Pages from My Life

If you have read the "Random Ramblings" chapter in my book M Square of a V Square, you already know what you are in for. My mind has a peculiar habit. It starts with one subject, takes a right turn into another, makes an unexpected U-turn, wanders into a third, and finally arrives somewhere I never intended to go. Surprisingly, most of the time I manage to return safely! For quite some time, I was wondering whether these wandering thoughts should become another book. Then my grandson, Eshwar, came to my rescue. Instead of saying, "Thatha, write another book," he quietly created a website for me—drbalasubramanianwrites.in. That solved my problem beautifully. Why imprison my thoughts inside a book when they can roam freely as blogs? So, "This & That" was born. The title explains everything. There is no timetable, no syllabus, no examination and certainly no guarantee about what will appear next! A WhatsApp message may inspire one article, a childhood mem...

When I Joined Government Service in 1960, I Didn't Know I Was Rich! Recently, a friend forwarded me the above image showing what Rs. 10 could buy in 1960. I read it with great interest. Then I did a little mental arithmetic. My starting salary in January 1960 was Rs. 199 per month. Good heavens! If ten rupees had so much purchasing power, I must have been a wealthy young Veterinary Assistant Surgeon without ever realising it! In my first book, Memoirs of a Veteran Veterinarian, I have mentioned that I would occasionally give my mother Rs. 50 or even Rs. 100. At that time, I thought I was merely helping her. Looking at the figures now, I realise I was making royal donations. The irony is that I never felt rich. There were no mobile phones, no air-conditioners, no online shopping and no expensive coffee shops tempting us every day. Our needs were simple, our wants were few, and our happiness was abundant. Looking back, I now realise that I was richer than I ever knew—not only in mone...

In the early 1970s, when I was about thirty-five, I developed a rather embarrassing problem. The tip of my nose slowly turned a light reddish colour. It wasn't painful, and it didn't interfere with my breathing, but it did interfere with my peace of mind. At first, I ignored it. After all, we are experts at hoping that minor problems will disappear if left alone. Mine, however, showed no intention of leaving. I began to imagine that, given enough time, I might qualify for a job as a clown in a circus without even applying. All I needed was a colourful wig and a pair of oversized shoes! At last, I decided to consult one of the city's most famous dermatologists. As I entered his consulting room, I was greeted by an unexpected sight. The doctor's own nose was considerably larger than mine and noticeably darker than the rest of his face. To make matters even more interesting, he kept rubbing and scratching it while examining me. I couldn't help thinking, "If this i...

This incident took place during the MISA Emergency in April 1976, when fear ruled the streets of Chennai. At the end of our street in Gopalapuram lived Mani Mudaliar, a wealthy elderly bachelor. He lived with his sister's family, and his nephew, Palani, happened to be my closest friend. My father was a man who chose his friends as carefully as people choose diamonds. He had only a handful of close friends, and Mani Mudaliar was one of them. Sadly, my father passed away before his friend did. By April 1976, Mudaliar was old and suffering from a terminal illness. One night, sometime after midnight, he breathed his last. The family immediately tried to call a doctor. That was easier said than done. Those were Emergency days. Because the family was known to be close to the household of the dismissed Chief Minister, many doctors politely—but firmly—declined to visit. Nobody wanted to invite unnecessary trouble. Then Palani had a brilliant idea. "Why not call Balu? He's only a f...

Long before supermarkets, food delivery apps and online shopping, Madras' streets had their own dependable delivery network. It came on wheels, announced its arrival with a cheerful bell, and never failed to attract a crowd of eager children. During my school days, one such favourite was BBB – Bangalore Brahmin Bakery. It was a household name in Madras. Founded in Bangalore by Thirumalachar in 1898, BBB had become immensely popular in our city as well. Its bakery products were neatly displayed on trays inside a specially designed tricycle vending cart. But as schoolboys, we admired not only the delicious cakes, buns and biscuits—we were equally fascinated by the lettering on the front of the cart. It proudly displayed one giant 'B', followed by the rest of the words painted in smaller letters: angalore, rahmin, akery, un, read and iscuit. We would happily read it aloud as "B-angalore, B-rahmin, B-akery, B-un, B-read and B-iscuit!" Whoever designed that signboard c...

People generally assume that veterinarians are fearless creatures who can handle anything that walks, flies, crawls or slithers. I am afraid I have been an exception to that rule. Although I spent my entire professional life treating animals, I have one confession to make—I am terribly scared of snakes! Perhaps it is because I was born and brought up in the heart of Chennai. My acquaintance with snakes was mostly through pictures, story books and cinema. The only snakes I admired were those comfortably confined behind glass in a zoo!  Fortunately, throughout my veterinary career, not a single snake was ever brought to me for treatment. Looking back, I think the snakes also preferred to keep a safe distance from me! There was, however, one notable exception. While serving at the Veterinary Hospital, Saidapet, I was periodically assigned to visit the Children's Park at Guindy, a delightful little zoo maintained for the public. My duty was to examine the animals and birds and attend t...

