26. Gita-Running Competition -By K.S. Ramachandran

Some of you, my fellow octogenarians of India, might recall how our country celebrated the Silver Jubilee of King George V’s reign in the year 1935. The metropolitan cities were all lit up and thousands of people went round the cities enjoying the festive celebrations. In fact, during those days, I remember our Young India Boy Scouts sang “God Save the King” in the evening every day when the Union Jack Flag was lowered for the night.

Yet barely four years later, in 1939, the same Scout group put away the Union Jack forever and replaced it by the Congress National Flag, and sang “Jana Gana Mana” instead. The mood of the country was changing and the anticipation of Independence began to dawn with increasing brightness.

It was in this background that in 1941, an ICS officer named Sri Ramachandran (a namesake of mine) reckoned that the country would gain its freedom in the year 1957. It was daring of him to openly speculate on the withdrawal of British imperialism, even while he was serving it.

He said that he would give a prize to the boy who would be very good in his studies as well as in sports. To pick out the best boy under these criteria, he wanted to hold a competition in reciting the Bhagavad Gita. The three best candidates would be asked to run a 1957-yard race. The length of the race track was to signify the year of India’s liberation. The ultimate winner in that race would get the “Gita-Running prize,” which he was instituting.

It was an eccentric idea. All the boys of our school declared it a crazy and impossible combination.

I was the favorite of my Sanskrit teacher. He ordered me to participate. While I figured I could manage the recitation part of the competition, I was under no illusion of making a mark in running races. I was quite roly-poly, nicknamed “Glaxo Baby” by my classmates and must have looked like a young elephant. I thought I would be quite ridiculous in any running event. But the teacher brushed aside all my pleadings and forced me to join.

True to everyone’s expectations, I did well in the recitation event and qualified for the race. The other two successful boys were Ramaswamy and Subramanian. They were regular sportsmen, whose specialty was long jump and high jump respectively. The fact that they were not winners of running races was no consolation for me, as they were lean and lanky.

“More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of,” I told myself. I prayed that I might put up some semblance of competition to those two guys.

The date for the race was fixed about four weeks after the recitation competition and it was to be on a Sunday. My two classmates used to go to the school playground every morning and practice running, trying to keep trim and fit. They consulted the School Physical Director (PD) about the right pace, the right breathing technique and the right strategy and so forth.

I did no such thing, as I knew that all this was futile in my case. I never believed I stood a ghost of a chance of winning.

Come the fateful D-Day, I noted with satisfaction that there were no spectators except the PD and a friend of his. The PD was tickled pink to see me bravely showing up for the running race. He grinned widely and said a few pseudo-Sanskrit words, invented by him, pretending he was wishing me all the good luck in the world in that classical language. I let it pass.

Soon the whistle was blown and the Great Race started. A very bizarre idea suddenly took possession of my mind. “Anyway I am going to lose, why not lead for a few laps by a good margin?” So I broke into a gallop, of which a thoroughbred Derby horse would have been proud.

Startled by the wide gulf developing between them and me, Ramaswamy and Subramanian came charging up behind me. The PD had said that there should be only a yard or two between the competitors and that the final burst of energy should be reserved for the last 400 yards. They caught up with me at the first hundred-yard line and fell in step with me, keeping the gap exactly one yard and two yards respectively, as prescribed.

I was delighted to continue as the lead runner even after the first hundred yards, even if the pace of our running was rather pedestrian. This was more than what I had expected. Every now and then, when I had regained my breath, I made a sudden and uncalled for sprint for 20 or 30 yards, faithfully mirrored behind me by my two friends. 

In this manner the uneven, jerky race was run for three rounds.

The last four hundred yards were to be the most sensational. Who would overtake whom? Who would cross the winning line first? This eventful stretch would decide.

I was still in the lead and wanted to speed up to maintain it. But my legs had got accustomed to my lumbering jog of the first three rounds and would not change their pace. I got resigned to the idea of losing in the final stretch.

But, lo and behold, how amazing! My contestants discovered that all their measured steps and their four weeks of training had gone haywire by my unorthodox fits of trot, canter and gallop. Their legs also refused to obey their fervent wish to accelerate. No speeding up, no overtaking! We finally crossed the winning post in the same order in which we began the race, with me in the lead!

The PD declared that he had never seen a running race finish in such slow motion as he had witnessed that day. In his opinion, any tortoise or snail could have easily overtaken us. A most unkind cut, don’t you agree?

