The Hindu Sindhis celebrate Cheti Chand as their New year. Since the partition of India only a fraction of Sindhis remained in Sindh territory which came under Pakistan. Thousands of Sindhi families that were forced to abandon their abode during the partition of the country migrated to India and various other parts of the world. Since there is no state that belongs to this growing community, they are recognized as world citizens and have adapted themselves to respective cultures and continents. The uniting factor is their culture that marks Cheti Chand as their day of identity.

Cheti Chand is celebrated as the most important annual festival by the Hindu Sindhis all over the world. As per the Hindu Almanac it is celebrated on the second day of the Chaitra month Shukla Paksha coinciding with the Vikram Samvat New Year. Sindhi community commemorates the birth of their Saintly deity Jhulelal on this day marking it as their New Year.

Jhulelal was born in the 10th century in Sindh. Although his exact year of birth is debatable, some believe it to be 1007. The Sumras were ruling over Sindh those days and were very tolerant of all falths that were practiced. However one tyrant ruler Mirkhshah wasn’t very tolerant and threatened people from various religions to convert to Islam or face execution.

The Sindhis fasted for forty days and prayed to River God for protection. On the fortieth day they were promised the birth of their Savior child in Nasarpur by the River God. The child born on the day was accepted by Sindhis as their savior in the trust they had in Dariya Shah (River God). This child whose cradle would rock by itself was named Jhulelal and grew up sooner than his age and protected the Sindhis from conversion by overpowering the ruler’s tyranny.

Since then the birth Anniversary of Jhulelal is celebrated by Sindhis as their main festival. Since post partition of India the Hindu Sindhis landed up in various parts of the world as refugees and in the present times this festival has become to be known as their day of unity called the Sindhiyat Day. This day all around the world the Sindhi Diaspora prepare the Bahirano (a dome made from kneaded flour), sing the Panjras (hymns) of their deity and dance to Chhej traditional music in huge processions. The Bahirano Sahib is immersed in the rivers everywhere following the prayers as an offering to Dariya Shah (Varun Devta)

Jhulelal is also known as Uderolal, Lal Saeen, and Khizr Shah and is worshipped by Hindus and Muslims at his shrine in Sindh equally.

On Cheti Chand day faithful bathe and decorate the huge platters or Bahirano with a large mound of kneaded flour shaped like a dome. This mound is adorned with cardamoms, cloves, crystallized sugar cubes and alongside offerings of fruits, flowers, sweetened rice, coconut and a pot of water are placed. Having placed this affront the idol of the deity devotees partake blessings and in the late evening hours immerse this in the river.


—————————————————————————————————————————————–Published in the Coffee Table Book “DIWALI and Beyond” 2017 by The Asian Weekly:

Cheti Chand article 2017 TAW


Shame and guilt

This story is inspired by the trending topic #ME TOO addressing the taboo topic of our sick society where women are being treated as objects of pleasure by some. It is a pity that they are victimized and go through the shame and guilt of something beyond their doing. Thanks to Alyssa Milano this campaign lifted off to give at least a segment of women their voice to speak up about the naked atrocities.

Appreciative are the efforts of Nobel Prize winner Kailash Satyarthi at saving and providing protective care to the children (both male and female) who are either the victims or targets of sexual abuse and assault in many parts of India. 

Mira the shy introvert and the only girl child in the family was overly protected and pampered by all around her. Her simple demands of getting new glass bangles were met with gifts of beautiful gold bangles. Such was the affection and adulation that she was addicted to.

She left for school every morning along with her elder brother and returned home under his protective care. Life was simple, chores were basic and time a plenty. The siblings had a set pattern throughout the day.Going for their showers, getting dressed for school, having a freshly prepared breakfast along with a cup of milk ( Mira didn’t quite enjoy that cup of milk but had no guts to refuse it afraid of her dad’s annoyance). Spending till afternoon at school and returning to rest a bit and get done with the Homework. Once the Homework was done, they had all the time to play around.

