Memories of Lempert Hospital

Your writeup about Lempert Hospital brought back fond memories of my childhood days when I resided opposite to the hospital in Thiruvengada Naicken street also known as First Street. I was the youngest of three brothers. My elder brother suffered from constant throat infection, and on the advice of our family doctor he was referred to Dr Subramanian who had his tonsils removed. He asked him to take a lot of ice cream. I remember my eldest brother and me rushing to Jaffar ice cream palour on Mount Road next to Elphinstone Theatre, the only place where it was readily available. Diagonally opposite, on the left, was the Presentation Covent school, where I had my early schooling. Diagonally opposite to the hospital, on the right side was the Opthalmic Hospital, then the biggest in Asia, and next to it was the Fire Service HQ.

There was an Anglo-Indian lady by the name of Dagma Moses who served as a receptionist. After my eldest brother passed away, four years back, I no longer visit the place. My vivid memories are still fresh, even after eighty years.

J.C. Moral

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More on Marshalls Road

Many thanks for your message conveying your memories of Marshalls Road, based on my short article on that thoroughfare and a memorable doctor, whom I have never known from a bar of soap! One of my interests in writing such pieces is to jog memories of Madras of the 1960s and 1970s.

Many thanks for reminding me some of the points which I had missed to write on: space was a significant constraint and importantly my focus was on the science (medicine) promoted by Dr VS Subramanian, incidentally touching on the old-word charm of the then Marshalls Road!

I am fully aware that I had missed referring to the ‘nursing home’ run by Dr AS Ramakrishnan (ASR), General Surgeon, Madras. Importantly, ASR was the personal physician to Chakravarthi Rajagopalachari (a.k.a. Rajaji) and the rest of his family. ASR’s faith and confidence in an absolutely clean, sterile surgical theatre and consequent avoidance of ‘antibiotics’ was a brilliant and fascinating science philosophy.

It cannot be gainsaid that this is the greatest tribute to Joseph Lister (1827-1912) British medical doctor, pioneer explainer of ‘sepsis’. The Listerine mouthwash is named after him! Space constraint, again!
Anyway responses such as yours keep my spirit upswing and going, writing about the science of erstwhile Madras! I think, that is something to be celebrated!

A. Raman

Correction

The article Epitaph in the December 16, 2025 issue carried quotes attributed to Srinivas Chari. The author was Priyanka Soman and the error is regretted.

Sriram V

 

“What If” our History was Rewritten?

Adventures in Counterfactuals

I have always believed that teaching History in Chennai requires three essential things: a strong cup of filter coffee, the patience of a Mount Road traffic policeman, and the ability to answer thirty different questions at the same time. Add ‘counterfactual history’ to this mix, and suddenly my classroom feels like Parry’s Corner – equal amounts of chaos, curiosity, and comedy.

The Day My Class Un-Exploded

On a bright, suspiciously quiet morning (always dangerous in a middle school), I wrote on the board:

“What if Hiroshima and Nagasaki had not happened?”

The reaction was instant.

You would think I had announced free kulfi for everyone.

One child raised his hand and said, very confidently,

“Miss, then America would have had to send a powerful warning letter by post. Registered post with acknowledgement due.”

Another chimed in,

“Miss, then maybe the Cold War becomes Cold Breeze War. Little tension only.”

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that this is the same class that once asked me if the Indus Valley people had mixer grinders.

But as the laughter settled, something ­remarkable happened:
My students realised that without the atomic bombings, the nuclear arms race might have taken a slower, less explosive path.

One child put it beautifully in true Chennai logic:

“Miss, if there was no big explosion, then the world leaders would not panic and build bigger and bigger bombs… like how we try to show off bigger and bigger water bottles in school.”

Fair enough.

Historical Empathy: The Chennai ­Edition

I often tell my students that historical empathy is not about excusing or justifying the past.
It’s about understanding it – like how any Chennaiite instantly forgives a hot-headed auto driver after he says, “Sister, traffic romba jamm-packed.”

So when they examine Aurangzeb, Gandhi, or even a bewildered British Viceroy, I ask them:

– What pressures were they under?

– What information did they not have?

My class takes this very seriously. Sometimes too seriously.

Chennai children are unique. They empathise deeply – and sideways.

My Top “What If?” Moments

A few unforgettable contributions from my budding historians:

– “What if the British had felt guilty early and quietly gone home?” “Miss, then your syllabus would have become half. Super for us.”

– “What if the World War II leaders had a joint mediation session with a strict counsellor?”

Absolutely brilliant. Possibly our future Prime Minister.

These counterfactual explorations bring out curiosity, wit, and surprisingly deep thinking – even from the ones who usually pretend to be asleep.

Why I Teach History This Way

Because History becomes alive when children ask questions that shake the dust off old events.
Because humour softens the edges of difficult topics. (And sometimes softens the teacher’s blood pressure.)

Because Chennai’s spirit has always been one of warmth, curiosity, and gentle rebellion – exactly the qualities that make children fantastic historians.

And because when students learn to ask, “What if…?”

It quietly teaches them to think, “What next?” and “How can we make better choices today?”

If history teaches us anything, it is this:

Even the smallest “What if?” can change the world — or at least, change one lively Chennai classroom into a place of laughter, learning, and infinite possibilities.

– Priyanka Soman