My mom told me that I had a strong reaction to the anaesthetic, which in those days, was ether. I flew from one table to the next, smashing a whole lot of bottle. My cousin, Ammnikochamma, who was studying to be a doctor at Vellore, came from Mysore to be with me during the operation. The doctors promised me lots of ice cream after the operation!
The removal of my tonsils had a peculiar effect on me as I just shot up in height. My elder brother became the shortee of the family.
I continued to suffer from adenoids. A few years later, when I was 10, while driving from Bangalore to Madras, we stopped at the Christian Medical College Hospital in Vellore, where my cousin, Ammnikochamma, who was now a doctor, organised to have my adenoids removed. At the same time, my brother had his tonsils removed as he wanted to be as tall as me. He did grow a few inches, but has always remained the shortee in the family!
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| From Hasnain 59ers 2009 |
I crossed 6 foot. As can be seen from a recent photograph taken during our 50th year class reunion held in Mumbai last November, I was and am the largest in the class! I am that huge fellow on the extreme left! :-) I still stand tall, straight and true!
I lived a charmed life when I was a kid. I had several major accidents but came out living although my skin is not worth much as it is full of scratches and stitches.
The first "accident" I remember is when I was about 4 years old. We were living in our Basavangudi house on Market Road. My mom was busy tending the garden, and the two brothers were trying to help. We were all around her.
My brother picked up the pickaxe and swung it over his head as he wanted to dig the rose bed. When it went over his head, it went straight into mine . We had a lot of blood pouring out.
My mom did not panic. We went indoors and she straight away rang the doctor who came over immediately and "fixed" my head.
Now you know why I am quite crazy. :-)
I do not remember any pain or crying, only plenty of blood oozing out of the head.
A few years later we moved to Mysore and we had a beautiful large garden. Lots of kids would come over in the evening to play.The popular game we played was cowboys and Indians.
One evening, my mom and dad had gone out and all of us kids were rushing around playing this game. We had lots of trees to climb and plenty of space to run around.
My brother picked up a piece of wood and pretended it was a gun. He was firing it at me when I was up a tree. I jumped down and ran to get hold of it. He swung it not knowing there was a long nail on one side. It went deep into my flesh behind my left forearm. I looked at it and saw the blood pouring out.
My late elder sister, Nalini, came to my rescue. She called my mom and dad on the phone. She washed the wound so that I could see white flesh deep inside.
As soon as my mom and dad reached home we rushed to the hospital where the doctor again cleaned the wound and then stitched it up with half a dozen stitches. I still bear this scar on my hand. Because it was a rusty nail I got plenty of tetanus shots!
Again, I do not remember crying when this occurred, although I do remember panic from many of the other children present.
The third major accident I remember is when we were holidaying in my maternal grandfather's place in Kottayam (the Malayala Manorama premises). My grandmother had a little daschund dog and I loved to play with it. One day it came to my feet so kneeled down to pick it up. When I got up, I did not realise that I was just below a wooden window. The sharp corner went straight into the centre of my skull, exactly where the pickaxe had gone a few years earlier. The skull was torn open and I was rushed to the hospital across the road where a cousin, Sarammakochamma, who was studying to be doctor tended me.
Again I do not remember crying at this incident.
The next holiday, we were again in Kottayam. They had a wonderful 3 wheeler motorbike (called a DOT) which had a two wheel trailer in front. It was for carrying all sorts of materials from one place to another in the newspaper premises. It was safe as it was balanced by the two wheels in front.
I learnt to drive it when I was just 9 years old.
Someone had moved some stuff in it and it was lying next to the office. I had the intention of driving it and approached the bike from the side. My leg touched the exhaust pipe, which was searingly hot, and within seconds it burnt a great big hole into my thigh. (You can imagine how small i was then!)
Off to the hospital, but this time there were no stitches, just cleaning, a lot of pain-killers and a large bandage. I still bear the mark on my left thigh! No crying though!
The last of my chidhood episodes I have recorded in several places.
This was my drowning at the Vasind River outside Bombay when we went on a class picnic.
That gave me a second life.
After that I was reasonably free of any major accidents other than fracturing my wrist during a game of quad football in the school quadrangle in Mumbai and getting a splinted from my hockey stick while I was laying for the College XI in Delhi.That put paid to my serious hockey although I did play all the while I was studying and working in England.
And the last one was last year when I fell on my hand and crushed the fourth finger on my left hand!
That is not to say I have not had several near brushes with death.
One day, in Madras, in 1973, I was driving on the beach road to the MRF factory in Thiruvanmuyur. I saw a truck coming. I moved to the far right to give it way. I could not see a large unmarked broad plate of steel protruding from the side of the truck. It cut through my door and window of my car, missing my head by a few inches! The car was thrown to one side as the steel ripped through the metal. I survived and managed to get the car to the MRF factory about a kilometer down the road!
More true tales soon, so stay tuned!
