My World of Preventive Medicine new size 21st Feb 2022 print

MY WORLD OF
PREVENTIVE MEDICINE

C.G. PANDIT



MY WORLD OF PREVENTIVE MEDICINE

C.G. PANDIT
M.B.B.S. (Bom), Ph.D. (Lond)

D.P.H. (Lond), D.T.M (Eng)
Founder – Director, Indian Council of Medical Research
Past President, National Academy of Medical Sciences
Fellow, Indian National Science Academy
Emeritus Scientist, Council of Scientific and Industrial Research

Indian Council of Medical Research
New Delhi

©2022 Indian Council of Medical Research
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be transmitted or reproduced in any form or by
any means without any prior permission from the publisher.

ISBN:
First published 1982
Reprinted 1995
Revised and Reprinted 2022

Patron:
Prof. (Dr.) Balram Bhargava
Secretary, DHR & DG, ICMR

Reconceptualized by:
Dr. Rajni Kant
Director, ICMR-RMRC G’pur &
Scientist ‘G’ & Head, RMPPC,
ICMR-HQ
Dr. Priya Gaur
Scientist ‘C’, RMPPC
ICMR-HQ
Dr. Enna Dogra Gupta
Scientist ‘C’, RMPPC
ICMR-HQ

Designed & Printed by : Machis 360º

CONTENTS

Foreword
Preface
Prologue

PART I 01
Early Years (Bombay-Poona-London) (1894-1923)
31
PART II
Introduction to Preventive Medicine (1924-1948) 32
36
CHAPTER 47
52
I Destination Madras 61
II First few years in the Institute 66
III Rockefeller Foundation Fellow in Virology (1932-1933) 70
IV The Shillong interludes 78
89
V The Chinese episode 92
98
VI Filariasis-The Curse of St. Thomas 103
106
VII Plague and I 139

VIII Cholera—As we saw it then 141
161
IX Epidemic of cerebrospinal meningitis (Madras) 167
169
X Playing with the viruses
177
XI The discovery of fluorosis 178
181
XII Introduction to leprosy

XIII Yellow fever and I

XIV I get the O.B.E.!
XV All India Institute of Medical Sciences:
The concept-then and now

XVI War years and after (1938-1948)

XVII Gandhiji visits Madras

XVIII Chalo Delhi

PART III
Planning for the Future (1948-1965)
I The background
II Formation of the Indian Council of Medical Research

CONTENTS

III Promotion of research in medical colleges 188

IV Staffing pattern and problems of accommodation 197

V Medical research— A blueprint for future 202

VI Nutrition Research Laboratories shift

from Coonoor to Hyderabad 210

VII The First Medical Education Conference in India in 1955 220

VIII Research in Ayurveda - Birth and death of a concept 224

IX Establishment of centres for research in 236
communicable diseases

X Epidemic of infectious hepatitis in Delhi 255

XI Visit to the Soviet Union (1953) 259

XII Visit to Australia and New Zealand 266

XIII Visit to U.S.A. 271

XIV New look at leprosy 274

XV My association with Gandhi Memorial Leprosy Foundation 282

XVI Mudaliar Committee and Family Planning 291

XVII I attend the meeting of the American 297
Public Health Association

XVII Establishment of the Indian National Academy of Medical

Sciences 302

XIX Concept of an institute for Medical research 309

XX I retire from ICMR 319

PART IV

Emeritus Scientist (Delhi-Chandigarh-Los Angeles)
(1965-1970) 325

I Back to cholera research 326

II Chandigarh–The last assignment 331

III Sojourn in California, USA 341

Epilogue 347

ANNEXURE 353

FOREWORD

“A Tribute to Dr. Chintaman Govind Pandit, for the efforts he had
made to encourage the Medical Research in the Country”

Dr. Chintaman Govind Pandit (25th July, 1895 – 7th September, 1991),
an Indian virologist, was the founder director of Indian Council of Medical
Research (ICMR) from 1948-1964. He secured his doctoral degree from
the University of London, 1922. He had received prestigious Order of the
British Empire (OBE, 1943), Indian Civilian honors; Padma Shri (1956) and
Padma Bhushan (1964). Following his superannuation he became the
Emeritus Scientist of the CSIR. He was an elected fellow of the Indian
National Science Academy (1939) and the founder fellow of the National
Academy of Medical Sciences (India). After his death, ICMR instituted a
distinguished scientist chair, Dr. C. G. Pandit National Chair, in his honor.

The reprint of “My World of Preventive Medicine” is befitting homage
to Dr. C.G. Pandit, for being an inspiration to everyone and for his glorifying
work in establishing the future of health service in India. Since the inception
of ICMR by Dr. C. G. Pandit, the Organization has been persistent to be an
inspiration by providing solutions to the existing national health challenges
and its application to human needs. ICMR has been focused to bear the
endeavours and prepare the inter-dependency grounds for the varied
medical science field and public health future. In this book, he has described
the foundation and functions of Indian Research Fund Association (IRFA),
his appointment to IRFA, its renaming and transformation to ICMR in
1949. He was the one who decided that ICMR must have the edifice of its
own that too in the close propinquity of the AIIMS. Along with that, during
his tenure 5 ICMR Institutes were established; NIV, Pune (1951), NIRRCH,
Mumbai (1954), NIRT, Chennai (1956), NIIH, Mumbai (1957), and NICED,
Kolkata (1962). His landmark accomplishments described in the book
includes his huge task to embark in reducing the burden of Malaria and
control the spread of Small Pox, Filariasis and Cholera like epidemics. He
was himself engrossed and created curiosity among the Indian Scientists
in regard to Leprosy problem prevailed in the country that time. Dr. Pandit
had set high standards of integrity and economy and was conscientious in
all his activities. He ensured ethical conduct in all activities of the council.

Dr. Pandit’s life is an incredible journey that established the
importance of medical and public health problems in the country and
believed that nothing great in life can be accomplished alone. It is his firm
fundamentals that the organization is able to develop its present prestige.
I believe that anyone who wishes to pursue career in public and medical
health will be enormously encouraged after reading his autobiography.
We attempted to enhance the reprint of this book by incorporating some
minor revisions along with “A Homage to Dr. C.G. Pandit” as annexure. I
feel sincerely humbled and honored to present the revised version of book
to you.

Prof. (Dr.) Balram Bhargava
Secretary, DHR & DG, ICMR

“Preventive medicine dreams of a time when there shall be enough
for all, when every man shall bear his share of labour in accordance with his
ability, and every man shall possess sufficient for the needs of his body and
the demands of health. These things he shall have as a matter of justice
and not of charity.”

“Preventive medicine dreams of a time when there shall be no
unnecessary suffering and no premature deaths, when the welfare of
the people shall be our highest concern, when humanity and mercy shall
replace greed and selfishness; and it dreams that all these things will be
accomplished through wisdom of man. Preventive medicine dreams of
these things, not with the hope that we, individually, may participate in
them, but with the joy that we may aid in their coming to those who shall
live after us. When young men have vision the dreams of old men come
true.”

Courtesy: Karl Meyer.
Quoted from the Report: “Medical Education and Research”, submitted
by Lt. Gen. Sir Bennet Hans and Dr C.G. Pandit to the Health Survey and
Development Committee, page 28, 1945



PREFACE

This is not an autobiography in the real sense of the word.
It is an account of my scientific pursuits in the King Institute of
Preventive Medicine in Guindy, Madras, and later, of my efforts at
the promotion of medical research in the country. Euphemistically
speaking, it is a mid-century review of problems which we had
to face in the public health fields, and of policies which I had to
enunciate to deal with them. In this narrative it was but inevitable
that I should refer to some personal anecdotes, especially those
relating to experiences during my travels and sojourn abroad
during World War II. I hope they will serve to relieve the monotony
of reading purely scientific jargon!

As I look back on the years gone by I cannot but remember
with gratitude the abiding faith in me of Rajkumari Amrit Kaur, the
first Minister of Health in the Central Cabinet, the help given by
Shri Karmarkarji who followed her, and Dr Sushila Nayar, Minister
of Health, for her keen interest in my work and for her support
when I needed it most. Again I was indeed fortunate in receiving
unstinted loyalty and cooperation from my colleagues both in
Madras and New Delhi.

C. G. Pandit

Pune
1982



PROLOGUE

I was sitting alone that evening in the verandah of our house in
Chandigarh. Not that this was something unusual for though we had been
in Chandigarh for over a year now, we had not made many acquaintances,
and our evenings were mostly unoccupied. What was unusual was that on
that day, the 25th July 1968, was my birthday, and I was seldom alone on
any of my previous birthdays during the last seventeen years, the period
of my sojourn in Delhi. Invariably the day would begin with a telephone
call from our dear friends Dr. and Mrs. Gadekar and they would announce
that they would be dining with us that evening and there would be the
greeting telegrams from my daughters. Many friends would drop in the
evening. However, on that day, my wife and I were spending the birthday
alone.

Sitting alone, it was but inevitable that my thoughts should peep
into the past - in Delhi, as the Director of the Indian Council of Medical
Research; then to the most eventful years in Madras at the King Institute
of Preventive Medicine, Guindy; to the periodic visits to Shillong as the
Director of the Pasteur Institute there; then to the period of over three
years as a postgraduate student at the King’s College in London; and
then again as an undergraduate and postgraduate in the Grant Medical
College, Bombay. The kaleidoscopic picture was sometimes distinct and
occasionally hazy. My wandering thoughts finally rested on the image of
Dada, my uncle, who had been instrumental in shaping my life in every
way. Indeed if he had not permitted me to offer Pali, instead of Sanskrit,
at the matriculation examination in 1910, or had not insisted on my going
through the whole intermediate MBBS examination in 1915, my career
would have taken an entirely different turn!

My reverie, however, came to an end when my wife joined me and
said, “A penny for your thoughts”! I told her and she retorted “Why don’t
you write your reminiscences? I wish you had kept a diary as your father
wanted you to do. You could have written them easily.” Of course, my father
had always insisted that I should keep a diary. Penitently, I felt that at least
from now onwards, I should keep my promise. This reference to my father

reminded me of the day when I was in Bombay on my annual holidays
during Christmas in 1943 when I had seen my father writing something
in a note book every day. He had told me then that he was writing his
autobiography. After my father’s demise I had the manuscript with me. I
had not read it fully, acquainted as I was with most of the incidents in his
life. I asked my wife to fetch the volume. After a brief introduction he had
written as follows: “I regret, I did not keep the promise I had given to my
uncle of keeping a diary - due to a variety of reasons - preoccupation with
office work and the like and also because of laziness. Today, after a lapse
of sixty years, and on my seventy second birthday I have decided to write
and redeem my promise…...”

