I've spent the past few days at a small hospital in Gadchiroli. Known as the Lok Biradari Prakalp, this hospital was started by Dr. Prakash Amte and his wife Mandakini Amte. The aim was to provide healthcare to the very backward and Madia tribals who live in the forests of Gadchiroli District. Slowly, the hospital has grown, and now also has a school and animal rescue centre.
Dr. Amte was awarded the Ramon Magsaysay award last year. His father, Baba Amte, was also given the same honour many years ago.
I came here without knowing anybody, just an introduction to Aniket Amte, Prakash Bhau's (or brother, as he's known) son. As soon as I got here, they welcomed me, and let the place open to me. Prakash Bhau himself showed me around the place.
The next couple of days, i spent wandering around the place. In the mornings, I sat with Dr. Digant (Prakash Bhau;s son) and his wife Dr. Anagha. Firstly, I was struck by how dedicated they were, and how much they cared for their patients. Of course, they seem to take it all in their stride, like they've seen it all before. Like other good doctors, they too have what can be called a rough touch. But in their actions, and the care they take, I could see how dedicated they were.
"Hey, don't go around with those gloves on!" Anagha yells at an assistant. "Now that you've touched other things with them, don't use them on patients," she tell him. A little while later, i watch as she sews up a wound just about a girl's eye - without anasthetic. "It'll take 2 pokes to put the anasthetic in, and 2 pokes to sew it up. So it may seem hard, but its practical."
A little later, I watch as Prakash bhau sets a broken femur right. The girl's leg is completely broken, and she can't walk. When I had a broken knuckle, i was complete anesthetised and 2 pins were put in. Prakash bhau and Digant set her leg right by pulling on it, and holding it in place while a splint is applied. "In the city, the two pieces of bone would have been joined by a metal plate and held in place. Here this is all we can do." When the hospital was started, fractures were treated without even x-rays.
Thats how the Amte's work. Clad in their trademark vests and shorts, they take it all as it comes. While they may seem to treat everything casually, you can see that its actually a sense of duty and purpose, veiled with compassion.
For long i've wondered about the problem of daily. How we go through our lives, running to and from offices, just getting through the day. The amte's have a sense of purpose. That, i think, makes all the difference. They seem to live in a simpler time, when it was important to do good. I could feel that simpler time when the youngest of the Amte's, Aniket and his wife, took me for a small hike this morning. We walked to a temple a few clicks away (Aniket didn't bother praying) and ate the nicest little mangoes i've ever eaten off the forest floor.
Another thing that is beginning to strike me here is the abject poverty that the tribals live in. Its nothing like that which we see in the cities. Most of the people that come here suffer from some sort of nutritional deficiency. The TB patients here all look so thin and malnourished. Even being a journo who claims to have seen India, i'd never seen this before.
Malnutrition here seems to have become almost endemic, and is the major cause for many diseases, including TB. "Its like AIDS," he says, "except that there is nothing we can do about this. At least AIDS can be treated to some extent... where will these people get food from." During the OPD hours, Anagha says, "It's a vicious circle. They get TB because they are malnourished, and because they get TB, they get even weaker. When they are here in the hospital they get better, then they go back and fall ill again."
Here are a couple of pictures of people that i spoke to.
Looks like pictures from war-torn Sudan, don't they. No, they're really from war-torn Gadchiroli. (oh, i didn't mention, but there is a war on here... but i'll leave that for another post).
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