963 to provide quality healthcare to that pavement dweller, and to others of his ilk. the clinic grew into a maternity and nursing home a few years later, and became the genesis of a small 60-bed hospital which we know, today, as santokba. santokba, one of the many missions of the santokba Durlabhji trust, is, today, a 400-bed, multi-specialty, tertiary-care hospital that has, for 40 years, made rajasthan a happier place to be in.

santokba’s oUtreach programme:

introDUction

A rural health camp


1971, the hospital has reached out to almost 300,000 patients, either for free or at subsidised cost, amounting to nearly 19 crore rupees ($4 million). “Don’t mention it please,” says the trust secretary – he turns diffident, talking about ‘figures’. but catch him happy in the heat and dust of a village, bubbling with ideas on where and how to take the free medical, eye and rehabilitation camps in remote rajasthan so that health and care can reach the last man on the road that, very often, may not lead to santokba. or witness him put together plans to help sell sanitary napkins made by a group of illiterate, disabled women at barefoot college in tilonia in the hospital pharmacy.

from around 2008, santokba started its rough ride, far beyond its boundaries, to several villages away from Jaipur: padasoli, churu, sirsya, sumel, salasarji, sujangarh, thanagazi, bandikui, phulera, kishangarh, sawai madhopur, khatu shyamji, sikar, chaksu, pratapgarh, akhepura, bapi, newai, kalyanipura. these are no longer tiny, isolated dots on a map. they represent people who turn out, in overwhelming numbers, to a monthly rural camp, and avail of free pathology tests, free medicines, prosthetic and orthotic aids and healthcare which may not have, otherwise, been possible.

but then outreach at santokba isn’t about numbers so much. it is not about warding off the pinpricks of a government-mandated social conscience either. it is something, perhaps, less tangible. when manju simar returns, after many years, to the rehabilitation and Jaipur

Limb training centre to get a specially-made polio limb, she is happy that the entire cost of treatment has been waived. but she is happier that akram ji, who made her an appliance earlier, still recognises her, and asks her how she is. or when Umang’s Deepak kalra says, “what touches me most in our relationship with the hospital isn’t just that we have been adopted as one of its outreach projects. it is that every member – from the chowkidaar to the administrative head, all the doctors – is always willing to help. you have to stretch out your hand, and it is held with so much warmth and care... we cherish this love and support which we constantly receive.”

outreach, then, is more than freeship and sponsorship; more than a programme which the trust streamlined in 2008 to formalise the good heart of santokba as a committed department with worthy objectives and measurable targets.

this heart makes little distinction between the outsider and the insider, wishing simply to share. it comes as the breath of life for its employee, rajesh chhawaria, whose newborn son must be operated upon for a critical respiratory problem. the trust and its team rally around mamta chaudhri, their 35-year-old staff nurse, and put together nearly 3 lakh rupees for investigations and her kidney transplant. the trust secretary asks banwari, whose face is disfigured following repeated cancer surgeries, to spend the last few months of his life with his family, and sends his salary home till he passes away. “a train full of people can surely have some travelling on its roof – it doesn’t mean much harm or loss to anyone, surely,” says chief administrator, badal Verma. “outreach, for us, is also about inreach – reaching out to the insiders, our workers who’ve been with us for decades. santokba gives them free tests and opDs. we may run into a rough patch with them over some issues but they continue to perform their duty at the hospital even as they keep talking, and settling them

with the management. it isn’t easy in this hospital to say who’s reaching out to whom,” he remarks.

thereby hangs a tale. Dr gajendra gupta, hoD, pathology and transfusion medicine, recounts one: “it was may 2003. suddenly, a patient of cardiac surgery started bleeding. the blood group of this patient was o negative, and the blood bank did not have it. we contacted the other blood banks in the city but could arrange for only one unit. the patient, however, needed at least 3 to 4 units. we dug out our records of voluntary donors, and started calling up the ones whose last donation had happened at least three months prior to that date. we made at least 10 calls.

two donors came to the blood bank, one of whom was a 47-year-old lady. During his conversations with them, the late Dr bc sangal found out that the lady was a widow, and had shifted to india with her only daughter after her husband passed away a year earlier.

Dr sangal asked her how she had come to the hospital all by herself in the scorching Jaipur heat at 2 pm. she walked a kilometre before finding an auto to take her to santokba, she simply said.

her gesture left all of us thinking… about how one person’s thoughtfulness and compassion had saved the life of another. post this, we purchased a maruti Van for the bank so we could offer transport to such life savers.”

outreach at santokba defies description. “perhaps, it’s a movement, a philosophy, a vision… perhaps a bit of all three,” says yogi Durlabhji. “it means a million different things – but they are all designed and conceived to bring some joy and happiness into lives devoid of both.”

Left: Medical check-up at DishaBelow: Students of Sahyog Sanstha, another NGO supported by Santokba.

Below: HIV+ children of the NGO, Faith Bottom: A child from Umang at the Physiotherapy Department.