It was an amazing coincidence that I should think of keeping my
promise that day, for it was also my seventy second birthday!

PART I
EARLY YEARS
(BOMBAY, POONA, LONDON)

(1894-1923)

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

BOMBAY

(1905-1918)

Icannot say that my childhood was uneventful. My father was practicing as a
lawyer at Yaval near Dhulia before he joined the judicial service of the Bombay
Presidency. I remember him telling me years later that I had received my first
vaccination against smallpox with the material taken directly from a vaccinated
calf brought to our door. Towards the end of 1901, I got my first introduction to
a communicable disease-cholera. It is interesting to quote from my father’s
autobiography. He writes: “My wife and son, Chintu, were on a visit to her parents
in a village-Mangalvedhe-about sixteen miles from Satara. The village was on the
bank of the river Krishna, which was struck by an epidemic of cholera. My wife
contacted the disease and I was summoned there. On arrival, I found my wife
almost in a moribund state, apparently the attack was a severe one, and the
treatment, substandard as it was, was of no avail. She had lost consciousness, and
the pulse could not be felt. Indeed we had given up all hope. Suddenly she opened
her eyes, and without recognising any of those around her, started muttering:
“They tell me”, she said, “it is not my turn yet. The two persons wearing a crown
told me that”. She then asked for water to drink and drank copiously. Within four
or five days we returned to Satara. On arrival we found three more persons and
Chintu had contacted the disease. Fortunately, they all recovered”.

I had occasion to relate this story to an old gentleman in Bombay. He
remarked: “What is so unusual about this? The same thing happened to me. I had
plague, and I was given up as dead, and while they were about to remove my body,
I apparently regained my consciousness, and said “They have made a mistake. It is
not I they want. It is the person in the other room”. At that moment a person in a
room on the same floor in the chawl died. He also had plague”.

I would not like to comment on these episodes. Apparently, our culture and
beliefs manifest themselves in many ways!

My father left his practice at Yaval and joined the judicial service of the state.
He was posted as a Munsif at Bassein near Bombay in 1901. I started my schooling
there. Bassein, like Bombay, was having its annual visitation of plague. One evening

2 My World of Preventive Medicine

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

in 1904, when I was ten years old, I came home from school limping. The school
was closed because of rat-falls. I was ill, had high fever, and could not even get
on to the bed because of pain in the groin. The doctors were summoned. I vividly
remember the anxious expression on the faces of my parents and the doctors who
were having some kind of discussion amongst themselves. The next day, however,
I felt a little better and soon recovered. My father wrote in his diary, “Chintu had a
mild attack of bubonic plague”. Little had I dreamt then that I would have to deal
with this scourge in later life in quite a different capacity altogether!

In February 1905, my father was transferred to Dhanduka in Gujarat. I went
to school there for a few months. During Christmas vacation, my uncle, Dada and
his family came to Dhanduka. Since my father was liable to frequent transfers, my
uncle suggested that I should join a school in Bombay, so that my education would
not be interrupted. My father readily agreed and I came to Bombay in January
1906. This small event, common in most families of government servants liable to
frequent transfers, was to have a profound effect on my whole career!

I was admitted to the Elphinstone Middle School, near Dhobi Talao. At that
time it was really a ‘Dhobi Talao’, for washermen could always be seen washing
clothes there. I and my cousin Balu (Dada’s son), were in the same class. We used
to go to school by trams which were drawn by horses. This was before the advent
of electricity. The fare was one anna-irrespective of where you travelled. I do not
recollect when electric trams were first introduced. However, I remember vividly
the animated discussions in our household regarding the introduction of electric
trams would it be safe, with what speed they would travel and because of it, how
many casualties would be there, and whether the authorities were contemplating
fencing the track on either side as a safety measure.

I have very few recollections of the life in the Elphinstone Middle School,
except that on one occasion, we boys, had to sing a song composed by Miss Mary
Bhore.

Freely translated in English the song means:

“Oh King, Edward, Sovereign of all and respected by all, Glory be unto thee”.

Subsequently in 1944, I had occasion to remember this song when I met
Sir Joseph Bhore, Miss Mary’s brother, as the President of the Health Survey and
Development Committee!

Towards the end of 1907 I joined the Elphinstone High School. At that time
we were living in Topiwala Chawl in Girgaum, off Girgaum Back Road. However,
Chawl was a misnomenclature as it was really a block of flats. It was, indeed, a
spacious flat compared to the modern flats we have in the city today. My uncle
could, therefore, accommodate one or two poor students to stay in the house. He
provided them with accommodation and paid their School fees. These students

My World of Preventive Medicine 3

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

however, took their meals as was customary in those bygone days with different
households, in turn, during the week.

My uncle was a strict disciplinarian. Hours of work and play had to be strictly
adhered to. Every evening, after returning from school, we had to narrate all the
incidents, however small they may be including our quarrels with the classmates.
He often told us how we were wrong in our judgement regarding those quarrels. He
always insisted that we must consider the other man’s point of view. One evening,
I remember relating to him how I made fun of my teacher over what he did in the
class, and I had to pay dearly for that mischief. He never tolerated any criticism of
class teachers and I was severely reprimanded. He was very fond of reading and as
Assistant Registrar of Bombay University, he had access to the University Library.
He encouraged us to read whenever we had leisure and on Sundays, he used to
read with us some passages from English literature. The habit thus formed in early
life, served me in good stead in later years.

The period of my School days was of intense political activity in Maharashtra,
particularly in Poona. We used to have many visitors with whom my uncle used to
discuss these events. I remember, particularly one visitor- an oldish gentleman -
who used to tell us, sitting in the verandah of our house, stories about Lokamanya
Tilak and Gokhale, about picketing of liquor shops in Poona, and the national
renaissance awakened by the newly started Ganapati festival. We used to relish
those stories, indeed with as much interest and enthusiasm as we used to hear our
grandmother telling us stories from Ramayana and Mahabharata. Then came the
trial of Lokamanya Tilak in Bombay in 1908, over his article “Country’s misfortune”
in the Kesri. This article was translated into English by one Mr Joshi who was the
oriental translator in the Government. His son was in our school. We boys used to
ask him the same questions which were put to the father by Tilak during his cross
examination. Poor fellow! We really did make his life miserable! After his trial Tilak
was sentenced to six years imprisonment. When we went to school next day, we
found British soldiers in the grounds of our school.

There were demonstrators, and some of us, catching the spirit threw a few
stones at the British soldiers. This was my first and last direct contribution to India’s
struggle for political independence!

School life was just routine. Under the guidance of my uncle, I was making
rapid progress. We had good teachers. Shri Pandurang Waman Kane was my
Sanskrit teacher. In later years, when I used to meet him in Delhi, he always received
me as one of his old pupils. The other teacher whom I still remember was Shri
Puranik. He taught us mathematics and astronomy. Among my contemporaries
was C.D. Deshmukh who was a year junior to me.

Sometime later, it was decided to have for the first time, a social gathering in
the school. There was a drama competition and I was selected to play a leading

4 My World of Preventive Medicine

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

role in a ‘Farce’ in Marathi and the role of Ashwathama in one of the scenes from
Venisamhar-a Sanskrit play. Apparently, I did creditably well in both roles and was
heartily congratulated by teachers and friends. Probably the success went to my
head. I felt I could speak on any subject-anywhere! Later when the teacher asked
me to open a discussion on “Is Luxury an Evil?” in our debating society, I readily
agreed. I had made a few notes but when I went to the podium, I could hardly
utter a word! I stood dumb on the stage causing a derisive laughter among the
students. The teacher tried to silence them by saying “Why do you laugh? Pandit
has at least attempted to speak”. This worsened my predicament for the boys
again clapped and jeered. I got off the stage fully mortified! This episode had
produced a tremendous psychological trauma, for later on, in the Grant Medical
College, though I was elected by the Student Body on the Gymkhana and other
committees, I refused to accept any assignment of appearing on the stage,
including acting.

The years rolled on and I went in the 7th Standard, the final year in the school.
I could not appear, however, for the matriculation examination that year as I was
underage. Because of the additional year, my teacher of Sanskrit, Shri Ramakrishna
Bhadkamkar, suggested that I should seriously try for the Jagannath Shankerseth
prize in Sanskrit - the ambition of every student of Sanskrit in those days. I replied
“I am not interested, since, after all, I was going to take medicine as a career later”.
He then suggested “In that case why not study Pali and appear in that subject for
the examination. Since you know Sanskrit, it should not be difficult for you to pick
up Pali; you would be the first student in Pali in the University.” This suggestion
appealed to me. After some discussion with my teacher, my uncle agreed to let
me take Pali.

My teacher coached me well. We studied “Dhammapada” and many Jatak
stories. The latter were mostly the same as stories in Hitopadesh in Sanskrit. In
due course I was pleasantly surprised to find that the Bombay University had
appointed Ramakrishnapant as the examiner in Pali. However, the paper was set
by Prof. Haribhau Bhadkamkar, his uncle, who was the Professor of Sanskrit in the
Wilson College, Bombay. He insisted on doing so, in all fairness to my teacher and
the University, so that everything would be above board!

In due course I passed the matriculation examination in 1910. Five thousand
boys had appeared, out of which 2000 odd were declared successful. My rank was
19th. I had scored 95% marks in Pali. I would not have obtained such a high percentage
if I had appeared in Sanskrit.

Next year I joined the Elphinstone College for my previous examination, course
of one year, as it was necessary for joining the medical college. Because of my rank
in the matriculation examination I had a scholarship in the college. My second
language continued to be Pali. Since I had already studied the prescribed textbook
before, I did not have much to study in Pali. I could utilize the time for other

My World of Preventive Medicine 5

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

subjects. In the University examination I did fairly well and would have continued
the scholarship if I had pursued my studies in Arts. However, it had already been
decided that I was to take medicine as a career.

