I entered the first year in January 1942. Dissections of cadavers commenced during that time. From January to April 1942, I stayed in the central YMCA with a large room all to myself. The buildings near the sea and the lighthouse at the eastern end of the High Court were evacuated due to the threat of Japanese bombardment from the sea.

A penchant for double breasted suits.

When I returned to Madras in July 1942, Abdul Gafoor, final year MBBS, K.N. Vasudevan, my classmate, and Vijayaramachari, who had first entered Medical College, took up a flat on the second floor of a building in Nainiappa Naicken Street in Park Town on a rent of Rs. 25, shared by four of us. The ‘carrier’ meal from Mysore Cafe was only Rs. 14 per month and was enough for two persons. On my way to college, I used to have breakfast at Nehru Cafe in the nearby temple premises abutting the road. The cost of a very tasty masala dosai was  only one anna.

My clothes collection improved. Double-breasted coat was the fashion of the day.

My three lodgemates were from Madurai. Gafoor was an ardent supporter of Mohammed Ali Jinnah and the Muslim League. This, however, did not come in the way of our friendship. He later migrated to Pakistan. But his brother remained in India and worked in Simpson’s.

Once Quit India call was given, there was active participation of students of the Madras and Stanley Medical Colleges led by none other than B. Ramamurthy (later the renowned neuro-surgeon) who was a staunch Congressman with links with the party. Col. McRoberts was the Superintendent of the General Hospital. Dr. S.K. Sundaram was his assistant. Dr. SKS used to be always dressed in khadi and scrupulously adhered to it. He was a brilliant physician and Roberts held him in great esteem. I had the pleasure and privilege of being posted in Col. McRobert’s unit and had the unique opportunity of listening to his lectures and learn the basics of clinical medicine. The Colonel was extremely well-disposed towards his staff and students with no rancour whatever even though the agitation was going on against the regime in the form of sit-down strikes on staircases and doorways to prevent normal working of the institutions. During the preclinical years, we discarded the mandatory ‘necktie’ as a token of protest.

Many students were arrested. They included B. Ramamurthy and Syed Ahmed Kabir. They were released very soon, thanks to diplomatic moves by S.V. Ramamurthy, the Chief Secretary. This was known only after some time. Even while all this was going on, the college and hospital kept functioning smoothly. The advice came from certain quarters that it would be better for students to complete their education and participate in the struggle after qualifying themselves. Besides, the British needed doctors for the army and the course was shortened to enable the enlisting of medicos.

Dr. A. Lakshmanaswamy Mudaliar became Vice-Chancellor of the University of Madras before the ‘Quit India’ movement and Dr. B.T. Krishnan, Professor of Physiology, became the Principal, and Dr. D. Govinda Reddy, Professor of Pathology, became the Vice-Principal and was warden of the students’ hostel. Students in the hostel tried to hoist the Congress flag in place of the Union Jack. Dr. Govinda Reddy, as Warden, had to oppose this and the students were asked to vacate the hostel and find residence elsewhere. The four of us continued to stay in the flat in Nainiappa Naicken Street.

In July 1943, I shifted to the Indian Officers’ Association on Royapettah High Road, which was by the side of the tram route, easing our transport problem. In November 1943, there were very heavy floods and the streets were waterlogged. Lloyds Road was in knee-deep water. The IOA building escaped being surrounded by water. The college was closed. The bridge near Madras Medical College, Sir Muthuswamy Iyer Bridge, was the only connection between North and South Madras, most  parts unaffected by water-logging. Two Japanese planes dropped bombs during night time and it was said that they were piloted by women pilots.

When floodwaters drained off, we were able to see the sites where the bombs fell. One was in Royapuram harbour and the other two were on either side of the Sir Muthuswamy Iyer bridge. We could see the twisted rail tracks behind the ‘Red Fort’ as the Anatomy-Physiology block was popularily nicknamed. Our fond hopes of the examinations being postponed did not materialise.

Meanwhile we continued with our dissections. For most of the time only a student called Hughes and I used to be regularly present. But very close to the examinations, in November 1943, Hughes, my partner, went missing and we still had to complete the heart part of the dissection of the thorax. Noticing me being alone, Dr. O. Nainan, a tall Assistant Professor, full of humour, came up to me and remarked, “So you have been left alone, ‘Robinson Crusoe’, What are you dissecting?. When I showed him the heart, he said, “You will take years to complete the dissection the way you are doing it. Come, let me show you.” In hardly half an hour, the heart had all its chambers opened and he showed me all, he thought, I had to learn. So, those were my days of dissection.

(To be continued)