185santokba throUgh its oUtreach184

“my name is Devendra kumawat. i am 21 years old. i study in 11th standard. my five subjects are english, home science, art, hindi and

computers. my favourite is Computers kyunki main sab type kar sakta hun, kaise save karna hai, kar sakta hun, software bhi load karna seekh raha hun. Computers mein course kar raha hun ki aage jaakar Computers join kar sakun... Apna kaam khud kar leta hun. Doosron ki help kabhi nahin leta, lena hi nahin chahta... mujhe sab kahte the ki tum kabhi nahin chal paoge. Aur main sochta tha ki nahin main zaroor chalunga, apne pairon pe khada ho paaunga aur duniya ko dikhaaunga ki main kuch kar sakta hun, aur kar diya! Kar diya na!”

words are poor carriers of the pure delight in Devendra’s voice as he proclaims victory over spastic cerebral palsy – a disorder that damages that part of the brain which controls

movement. “Kapil sir ne mere 7 operation kiye – 6 pairon mein aur ek hip mein. my feet just wouldn’t fall straight,

i couldn’t walk. after the surgeries, i can walk, and i enjoy it. and for this, i want to thank kapil sir,

Durlabhji hospital and all their nurses and, specially, the principal of my Umang school who made these surgeries possible.”

after years of crawling, and not being able to stand on his own feet, of tripping over and clumsy gait, you have to see Devendra to know how his entire body – face, eyes, hands, feet – move with a grace that tells the story of

a spirit that refused to buckle in.

the story begins with santokba.”Devendra was the first

child to come to us as part of the outreach programme. spastic cerebral palsy had affected his lower limbs but here was a boy with a lot of potential and promise – for

his own self and for society. these are important considerations for us when we do such surgeries. he was mentally alert. but several joint contractures at

the hip, knee, foot-ankle and other places had reduced his walking abilities, and given him an awkward gait. he would lose his footing all the time. three years ago, yogi ji visited Umang, the special school Devendra goes to, and promised principal Deepak kalra that we would give their children free treatment. when we took up Devendra, i did six procedures in one sitting, and the pelvic osteotomy – a bone surgery – was done in the next stage which worked out well,” says orthopaedic surgeon at santokba, Dr kapil gangwal.

Devendra first came to the hospital as an outdoor patient when he was still a child, remembers Dr subha sogani, a physiotherapist who worked at the hospital for 12 years before moving on to Umang. “he was, mentally, very agile but was unable to stand and walk. we worked on this deficiency but the parents couldn’t keep pace – for personal reasons. when he returned to us, he was back on all fours. our main focus was to stand him up on his feet, and for his mind to recall, and experience, an upright position before giving him balance and co-ordination exercises, both at Umang, and also at santokba.”

it would have been a pity to allow a bright boy – fully capable of higher education, of securing a good job and having a family of his own – to just languish, says ms Deepak kalra, to whom Devendra came as a baby. “but he needed to walk independently – first and foremost. even though he did not use the wheelchair, he wouldn’t walk because age brought with it weight gain, and put him back on his knees. surgical intervention was vital. apart from the six corrective surgeries, the final hip surgery would cost about a lakh of rupees which Devendra’s family could just not have afforded. santokba stepped in – and Devendra started to walk.”

principal kalra’s own association with santokba began when she first visited the hospital as an anxious parent of a spastic child. her son needed a walker, and she came away, very happy with the orthosis. when she first set up Umang, she “contacted the late rashmikant ji and yogi. Just let us know what you need, we are here for you always, they said. from providing that emotional support on day one to supporting us with most of their physiotherapy equipment, santokba has been a very important part of our journey,” ms kalra recalls fondly.“yogi followed up quickly – with offering free checkups for our disabled, needy children in his outreach programme. now, two of our children are operated free

of cost every year, and two subsidised surgeries are also performed. when i first met him, i was very happy to know someone who was so sensitive to the needs of the disabled, and understood rehabilitation. in the 15 years i have known him, i haven’t heard him say a no, not once. a lot of it has to do with his personality, and his value system. he is an educationist by choice, the kind of person who will pay for a third surgery if i tell him i need it. from hosting our conferences on awareness of disability and inclusive education, book releases and other functions, santokba has been so willing that we find some of their staff even supervising the cleaning up of the stage and offering water to the guests. it is overwhelming.”

and so, today, Devendra walks on his crutches to the market – to fetch vegetables for his mother, learns to drive the car and to dance with shiamak Davar, paints and plays cricket and says, with unconcealed glee, that he can tackle ‘badi se badi problem’. it reflects more than a release of the contractures in his body. “Kapil sir ne kaha tha ki operation ke baad tum crutches chhod doge. Sir, aapne mujhe iss mukam tak pahunchaya ki main bina crutches ke bhi thoda chal sakta hun. Uske liye bahut bahut thank you,” he says, with a determined fist dancing in the air, and a grin that travels all the way to his eyes.

Dr sogani says they are now working to wean Devendra off the crutches. between a team of orthic and prosthetic engineers at Umang and santokba, Devendra is getting ready to perform higher, complex motor functions.