My father had decided that I should be a doctor, almost the day I was born!
In retrospect, I am conscious that I was born with a silver spoon. It was, however,
entirely different with my father and uncle. My father lost his father when he was
only a few days old. He had been named “Yeshwant”, but because of this tragedy,
his name was changed to Govind. The two brothers were brought up by their uncle
whose financial position was very precarious. The two brothers had to borrow
books and copy some of them. In Bombay, they were provided accommodation
by friends and even fed by them. Later they managed to get tuitions and then
their mother managed household in a small room in chawl. When during Diwali,
the mother accepted an invitation for them for dinner on the “Bhaubij” day (the
brothers day when sisters entertain them) they exclaimed “Mother, why did you
accept? We haven’t even a paisa to give as a present!” On top of this, my father
used to keep poor health. He writes in his autobiography:

“Next year, i.e. in 1887, I fell ill. It was the Jubilee year of Queen Victoria and
there were celebrations in Poona. But because of fever, I could hardly enjoy. My
uncle asked me to see him in his office. I could hardly climb the stairs because of
palpitation and giddiness. Dr Nanasaheb Deshmukh was treating me. He had
prescribed digitalis. It was of no avail. An ayurvedic physician pronounced my
condition as grave and he doubted if I would live. Fortunately, I was placed under
another ayurvedic physician. His treatment proved efficacious and I recovered
after six months.”

My father’s autobiography is full of references to the death of his relatives and
friends due to cholera and plague. Indeed I could find, on perusal, no reference to
any other disease as a cause of death! Many of them did not get any treatment;
not that it would have made any difference for as we know it today, no definite
treatment such as antibiotics or any specific therapy had been discovered. I feel
that sheer necessity and advantage of having readily available medical treatment,
not only for the family but also for others, must have influenced him in his wish
that his son should be a Doctor! To anticipate, I must state here that when I
returned from England after a Ph.D. degree, he was not exactly happy, although
he effectively concealed his feelings. All the same he said “Splendid, well done, but
this is not what I expected you to be.”

In January 1912, I ascended the steps of the Grant Medical College, paid my
fees and was admitted to the MBBS course! No applications and no interviews!
It was as simple as that. We were a batch of 100 students including three lady
students. Before I went to the college to get admission, my uncle told me to be
on the look out for one Mr Khirwadkar from Gwalior who would also be seeking
admission. He was the nephew of one of my uncle’s friends. As I ascended the

6 My World of Preventive Medicine

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

steps I met a tall gentleman, rather well built, coming down. We met on the steps.
Looking at him I asked “Are you Mr Khirwadkar?” He exclaimed “Would you be
Mr Pandit?” This “Livingstone” type of meeting was the beginning of a friendship
which lasted until his death in early fifties. We were dissection partners and close
friends throughout our college career. My other close friend in the college was N.G.
Patwardhan. During leisure hours we were always together.

During the first year in the medical college, I was staying with my uncle. He
had shifted his residence from the Topiwala’s chawl to another in Angre Wadi, off
Girgaum Back Road. Topiwala’s chawl had to be demolished for the construction
of a road-now called the Sandhurst Road. All of us were very sorry when we had to
leave it. From our new residence it was quite a long journey to the college. So it was
decided that I should move into the college hostel. As long as I was with my uncle
my preoccupation was studies. When I moved into the college Hostel, Room 104,
my life took an entirely different turn!

The medical students, as a group, had the reputation of being one of the
most rowdy, particularly the Parsi students. Looking back I now think that their
behaviour was most ‘decently’ rowdy-the boisterous behaviour of healthy minds
and body. One Hindu student, for a wager, I will not name him here, had walked
round the J. J. Hospital naked early in the morning. I think it was the first example
of ‘streaking’!

Though I was living in the hostel, I used to spend most of my leisure with
my friends who were living in a building across the road, either discussing some
aspects of our studies, or more often than not, discussing current events. I distinctly
remember two discussion. One was on the topic of book “Ashram Harini”-a novel
by Waman Malhar Joshi. None of us had read it. Our discussion was on the review
which had appeared in the “Kesari”. The heroine, a child widow, marries again.
Would you call her a ‘Pativrata’? asked Nana Patwardhan. “Why not?” we replied.
“And if she becomes a widow and marries again?” “Still she should be regarded
as a faithful wife”. “You mean to say she is ‘once’ faithful ‘twice’ faithful and ‘thrice’
faithful?” “What’s so wrong about it?” we asked. At which he folded his hands,
prostrated himself on the floor and left!

During our fourth year, there appeared the first edition of a novel “Me” in
Marathi (“I”) by H.N. Apte. It was written in the form of an autobiography and the
hero, born in poverty, neglected by parents but befriended by others, decides and
succeeds in establishing a society to combat social evils and for striving to attain
political freedom. The novel had appeared as a serial in the newspaper “Karmanuk”
in 1896 anticipating the establishment of the “Servants of India Society” by Gopal
Krishna Gokhale!

We spent many evenings discussing this novel, for it had made a lasting
impression on us. Ultimately, a thought was mooted that after graduation and

My World of Preventive Medicine 7

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

gaining some experience in our respective specialities, we should start a ‘Hindu
Medical Mission’. Why should the Christians have that monopoly?

These were, indeed, stirring times! Even from childhood we used to hear
about the activities in social and political fields of Justice Mahadev Govind Ranade,
Agarkar, Karve, Savarkar and Tilak who held high esteem in the society. Many have
wondered how all these intellectual giants were born and worked in the same
era. Was it the result of the first impact of the introduction of English education
in India?

Our idol, of course, was Lokmanya Tilak. Nana used to refer to him as
“Balwantrao”, as many later used to refer to Mahatma Gandhi as “Bapu”, without
ever having come into contact with him. When Tilak was released from Mandalay
jail and we learnt that he was arriving in Poona, a proposal was mooted that we
should call on him. We couldn’t, but Nana did and saw him in the Gaekwar Wada. It
was known that he had written a treatise on Geeta- “The Geeta Rahasya”, in Marathi.
Nana asked him if he contemplated translating it into English. Tilak exclaimed “It is
not necessary. The British understand the Geeta very well. It is written for you and
not for them!”

I think it was in 1915 that Lokmanya Tilak decided to go to England. The
first world war was in progress and the journey was extremely hazardous. Prior
to departure Tilak spent a day in Bombay and was scheduled to address several
meetings. We decided to attend as many as we could for we were not sure whether
we would get an opportunity to see him again because of hazardous travel. We
took ‘french leave’ from the college and attended the meetings. I particularly
remember the one in Shantaram’s chawl. We were squatting in the first row. The
message he gave is still fresh in memory. He was campaigning that Indian youth
should join the army during the war. At the meeting I am referring to, he said:

“Join the army learn to handle the gun. We can later point it in any direction we
want”. We got the message, of course! The last meeting on that day was near the
French Bridge near Chaupaty. I still clearly remember the expression on his face,
when almost at midnight he exhorted the youth to serve the country. Incidentally,
this was my last attendance at any political meeting!

In spite of my preoccupation with these extra-curricular activities, I must
say that I had not neglected my studies. I was, I believe, a favourite student of
Prof. Nadgir, and when he once met me for a few days before the Inter MBBS
examination, he had expressed the hope that I would get the first class! Things,
however, turned out quite different!

We had three subjects for the inter MB viz. Anatomy, Physiology and Materia
medica. The examination was in the Town Hall in the fort area, one paper a day at
2 PM. It was then quite a journey from the hostel to the Town Hall. As it happened,
I did quite well in Anatomy - indeed beyond my expectation. I made up my mind

8 My World of Preventive Medicine

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

that I would revise Physiology and try for a first class, if possible. Literally, I studied
from 6 PM to 1 AM next day in an attempt to revise, every chapter of Halliberton’s
Physiology. After dinner, Kirtane and Belsare - my hostelmates came to clear some
doubts. I explained the matter and drew a graph also in case a question was asked
in the paper. Right up to the entry in the examination hall, I continued to read.

I took my seat in the examination hall and when I read the question paper, my
mind went completely blank! I could not recollect anything! One of the questions
was the same which I had discussed with Kirtane the night before, and yet I was
unable to answer. It was a case of total brain fatigue.

I sat there like this for nearly an hour and half. I knew I was going to fail. I
wanted to leave the hall. I dared not do so, however, for I knew my uncle would not
like it and it would displease him. Gradually the brain began to clear and I started
writing. I wrote in furious haste, and when time was up I could finish just over half
of the total questions. I knew I was going to fail, for I could hardly hope to get the
minimum number of marks in that paper required to pass the examination.

I left the examination hall and went straight to my uncle’s residence to report
to him what had happened. I could not help crying, as I narrated the episode. I
ended by saying “I would go back to the hostel, collect my books and return
and then go to Dapoli where my father was at the time. There was no point in
continuing the examination”.

My uncle was full of sympathy, of course, but insisted that I should take the
remaining examination in Materia medica and also go through the practicals. He
also bade me not to return to the hostel but stay with him during the remaining
period before proceeding to Dapoli. “You have studied enough and there is no
need to read further. You had suffered from over work. Going through the whole
examination will help you with the next. It will be a good experience”.

I had to obey. I did the whole examination staying at home and without
reading a single book, and in due course I left for Dapoli. Then a month and a half
later I received a post card from my uncle informing me that I had got through the
examination!

College life continued as usual. I was always elected by the students to serve
on some committee or the other. As I have stated earlier, I did not accept any
assignment which involved public speaking. I was content to accept the editorship
of the college magazine. One incident merits mention. Sir Victor Horslay, the famous
Brain Surgeon of the times was on visit to Bombay en route to Mesopotamia as the
region was then called. I suggested that he should be invited to visit the college
and address the students. Col. Street, our Principal, of course, readily agreed. I had
made elaborate arrangements to take down his address ad verbatim as far as
possible by planting my friends at different places in the lecture theatre.

My World of Preventive Medicine 9

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

Sir Victor addressed the students and in his opening remarks, referred to the
Anatomy department and Pathology department as the bright and dark sides of
the moon! We were all pleased for the Professor of anatomy was Dr Nadgir, the
first M.S. of the Bombay University and an Indian. Lt. Col. Gordon Tucker, I.M.S. was
the Professor of Pathology. When the issue of the magazine appeared, Col. Street
sent for me and told me not to print any article in the magazine, without his prior
approval! This did not matter much for my term as the editor of the magazine was
soon to come to an end.