Whilst the parents thought Mira was very docile and well protected with the whole family around her including a grandmother and a great grandfather who was always at home she became a silent victim of abuse at a very young age. In the early 70s speaking about Love and sex was a taboo topic in most Indian households. Funnily, if you heard a girl even uttering those words she was labelled as an immoral.

She was barely nine years old( or so she would think) when a far relative more than double her age came to stay with them. He appeared ugly to her from day one but she thought nothing much as he would stay a few days and return home. Alas! this so called far cousin was there to stay longer than weeks and months. He was there to stay for some years on the pretext of better schooling. Mira and her brother Mohan were not very happy with this but their parents seemed to be in a habit of having people stay over. Earlier it was an uncle of theirs who took away more affection from their mother than he deserved while staying over for a few years.

Mohan had detested the very time when an aunt had moved over from another town along with her family and they had to put up additional seven members besides seven of their own in that two bedroom house for several months till their father managed to get them a house to move into. Each time the relief of seeing someone move out from their house was short lived as another relative would move in.

The far cousin Dinesh came to the city from a small town and appeared a simpleton initially but soon had a corrupt mind and attitude. He was overly protected by grandma for all his flaws as she covered them up quite smartly. Little did grandma realise that Dinesh had his lecherous eyes upon her own daughter Ganga. Dinesh and Ganga went to the same school and she often had to put up with his suggestive behaviour. Knowing grandma’s fond attitude towards Dinesh, Ganga dared not mention about his behaviour to anyone at home.

Dinesh meanwhile became bolder having understood her dilemma and his naughty gestures and teasing touch became frequently repetitive. One day when grandma was away for prayers and the two siblings were busy playing Dinesh forcefully slid his hands into her clothes and pressed her breasts hard. This was disgusting for Ganga and though she pushed him away, she cried a lot. Mira tried consoling her but the nine year old couldn’t have understood the sentiments of her young aunt. She was disgusted. She felt like she had been raped. No man had ever touched her body like that. She thought she was to be blamed for this violation of her piousness.

When grandma came home Ganga wanted to cry out loud and tell her about it all. Grandma was in her own world, singing away, not even noticing that her youngest born was going through trauma. Ganga couldn’t dare to talk about it eventually as she was ashamed of what had happened. She took the shame upon herself as if she was a sinner. Dinesh was all smiles appearing victorious and his moves became worse by the day.

He started grabbing her in his arms at any given opportunity. He would pinch her on the breasts, kiss her and pass obscene remarks. In a conservative Indian family all this was considered extremely shameful and Ganga was suffering this shame so much that she lost her concentration on her studies. It made her into a very reserved person who found no solace with anyone as she couldn’t talk to anyone about the mental agony she was undergoing. The disrespect to her body not only caused shame in her but affected her health too. She started sleep walking and wanted to kill herself one day. Thankfully her brother Inder caught her in time and saved her but no one ever understood the cause behind all this. All she deserved was a comedy of scolding coming from all elders.

Ganga tried to gather some courage and speak to her mother once at least but without hearing her out she was shut down by praises of Dinesh coming out from her mum. Grandma had surely been charmed up by this guy.  His sexual urge was outgrowing his pants and one day as great grandpa was having his afternoon nap Dinesh grabbed little Mira in his arms and started fondling her. Mira was scared of him, she didn’t know what to do. Then as he continued to cuddle her like a baby he unbuttoned his pants and placed Mira’s hand on his private part.

Mira was astonished. She tried to run away but he held her tight and threatened her that he would call her parents. She wasn’t committing a sin but was made to feel guilty and ashamed by him. Lifting up her frock, he placed his member inside her panties. She was utterly confused in her innocence as to why would he do that. In a matter of minutes the ultimate happened right in front of great grandpa who was enjoying his blissful nap unaware of the disgusting act.

Mira was scared about what she underwent. She still hadn’t understood what the ugly act meant and why. She wanted to cry because her panty was wet and she was in pain. He explained to her that this was normal and she was supposed to wear wet pants as a sign of growing up. He further explained to her that her mother must be wearing wet panties too. She hated to think like that about her mum and worst even that her dad Inder could ever behave so badly ever.

