Questions from a Doctor’s Life

There is hardly any person in Uttar Pradesh who has not heard of Dr D K Chhabra, a senior neurosurgeon, who died recently. Over the decades his expertise, pragmatic advice and popularity had broken the shackles of his narrow surgical field coming to be known as a “brain-specialist”and a genuine adviser for all health problems.

I got to know him in 1987 when I joined the upcoming Sanjay Gandhi PG Institute of Medical Sciences (SGPGI) in Lucknow as a young member of the faculty in Gastroenterology. He had moved from his alma mater the KG Medical College where he is still regarded as a legend. An omnipresent bachelor doctor living in the duty room readily available to help anybody anytime.He was tasked to heading and developing Neurosciences at SGPGI. He had an eye for detail and was tasked additionally by the director to set up not just his department, but the whole hospital, the building, equipment and the campus.

DKC was a tall and handsome man who spoke little. But when he did inlow decibels with abaritone voice, it wasdecisive and final. And being a reticent person, all our long cacophonic meetings in those days would always end with what this quiet man had to say and decide.

I was awestruck by his popularity. People hailing from remote villages had heard of him, and looked up to him like a deity. And everyone believed that if they could meet DKC but only once, their problems would be solved!

The trust and adulation of patients and juniors he enjoyed evoke envy in many. Some of us looked up to him as a role model…shrugging off the spirit of erudite debates in which we had been groomed in other premier institutions, to join the alter of winning trust of patients. This proved more difficult than scoring marks in examinations!

And when I broke my hand on the field or when a senior colleague’s daughter met with a near fatalroad accident and lay bleeding on the highway, everyone had just one advice, “Call Dr Chhabra”. And he would always be there to bail you out, quickly disappearing before the flood of gratitude andlime lights came on!

One of the reasons I held him in very high esteem was because he did not yearn for fame and publicity, something that most doctors aspire for. He did not become a director of any institute nor did he win any national award. He was shy and did not feature on page 3 of newspapers.

And yet he is revered by far more people than many who won accolades, posts and titles!

He has often made many of us ask of ourselves, “What are we working for? If not fame, rank, publicity or money, then what?”

He would not give discourses, but leave others to draw conclusions from the way he led his quiet life, seeing 80 patients every day in his crowded OPD at age 75. Mere passion or a calling?

He was a regular reader of Health Adda since 2008 and encouraged me to keep writing.

RIP DKC