“Devendra is a community ambulator now – and, overall, i think, we have been able to help him. typically, we promise children with spastic cerebral palsy that they will make a jump of at least one level of functioning. we, at least, want to see a non-ambulator walking with support. if they are responsive and mentally alert, some children may use partial support or give it up altogether. perhaps, this promise with Devendra has been fulfilled,” smiles Dr gangwal.

from Debility to ability

oUtreach stories:1

santokba throUgh its oUtreach186 187

she takes a bus every morning to college which is a few kilometres away from home in her village close to khatu shyamji. a second-year student of arts,

manju simar studies geography, political science and public administration till 4, and busses it back home to help with chores in a large, joint family.

there’s food to be cooked, utensils to be cleaned, sweeping, dusting, and, in season, 20-year-old manju even goes out to her fields to help her husband, babulal. “her father-in-law doesn’t want her to go out, lest she hurt herself. and babulal is more than content that she can cook for him,” says sagarmal kuleriya, brother of the girl whose life took a turn when she fell, and severely fractured her leg. she was barely three then.

“she could never play again after that, nor could we since both our parents would virtually be in the government hospital in Jaipur with her,” recalls her brother. they saw many private doctors, and also took her to the hospital where they plastered her leg. two months later, the bones just stuck with each other. and manju was stuck with a leg that refused to straighten out.

“she came to me as a little girl with a deformed leg,” remembers Dr anil Jain, the doctor who heads operations at the Jaipur Limb training centre at santokba. “this was a congenital defect which leads to a gap between the bones of the leg, and further weakens the bones. the slightest fall, in such a case, can cause a fracture. we made her a plastic calliper with which she started walking well, and left for her village. five years later, she returned, with three surgeries at the government hospital, but with no improvements whatsoever. we made her yet another support – and once again, like the first time, lost her to follow-up,” says Dr Jain.

several years later, manju returned to a rehabilitation camp of santokba in khatu shyamji with her brother, limping with a deformed leg and foot which had started affecting the knee joint as well. “Dr Jain bole ki ghutne se support toot sakta hai isliye poori taang ke liye bana denge. Iska size vahin le liya aur Jaipur bulaya. Ab yeh naya calliper lagati hai aur kaafi theek chalti hai,” says the brother.

manju’s condition was similar to a polio patient’s. Dr Jain and his team modified the polio calliper for her, and gave her a new, easy design which would suit her needs, and permit all movement except for squatting and lying down – for which she would have had to take off the

where every bend has a mend

orthosis. “we waived off the entire fees of the calliper and treatment because we did not want to lose her again this time – it was important she had a calliper she could use. else, it would have crippled her for life. she’s been doing well since July but still can’t bend her knee as she walks because she is very anaemic. she also needs a lot of walking practice although the uneven terrain around her house, with its potholes, must make it difficult for her,” says the sympathetic doctor as he writes a tonic in his prescription to shore up her haemoglobin levels. “Sab kuch samajh mein aa gaya na? Kuch poochna hai to bolo... eat well, have lots of green vegetables, and stay happy,” he tells her kindly.

“Mera poora ilaaj muft hua hai,” manju emerges for a bit from her reticence, “aise doctor shayad hi milenge jo apna samajh ke baat karte hain,” she says. her brother chips in, “he explains everything to us very patiently, in a way we can understand. even the people in the staff here

are very kind. Akram ji ne 5 saal pehle Manju ka calliper banaya tha. Ab jab hum yahan aye to unhone hamein turant pehchaan liya aur bole ‘Arre, yeh to bahut badi ho gayi...” sagarmal says with a smile.

he is relaxed, perhaps, that considerations of cost will not hold his sister back this time – that she will be able to have a family, a full life, but happier still that there is a place where every bend has a mend, and where sympathy and attention can set straight a fractured leg, and set free a broken life.

oUtreach stories:2

santokba throUgh its oUtreach188 189

“the Dr pk sethi rehabilitation and Jaipur Limb training centre was born of the compassion of the santokba Durlabhji trust.

Led by Dr pk sethi, santokba partnered with the Department of science and technology, government of india, to make the first low-weight thermoplastic calliper for the polio-afflicted. Little did we know, at the time, that the calliper would become such a versatile orthotic device that would permit standing and walking to those who had been immobilised.

fortunately, the incidence of polio is negligible today. but our team has very successfully used the good old calliper, with modifications to suit individual needs, for patients who have sustained physical impairment such as paralysis, spinal cord injury and fractures or congenital abnormalities like spina bifida and spastic cerebral palsy.

the santokba Durlabhji trust was equal partners in fostering this path-breaking technology along with the government of india. they have, not once, raised the cost of these appliances in all these years – it continues to be so low that we are unable to recover even the costs of materials from patients who come to us from all over india and neighbouring countries, such as nepal, bangladesh, pakistan, bhutan, mauritius and sri Lanka. as a philanthropic project of the trust, we, at the centre, get all the freedom and resources to ask for, and obtain the best quality materials and machines from anywhere in the world – whether switzerland, germany, the United states or any other place.

