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Cheerful till the end
V. GANGADHAR
THE pain and discomfort of a needle penetrating your skin and muscle to draw blood samples can be offset, if the pathology clinic had a television set where you can watch Tendulkar smash a boundary, Pete Sampras execute a perfect overhead smash, or Ronaldo score yet another golden goal. It will be an additional bonus if you can discuss these events with the pathologist as he rubbed the affected spot with cotton wool dipped in antiseptic lotion.
I had been lucky in my choice of professional friends. My tax consultant, Shashi Vyas, is the youngest son of the late Pandit C.R. Vyas. Our professional discussions were always followed by Vyas' learned comments on music and musicians. They made payment of tax less burdensome! At the Bandra Pathological clinic of Dr. B.N K. Menon, the discussion was sports. The TV was always tuned to the sports channels. Being a diabetic, my visits to the clinic for blood tests were frequent and he became a family pathologist. Once the blood sugar levels were discussed, we turned to other issues, the artistry of the Brazilians, the tenacity of the Germans, the workmanlike English and then of course, the relative merits of Brian Lara and Sachin Tendulkar. Soon, he was a close family friend.
What drew me more towards BNK was that he was a good writer, having published books on World Cup cricket, football and the Olympics. A pathologist who produced sports books was a rarity. Football was his first love but he knew a lot about cricket too. From the time I came to Mumbai in 1977, he was the only pathologist I ever visited. Before the 1996 Cricket World Cup, BNK asked me to contribute five articles to a "World Cup special" to be brought out by his friend, who ran a well-known sports bookshop. "Don't worry, I will see that you get around Rs. 5,000" BNK promised me. "I have done some work with him and he can be trusted."
But in this case, the trust collapsed. The friend did bring out the Cricket Special, which sold well, but never bothered to pay us. BNK was distressed because he had been taken for a ride. "This is life, I have learnt lessons from this experience," he muttered. I wrote about BNK in one of the local papers and he was delighted.
Occasionally, we discussed topics other than sports. Medicine, for instance. He went back in time to talk about his days at the Sion Medical College and how easy it was to secure admission in spite of the fact he did not score very high marks. "For MD in Pathology, it was easier," he laughed. "Look at today's rat race to get into the medical colleges."
He was active in his professional field, organising regular conferences and workshops of pathologists. BNK smoked, often taking a puff or two, and then throwing away the stubs. Some time ago, he told me cheerfully that there was a small growth inside the mouth.
A biopsy revealed that a malignant growth. But it did not seem to worry him. "It is a minor thing, I am going for chemotherapy, but should be back in a few days. I don't worry. I am destined to live for 75 plus years."
Even during treatment, he was often in the clinic putting a full day's work. I was confident that BNK would return hale and hearty. I had never seen someone afflicted with cancer so cheerful, courageous and optimistic.
BNK's absences from his clinic now became more frequent. He telephoned once grumbling that his treatment was taking longer than he had anticipated. "But I will be back, I have some plans for the 2003 World Cup."
One morning, there was a call from his office. My wife answered and told me later in the day. Cancer had claimed another victim. I know I must go for more blood tests, but I keep postponing it. Every time I walk past BNK's clinic, I think of our unique friendship.
The World Cup is due in a month's time, India is getting a drubbing from New Zealand, but with whom will I discuss these happenings?
And there is no one to whom I can offer collaboration for another cricket book on the World Cup.
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