Chapter 01

MEDICINE, MORALS
EXPERIENCES FROM THE FIRST MBBS
-By: Dr. Ishtyaque Ansari
Published by Frog Books, Mumbai 2007
© Dr. Ishtyaque Ansari 2007


For my daughter, Maliha


Author’s note
This book has been written for fun-reading. Although the story has been set
on my alma mater, The Government Medical College, Baroda, and some of
the incidents narrated in this book have been inspired by real-life
experiences, I would like to stress here that this is a work of fiction, and the
characters mentioned in this book resemble no one in particular. Baroda city
has been renamed Vadodara, but I have taken the liberty to use its former
name for the sake of nostalgia.


Chapter1.


I alighted from the double-decker and briskly moved my five-foot-five inch lean frame
towards the main gate, staring with awe at the colossal Baroda Medical College building
that so disdainfully eluded a multitude of aspirants each year. Although I had traversed
the vicinity on incalculable occasions in the past two years of my stay in the city, I could
never dare enough to stare at the giant architecture. It seemed too insurmountable; utterly
inaccessible.
Only two years back, in the summer of 1982, the principal of Central school,
Ankleshwar, had shaken his head while handing over my tenth class board exam results.
“Good luck, son”, he’d said, “I do believe you can do better in your twelfth class boards”.
The school at Ankleshwar followed the CBSE board, and had classes only up to tenth,
and as there was no other English medium school in the town, I was sent to Basil School,
Baroda, for eleventh and twelfth classes, under the Gujarat state board. I surprised
everyone, including myself and my dad, by doing well enough in higher secondary exams
to secure admission to the Baroda Medical College.
My blue-white checked shirt did not exactly go with my olive green trousers but
this was the best I could garner for the opening day. The labor that I’d put in polishing
my worn-out black moccasins still had effect. The fact that I was conscious of what I was
wearing, made me realize how really convenient school uniforms were. They never told
the poor from the rich students. I proudly carried a single notebook as against the heavy
bags we used to haul to school. I had arrived.
I reached the main foyer, and was soon lost in a sea of humans. Students and
their parents stood in small groups, and indulged in genteel frolicking. I looked around,
and suddenly missed my mom and dad. My grandfather was recovering from a recent
appendicitis surgery, and my parents were helping him recuperate. They had, however,
promised to be at my hostel by afternoon to help me settle in.
I craned my neck and looked around the foyer to try and locate my only other
classmate from Basil school, who made it to the Medical college. He was nowhere to be
seen, and I quickly gave up the search. A local lad, Brij was the son of a professor of
history at the arts faculty at the Maharaja Sayajirao University, to which the Baroda
Medical College was also affiliated. His dad had an additional responsibility- that of
being the warden of one of the boys’ hostels in the MSU hostel campus. I was beginning
to feel lost, when the PA system crackled to life and the new students were instructed to
proceed to the main lecture hall on the second floor. The crowd began to move towards
the staircase, the students more hastily than their folks. Some of the guardians even
waved to their wards as if they were going to be away for months. God!
I joined my fellow students, trying hard to find a recognizable face among
strangers. Most of the freshers were impeccably dressed for the occasion. Many of them
talked and laughed as if they had known each other for years. I was to learn later that
unlike my own, several other leading schools in Baroda were able to send multiple
students to the medical college.
The crowd soon found the lecture hall and everyone entered the amphitheatre,
looking expectantly at the podium, hoping perhaps to find a bearded professor on it. For
some reason, I didn’t want to be in the front row and made my way to the wooden steps
that lead to the rear of the hall. As I tried to find a convenient seat for myself, I heard my
name called out. “Ajay!” For a second I thought that among 140 students, there could
easily be another Ajay. When I heard it again, this time louder, I turned to my left to see
Brij waving to me from one of the rear rows. ‘Excuse me, excuse me,’ I squeezed
between rows to reach him. “Hi Ajay!” he exclaimed, giving me a warm handshake,
“didn’t see you downstairs. You arrived late?”
“Of course not,” I said, “in fact I kept looking for you in the foyer.”
“Oh yeah, quite a crowd it was, down there. I was with my parents and brother.”
“So”, he continued, “how do you feel on your first day here?”
“I’m excited, alright.”
"That's an understatement, he said, "I'm just raring to go."
The lecture hall was now full of loud chatter, much like a fish market. A group of girls,
right in the front, was particularly noisy.
"Settled down at the hostel?" said Brij, raising his voice, to beat the blare.
"No, not yet,” I said, "I got the hostel and the room number and all, but I'm yet to move
in. My parents will meet me directly at the hostel later today with all my baggage. In fact,