nearly 250-300 patients come to us every month from a cross-section of society – from remote west bengal and orissa to the villages of karnataka, tamil nadu and andhra pradesh, apart from rajasthan and neighbouring states. of these, 20-25 patients are treated absolutely free of cost, and several others get subsidised service. we follow up with our distant patients by telephone, letters, e-mail, and also guide them to facilities closer home for

minor repairs.

while the rejection rate among patients of similar systems earlier was 85 per cent, the acceptance rate of our calliper is 98 per cent. that is the significant impact of the

calliper. often, in fact, the use and acceptance of the calliper and other orthoses has corrected the

deformity or disability, and rendered surgical intervention unnecessary, particularly for those patients who can

neither afford the cost of surgery nor have no one to take care of them post-surgery.

ours is a unique team at the centre – picked from traditional families of carpenters, blacksmiths and goldsmiths. the trust has provisioned for a continuous training programme, each day starting with a training class. we discuss every difficult case. way back in 1993, we hosted a team from Vietnam on a technology-transfer mission. the members of the team couldn’t understand english, and we couldn’t understand their language either. when we pointed that out to Dr sethi, he requested a wonderful english teacher who he knew, and who had retired from st Xavier’s, to help out. she had taught both rashmi ji and yogi ji, besides several of our senior doctors in school.

ms francis gave lessons in english language to the Vietnamese for a few months, and stayed on to teach english to our team as well. the classes continued for nearly four to five years! as a result, the team can now read my prescriptions without my having to instruct them, and also implement them with the patients. they know the names of organs, bony prominences, technical terms, movements, muscle action and joint movements – the knowledge of which is very critical for a good

compassion on a calliper: a Doctor speaksDr Anil JainDr pk sethi rehabilitation and Jaipur Limb training centre at santokba

technician. they have a clear understanding of why different materials such as aluminium, plastic or soft rubber are used for patients who are diabetic, with skin devoid of sensation or any other. most importantly, they can understand what the patients are trying to convey, and offer meaningful help.

the trust has nurtured the centre, which is unique, in that santokba is the only hospital that has been able to come up with such technology. along with the quantities, it offers a variety of callipers and limbs, the technology is cost-effective, and has a doctor solely dedicated to the cause of rehabilitation medicine and its beneficiaries.”

santokba throUgh its oUtreach 191190

it was evening. the children were playing inside their beautiful home. the butterflies and sunflowers in radiant yellow, blue and green paints were smiling on

the walls of the home. the teddies and the dolls, sitting on the beds, looked indulgently upon the happy children. suddenly, little kalidas fell off his bed, dislocating the bone in his slender elbow. smriti singh was at a dinner party when she received the news. she rushed, and panicked as she saw kalidas’ hand all swollen up.

“i saw that sight – and for a while, i didn’t quite know what to do. the first person who came to mind was Dr sanjana bhojwani at Durlabhji hospital. i spoke to her, and she asked me to bring kalidas immediately to the emergency,” remembers smriti singh, the founder of faith, an organisation that came up in 2006 to provide home and healing to hiV+ children.

“the doctors there saw him, and said he would require surgery. they, then, called up Dr kapil gangwal who asked them to tie him up in a temporary plaster, and give him a painkiller. thanks to the wonderful team there, my boy slept peacefully.”

she, too, did. her ruffled feathers had been patted down yet again. it was not her first time in santokba

emergency. the children at faith, each gland of their bodies wracked by the virus, are very low on immunity. Diarrhoea is common, made worse by hiV. tuberculosis and liver problems are chronic, and as she says, “i am always in emergency with them... and Durlabhji emergency services are easily the best.”

the doctors decided to operate upon kalidas first thing next morning. when it was time for anaesthesia, however, they found the child was on the second line of treatment for tuberculosis. this was going to be a tricky case. they called their senior-most anaesthetist, upon whose arrival the surgery was finally begun.

“children don’t say these things very much. but their eyes, their faces say it all. i don’t know what transpired between Dr gangwal and his patient but kalidas was so confident of his doctor on the day of surgery, it showed. his grandfather, who had been called in from the village, couldn’t have failed to see it. he felt he needn’t stay for the surgery, and could return home since his grandson was in such good, caring hands.”

santokba reaches out with many more such hands, she says. “the children – a couple of them even aided in their education by the hospital – get free medical treatment in opD’s. in-patient and surgery charges are minimal. the doctors never charge their fees from us. the nurses are so kind, so watchful, and insist that we, as attendants, get rest while they attend to the needs of each of their patients. i remember i was in the hospital with a very sick child. he would demand strange things to eat every day. there was sanjana, on the one hand, who would get him breakfast from home every single day of his stay in the hospital. and on the other, there were the dieticians who would visit him every day, asking ‘Aaj baba kya khayega?’ and, baba would promptly hand them a big wish list of his favourite foods. and, of course, he always got what he wanted!”

the child succumbed last year. but smriti knows, perhaps, that faith makes all things possible, and love makes them easy. she knows it is easier to carry on with her work in partnership with some of those who help add life to the fleeting years of her children. she recalls how ent specialist Dr maya sharma’s prophylactic to the children ensured they came away from long days spent in the sea in goa without a single case of ear, nose or throat infections, and with a big smile on their faces. having been associated with the hospital for a period

emergency positive

of time, she says doctors are very open about discussing the illness of a patient. whether it is the medical or the administrative staff, they are extremely considerate and courteous. not once has she been made to wait if she brings a sick child to the hospital. having so many pharmacies on the premises itself is a lot of help, she says, as is the man at the counter who has always offered her a chair while he orders for an out-of-stock drug without her having to run around, looking for it.