I shall not express, at this stage, my views on the type of education we
received in the college and the hospital. I will have occasion to discuss this later.
Looking back, however, I must state that it was pretty good especially considering
the state of medical knowledge then. We had good teachers in Clinical subjects.
Dr A.K. Dalal and Dr Gopalrao Deshmukh, both F.R.C.S. (Eng.) had just then been
appointed Honorary Surgeons to the Hospital. We used to flock to their clinics.
Similarly, Dr N. M. Purandare was the Hon. Surgeon in Gynaecology. He was
an excellent teacher. Lt. Col. Evans, I. M. S. was the professor of Obstetrics and
Gynaecology. In the classroom he used to read from his notes. We thought they
were excellent and we used to religiously take them down. One morning, in the
middle of his lecture, he was called out for consultations and when he left leaving
his note book behind, we boys sitting in the front row decided to have a look at
it. To our utter amazement we found that they were printed pages from Eden’s
Gynaecology pasted on the pages of his note book and he normally used to read
them. He had, however, recommended Jellat’s book on the same subject, Next
day we purchased the book and when the Professor started reading his “notes”
we carefully noted on our books the line or a word he had omitted to read! In due
course, Col. Evans came to know of this. He did suspect the students sitting in the
front row and never excused them!

In due course, we finished our training, appeared for the final MBBS
examination in all subjects. I passed the examination in November 1917.

I had now become a doctor!

Immediately after graduation I enrolled myself as a post-graduate student in
Gynecology with a view to take the MD degree in that subject. The only reason I
took that subject was that I had stood first in it and was eligible in due course for
the housemanship. In my interview with the Professor I was told that since I would
be in the hospital for over two years, I need not be in a hurry to get that posting. He
further remarked that the patients do not approve being treated by new graduates!
However, just after six months, the Pesikaka Sisters graduated and one of them
got the appointment. I did not protest since it would have been of no avail. I then
realised that the incident of the “notes” which I have narrated before, must have
been instrumental for Col. Evans’ almost hostile attitude. However, Dr Ajinkya who
was on the staff used to take interest in me and help me a great deal. Since I was

10 My World of Preventive Medicine

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

not the house surgeon and I had no regular duties allotted to me, I had a great deal
of leisure, sometimes in the morning but almost always in the afternoon. To utilize
this free time, my uncle suggested that I should spend it with Dr R. H. Bhadkamkar
who was a friend of the family and who was also my teacher of Pathology in the
college. Dr Bhadkamkar readily agreed to let me attend his consultations in his
room. He also used to take me along with him when he visited the patients in their
houses. This was, indeed a unique experience. We used to go about in ‘Victoria’, the
horse-drawn carriage of the times. His immaculate manners at once gained the
confidence of his patients. In their homes, after examining the patient, he would
spend time with members of the family, talking about current affairs, crops and
the like, and of course, any other problems of the family. Thus I acquired first-hand
information on the role of the family physician! The doctor, then, was really a friend
of the family. This was, however, a time-consuming procedure further delayed by
the slow transport; as a result, we would hardly visit 3 to 4 households during the
entire morning. At the end of his visits, he would sneak in the consulting room,
and after seeing a few patients would leave by the back door. Time and again the
patients, after waiting for hours, discovered that the doctor had already left! But
I was amazed to find that they seldom grumbled and came again the next day
and waited patiently. To my surprise, I found Dr Bhadkamkar prescribing (doctors
had to write prescriptions those days) along with modern medicine, Ayurvedic
remedies as well. Syrum Vasaka was his favourite for cough and colds!

I began my “independent” practice by acting a locum to a doctor who had his
consulting room in Girgaum. I had to see the patients in the dispensary and ask
the compounder to dispense the prescription. On one occasion, the compounder
drew my attention to the fault in my prescription due to incompatibility! Once I was
called to see a child suffering from pneumonia. How nervous I was- more perhaps
than the patient! It was a frightful realisation-how little I knew of medicine! Then
came the biggest blow.

In order that I should have more experience of medical practice, Dr
Bhadkamkar had arranged that I should conduct a charitable dispensary situated
somewhere along the Sandhurst Road. I was to attend from 4 PM to 7 PM. The
attendance of patients used to be heavy at times and I had to work until late in the
evening. Towards the end of July 1918, it became particularly heavy-fevers, coughs
and cold! One afternoon I myself felt uneasy. After completing the work I returned
home, to my uncle’s place, with high fever. As I went to the bathroom, I fell down
unconscious. I lost two front teeth. If the impact was on the chin, the story would
have been different-perhaps it would have abruptly ended. I was carried to the
room and put to bed. It was a severe illness. I was suffering from epidemic influenza
-the first wave! I was treated by Dr Bhadkamkar and since the convalescence was
to be prolonged I was advised to go to Poona, where my father was stationed at
the time. I travelled, I believe, by second class-the first time ever I did that.

My World of Preventive Medicine 11

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

As I was convalescencing, the epidemic, struck Poona. The mortality was
rising daily. The cry “Ram Bolo, Bhai Ram”, as the dead bodies were carried along
the roads, rent the air, both by day and night. The same thing was being reported
from Bombay. The dreaded winter wave was far more deadly than the first. There
were appeals in the newspapers in Bombay for doctors and nurses. I decided to
volunteer. Since I had recovered from the illness I thought I was immune from a
second attack. My father also agreed that my place during that emergency was in
Bombay.

I arrived in Bombay and reported myself for duty to Dr Bhadkamkar. He was
not very happy at my volunteering, but since I was keen, he agreed and asked me
to report to Mr Patel, the barrister who was in charge of the arrangements. He
allotted the Mandvi area to me. I had to climb steep stairs, three or four stories to
see the patients. At that time a philanthropic Marwadi gentleman had donated
funds to distribute blankets to the needy. To demonstrate their needs the patients
used to cough right in my face. Soon I got the second attack-more severe than the
first. The convalescence was slow, and I was again sent back to Poona. The second
wave of epidemic influenza was responsible for over a million deaths in India. This
was in the pre-antibiotic days.

In due course I returned to Bombay to resume my studies. Thereafter, I
worked mostly in the hospital. The atmosphere in the hospital was the same as
before. Though Col. Evans was as lukewarm as before, Dr Ajinkya who was my tutor
was taking great interest in me. He knew I was a favorite student of Dr Purandare.
He used to give me many opportunities of conducting difficult labour cases, as
well as used to permit me to apply forceps, under his direct supervision. Someone
reported this to Col. Evans. He sent for me and told me not to do this. Fortunately,
he did not tell Dr Ajinkya directly, who despite this continued to help me as before.
Then occurred an incident which clinched the issue whether I was going to
continue to work in the hospital under those circumstances.

It was Col. Evans’s operation day. Number of cases were posted for operation.
The first was one of ovarian tumour. Dr Kharadi, as I now recollect, was the Registrar
of the hospital; he was asked to start giving the anaesthesia. It was only chloroform
in those days. He started, but just at that moment, Col. Evans was called out for
consultation. As I had stated before, he always did that, no matter when. The
consultation was probably outside the hospital and took some time. During all
this time the patient was maintained under anesthesia. We were all furious, but
none dared to say anything. Eventually the surgeon returned and was, of course,
in a great hurry to finish the operation. Towards the end, he asked me to take over
from Dr Kharadi and asked him to begin giving anesthesia to another case. I took
over and to my complete surprise I found the bottle containing chloroform empty.
I beckoned the attendant, and he promptly filled the bottle standing between me
and the surgeon. Col. Evans did not notice this; I was not sure for how long, and if

12 My World of Preventive Medicine

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

at all, air was being pumped instead of chloroform. I started giving the chloroform
rather vigorously for obvious reasons. Col. Evans noticed this and blurted “Don’t
you see at what stage in the operation I am? You mechanical pumper”. I had to
remain quiet. But those in the operation room were furious. In due course the
day’s work was finished and we left the operation theatre.

That afternoon, Col. Evans called me and again complained that I was doing
the operations in the labour room thus disobeying his orders. I had not forgotten
the morning’s episode and in my annoyance I abruptly answered: “Sir, I have been
with you for over a year. I have listened to the same lectures and clinics which I had
listened as an undergraduate student. How am I going to be M. D. and with what
experience? I regret I cannot continue like this any longer. I have decided to leave.

I shall not be attending from tomorrow”. With these words I left, without
giving him a chance to say anything.

I must clarify, however, that although it apparently appeared to be a sudden
decision, it was after a great deal of deliberation. I was toying with the idea of
leaving and going to Poona to work, if possible, with Col. Hamilton, the Principal
of the then B. J. Medical School and Superintendent of the Sassoon Hospital. He
was an eminent gynaecologist and had a reputation as a good teacher. It was also
convenient for me to go to Poona for my father had just been transferred there. My
uncle concurred with my views. The next day I left for Poona.

My World of Preventive Medicine 13

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

POONA

(1919 - JUNE 1920)

On arrival in Poona I immediately called on Col. Hamilton in his office. I had
no appointment but he received me extremely cordially. I explained to him
the purpose of my visit, stating that I wanted to prosecute my studies in
Gynaecology under him, since it was convenient for me to do so economically,
as my parents were in Poona. He questioned me as to what I was doing at the J.
J. Hospital and other details. I did not reveal to him the contents of my talk with
Col. Evans. He did not enquire either. At the end of the interview he said he would
be glad to take me as student and asked me to report for duty next Monday.
Delighted, I left the office but as I was going out his chaprasi came running after
me and told me that the Sahib wanted to see me again!

I was a bit nervous thinking he might have changed his mind. However,
on meeting him he enquired whether I could take an additional assignment-
that of an Honorary Lecturer in Pathology and Bacteriology which also carried
an Honorarium of Rs. 100/- a month. He said that since I had also done a course
in Bacteriology after my graduation, I might think of the suggestion. He further
added that I would have to organise the section from scratch; that there was not
much equipment available and that he would be able to allot only one room for
the purpose for the present. Naturally, he said, I would have to give a few lectures
to the students. Needless to say, I readily agreed. Thus began a new chapter in my
career.

My daily routine in the Sassoon Hospital was as follows. In the morning I used
to be with Col. Hamilton accompanying him in his ward rounds, go along with
him to his lectures and attending in the operation theatre on operation days. In
the afternoon, I devoted my time to organise the laboratory for pathological and
bacteriological work.