I don't even know who my room-mates are."
"You are allotted a room at the SP hall, aren't you, the one next to ours?" he asked,
referring to the Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel hostel. His, or rather the hostel that his dad
oversaw as a warden, was MP hall or Manubhai Patel hall. His family was provided with
a modest family accommodation on the top floor of the hostel building. For first MBBS,
i.e. for the first one and a half years, we were to stay at the common university hostels
that housed students from all faculties. Second MBBS onwards, we would be provided
accommodation in medical hostels. When I was attending school at Basil, I had put up as
a paying guest with the family of my dad’s friend. Staying in a hostel at ‘such a young
age’ was unimaginable for my mom.
Brij was short for Brijmohan Sharma, son of Dr. PC Sharma. His parents had arrived in
Baroda about twenty years back and his dad has been associated with the department of
history, MS University, ever since. At the moment he was the Professor and Head. Brij
was the elder of the professor’s two children. Brij's younger brother was in the same
school as ours, studying in class eleven.
The loud chatter turned into a mild murmur before dying out completely. Everyone got
up as a short and plump lady entered the lecture hall and stood exactly at the center of the
podium as if there was a mark indicating the very spot. She was dark and had short, jetblack
dyed hair that looked pompously out of place on her aging head. She wore a
maroon lipstick and her ostentatiously carved eyebrows were indicative of her time spent
at the parlor. For unknown reasons she had put on a sleeveless blouse with her cotton sari
that vulgarly exposed her deeply pigmented, ugly armpits whenever she raised her arms.
Despite her garish appearance, there was an aristocratic touch to her personality; maybe
from the way she carried herself.
"Good morning, students, sit down, please. I am Dr. Beena Mehta, Professor and Head,
department of Physiology. I welcome you all on behalf of the Dean, Dr. PK Gulati, all
other teachers and non-teaching staff of this college." Her voice rang out across the
lecture hall loud and clear, as if she spoke into a PA system. The huskiness in her voice
added to her persona.
"I am sure you’ve all worked really hard at school to be here. Out of 56,000 plus students
who appeared for the twelfth class board exams this year, only 625 made it to the medical
colleges across Gujarat. 140 of them are here. So, it is easy to assume that you all are
brilliant students and have made your parents proud. Congratulations!" She paused for a
moment to let her remark sink in.
"But," she waved her hand in front of her as if asking us to forget our prior achievements,
"this is just the beginning of a long journey for you as you'll have to spend a tleast five
and a half, long, hard-working years for your MBBS." She stressed on ‘at least’ to
emphasize that it would be easy for many of us to flunk one or more exams on the way to
being certified doctors. "Followed by one year of internship before you get your medical
degree. After that, many of you might want to do a post-graduation, which means another
three years." She paused once more to let her words take effect before continuing.
“This adds to eight and half years, if you don't count the hiccups on the way, that is."
I began to wonder if she was sent here with specific instructions to shoo off the weakhearted
students at the outset.
"So," Dr. Beena Mehta had started enjoying the routine that was probably followed year
after year, "Although most of you are sure to become doctors, good doctors at that, I
would like to stress here that nothing is going to be a cake-walk. There will be three
MBBS courses- the first, second and the third MBBS. Each will last for one and a half
years. Each MBBS course is further divided in three terms, like first MBBS will be
divided as I/I, I/II and I/III. Ditto for the second and third MBBS. First MBBS will be
totally non-clinical, that means you don't get to be anywhere near the patients. You'll be
taught four subjects in first MBBS: anatomy, physiology, biochemistry and PSM. Each
subject will have equal weightage in theory and practicals. There will be term exams at
the end of every six months and they'll count in the final exams too, so watch out. Apart
from the term exams, each term will be littered with vivas every now and then, the
schedules of which will be given to you all in advance."
"This is getting heavy, man,” whispered Brij, nudging at me.
"You bet," I said, "I'm nervous."
"Any question?" She asked, finally, scanning the class with quick, jerky movements of
her head in all directions, "None? Very well, then, best of luck to you all. I'll see you
tomorrow for the first physiology lecture." She left as elegantly as she had arrived.
Murmurs resurfaced as soon as Dr. Mehta was out of sight and most of the students
seemed to be asking each other the questions that they'd have directed at Dr. Mehta
instead, if they had the guts.
Nothing happened for about five minutes and the class started getting restless. A
handful of students got up from their seats, cajoling their friends to join them for a trip to
the canteen. At that moment, a group of boys and girls made their way into the lecture