Some days later, at a ceremonial function, I was awarded the “Gita-Running Prize” costing Rs. 10. Two books of that value were given to me. To me they were priceless. They were Gandhi Ji’s “My experiments with truth” and Swami Vivekananda’s speeches. They still adorn my library in Gurgaon.

This was surely one of my least anticipated victories.  I recall this episode often, relating as it does to one of the most enjoyable periods of my life, namely my school days. And when I do, I cannot help seeing an underlying parallel between my willingness to attempt the seemingly impossible – and the growing momentum in those times to secure our country’s liberation.

25. A doctor was needed in the family...

Ganesh Joshi

Interviewee: Ganesh Joshi, Interviewer: Rohini, in person, Date: June 11^th, 2011

It was late afternoon in Mumbai around 4:00PM. It had been raining heavily for the past couple of days. I had explained my thousand full moon project to the Joshi couple and they were expecting me. I entered a simple living room with two chairs and two spreads by two different walls to sit on the ground.

Age: 82 yrs

Birth Place: Palgadh, Ratnagiri, India

Background information:  Ganesh Joshi lived in Palgadh till the age of 12 and then moved to Khed for further schooling. After 10^th grade went to Dapoli and then to Mumbai’s Ruyya college up to intermediate.  Since his elder brother had lost some of his new born children to Infantile Liver Cirrhosis, his father wanted him to pursue medical profession. So Gajanan chose to study Ayurved the ancient Indian Medicine in Pune India. His older brother gave him Rs. 5000 for his studies that were to last for four and a half years. He managed to save Rs. 1000 as he was frugal and lived in a shared room and cut expenses where ever possible. When he finished his school his brother had already made arrangements for him to start his own dispensary in Dapoli. Although he was a doctor, life was hard yet happy. Since his practice was in the rural area he had to walk for miles to go see a patient. At times he had to take a ferry, a bus and walk long distances. His fee per house call was Rs.15. He remembers have spent entire day just to go visit one patient and come back.

He practiced till the age of sixty and now lives a retired life with his wife of over fifty years.

After I collected all the background information was still looking for one particular memory where he would light up, become passionate and lose himself in the old times while narrating it. I got it when we were talking about the time when his children (two sons and a daughter) were very young. Ganesh Joshi was narrating…

I remember when my daughter, my youngest was three months old. She had gotten very sick with lose motions and vomiting. We had tried everything but nothing seemed to work. She became skin and bones as she could not retain any food in her stomach. The ladies in the house were very sad. I remember that night when I said to my wife “I don’t think she will see tomorrow” My wife started to cry…and I don’t know what came over me but I suddenly said we have to keep her on butter milk….and we did. That was the turning point! She started to tolerate little butter milk at a time and slowly returned back to health.

Ganesh was lost in bitter sweet memories and so was his wife. There was a peaceful silence in the room. It was still raining outside and the door opened. In came his daughter now in her forties….”We were just talking about you” His wife said to her daughter and everyone in the room visibly relaxed!

24. He walks with his head...

                                          Photograph of a rangoli done by

Gajanan (Bhai)

Interviewee: Bhai Kulkarni, Interviewer: Rohini, In person, Date: 12^th June’11

Age: 82 yrs

Birth Place: Shrivardhan, Maharashtra, India

When I reached Bhai’s residence, it was around 11:00 AM. It was a hot summer morning.  Bhai and his wife greeted me at the door with immense warmth and affection.  After the initial pleasantries, we all sat down, and I proceeded with my interview.

Bhai was seated in his comfortable computer chair and had the air of a king sitting on his throne. He and his wife were very enthusiastic about narrating interesting memories and anecdotes from their years of precious experiences.

Bhai lived in Shrivardhan till English-fifth grade, completed sixth grade in Roha, and moved to Mumbai where he completed his education till Intermediate college. He had to forego the opportunity to attend Medical College due to a shortage of funds. He accepted a job as a medical representative which later became his career.  

Till the age of five Bhai was a rickety child with a big head,  big belly, and skinny limbs. As a baby he used to move around in a peculiar way to overcome the lack of strength in his limbs; he would put his head on the floor first and then propel his body forward. This earned him a title of ‘the boy who walks with his head’ but later the name took on a different meaning as Bhai emerged as an intellectual with a passion for the arts and music. Other than raising a beautiful family and accomplishing a successful career, Bhai started discussion forums for seniors and invited medical experts to answer the questions and guide the group. He worked for social/voluntary organizations and arranged memorable musical and cultural programs. This brought him in contact with some renowned artists over the years.