Her dislike towards Dinesh turned into hatred after that episode as he started frequenting his act. How she wished she could tell mummy about it but was full of shame to even speak about it. She had understood what sex meant pretty early, in fact earlier than puberty. Now she could understand what her aunt Ganga must be undergoing as he claimed proudly once that she was not her only victim. How she wished she could run away somewhere as she was full of disgust by his acts. Surprisingly her parents and Mohan never realized all the nonsense going on right under their noses.

What a lovely protective care she had where she and her aunt were abused during the day, in the evenings and at night. Ganga was happily married off in a couple of years and Dinesh’s  gazing eyes were watchful of Mira’s pubic growth. How could she ever tell her mother that long before she got the first bra for her little girl, her tiny breasts had been pinched and bitten onto. How could she ever explain her pain and to whom when right there in front of her sleeping grandma she was made naked, fondled and acted upon.

Such behaviour is found in nearly eighty percent of overprotective conservative Indian families where men of all ages are thought to be guarding the females in the house. Unfortunately it is those very guardians like fathers, grandfathers, uncles and cousins who break their decency barriers and victimize young women and girls again and again, yet continue to enjoy the privilege of being their protectors giving no voice to the female members. This kind of shame and guilt cannot be justified by any means.






The plastic ban in Kenya has occurred

A step towards safe environment structured

Banish those pollutant plastics deadly

That chokes the streets and gutters filthy



The educated man needs a re-education

Of the pros and cons of waste reduction

Increase not thou unfriendly sophistication

That not only demands but breathes in pollution


The new age takes a reference from the old

Grandma’s days were smarter, we are now told


Using re-usable resources with a spirit bold

When the sensitivity for future wasn’t so cold


Plastics that pollute to be used sparingly

Durability of products spelt of their quality

Be it metal containers and Tiffin boxes plenty

Or even the now near extinct fountain pens greatly


The one pen owned by one lasted years so many

The one basket for groceries used, re-used uncanny


When the bicyclists hanged baskets of shopping fancy

And the grandmother stitched colourful bags lacy


Carcinogens then did not create illnesses and kill

Rubbish then did not strangle fish for some thrill


Whales never died then from consuming plastic frill

And the rivers and seas didn’t need clean up drills


When food and drink was pure and heavenly

And was cooked with love environment friendly                       bottles

Without microwaving the fire grilled food patiently

And consumption was just a mark of sufficiency


Awareness now created more so in Kenya country

Pollutants emerge as micro-, meso- or macro-debris

Unfavourable to land, waterways and atmospheric space

NEMA shuns usage of plastic bags by human race

cloth bag1


Limiting the manufacture, usage and incineration

Of the synthetic product that has toxic degradation

Enhance thy use of biodegradable production

And contribute thy effort at the planet’s conservation

paper packs


Your wasteful indulgence of this chemical contamination

Poisons many a species to their precious life’s termination

Plead dear Man do not cause this destruction escalation

Wildlife shall bless thy for bringing in plastic reduction



The modern man that grew from the past ages

Be it Ice -age, Stone-age, or many vast ages

Has unpleasantly been titled the man of Garb-ages

He needs to return in sanity to be counted among sages.

cloth bag 2

—————————————————————————————————————————————–IN THE MEDIA:

Published as Poem of the Month October in The Asian Weekly edition 373 – 13th to 19th October 2017




MEMORIES: A Father’s exit

Losing a parent is never an easy scenario. The very parent whom one takes for granted at most times leaves behind a gaping vacuum in one’s heart . Acceptance! yes of course! one does accept the death of a parent and moves on in life having no other option. Grief! yes that too. Grief plays up a big role in slowing down one’s progress in the material world but in a hidden manner it enhances one’s progress of the spiritualist manner.

Having lost my father in 1995 I have well lived a life till now. The initial sentiment of shock is still fresh in my mind to this date. Daddy was a very prominent person in my life. I couldn’t imagine a life without his physical presence. Not only was I under shock, saddened and worried about my elder brother and mother who lived with him I found myself staring into a stark reality.