hall. They stood on the podium and waited for the students to stop talking and take
notice. One guy in the group raised both his hands, gesturing at the students to pay
attention.
"Hi, I am Laurence D'Souza, the general secretary of the Medical Students Association in
this college." He waited for a while before continuing, almost proudly, "I am a student of
III MBBS, II term. I have with me some of my colleagues. They are a part of the
Executive Committee or the EC that works with me. Today, we shall take you all on an
orientation tour of the college. You will be divided in groups of ten students each and
each group will be escorted by two seniors during the tour. You'll first be taken around
the college itself, but later, if time permits and if you all are interested, we shall take you
to tour the hospital facilities as well." He paused, probably to invite questions if any.
There were none. "Here is a list of roll numbers," He said pulling out a bunch papers
from a folder. "Step out of the hall and divide yourself in groups of ten according to your
roll numbers.” He began handing out copies of the roll call randomly. Soon, fourteen
groups of ten students each were formed and two seniors escorted each group for the
orientation tour. Brij and I too scrambled to find and join our respective groups after
promising to see each other later.
Gagan and Parul, our seniors from III/II were our leaders for the orientation tour.
They took us on an extensive tour of the college building, lasting two hours. The college
building, about four decades old, was in a good shape. The ground floor of the three
storied monument housed the dean’s offices, the accounts office, and the departments of
preventive and social medicine (PSM) and general medicine, apart from the ladies rest
room, the recreation room and of course, the canteen. The first floor had the departments
of pathology, microbiology and pharmacology. The third floor had the anatomy,
physiology and biochemistry departments. All three floors had two lecture halls each,
apart from a locker section that was used by the students. The various departments had
separate offices for the heads of the department and another room for the rest of the
teaching staff.
All the while during the orientation tour, the group leaders kept on talking about the dos
and don’ts at medical college. They even gave us an outline of the personalities of the
various professors. Gagan mimicked a few, making Parul laugh.
By the time we finished with the college building, we were all famished and no
one was in a mood to check out the hospital premises. We had all our lives for the
hospitals.
After saying hurried good-byes I left immediately for the hostel administrative
offices. The muster indicated that my room number was 32 and my roommates were
Achal Mishra and Sunil Kapoor: first MBBS, faculty of medicine. Hey, wait a minute, I
know these guys. They were students of the prestigious Rosary school, one of the best
schools in Baroda. And I had met them earlier on several occasions at a coaching class.
Theirs was a different batch at the classes, but the Rosary guys were famous. Always full
of confidence, often bordering on arrogance. I hoped these two weren’t the snobbish
kind.
After lunch at the hostel mess (the food was awful but I was told by someone that
I'd soon get used to it), I found my parents in the visitors' room. Room number 32 was at
the fag end of the left wing of the ground floor, right by the loo. So I’ll have to live with
the stink besides Achal and Sunil. My mom helped me arrange my stuff. Since I was the
first to reach the room, I picked up the best of the furniture for myself - a cupboard, a cot,
a table and a chair. The furniture was not in fabulous condition, but wasn’t bad either. My
mom blah blahed a long list of dos and don'ts before leaving, but it was my dad who
knew my worldly needs. He quietly stuffed my pocket with cash for the month. I knew
my dad did not make much from his job as an accounts manager in a pharmaceutical
company, so I decided to spend the money with care. As soon as my parents left, two
boys barged into the room with two heavy suitcases each. Their parents followed behind.
I think it was Achal who noticed me first. "Hi, I'm Achal. Meet my parents, that’s Sunil,
and his parents.”
"And I am Ajay," I said politely with a sweeping glance on everybody, "Hello,
everyone."
"You're a fresher too? Which faculty?" asked Sunil.
"Medicine", I said. "I’m with you guys."
"Oh, yeah? That’s nice."
"We've met earlier at Cholkar's classes, if you remember."
Achal and Sunil glanced at each other and shook their heads.
"Is that so? Maybe." said Sunil.
Soon, the conversation drifted from one subject to another: Schools, hometown, parents,
siblings and hobbies.
Both Achal and Sunil were from Ahmedabad. While Achal's dad was with the western
railways, Sunil's dad was a general manager in the Indian Oil Corporation or the IOC.
Both had shared the same room at Rosary's hostel in the last two years. Same school,
same hostel, I thought. Maybe they’d make a twosome and leave me to fend for myself.
The feeling wasn't good: I felt left out. I wished Brij could live with me in the hostel.
(Chapter 2 in the next blog post- See how life begins for a medical student)
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