The room allotted to me for the laboratory was quite close to the
Superintendent’s Office. The laboratory soon began to function for routine simple
diagnostic purposes. There were a few microscopes for the use of the students. I
could make a few basic media for bacteriological purposes. As I had stated before

14 My World of Preventive Medicine

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

those were the days of epidemic influenza and though the main epidemic was
over, a few cases of fever with colds were appearing which we readily labelled as
cases of influenza. Again malaria was also raising its head and malaria epidemics
during the season were quite common. My work in the laboratory related to these
diseases-apart from doing Widal test on suspected cases of enteric fever. Looking
back, I should say that the load of laboratory work was far from heavy! The students
used to be posted to work with me in batches of three to four as there was no
room to accommodate more. In all this work, I obtained considerable help and
encouragement from the senior members of the staff.

Then the day arrived for me to deliver my first lecture to the students and
I was considerably upset at the thought. As I have stated earlier, because of the
traumatic shock I had received while at school, I had developed a fright to face any
kind of audience, and even in the Grant Medical College, I was obsessed by it. So to
be prepared for any emergency I decided to write my first lecture and commit it to
memory. If anything went wrong, I could at least read it.

On the appointed day I started for the School. We were living then in Kasaba
Peth and I used to cycle to the hospital. I was so nervous that I had to get down
from the cycle twice to gain breath! I was also perspiring. The feeling did not leave
me as I faced the class. To gain time I decided to take the roll call. Although overtly
I said this was to acquaint myself with the students. Then began the performance!

My material was enough to last for over an hour’s lecture. But as I gathered
confidence, I spoke rapidly (and I was told later, rather fluently). I finished my talk
within three fourths of an hour!

How far the students understood what I said, I do not know. But everybody
was “awfully” impressed with my performance. The boys clapped vigorously.
I had made it! If the students appreciate you, your reputation soon spreads. My
colleagues congratulated me. Although Col. Hamilton came to know about this,
he did not comment at the time.

Then occurred the most crucial incident of my life, indeed as I lookback today.
Col. Hamilton was operating on a case of breast cancer. After the operation was
over, he asked me to send the tissue to the Bombay Bacteriological Laboratory, the
predecessor of the present Haffkine Institute.

Four or five days later I went to Col. Hamilton and told him the case was of
seirrhous cancer. “Has the report come so soon?” he asked. “No Sir”, I replied, “I
have sent the specimens to Parel, but I cut the sections myself in our laboratory”.
He came to the laboratory, saw the sections, and agreed with my findings. As he
was leaving, he asked me to see him in his office.

We had a long chat in the course of which he told me that observing my
work and from the reports which he had received, he felt I would do better as a

My World of Preventive Medicine 15

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

pathologist and bacteriologist. “Do not misunderstand me”, he continued, “I do
not wish to imply that you would not do well in your present choice of the subject
for MD, but I have a feeling that you would do even better in laboratory work. Why
not take the MD in medicine? This is what I would suggest and if you agree, I would
give you all the facilities you want. I would place the female medical ward solely
under your care. That would be a good way to utilize the experience you have
gained so far!”

I did not take much time to reply. Though I had not thought of this myself, I
readily agreed what he had suggested. Perhaps subconsciously I was thinking of
doing the same. Only coming from him clinched the issue.

Thus began my new assignment. It brought me close to other teachers in the
school, especially civil surgeons Dr Bharucha, Dr P. V. Shikhare and the registrar
Dr Mone, who became a famous surgeon later. All of them took personal interest
and gave me advice regarding any problem in the ward. I then teamed up with Dr
Sohoni who was also my colleague, and started reading for the MD in medicine.

I soon had the reputation as a good bacteriologist. Knowing what I knew then,
or did then, I am almost ashamed to say this today. However, at the time, I believe,
I was the only one in the hospital who knew anything of Bacteriology. The Marathi
proverb fitted me well. Freely translated it meant that “in a town of ‘asses’, the she
‘ass’ is the first lady”. As I said before Poona was struck at the time with a severe
epidemic of malaria. I myself was the victim of the disease. Indeed for nearly 3 to
4 months I was suffering acutely from it. I used to go to the hospital at 8 AM and
return home for lunch. Then go into a bout of shivering, fever and at 8 PM profuse
sweating. This went on but I did not miss attendance at the Hospital.

Because of malaria, I was in constant demand from private practitioners in the
city for taking blood from their patients and reporting on them. I was permitted to
charge Rs. 2/- for this service! I was, however, seldom called for medical consultation.
I was a bacteriologist and not a physician! We had a sort of Doctor’s Club and we
used to go for dinner each month in some doctor’s home in turn. I came to know
particularly Drs. Ranade and Sardesai very well. The latter, the grandfather of Dr H.
V. Sardesai, with his Poona Turban, was a well-known sight in the city. Since I had
to go on bicycle, almost all over the town, I came to know the city very well indeed.
As I write this, I realise how little of Poona I know today, the old landmarks have
disappeared - external ones at least.

Early in 1919, my cousin Nana Naralkar came to stay with us. I learnt that he
had refused the offer of Rs. 500/- a month, and had decided to join the Shikshan
Prasarak Mandali in Poona which was running a school and a college in the
city. I learnt later that when he went to Junagad for his studies for MA, he had
come under the influence of Prof. Mahadev Malhar Joshi who was himself a
distinguished leader and an educationist. He had apparently stressed the role of

16 My World of Preventive Medicine

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

the school teacher in building up the character of the young students. Nana often
used to quote General Von Moltke’s statement: “Germany owes everything to its
school teachers”. I knew then what had influenced Nana to come to Poona. We
used to meet often as boys in my grandmother’s house in Satara. Subsequently I
had spent some of my holidays with him in Poona. Our preoccupation there was
to see Marathi plays in the Kirloskar Theatre paying four annas for a seat in the pit.

It was against this background that Nana’s new role came as a pleasant
surprise. In later years I used to break my journey at Poona on my way from Madras
to Bombay, spend a day with him and listen to his activities in the field of education.
It was a most stimulating time that I used to have! Nana’s work has been very
well described by his biographer, Shri Bhave in his book in Marathi-”Nana - the
architect”. Indeed I came to know of him more through this book than my own
acquaintance with him, intimate as it was. I could not keep thinking how different
would have been the story of education in Maharashtra if his services had been
utilized by the state! However, for the purpose of this narration I have to mention
two episodes while he was with us in Poona. He had asked me to conduct a health
survey of his class, which I did. Later he asked me to help him in his attempt to
establish a “Swadeshi shop” in his school which was to run on a cooperative basis.
Nana was a staunch “Swadeshi”-almost a fanatic. So only Swadeshi goods were to
be stocked in the shop which was entirely run by students. My contribution to this
effort was purely physical, carrying goods purchased in the camp to the city either
by hand or on a bike to minimise overhead charges!

As the work in the hospital progressed, the thought of going to England to
specialise further in bacteriology was creeping into my mind. It was, however,
impossible for me to go to England with the family resources, even though my
mother was prepared to sell her ornaments for the purpose. It was then suggested
that I should apply for the Sir Mangaldas Nathubhai Scholarship of the Bombay
University for studies abroad. I think it was also stipulated that the subject of study
should have some relation to industrial development. As bacteriology had a role to
play in the manufacture of biologicals, it fitted in the University regulations for the
award of the scholarship.

In the selection of the candidates, marks obtained at the first attempt of each
of the examinations in which the student had appeared were to be taken into
consideration. On the basis of criteria stipulated, Dr Parmar and I stood first and
second respectively. There was some discussion, I believe, whether two medical
men should be selected for the award of the scholarship. Dr Surveyor, who was
the Professor of Bacteriology in the Grant Medical College, expressed the view
that since they had come on their merit, and as their subjects were different, they
should be selected for the award of the scholarship. This view prevailed and I got
the scholarship!

My World of Preventive Medicine 17

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

Again I remembered with gratitude the important role my uncle had played
in my educational development, when he permitted me to take Pali in the
matriculation examination which had helped to raise the percentage of marks
in that examination, and his insistence that I went through the whole inter MB
examination. Failure would have debarred me from getting the scholarship and
changed the whole course of my life! How fate plays a part in shaping your destiny!

The value of the scholarship was Rs. 150/- a month, tenable for three years.
This was hardly sufficient to maintain me in England for three years. Fortunately,
we had a windfall. The exchange rate of the pound then was eight rupees! With his
own money my father opened an account with M/s. Thomas Cook converting the
whole amount of the scholarship, i.e. Rs. 5400/- into sterling. This was a great boon.

When the students came to know that I was leaving, they decided to bid me
farewell at a function. They presented me with a printed address which I reproduce
below:

18 My World of Preventive Medicine

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

Farewell Address

To

DR C. G. PANDIT, M.B.B.S.
Honorary Lecturer

B.J. Medical School, Poona

Respected Sir,

We, the students of the B.J. Medical School, Poona, beg leave to
approach you with this address on the occasion of your departure to
England from our midst and to express our profound respect and deep
sense of gratitude not only as a teacher of uncommon capacity and skill
but as an efficient chairman of the B.J. Medical School, Gymkhana.

We have heard with rapt attention your learned and lucid lectures
with unconcealed admiration; we have listened to your clinics in the
wards and at the laboratory. We were often moved to witness the interest
and loving care with which you uniformly treated us. To have your noble
self amongst us is to breathe an atmosphere of unselfishness, of love,
of sympathy and what is more of almost religious devotion to work.
Wherever we may be, we will always remember you with pleasure and
gratitude.

It is impossible to express our sorrow adequately in words on this
occasion (but separation like these is too common in this world) but
we must console ourselves with the thought that you are leaving for
England to qualify for higher degree and honours in the domain of
Medicine and Bacteriology.

We hope, however, that you will not forget the B. J. Medical School,
Poona and your loving students and do all you can to raise the status of
the Sub-Assistant Surgeon Class.

We bid you good-bye with heavy hearts and pray the Almighty to
shower blessings on you in return for all the kindness with which you
treated all of us while you were amongst us.

We beg to remain,
Respected Sir,

Your most obedient and loving students of the Byramjee
Jeejeebhoy Medical School, Poona

My World of Preventive Medicine 19

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

14th April 1920
If you are popular with students, they will always attribute to your virtues which
they or you, in saner moments, would never dream that you really possessed!
In due course I made preparations to go. Passport regulations did not exist
then, and in any case I was a “British Subject”. There were difficulties, however, in
securing a passage. No berths were available by any of the P&O Liners for three
months or more, and I had to be in London by September. Fortunately, the Scindia
Steam Navigation Company had decided to go into this business and had acquired
the S.S. “Loyalty”, an old ship used as a hospital ship during the first world war, for
their passenger traffic. It had already done its first trip to London, i.e. its “maiden”
voyage on 5th April 1920. Today that day is observed as National Maritime day in
recognition of the pioneering development of shipping in India! I secured a berth
on her second voyage and sailed for London on 18th June 1920.