“the government has free anti-retroviral therapy centres where blood tests for hiV are done for free. we also have our own visiting doctors. but free treatment is one thing, and good care is another. that care and tenderness is difficult to find. this place gives us both.”

and in all these years of her association, she says, that’s the one thing that hasn’t changed about santokba.

oUtreach stories: 3


a Digital remedy

eighteen-year-old priyanka’s grandmother sits on a charpoy in her house in sinodia village, 135 km from Jaipur, and remembers how painfully

shy her grand-daughter has been for the better part of her young life. “Bahut udaas rehti thi. Kaam bhi nahin kar paati thi aur kisi se hansti-bolti bhi nahin thi...”

it is difficult to say whether her accent is on painfully or shy. priyanka was born with macrodactyly – a congenital disorder which translates into massive overgrowth of the toe that extended, in her case, into the sole of the affected foot and, also, part of the leg. priyanka grew, and the first and second toes also grew in size, weighing about 2 to 3 kilos. Dragging her foot was not an idiomatic reproach for the young girl. it was real. she had to lug it with every step she took. she had to mind each one of those steps for there wasn’t a pair of shoes or sandals that she could slide her foot into. the toes would rub against something, ulcerate, get wounded – and that would hurt a lot. and, perhaps, not in the foot alone. priyanka’s friends at school often asked her why she had such an unusual foot, and why she was always so quiet and sad. Unlike other young girls, she couldn’t wear fancy footwear – those heels that she continues to be so fond of. she had done the rounds to various medical camps for the handicapped with her aunt, an anganwari worker, but returned disappointed each time. “i’ve lost count of how many times doctors told me that they couldn’t correct my foot, that they could do nothing to help me. Phir Tilonia mein Durlabhji ka camp laga. Wahan unhone kaha ki ilaaj ho jayega, chinta nahin karo.”

three days later, Dr sanjana bhojwani, co-ordinator of the outreach programme at santokba, called the girl’s family, and requested them to bring her to Jaipur. Dr kapil gangwal, who specialises in paediatric orthopaedics, decided on a plan of surgery for her.

“priyanka needed reconstruction. apart from being cosmetically unappealing, the toes were so large and deformed that cleaning them, and protecting them from injury, would have been very difficult. along with my colleague Dr Vk pande, we removed the toes in the first round of surgery. priyanka got better, started to walk around, and, luckily, there were no complications. a year down, we de-bulked the toe in the second round of surgery, and created a little web space between the first and second toe so she could slide her foot into a slipper.”

it was like finding her feet again. “Operation ke baad pair bahut theek ho gaya mera. Bhar kam lagta hai ab, aasaani se chal sakti hun ab,” says priyanka.

the young girl has a hectic day now. she attends school, and returns home at 4 in the evening. she sweeps and mops, washes the clothes, and even cooks – which is still a little difficult since it requires her to keep the knee stretched, and away from the body. “but i have to cook because my mother insists i must know how to.” there is school work to catch up with as she prepares for her class 10 board exams this year – the reason she hasn’t been able to return for the third round of surgery. “my aunt in Jaipur received a call from the hospital, asking her to bring me over. i will certainly go after my exams,” she says, as her eyes brighten up in a rare moment of joy.

between catching a couple of her favourite serials on television, and chatting the nights away with her cousins on the terrace of her home, she finds time to read a story every now and then. still a loner, she likes to ruminate “my stay in the hospital, both times, was very comfortable. i’ve never seen a cleaner hospital. the food is so nice, the gardens too. the ramps are smooth and comfortable to walk on for someone like me. but the nicest thing about Durlabhji is their doctors and nurses. Sab bahut khayal rakhte hain. Dr Kapil ne kaha tha tu meri bachchi hai, tera pair main theek karne ki koshish karunga. Tu fikr nahin karna...”

