Four months with JP at the PGI

CHANDIGARH had the distinction of hosting JP (Jayaprakash Narayan), who was detained at the Postgraduate Institute (PGI) of Medical Education & Research during the Emergency in 1975. JP was shifted to the city on July 2 for medical care; he remained ‘interned’ in the newly built ward which was yet to be commissioned.

As a senior resident, I worked with the team of doctors led by then PGI Director Dr PN Chhuttani. During my first visit to prepare a standard medical records file, I was stopped at the gate by gun-toting policemen. That was rather annoying. After a body search, I was led to JP’s room by a constable.

Responding to every greeting with a smile, JP did not refuse to answer any question. Initially, the security personnel were suspicious of every movement of the medical team. In due course, they got used to it. “Do not annoy them. Work as if they do not exist,” was the advice of Dr Khattri, the team leader. This was easier said than done.

Spending minimum time during each visit, we only talked about his health. This eventually became boring for him as well as us. JP hardly talked about any discomfort. On one occasion, a novice inspector did not wish us to accompany the ‘prisoner’ during a walk in the open ward — he considered it a ‘security risk’. I strongly protested and the subject was not mentioned ever again.

A decision was taken to shift him to the institute’s guest house on the campus on September 18. It was more like a house detention. Unfortunately, his fragile health deceived him soon. He had to be shifted back to the same ward towards the end of October. It became harder every day to get him to eat. The institute’s senior nephrologist, Dr KS Chugh, was in attendance throughout. It was apparent that dialysis would be needed very soon.

The night of November 11 was a nightmare. The worst was expected to happen any time. Fortunately, the sleepless night passed without any serious incident. On the other hand, there was a constant exchange of phone calls between Chandigarh and Delhi. It was a great relief for all of us to know in the morning that JP was served with release orders — on parole.

His satirical comment was unforgettable: “The Queen has finally shown mercy on me. I don’t need you people now. You can rest and relax.” On great persuasion, he waited five more days for his condition to stabilise before being moved out on November 16 to Delhi.

He cheerfully bade us goodbye with folded hands and tears in his eyes. I remember his words when he left: “I wish the best for all of you. I am very thankful for the great care and affection you people gave me, in spite of my being your prisoner.”

I have never been able to figure out what he meant to me — a patient, a prisoner or a guest. Perhaps a bit of everything! He loved freedom and fought for it, but he himself remained a prisoner — in a hospital.

Musings