20 My World of Preventive Medicine

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

LONDON

(1920-1923)

Life on board the ship was uneventful. There were very few foreigners on board
and we moved in our own little groups. At night, after dinner, there were
musical parties with harmonium and tabla. The atmosphere was entirely
Indian and life during the voyage could not be regarded as “preparation” for the
life in England!

After some three weeks or so, we arrived at Marseilles. The voyage was
prolonged as the ship had to wait for bunkering at Port Said. Whatever, the reasons,
the delay was attributed to deliberate neglect by the authorities, the British, for
ours was an Indian ship! The Port of Marseilles was very crowded, many ships were
awaiting berth and our disembarkation was considerably delayed. Ultimately, we
had to hurry to catch the train to Paris and Calais, leaving the clearance of our
baggage to “Cooks”. I got my trunk in London in due course but minus the note
books and pencils and stationery which I had carried for my own use!

On arrival in London, I was billeted at 21 Cromwell Road- an arrangement
made by the “India House” to lodge temporarily Indian students coming to
London. The next day, I went to India House to see what arrangements were made
for my studies. Miss Burke of the Education Department received me and told me
that she had already been in correspondence with Prof. R.T. Hewlett, Professor of
Bacteriology at the King’s College, London and suggested that I should see him.
I called on Prof. Hewlett the next day. He received me with great warmth. After
getting to know my background, he suggested that I should register myself for the
M.Sc. degree in bacteriology - a two -year course. I agreed and joined the College
next day.

The first few days were spent in discussing the subject matter of my proposed
thesis and the spare time in looking out for digs in London.

Here I may mention in passing that while I had no unpleasant experience
at the India House, the experience of other students was apparently different.
Most students I met subsequently complained of the indifferent attitude of the
officials. I had occasion to visit the India House many times in subsequent years

My World of Preventive Medicine 21

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

after independence and I had heard the same criticism.

I soon found out suitable lodgings at 20 Ainger’s Road, Chalk Farm, NW3.
It was a quiet neighbourhood, quite close to Regents Park. My room, though
spacious, was sparsely furnished, with rather a rickety iron bed. However, the
landlady was nice and tried to make me comfortable. She charged me £2 a week
for bed, breakfast and dinner. When she asked about diet, I told her that I was not
a vegetarian, and I would take anything except, of course, beef. “Would veal do
Sir?” she asked. Not knowing the difference, I said: “Yes - anything, but beef”. Later
when I came to know what “veal” was, I consoled myself with the thought that
after all it was only from an English cow! This has been confirmed by ‘Manu’ - the
script giver - that cow is not considered holy unless she has a hump and horns.

In due course, I applied and was registered in October 1920 as an internal
student of the University of London at King’s College, and later by a resolution
in May 1921, admitted as a candidate for the M.Sc degree in Bacteriology of the
University, “provided that he shall have passed the examination for a registrable
diploma in Public Health at least six months before entry for the M.Sc examination”.
I was rather intrigued with this proviso in the resolution. Prof. Hewlett had already
suggested that I should take the DPH London along with a qualification in
Bacteriology; it would serve me well in India, and as the course for the first part
of the DPH, which involved work in the laboratory, was being conducted in the
department, I was told later, I should not find any difficulty in completing it, that
the above proviso automatically regularised my working for the second part of the
DPH examination also, at other centres in London.

After some discussion, Prof. Hewlett allotted to me the subject for the thesis. He
suggested that I should work on the so called “Naisser -Weehsberg Phenomenon”.
These authors, working with an immune serum against ‘Vibrio metchnikovi’ had
observed that while medium doses of the inactivated serum showed a complete
bactericidal action against a certain dose of homologous bacteria in presence of
a definite dose of complement, larger or smaller dose had either a considerably
weaker action, or the bactericidal function was completely in abeyance, though
the doses of complement and bacteria employed were still the same. Many
views were put forward by other workers to explain the phenomenon. However,
the 1920 Thjotta, a Norwegian Scientist had published a paper in the Journal of
Immunology, suggesting that inhibition of the bactericidal function was due to
specific antibodies that arose during immunisation or even in natural disease.
These antibiotics were specific “inhibiting antibodies”.

After some general discussion on the techniques involved in such a study and
the facilities available in the department, I started work on the problem.

The atmosphere in the laboratory was very pleasant. There were two students
working for the M.Sc degree. One of them was Miss Soames. Our tables were side

22 My World of Preventive Medicine

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

by side and she often used to look into my results and offer suggestions. She had
some difficulty once in obtaining equipment or something for her work and the
Professor, apparently was lukewarm. She once asked the Professor how was it that
Pandit was getting all that he wanted? “Yes”, said the Professor, “I think he does
deserve some considerations since he has come from some six thousand miles
away to study”. Miss Soames herself had related this to me.

There were other students doing miscellaneous courses and some others
studying for the first part of the DPH course. Amongst them was Dr N. V. Pandit,
a distant relative but a friend from childhood. The Professor used to ask him to
help those students in their work. So we were all happy in our work and in our
environment.

Then an incident occurred which disturbed my equanimity a little and
incidentally introduced me to “Astrology”!

Winters in London can be very trying. I do not remember what the winter of
1920 was like, but there were cold spells and fogs as usual. Besides that, it was my
first winter in London and I was suffering from colds and coughs off and on. One
morning, after a bout of cough, I noticed a few flakes of blood in the sputum. Being
a bacteriologist, I made a few slides, about a dozen I think, and took them to the
laboratory and asked my cousin, Dr Pandit, to examine them. All were negative for
acid fast organisms but in one slide he found something suspicious. He asked me
to have a look. I did not, but instead asked the Professor to do it. The Professor was,
of course, told about its source. After a little while, he asked me to have a look and
almost cross-examined me on what I saw. It was an artifact but really a good one.
“Would you call it TB?” asked the Professor. “I wouldn’t” he said. I was of course
assured but perhaps seeing my anxiety and knowing that I would be worried, he
suggested and arranged for my thorough check up at the Bromption Hospital.
Eventually I got a clean bill of health.

However, that evening I related this episode to my friend Mr Chitnis who
was studying in the London School of Economics. He got my birth date, cast my
horoscope, and pronounced his judgement. I was susceptible to tuberculosis!
Finally he advised me, in all earnestness, that since discretion was better part of
valour, I should not take unnecessary risks and return to India forthwith! However,
I told him firmly that I would rather die of tuberculosis in England than return to
India on astrological grounds!

A few days later, as Christmas vacation was drawing close, many of my friends
from Oxford and Cambridge started arriving in London. My friend, Bapu Joshi, had
come to London from Cambridge. We were old friends from Bombay. Indeed, we
had played as children on the Sandhurst Road, while it was under construction. I
told him casually the tale of my horoscope reading. He was amused and asked me
about my birth date and the time. Fortunately, I knew the time of my birth since,

My World of Preventive Medicine 23

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

just prior to my departure, my father had got my horoscope read by someone in
Poona who had expressed the view that, according to my horoscope, there was
no prospect of my going abroad! I did not know then that Bapu was an astrologer.
After about 4 days, he gave his verdict “whatever you may die of”, he said, “you will
not die of tuberculosis. Not only that you have a long life, but I see that you have
an international reputation, and further added mischievously, though I think you
don’t deserve it.”

This was a long-term prediction and there were no means of verifying it and
judging Bapu’s capabilities as an astrologer. However, an opportunity to judge the
accuracy of his prediction soon came. Bapu came to our laboratory one morning
to see me. I was at the moment engaged in demonstrating something under a
microscope to a pretty young English girl - Miss Goodwin was her name, I think.
Seeing me thus engaged, Bapu remarked. “You seem to work under very pleasant
surroundings” I told him that if he was going to be naughty, I will soon get him into
trouble. I knew he hated looking at people’s horoscopes. I immediately told the girl
that my friend was an astrologer. “Would you like to consult him?” I added. That
did the trick. Bapu could not get out of the commitment. I do not know what he
told her but a few days later Miss Goodwin warned me not to consult my friend “if
you have anything to hide!”.

This episode had its sequel. I think few persons can really resist consulting an
astrologer. My tutor Col. Charles came to know of my friend’s interest in astrology
and wanted to consult him. After my friend had studied his horoscope, we were
invited to his home. Mrs. Charles was obviously worried lest my friend tell her
husband any unpleasant things. Col. Charles and my friend had their conference
and they joined us at tea. Col. Charles was visibly excited. My friend had told him
that he was worried about the result of a case pending before the court. The
litigation had arisen out of a transaction he had made years ago and my friend
even gave the date. “All this was correct” said Col. Charles, “but what was really
extraordinary was when he told me that I had fallen in love with a girl and it was
just as well that I did not marry her, for if I had (my friend had told him), she would
have murdered me! As a matter of fact, she did do something of the kind when she
married another person”.

I am referring to these incidents because, in later life, Bapu predicted many
things about my career which subsequently came correct. After our return to
India, on many occasions, we discussed astrology in relation to medicine. He was
convinced that study of that “science” would help many medical men even in
the the diagnosis of ailments or in considering predisposition to disease or even
in selecting dates for surgical operations. He would relate actual instances to
emphasise his point.

“Do you believe in astrology?” my friends often ask me. “Not to the extent of
basing my actions on astrological predictions. I have never done it, not even in

24 My World of Preventive Medicine

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

regard to arranging my daughters’ marriage. I believe that some people are more
gifted than others in interpreting astrological data - a sixth sense, if you like to term
it.” I would end the discussion with these words.

Bapu Joshi is no more. He was my friend, philosopher and guide in many
ways. He had a brilliant academic career and was known for his competence and
efficiency as an officer of the Reserve Bank of India. He was happily married. But,
after his wife’s death, he was miserable, living alone in a flat. I wonder if he knew
what was in store for him, if he had interpreted his own horoscope!