“part of what a child like priyanka says comes from her own heart, her perception of what she experiences in

oUtreachstories: 4

the hospital,” says Dr gangwal. “as a doctor, all i do is to take that extra care to make sure such children don’t ever feel uncared for. they are so grateful for whatever one does for them but then again, it is just part of our work here at santokba. what makes me happy, however, is that we could treat her as well as any other patient, and that she wasn’t denied anything at all for financial reasons. i was thankful that one can do in santokba what is good for her without any constraints.”

priyanka needs straightening out of her ankle which will become painful at some stage, says Dr gangwal. but once the major deformity is out, things get better for children like priyanka, he says. “when the family asks if their child will be completely fine, i ask them if they would stop sending her to school if she doesn’t top the class.”

so, priyanka continues to go to school. she hopes to do well in her boards and her grandmother and mother are keen she studies further. “Jo operation Durlabhji mein hue, hum unhe nahin karva sakte the. but the doctors took care of her like she was their own child. it touches us very much that they call us to find out when priyanka can visit them next. Yeh apne pairon par khadi ho jaye aur iski zindagi sudhar jaye, bas,” says the grandmother, her eyes still hopeful of a better tomorrow for her grand-daughter. priyanka will still not be able to wear her beloved heels. but her feet are lighter, and hopefully her heart, too, is.


not very long ago, netal started her day with innumerable household chores, and then took her cows, goats and buffaloes out to graze. Life

was a trudge anyway; harder still when she had her period every month.

choices – they were as many as she had sullied rags to pick from. the festering microbes in them gradually leeched into her body. the presence of age-old superstitions and the absence of hygienic alternatives threatened the health of the woman in her twenties from a village around tilonia, about 90 km from Jaipur. netal was now vulnerable to vaginal infections, fever, heavy bleeding, chronic backache and pelvic inflammatory disease which can lead, sometimes, to hysterectomy. and there were, of course, the chores and the cattle.friends in Deed

“her condition was so bad when she came here that she could barely sit and work. she just wanted to lie down all the time,” says the slightly built, handicapped and spunky tara, in charge of Saathin, the low-cost sanitary napkins project at bunker roy’s barefoot college in tilonia.

“Hum gaanv ke, dhol-dangar charane wale log... Saathin ko yahan dekha to laga ki meri bimaari door ho sakti hai, kai ladkiyon ki bimaari door ho sakti hai. Pehle bahut takleef thi, ab bahut theek hun,” netal says softly, finding her voice through the collective muffle of several young women like her.

it was, perhaps, these muted voices that santokba heard at one of its rehabilitation and medical camps, organised at barefoot college a few months ago. a group of women were already making the sanitary napkins which would go to kishangarh medical college, in ajmer, and be distributed for free to young girls who tended to cattle in the day, and attended school at night in that area. could the hospital strengthen these emerging sounds, the secretary of the santokba trust wanted to know. could it provide a platform to the labours of the women at barefoot college – bidaam, shanti, khatun, manju, netal and tara – and, through them, make a small difference to some other girls and young women?

in a couple of months, santokba had started ordering boxes of Saathin for its new mothers. “as directed by the trust, we asked the pharmacy in the hospital to start stocking the brand from tilonia. and we requested the nurses in our gynaecology wards, ot and labour room to ask for Saathin instead of the other competitive brands in their list of things to get for the women who had just delivered,” says Dr sanjana bhojwani, co-ordinator of the outreach programme, and herself a gynaecologist.

Dr bhojwani had the necessary tests carried out to check for the efficacy of the napkin which proved to

be as good as its nearest competitor at a vastly reduced cost. it took a while before the women in tilonia could tweak the design to suit the requirements of the new mothers in the hospital, and, ever since, “Saathin is doing very well. the quality is good, and it is economical. the brand has a 70-80 per cent market share for patients at santokba,” says mr pankaj shrivastava, manager (hospital operations) at the guardian pharmacy. “we requisition about 400-500 boxes every month. in fact, we have asked the women to scale up production because, sometimes, the demand exceeds the supply. we are also looking at stocking the brand at 250 of our stores all over india.”

“we do sell the brand among rural women in and around tilonia. but the monthly sale proceeds from santokba happen to be our only regular source of income for this project and, as far as i know, the pharmacy does not charge us anything to stock Saathin. this income helps us secure our materials. in fact, we are now planning to take the project to our field centres as well,” says shri meghraj, medical in-charge at barefoot college. “as for santokba’s interest in the project, they have never refused us anything – whether it is about Saathin, or doing rehabilitation, dental or any other health camps. when it comes to health, shri yogi Durlabhji has been very solicitous – always asking us if he can facilitate in any way.”

Life may still be tough for netal but it should help her, as it would the others in her group and the other young women in the villages, to know that their sorority is growing. Saathin has another friend – santokba.

oUtreachstories: 5


“i have only been to Durlabhji hospital. Mujhe achcha lagta hai wahan... wahan dawai milti hai lekin sui nahin milti, nahin woh sirf badmaashi karne

par milti hai (giggles)... jab bukhar ya zukaam bhi hota hai, tab bhi mummy ko kahta hun wahan chalo. Dr Miglani hain wahan... main chhota sa tha, tab se wahin jaata hun. Mummy ko sab pata hai...” rohan chakraborty, the nine-year-old resident of sos children’s Village, grins as he gazes up at the ‘answer’ to all his questions.

Jayanti chakraborty recalls the time when, nine years ago, rohan was brought to her at 11 in the night, just half an hour after he was born. he was a premature baby, bundled up in an ice-bag, weighing just half a kilo, and as big as her palm. Jayanti is ‘mummy’ to rohan and nine of his brothers and sisters in one of the 14 family houses at sos children’s Village.