The memory I have chosen to document here is the one when Bhai was living in Jaipur, Rajasthan. Jaipur Medical college would host a Medical conference every year. Bhai would participate in many different ways and one way was to draw big ‘Rangolis’ (Sand paintings) on the college premises as part of the inauguration ceremony exhibits that would accompany the conference. (Over the years, Bhai has won much recognition for his Rangoli’s from prominent personalities.) One year, a well known doctor from Australia was the chief guest at the conference. Bhai had acquired a black and white photograph of the doctor’s eight month old son and had decided to do that year’s Rangoli depicting the baby boy. Bhai did the Rangoli in color. When the Australian doctor inaugurated the conference he visited each exhibit. When he came to the Rangoli drawing of his Baby boy done by Bhai he was overjoyed to see his baby’s picture in form of a big Rangoli. He literally danced with joy to see the picture come to life and before moving on to the next exhibit he asked Bhai, “How did you know that my boy had green eyes?” That was an unforgettable moment for Bhai. He had simply guessed the color of the Baby’s eyes and it was a perfect match! What a coincidence……

A very fulfilling and Magical moment for this accomplished man who still walks with his head!

In Bhai's own words about his rangolis:

Rangoli Picture drawn by G.M.Kulkarni (top of the page), of the son of Australian Urosurgeon who had come to Jaipur for All India Urologists Conference. That Urosurgeon had a glimpse of his son after three weeks. He was very much surprised by looking at exact green colour of the iris of the child’s eyes. In fact the artist was given a Black and White Photo of the child. It was just a chance the colour of the child’s iris matched in his picture. This coloured photo was taken by that urosurgeon and he was kind enough to send a coloured copy of the child’s Rangoli Picture to me from Australia.

Please note the impression of sweater design, its stiching on the child’s shoulder and also the frill of the child’s frock around his neck.

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Rangoli Picture of a child Ram drawn by G.M.Kulkarni in Jaipur in the year 1960. Child Ram was in the arms of his mother Kausalya. But within 4 decades the original photograph was torn and only the remanant part is shown above. There was no coloured photography that time. So this a Black and White Photo.

Please look at the expressions of child Ram in his eyes and shaded portion of his hair.

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Thank you Bhai for sharing your great art...

23. I had the honor of worshiping Lakshmi-Narayan thirty three times

Maii (Kamal Vasant Medhekar)

Interviewee: Kamal Vasant Medhekar, Interviewer: Alka Medhekar at her residence, Date: June, 2011

Alka, Maii’s daughter-in-law jotted down the facts as Maii spoke.

Age: 82 yrs

Birth Place: Bilimora, Gujrath, India

My name is Kamal Vasant Medhekar knee Kamal Dattatray Deshpande. My father passed away when I was very young so I grew up in my maternal uncle’s house. Since it was a joint family I got used to being around a lot of people.  It was a good thing as my in-laws family was also very big. I was also in the habit of doing a lot of physical work. This also helped me in my life later on.

I got married in 1942. Initially it was very busy. We had a lot of responsibilities. But as time passes and the responsibilities were fulfilled life took on a steady pace…One day I had an idea that I wanted to honor 33 married couples what are called the ‘Mehuns’ in our tradition.

I mentioned my thought to my husband and he also liked the idea. We mobilized our resources and got to work towards the implementation of the idea. It happened in 2007. We invited 33 married couples for lunch and honored them by washing their feet and giving them gifts. I believe I had the good fortune of worshiping lord Vishnu and goddess Lakshmi 33 times. It was a grand family function and a touching ceremony.  It was deeply carved in my memory and I can never forget it…

I am content and happy to spend my remaining days with the help of such cherished memories.

[Note about 'Mehun': The Hindu calendar is a lunar calendar. Each lunar month has 28 days and is shorter than the Solar month. To adjust the lunar calendar with the solar calendar every three years, there is an additional month in the lunar calendar. This month is called ‘adhik maas’ literally means ‘an additional month’. This adjustment has a story associated with it. The additional month ‘adhik maas’ was very unhappy as it had no legitimate name. It took its complaint to God Vishnu. God Vishnu thought about the problem and gave his own name “Purushottam” meaning ‘best among men’ to the additional month and also directed the people on Earth to honor their daughters and sons-in-law as Vishnu and Lakshmi’s incarnations on the Earth during this month. As a result a lot of people invite and honor their daughters and their husbands or married couples in general during this month. Each such couple is called ’Mehun ‘]