During my stay, life in London was socially enjoyable. I had good neighbours.
S. G. Panandikar was living next door. Dr Ambedkar who was studying for the Ph.D
was also staying nearby. He had consulted me once for his headache but we did
not meet often. Down the road, at 19 King Henry Road, lived many Indians--S.B.
Junnarkar, Shinde, S. P. Joshi and V.P. Karmarkar. This was our rendezvous during
the weekends. The chief attraction was the excellent meals provided by Mrs. Cox,
the landlady. After dinner, we used to discuss occasionally the news from India
and other topics. One day, as we were discussing, Mrs. Cox walked in and told
us that a “Bobby” was outside inquiring who we were! She told us that he was
quite a frequent visitor! Did the authorities think we were revolutionaries? We had
also occasional visitors from Cambridge. During the summer, Dhananjay Gadgil
came over and we decided to go to the sea side to spend a few days. We chose
Bournemouth. When I suggested that we should book some accommodation in
advance, Dhananjay said “Don’t worry, Chintu. We shall find some place when we
get there”. We did not, although we had to wander about the whole day in search
of accommodation. When the landladies found out that we were Indians, they had
no rooms! This was our first experience of the colour prejudice in England! Since
there was no choice, we were forced to book in the Hotel Imperial at one pound a
day! As students, we could hardly afford such an expensive accommodation and
had to cut short our holiday and return to London the next day. “How should we
punish ourselves for our folly?” asked Dhananjay. Without giving me a chance
to reply he said, “Let us smoke to punish ourselves”. At that time we were both
novices. Thoughtlessly, we bought packets of cigarettes and smoked furiously till
we finished them. After that we then thought was just and sufficient punishment,
we caught the train and returned to London with a severe headache due to
smoking! After that I did not smoke for the next ten years. How I became a smoker
later on is yet another story!

It is a gratifying thought that all my friends of the time attained eminence in
their respective fields subsequently but our friendship continued even afterwards.

In the Christmas of 1921, Sabnis and I decided to go to Germany. We had
invested in German marks at the time since the exchange rate was favourable. It
was my intention to buy a microscope and a few other instruments in Germany.
The mark was, however, going down the hill and rapidly. We thought it was better

My World of Preventive Medicine 25

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

to go there and spend the money than wait any longer. Mr Nair, the nephew of Sir
Shankaran Nair, also decided to join us. Though we had the passports, there was
some difficulty in getting visas from the German Consulate in London. Mr Sabnis
did not get it initially. I got it because I had stated that I wanted to visit some
hospitals in Germany. Mr Sabnis got the visa eventually after producing a letter
from some missionary father from Germany. Our first halt was at Brussels where
Prof. Vaidya, a Government of India scholar and a Professor at the Willingdon
College, Sangli, had made all the arrangements for our stay. In Germany Shri Korde
whom I had met in London, was going to look after us. Besides, we had a letter
of introduction to one Dr Lieff, a Russian refuge. He was a friend of Mr and Mrs.
Martini, also Russians, who were studying in London. Our stay in Germany was
most comfortable with visits to theatres, cabarets, restaurants and, of course, to a
few German families! In conversation, we were often asked “Do Indians beat their
wives?” I did not know how they got this impression. Vehemently we denied the
charge but secretly I would have replied “No, we wish we did”. Others were very
happy to meet us for we were Tagore’s countrymen! I will not detail here other
interesting happenings. I made my purchases with the help of Dr Lieff and left for
London. I did not have any trouble at customs in Europe but at Dover, the custom
authorities had to examine my belongings and assess duty in terms of the new
“Key Industries Bill” recently passed, I believe, by the Parliament. I was charged £2
duty. I did not have much money on me for I had to spend an extra day at Ostend
because of bad weather. Besides I had to have some money for the taxi fare in
London. I could spare only a pound! All this talk took time and the train was about
to leave. The custom official, apparently in disgust, shouted “Pack up those things
in your suitcase, pay one pound and get on the train”. I hurried to the platform. The
guard seeing me running, and as the train was about to leave, pushed me in the
1st class carriage and labelled the compartment “Third Class” with chalk and shut
the door! Absence of money saved me from paying full duty and in the bargain I
travelled first class!

The work in the laboratory was proceeding smoothly and my thesis was
taking shape. When Miss Soames saw the results, she said, “the work deserves a
Ph.D.!” “Why don’t you try?” Apparently, the University had introduced the degree
mainly, I suppose, to attract students from the continent-a post-war development.
I went to the Professor and asked him whether I could change my registration
from M.Sc to the Ph.D. “why?” asked the Professor. “We don’t really make much
difference between M.Sc and Ph.D. It is the work that counts”. “Sir”, I said, “it might
make a lot of difference to me in India”. “Consult the Registrar of the University, if
that is possible”, he advised.

I saw the Registrar of the University. He advised me that change in the
registration would be possible only if the Academic Council would approve of it, and
then said “Why don’t you ask your Professor? If he supports it could easily be done”
and gave me a wink. I related the conversation to the Professor. He smiled and

26 My World of Preventive Medicine

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

asked me to apply. In due course, my registration was changed without stipulating
many conditions. I had to appear, unless excused, for two written papers on two
subjects, one of which was Hygiene!

I did not know who the external examiner was and did not try to find out.
Then one morning in the class, Col. Charles, our tutor, suggested that he would
like to discuss the question of food poisoning and that I should take the class on
that. It occurred to me whether it was not an indication to me that Dr Savage was
the external examiner. I said nothing but promptly bought Savage’s book on “Food
Poisoning” and read it to prepare myself for the eventuality. As it turned out, my
guess was right. He was the external examiner for the Ph.D.

Then came the day of the viva voce. I was exempted from appearing at
the written examination. After the preliminary introduction by the Professor, Dr
Savage discussed with me the Thesis and suggested some modifications in the
text before it was sent for publication and then asked me a question “What do
you do for Cholera in India?” “So far as I know, nothing” I replied. At this, the two
roared with laughter. “You have nipped the question in the bud”, said Dr Savage.
I felt very uneasy and started explaining what should be done to control cholera.
However, before I could really proceed to explain, Dr Savage said “That is alright, Dr
Pandit. You might go”. I did not know what to make of this and I left the room with
a nagging thought that I had done badly. Next day when I sought the Professor
just to apologise, he smiled and merely said “That is alright, Pandit”. His smile
reassured me. In due course. I was declared to have passed the examination. I was
the recipient of the Ph.D degree of the London University! The Professor and Col.
Charles were very pleased indeed and congratulated me profusely.

A few days later, I received the following communication from the Secretary
of the King’s College which I reproduce below.

My World of Preventive Medicine 27

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

Memorandum from To

Secretary’s Office C. Pandit, Esq, MB PhD

King’s College, 27-9-1922

London W.C. 2



The Secretary, in congratulating you on having
been the first recipient of the London Phd degree in
Bacteriology, would like to call your attention to the
following facts.

The Ph.D degree by Senate regulation, can only be
awarded after a two years’ full time course, or on 4 years’
part time course, the total fees in either case being £44-
2-0.

As, however, you were entered on the College books
as working for the M.Sc., it would appear that in view
of the D.P.H. course you took here, you were allowed to
proceed to Ph.D.

The fees paid by you for the D.P.H. were £24, and for
the M.Sc. £18, totalling £42. Would you, therefore, kindly
send a cheque for £2-2-0 to clear your account?

28 My World of Preventive Medicine

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

By this time I had finished with Part I of D.P.H. examination and for Part II had
registered myself under Dr Trotter, medical officer of health, Dulwitch. It was easy to
make this arrangement for Mrs. Trotter, who was also a student in the department.
My knowledge for Part II was purely theoretical. There was a small booklet of
Sanitary Law, which I had learnt by heart. I did well in the examination. This was
because of two reasons. In the winter of 1921, there was a thick fog over London.
It was, however, high up. The sun was not visible but the city carried on as usual
with street and house lights burning. It looked really as night. This phenomenon
was widely discussed in the London newspapers since it was unusual. There was
one question on this in the paper which, naturally, I could answer well. Again, I
had occasion to study the Report of the Principal Medical Officer of Health of the
Ministry of Health for the year 1919. It was splendid Report. It gave full details about
the introduction of plague and smallpox in England with details of the voyages
of the ships which had brought the infection. The steps taken to deal with the
possible outbreaks were also mentioned. There was also a question on this in the
examination paper. I had answered the questions fully. Indeed, Dr Hope, Medical
Officer of Health of Liverpool, who was one of the examiners, congratulated me on
this during the oral examination. Thus, I also got the D.P.H. well before I was due
to appear for the Ph.D.

There were still some eight months or so to go before the expiry of the period
of my scholarship. Since, as I believed, my work on return to India would be mostly
in a research institute or in some such assignment, I felt it would be advisable to
utilize the remaining period in studying for the Diploma in Tropical Medicine of
the London University. Since the course was to start some three months or so later,
I continued to work in Prof. Hewlett’s department. Then one morning I received
the following letter from the Professor:

My World of Preventive Medicine 29

Early Years (Bombay, Poona, London) (1894-1923)

July 21, 1922
Dear Pandit,
I received letter of July 17 enclosed. So replied you
were the only man I know. Today I have the second letter
suggesting you may be approached. Of course I did it only
on “Spec”, and if you do not care to take it, you must write
and say so, explaining that I had not been able to consult
you beforehand. You can get to Reading from Paddington in
about an hour and good train service. You see they will pay
fares-or you might like to stay at Reading and have a holiday
on the days you are not working!
Yours sincerely,
R. T. Hewlett

This had reference to a request from Dr A.H. Miller, Pathologist of the Royal
Berkshire Hospital, Reading, for someone to act as locum when he went on leave
for 4 weeks during summer.

Of course, I agreed for three pounds a week for work for only 3 days in the
week was a sound proposition! Dr Miller incidentally wrote: “I should like, apart
from the locum tenancy to have the pleasure of your acquaintance. I myself was
born in Ceylon and have a brother and numerous relatives in your country”. My
duties were mainly to supervise the work of the staff. Dr Miller had added as a
post-script to his letter “My man Taylor can diagnose KLB, at a pinch but requires
supervision!”

After the termination of this assignment, I joined the D.T.M. course at the
London School of Tropical Medicine. This was a tougher course but very well
organised and I completed it successfully.

Thus ended my academic studies in London, and I returned to India by the P&O
Liner S.S. Maloja in December 1923.