Recently I listened to a discourse by the eminent Vedic scholar Sri Dushyanth Sridhar. One point he made me stop and think. What follows is simply the gist of what I understood from his talk. If I have misunderstood anything, the mistake is entirely mine. According to him, after death a person either attains moksha or is reborn according to his or her karma. That made me ask myself a simple question. If a person has attained moksha, he has become one with God. If he has been reborn, he is already living another life. If so, how do we understand the common belief that our departed parents and grandparents continue to bless and protect us? As I understood it, from a purely philosophical point of view, the answer is different from what many of us popularly believe. At the same time, Hinduism places great importance on remembering and honouring our ancestors. Rituals such as Shraddha and Tarpanam are beautiful expressions of gratitude towards those who gave us life. My Take: I am not qual...

Those who grew up between the 1940s and the late 1980s will fondly remember the era of the family doctor. In those days, one doctor looked after the health of an entire family—sometimes three generations under one roof! He knew not only your medical history but also your family history, financial history, and occasionally even your neighbour's history! Our family doctor was one Dr. Devaji Rao of Triplicane. He had a qualified compounder who was almost as important as the doctor himself. In those days, there were very few medical shops. Whatever the doctor prescribed, the compounder would prepare and hand over. Ready-made tablets were not as common as they are today. The favourite medicine was a mixture—a colourful liquid prescribed by the doctor and dispensed by the compounder that seemed capable of curing everything from a cough to a broken heart! Visiting the doctor without carrying an empty bottle was almost like going to a wedding without an invitation. The doctor diagnosed the...

Looking back now, I sometimes smile at how much veterinary practice has changed since I began my career in 1960. In those days, we believed we were using the latest methods and medicines. Little did we know that many of those "modern" drugs would one day disappear into the pages of history! Before I speak of my own journey, a little history is in order. The Madras Veterinary College officially attained college status on 1 October 1903. It admitted its first batch of just 20 students to the historic three-year diploma course leading to the qualification G.M.V.C. (Graduate of Madras Veterinary College). In 1935, the college became affiliated to the University of Madras, and in 1936 it created another milestone by introducing the Bachelor of Veterinary Science (B.V.Sc.) degree—the first veterinary degree programme in India. Coincidentally, I was also born in 1936. Sometimes I jokingly tell my friends that perhaps I arrived in this world that very year only to join that historic ...

One of the pleasures of being a "postman" is receiving interesting messages from friends. One of my responsibilities is to separate the wheat from the chaff before delivering them to my readers. The following WhatsApp message caught my attention because it beautifully connected an ancient Hindu practice with a modern scientific discovery. Like many forwarded messages, it contains both interesting facts and a few conclusions that deserve a little caution. The message begins with a question often raised by today's younger generation: "Why should we torture ourselves by fasting in the name of God? Does God become happy if we skip a meal on Ekadashi?" The message then points out that in 2016, Japanese scientist Dr. Yoshinori Ohsumi was awarded the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine for his pioneering work on autophagy, a natural process by which our body's cells recycle worn-out or damaged components. The word autophagy literally means "self-eating....

 The following thought was inspired by the WhatsApp message as detailed above. It reminded me of something I had often observed during my years as a veterinarian. We humans fast for religious, cultural or even medical reasons. But have you ever noticed that animals seem to know when they need to fast? On more than one occasion, dog owners have rushed to me saying, "Doctor, my dog has not eaten anything since yesterday!" Naturally, I would examine the dog thoroughly. Much to the owner's surprise—and sometimes to mine too—I could find nothing abnormal. The dog was bright, active, wagging its tail, and showing no signs of illness... except that it had firmly declared a "No Food Day." I would usually advise the owner not to panic and simply keep the dog under observation. Sure enough, the very next day the patient would happily end its self-imposed fast and eat with its usual enthusiasm, as though nothing had happened. There was another interesting habit I noticed. ...

  One advantage of being a "postman" is that I deliver interesting messages. One disadvantage is that I also must check whether the parcel contains facts—or fiction! The image above has been making the rounds on WhatsApp. It claims to be the original India–Pakistan Partition Agreement dated 15 August 1947, complete with signatures of Jawaharlal Nehru and Liaquat Ali Khan. At first glance, it looks impressive. Old paper, official-looking seal, signatures, serial number—everything appears authentic. But appearances can be deceptive. Historians point out that this is not an original historical document. The actual Partition of India was carried out under the Indian Independence Act, 1947, passed by the British Parliament, along with decisions of the Partition Council and the Mountbatten Plan. There was no single agreement paper in this format signed on Independence Day. Here are a few genuine facts about Partition: India and Pakistan became independent on 15 August 1947 and 14 A...