“the office staff called me that night, and asked me to come down. when i saw him, his body was ice-cold, and his heartbeat was faint. we needed to take him immediately to the hospital. someone from the office called up Durlabhji, and told them we were on our way. we reached, and, promptly, the little life in my hands was put in intensive care.

he stayed there 41 days, under the kindest care and the vigilance of Dr nirmal miglani. she would go and see him every day. “Rui ke phahon se use doodh pilate the... and when he was one and a half kilos, Dr miglani gave him to me with all the instructions, and we brought rohan back home,” remembers Jayanti, and shudders to think of the fate of a child who was left to die soon after he was born.

“we didn’t have the courage to even name him till he was nearly three months. the hospital told us how to look after him and feed him. i did not bear him but i brought him up as my own child. Itna pyar ho jaata hai... woh bhayanker cheez hoti hai,” she chokes on her words. her eyes brim with gratitude towards the hospital whose care and concern brought life back into her ‘son’.

foster mother

any hospital worth its salt would do exactly that. “it would,” agrees Village Director shobha kaul “but santokba is the rare hospital whose trustees have offered to treat, free of cost, each of our 150-200 children, year after year, for nearly 20 years now. hospitalisation, admission, operation, icU, pcU... our children have got the best care from each and every doctor and nurse, without any feeling of condescension or ‘charity’. free treatment has never caused any delays,.. that our children want to go to Durlabhji for even little things like a common cold, low fever, a minor allergy, even pimples, says it all,” she smiles.

“Mujhe jokes sunate hain jab jaati hun, behala phusla ke injection bhi laga dete hain,” sakshi, who is Dr rajiv bansal’s charge for a genetic bone defect, grumbles good-naturedly.

the quieter Durgesh is not comfortable recalling the accident that nearly took one of her feet away. but she knows well that, but for a surgery performed by Dr shailendra shrivastava, she wouldn’t be playing badminton or swinging on the merry-go-round that caused the mishap many years ago. “Naya janm hua hai mera. it was evening when they took me to the hospital.

Dr shrivastava was already there. Unhone pair saaf kiya, bandage lagaya aur agle din surgery ho gayi. 15 din rahi vahan. Dr Uncle bahut achche the, aur sisters bhi. Wahan ki saaf-safai bahut badhiya lagi mujhe. Bachche wahan jaakar jaldi theek ho jaate hain,” Durgesh echoes a touching sentiment of all the Village children who have been treated at santokba.

“we have received so much help in the hospital that my children refuse to go anywhere else. even when we need blood, the blood bank gives it to us without asking us to donate in return. Chahe Dr Miglani hon ya Dr Bansal (both Paediatricians), Dr Jayant Sen (Orthopaedic Surgeon) ya Dr Snehalata Kabra (Speech Therapist) jinhone mere Vijay ko bolne mein itni madad ki... hamare hamdard hain Durlabhji,” says Jayanti.

the hospital has offered this facility to their children, ms kaul says, and it’s a big help. “it’s not just about free treatment. it’s about the manner of treatment that makes it so wonderful.”

perhaps, there’s a mother watching over her brood somewhere in santokba as well.

oUtreach stories: 6


tabassum khan, 9, lives in a slum in Jagatpura, on the outskirts of Jaipur. not so long ago, this daughter of an auto mechanic went to navjyoti

public school, a vernacular school where her father, munnawar khan, could afford the fees.

back in 2007, a shooting range came up close to tabassum’s house. Like most children captivated by sights, smells and sounds, tabassum, too, was intrigued by the incessant thud of gunfire all day long. she convinced her father to take her to the source of this sound where she saw men and women shooters taking aim at targets with guns.

the next thing the father was doing was taking his daughter every day to the range where she watched the shooters only from outside the gates of the range. the authorities had denied her permission – she was too small to even lift a gun, and her father did not have the 6,000 rupees required as fee for the year-long training.

it’s not difficult to imagine a little girl with her face pressed against those iron gates, longing desperately, perhaps, in her heart to get to the other side but returning to her ordinary life, disappointed, dejected. but the slum girl returned home, and started practising with a toy gun used to burst balloons at fairs.

firing Dreams

a year later, father and daughter returned to the shooting range, and requested the coach to allow her a chance. after what he saw, tabassum was ready to participate in the state-level competition in november 2010.

tabassum went on to clinch gold in the sub-junior class. she also found herself shooting headlines in the local media. munnawar khan could afford to train his daughter only two months ahead of the event, and even the 100 rupees every sunday were a huge drain on the family resources. Just a little before she could take her first aim in a competition, tabassum was asked to step out since she had an old gun, loading which required the services of a helper. but neither the father nor the daughter was giving up this time. the man, whose monthly wage was 5,000 rupees, bought her a gun from a shooter for 3,000 rupees. munnawar khan was dreaming now. his eyes were set on the nationals for the 10m air rifle event and, if possible, the olympics. he knew his girl had calibre. but calibre, or gold for that matter, wasn’t enough. tabassum needed training and instruction – and that happened only in english. “Jo coach sir bolte the, mujhe samajh mein hi nahin aata tha.”

it was time, perhaps, for a fairy to step into a cinderella story without its pumpkins and glass shoes. an avid sportsperson, the chairman of the Durlabhji trust read about tabassum in one of the local newspapers. talent needed nurturing, and the child, an english-medium school. manager, marketing and communications, george thomas was assigned the task of scouting for the right school close to tabassum’s house to enable her to study as well as train at the shooting range without tiring herself. he zeroed in on guardian public school where she could take special tutorials after school, and level with other students. the annual expense – fees, copies, books, uniform, and transportation – was all taken care of.