30 My World of Preventive Medicine

PART II

INTRODUCTION TO
PREVENTIVE MEDICINE

(1924-1948)

Introduction to preventive medicine (1924-1948)

CHAPTER I

DESTINATION MADRAS

Immediately on arrival in Bombay I went to see my parents and wife who were
in Dhulia. After a week, I went to Poona to see whether there was any opening
for me in the Sassoon Hospital where I had worked before. Col. Houston, the
Surgeon General, received me well and told me that there was no possible position
for me in the B. J. Medical School since the post of the Hon. Lecturer in Pathology
had been made a full time one and another had been appointed to that post.
As I was about to leave his office, he asked me “Why don’t you try in the Parel
Laboratory in Bombay?” (It was not designated as the Haffkine Institute at that
time). “Do you know Col. Mackie, the Director of the Laboratory?” When I said I
did not, he advised me to see him and gave me a letter of introduction to see him.

Col. Mackie received me well and after perusal of Col. Houston’s letter said, What
unusual qualifications do you have? Apparently, Col. Houston had referred to me
in his letter of introduction as one having “unusual” qualifications in Bacteriology!
I gave him the details of my academic career in London and presented him a
copy of my thesis. He glanced at it for a few moments and sent for Dr Hamilton
Fairley who was then working in the Institute. I learnt later that the Government
of Bombay was contemplating opening of a School of Tropical Medicine at the
Institute and Dr Fairley was asked to make preliminary exploration in that respect.
After introduction Col. Mackie exclaimed to Dr Fairley “Don’t you think Dr Pandit
should be a member of the medical research department of the Government of
India?”

After some general conversation, Col. Mackic asked me what my plans were. It
was then agreed that after spending some time with my family I should work in the
Institute in an honorary capacity on some problem pending further developments.

I left The Institute in a buoyant mood!
At this time, I made the acquaintance of Dr Raghavendra Rao, M.D. in State
Medicine of the London University. He was doing clinical practice in Bombay but
basically his interest was in research. He used to practise mostly in the morning

32 My World of Preventive Medicine

Introduction to preventive medicine (1924-1948)

and in the afternoon he used to work in the Parel Laboratory of the Grant Medical
College. He took for granted that I would be doing bacteriological and pathological
practice in Bombay and so invited me to join him in his research, particularly
on leprosy and leishmaniasis. He was disappointed when I did not show much
enthusiasm regarding the setting up of a private practice. It was of course a very
lucrative field. Dr Vaidya was a very prosperous practitioner in this field and he too
advised me to set up practice. My name was suggested for the post of Professor
of Bacteriology in the Grant Medical College. Dr V. R. Khanolkar who had returned
from England a year or so previously had been appointed Professor of Pathology.
He was very keen that I join the College and supported me at the meeting of the
College Council. However, the Council passed a resolution that, while I was ‘best
qualified academically to fill in the post’, they could not ignore the claims of one
who was doing the job well and so needed promotion.

However, as previously decided, I returned to Bombay after spending about a
month with my family at Nasik and reported to Col. Mackie to work as an honorary
worker at the Haffkine Institute. He provided me with laboratory space in the
verandah adjoining the ‘Darbar Hall’. The two verandahs on either side of the
Hall were filled with laboratory benches. Col. Mackie suggested that I might work
on the typing of the pneumococci-a subject which was receiving considerable
attention at that time. Since I had to visit the J.J. Hospital to collect specimens, the
Director had issued an office order placing the staff car at my disposal ‘whenever
I wanted it’.

Then one morning while I was working in the laboratory Col. Mackie sent for
me and informed me that Col. Needham, Deputy Director-General I.M.S., New
Delhi, was on a visit to Bombay. “It is absolutely essential that you should see him.
I do not know what his program is, or where he is staying. Please find out and see
him with this letter. This is most important since you may not get an opportunity
to see him in the immediate future.” Col. Needham, I learnt afterwards, was a
very influential member of the I.M.S. was primarily responsible for the selection of
officers for the Indian Medical Service.

It was indeed a tough assignment to locate Col. Needham. Ultimately, I came
to know through my uncle that he was attending a meeting at the University at
4 PM. I decided to wait there to see him. As the meeting was over, Dr Rao who
was also at the meeting, came out. “What are you doing here?” he asked. I told
him the reason for my being there. “Why do you want to dance attendance on
them?” he blurted out. “Where is the need?” he said. I only said that I have been
asked to see him. I met Col. Needham as he came out and handed him the letter
of introduction. He asked me to see him at the Grand Hotel next day at 10 AM. I
met him at the appointed hour the next day. The interview lasted for nearly an
hour when he questioned me on all that I had done in London. Finally he asked
me what I wanted to do.

My World of Preventive Medicine 33

Introduction to preventive medicine (1924-1948)

“Would there be a position in the Medical Research Department of the
Government of India?” I asked.

“We would certainly try but if that was not possible, at least at present?”

“I do not know what other openings I could suggest, but if nothing is possible,
I would not mind working as a Research Fellow”.

“I see, so you have nothing else in mind?”

I did not answer. I know what he was driving at, i.e., joining the Indian Medical
Service. Dr V. T. Korke who was then in the research department had strongly
advised me not to join the IMS if I was keen on research. So finally, I kept silent.

The interview was over. Before leaving, however, Col. Needham asked me to
remind him of this interview by letter which, he said, must reach him within three
days. I promised to do that and I left.

About two years later when I had acted as the Director of the King Institute
of Preventive Medicine, Guindy, in a leave vacancy and had thus access to
confidential correspondence, I came across a letter written by Col. Needham to
the then Director of the King Institute, Lt. Col. Cunningham in which he had stated
that “in his opinion, Dr Pandit was a suitable person to be a member of our Service,
(i.e., IMS). However, for some reason he did not take the hint”.

Incidentally, the decision not to join the IMS had cost me Rs. 400/- per month
in allowances alone, apart from the benefits of a much higher pay and pension!
However, even today, I do not regret that decision for reasons which will be
apparent later!

Bapu Joshi had returned to India soon after I had arrived. Talking to him one
day I asked him “Since you know so much astrology, would you tell me when and
if I was going to get a job?” A few days later he came and told me “You will hear
about it on the 15th April. If you don’t get the job then it is not likely that you will get
it this year!”. I said, “At least till the end of the year you were not likely to be wrong
in your prediction!”

Weeks rolled by. Then one morning early in July, I received a letter from the
Government of India, New Delhi, intimating that I was appointed to the Medical
Research Department of the Government of India and that I was posted as Officer
on Special Duty at the King Institute of Preventive Medicine, Guindy, Madras. It also
stated that in the event of Dr B.P.B. Naidu being appointed to the department, I
would be considered junior to him. In a letter to Col. Mackie, it was also stated that
the decision to appoint me was taken at the meeting held on 15th April 1924.

It might be worthwhile at this stage to mention the composition of the
Medical Research Department of the Government of India. The Secretary of State
in London had sent a despatch in 1920 constituting the Department. It consisted

34 My World of Preventive Medicine

Introduction to preventive medicine (1924-1948)

of 24 posts to be manned by IMS officers and six posts by Indian “Non-IMS” officers.
The IMS officers were eligible to draw their grade pay, and in addition, Rs. 200/-
per month-an additional allowance for the privilege of doing medical research! If
any of the officers-both IMS and Non- IMS were appointed as Director of Research
Laboratories, they were eligible to receive Rs. 200/- per month as additional pay.
It was, however, stipulated in the dispatch that non-IMS officers, if selected for
the post of Public Health Commissioner of the Government of India, would be
eligible to the grade pay admissible to the IMS officers. No non-IMS Indian was
ever appointed to this post! By agreement with the Provinces, the posts of the
Directors, Central Institute, Kasauli, Malaria Institute of India, Kasauli; the Director
and Assistant Director of the Haffkine Institute, King Institute, Madras; Director,
Pasteur Institute and Medical Research Institute, Shillong, and Director of Pasteur
Institute, Kasauli, Coonoor and Burma were filled. These provisions continued till
independence when the Government of India abolished the department!

Dr B. P. B. Naidu, M.D., was working in the Haffkine Institute on the preparation
of the plague vaccine under the aegis of the Indian Research Fund Association. He
had told me then that scrutinizing all the details of technique laid down by Dr
Haffkine, it was hardly possible to make any significant alterations in the procedure
he had laid down. So meticulous was his work almost in every detail laid down for
the manufacture!

I started making preparations to go to Madras. The family was rather
disappointed that I was going ‘so far away’. My uncle suggested that instead of
staying in a hotel, I should stay with Mr. Dandekar whom he knew, and who was
the Principal of the Law College in Madras and make the necessary arrangements
later in consultation with him. I also wrote to Col. Cunningham, the Director of the
King Institute, informing him that I would be reporting for duty on the 15th July.

So I left Bombay by the Madras mail on the evening of the 12th July 1924. My
“Green Years” were over.

My World of Preventive Medicine 35

Introduction to preventive medicine (1924-1948)

CHAPTER II

FIRST FEW YEARS IN THE INSTITUTE

I
I report for duty

Iarrived in Madras on the morning of 14th July 1924. Temporarily I was going
to stay with the Dandekar family. Mr Dandekar was then the Principal of
Commerce College in Madras. I was received at the station by Narayan
Dandekar, a lad of 14 who had just passed his matriculation examination. I must
say even then I was quite impressed with the young Dandekar. He was a frequent
visitor to my house, especially when I was alone for the first three months of
my stay in Madras. In spite of the difference in our age, we developed very close
attachment to each other. Little did I know then to what heights he was to rise and
what role he was to play in shaping the country’s affairs after independence.

I reported for duty at the King Institute on the morning of the 15th. Since I
had no transport, I travelled by the suburban train and walked to the Institute
from Guindy station and reported to Lt. Col. Cunningham, who was then the
Director of the Institute. I knew later that he was the son of the famous anatomist,
Cunningham.

I must say I did not find my first encounter with the Director very cordial. He
introduced me to Dr D.A. Tarkhad, Assistant Director of the Institute and almost
shouted:

“Well, Tarkhad, here is Dr Pandit who has reported for duty. I do not know
why the Government of India should take these young officers in the Department.
Anyway, look after him for a while and we shall see later what duties to assign to
him”.

I knew that Col. Cunningham was a very hard task master. I was also warned
that he never issued direct orders to any officers to do anything. It was his practice
to discuss the problem with his colleagues and expect them to follow his guidelines.

One evening at 6 PM I was coming out of the Institute on my way to the railway
station. Col. Cunningham was just coming to the Institute at that time.

“What have you been doing?” he asked. I said I was in the library, reading the
annual reports of the Institute for previous years.

36 My World of Preventive Medicine