I was a student of the Government Medical College (GMC), Nagpur, from 1970 to1975. Based on my own experiences, I agree completely with Anurag Bhargava’s comments regarding casteism at GMC Nagpur (1). Caste stigma gets attached to you early in life and stays with you till you reach the grave. I am still afraid to visit my so-called alma mater and I will explain why in this letter.

Casteism is rampant in the Vidarbha region. Caste plays a vital role in the assembly and parliamentary elections, too. When I was in GMC Nagpur, there were several groups formed by different castes among the students. Almost all these groups were dead set against the Brahmin community, who, though their numbers were fewer, were educated and served in academic institutes. At the same time, almost all the Brahmin professors and tutors used to favour students of their caste. During my time, if an external examiner from the Brahmin community were to conduct a viva voce, all the non-Brahmin students would take it for granted that they had to repeat their term. This was basically the result of deep-rooted casteism in that region.

Let me give my own example. When I appeared for the final MBBS examination, I topped in the surgical viva and written test. My internal examiner was very impressed with my performance. but the external examiner was from the Brahmin community. Being born in an illiterate farmer’s family, I have been named “Himmatrao”. The external examiner asked me my first name. Attaching “Rao” to a name is common in the Maratha community and thereby he indirectly confirmed my caste and that I was not a Brahmin. Despite my good performance, I was given low marks.

Recurrence of such incidents results in enmity towards the Brahmin caste among students of the other castes. Caste divisions turn into watertight compartments, especially in provincial towns (in 1970 we used call Nagpur a “big village”) like Nagpur. Caste undermines and eats away society and breeds injustice.

During my admission into primary school, seeing that I was a farmer’s son, the headmaster entered my caste as “Kunbi” —which is a farming community— though I was born a Maratha. Much later, I scored the required number of marks in the premedical examination, making me eligible for admission in the open merit category. Yet, being listed as a Kunbi, I was admitted under the “other backward community” (OBC) category. Because of poverty, I remained isolated. Because of my poor English and Marathi, I tried to avoid communication and participation in group discussions. I could not even find a friend in my peer group.

Eventually, I suffered depression during my second year MBBS, and stopped attending medical college. My mother and elder brother came to stay with me. I lost my memory for a while. A psychiatrist, Dr NJ Saoji of Nagpur, tried his best to cure me. During this time, my classmates were not helpful, and once, a professor suddenly remarked, “Hey psycho! Don’t talk!” during my turn in a group discussion. It was painful to experience the stigma attached to mental illness; even medical persons do not share the suffering of mentally ill victims, what can one expect from non-medicos? In such a situation, the human brain is more sensitive and becomes easy prey to negative thoughts (2). I started worrying that I would be removed from medical college. As mental illness is not always obvious and I seemed physically healthy, my illiterate parents thought I was putting on an act to avoid completing my MBBS. My mother even took me to a village healer, where I stayed for one month without any improvement. Later, I received ten sessions of electro convulsive therapy and felt better. Thereafter, I was even able to pass my MBBS.

Though my marks made me eligible for admission into postgraduation at GMC Nagpur, I decided not to continue my education in Nagpur. My brother too, refused to stay in Nagpur, but he insisted that I should be near Mumbai to learn to face the competition. I accepted a medical officer’s post at a primary health centre in the Konkan region, involved myself in scorpion and snake bite research, and published 28 short papers and letters in the Lancet, and a research study in BMJ, as also two letters and a review in NEJM. I completed my MD in medicine. In my experience, in the Konkan and in cities like Mumbai nobody asks about your caste. Everybody is busy with work and has no time to spare for such matters. Here intelligence and efficiency are valued and rewarded, irrespective of caste, and in general, everybody is ready to co-operate and help.

I consciously avoided my son’s being admitted into the medical course in an OBC category reserved seat because of my own suffering. My son was very depressed when he saw students with lower marks being admitted into reserved seats, until he finally got a seat in the Akola government medical college. Even today I am moved, when I remember his agony at the time. Because of strict principles and ethical objections, I was dead against his occupying a reserved OBC seat. In addition, with both his parents being doctors, he had no right to occupy a seat which could be given to a poor student. Surprisingly enough, my son cleared all the NEET examinations for the MD and DM admissions in his first attempt .Therefore, in my view, if India wants to end caste discrimination, reservations should be based on economic status with financial support for accommodation, fees, food , books and dress and scholarship for pocket expenses and not on caste. In fact, the “Caste” column in the school certificate should be deleted.