“Ma’m Jyoti Bhatia mujhe English padhati hain, home work karati hain. Aur ab mujhe coach sir ki baatein samajh aati hain. Mujhe pata hai ki ‘position’ ka matlab theek se khada hona hai aur ‘fire’ ka matlab ‘gun ko chalao’, ” tabassum says, with a smile. she thanks her father, the principal of her new school and ‘coach sir’ for her newfound confidence. Does she know who championed that smile? “no,” she says, a little undecided.

perhaps, tabassum will know, some day, as she takes position, and aims at her future. perhaps, some fairies like to keep secrets.

oUtreach stories: 7


Milestones1958 santokba Durlabhji trust created 1963 santokba Durlabhji diagnostic clinic established 1969 nursing home started in a rental building with obstetrics and gynaecology, general surgery and general medicine1971 sDmh inaugurated 1973 eye department founded paediatric department founded blood transfusion services started e.n.t. department set up 1974 psychiatry department founded1975 icU and ccU commenced functioning1976 Dental department established nursing school founded1981 cardiothoracic unit for open heart surgery set up first-ever open heart surgery in rajasthan performed1985 rehabilitation and Jaipur Limb training centre founded1987 gastroenterology department established1988 skin and s.t.D. Department set up1989 cath lab installed1991 cardiac rehabilitation center set up1993 coronary angioplasty and coronary bypass surgery started founder’s corner built1995 nephrology and Dialysis unit started1996 Day care centre, avedna ashram started2000 iso 9001:2000 certification obtained2002 start of beating heart surgery g.i. surgery department commissioned2004 paediatric icU set up2005 medical ccU started Laminar flow theatre started2006 hemlata Durlabhji conference hall commissioned2008 nabL obtained2009 acquisition of nat2010 Ultra endoscopy machine facility started mobile medical Van facility started nabh accreditation to sDmh blood bank2011 rDmc (Dedicated outpatient facility) inaugurated executive health check-up facility started colormasters’ ward for financially challanged, started2012 hDU unit started Department of neonatology formed Vitreo-retinal surgery started (rajasthan’s first 25g sutureless vitreous surgery)

Departmentsanaesthesiologyaudiometryblood bankcardiologycardiothoracic surgeryDermatology Dentistry ent gastroenterology general surgerygastro-intestinal surgeryobstetrics & gynaecologygeneral medicineneonatologyneurologyneurosurgerynephrology oncologyophthalmologyorthopaedicsotorhinolaryngologypathology & microbiologypaediatricspaediatric neurologypaediatric surgeryphysiotherapyplastic surgerypsychiatryradiologyrehabilitation & Limb training centreUrologyVitreo retinal surgery

Facilitiestotal beds: 451 private rooms: 44icU beds: 93operation theatres: 12nursing school: 1consultants: 91residents and Dnb: 107nurses: 451 in-house pharmacies: 11 Laboratory, blood bank and imaging services 64 slice ct, 3 tesla mri, nuclear machine

restaurant, food kiosks and recreational facilities (gym, yoga centre, recreation club etc.) Dharamshala, bank, post office & Dairy booth New Projects nabh accreditation 12 state-of-the-art otsrenal care facilityDepartment of emergencycentralisation of lab and blood bank institure of immunology and haemotologysantokba institute of Digestive surgical sciencesmmt facilitysynergised department of outreach servicesextension of car parking facility Plans for Future Upgrade to 1000-bedded facility 20-25 state-of-the-art ots250 critical care beds Development of oncology Dept.

no. of outpatientsover 38 lakh patients have received consultation in santokba

outreach campsfree consultation provided to over 30,000 patients in more than 50 camps

sDmh blood banktwo laks units of blood collected so far

mobile medical Vancommenced in 2009, provided free consultation to over 10,000 patients in kacchi bastis

freeshipsover rs. 21,25,37,116 awarded so far

OrationsDr. karl maramoroschshri nani s. palkhivalashri r.k. LaxmanDr. abid hussainLate field marshal sam manekshaw, m.c.Dr. Jayant V. narlikarJanab yusuf khan (shri Dilip kumar)Dr. k. kasturiranganDr. a.p.J. abdul kalamDr. najma heptullahDr. r.a. mashelkarshri n.r. narayana murthyDr. ela r. bhattshri piyush pandeyshri Leander paesshri ramchandra guhashri sanjeev bikchandanishri shashi tharoorshri abbas ali baig

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