Upon receiving the news of his death I first felt cheated. Cheated! yes I did feel so. I felt cheated by mummy, my brother and my uncle who had been assuring me of his recovery . They meant well of course as they did not want me to travel to see daddy in the hospital during my pregnancy. I felt cheated by the Mother Goddess whom I had worshipped ardently. Couldn’t she save him for me? I sat afront her idol to question and found an answer almost immediately. Before I could even cry in sorrow I heard an inner voice telling me, ” did you not learn that all earthly relations are temporary. The only permanent relationship you have is with God”.

This hit me hard. Yes, my grandmother (whom I called Amma) had emphasized on this statement in the hymn she often sang aloud ,” matlab ji  atheyi dosti, matlab jo parivar. matlab ja sab maaet, matlab jo sansaar…..”. It meant that all relationships, friendships and society is there for a purpose only. Did that mean daddy was my father for a purpose? I wondered as I looked up at the idol of the goddess expecting some comfort from my newly discovered true relationship.

Grief was beginning to set up space in my heart when my son came up to me. In his little effort to divert my attention from the sad occurrence he pointed out towards the glowing moon in the sky which in his words was, ” a very big golden moon”. It was indeed Sharad Purnima the next day and since our childhood (my two brothers and I) mummy had laid utmost importance to the full moon of Sharad Purnima.

Along with the grief came in flashback of beautiful memories of the whole family on the terrace of our house in New Delhi. Mummy would make us all thread a needle in pure moonlight as she believed in it to enhance our eyesight. Why, I had even forgotten all about it till my attention was drawn towards the moon that night. This was an evening of revelations and realizations. I was now fatherless yet I found I had a greater Father who would never abandon me. I looked up towards the sky expecting some sort of a signal from daddy.  Perhaps he could say a final bye, pass on a final kiss. All i saw was a plain moonlit sky. In my grief I don’t remember if I saw any stars.

We prepared for our travel to Dubai from Nairobi – Myself accompanied by my husband and our daughter and son. How I regretted not having travelled a few days earlier. It would have been better to go and meet him in person rather than meeting his lifeless body that ironically lay there at mercy of others for its disposal. In his life he was a moral and financial support for many that we knew and many that we never knew. Death can be such a robber, stealing away all of one’s attributes and possessions.

I looked in my elder brother’s face. He seemed to have matured within a couple of days. There were those visible stress lines emerged on his forehead from somewhere. I looked up at my mother. Though broken down by emotions she was the strongest person around. She kept guiding us all. When daddy’s body was being prepared for his last journey out of the house she dared the crowd that had gathered, went to give her last respects and love to daddy. Someone from among the gathered relatives tried to stop me from going near daddy in my pregnant state. It was a silly belief that a pregnant woman may not go near a dead person. I protested and mummy supported me at that time. She had dared the people once again and allowed me to touch my father one last time.

A chest full of questions were emerging in my mind. How will mummy live without daddy?How will my brothers manage such a big business spread in various countries? Who will look after them all? How will the properties be managed without him being around? Yet, in his death, he left behind his strength as a legacy. Within days the emotionally drained form of the entire family turned stronger as each one of us picked up our threads and took upon new responsibilities.

It was a silent power that had gradually lifted its head in each one. My uncle who until daddy’s death hadn’t taken any major decisions became the head of the family. He suddenly seemed to have gathered a new wisdom that helped him manage the business and family affairs with enhanced maturity. No longer was he concerned only about his wife and children. He took charge of his brother’s family too.

Mummy found it harsh living without her partener but in a couple of years she accepted her widowed status with utmost grace and smartness.  Being prudent about her financial status and dominance in family matters she carved a significant place for herself as the maternal head of the entire extended family. She found solace in her spiritual findings without letting it overpower her lifestyle. Although she couldn’t be labelled a fashionista, she draped herself stylishly and poised in elegant grooming skills.

We siblings gradually found our own strengths taking birth out of our grief. Our spiritual connection gained intelligence sense and we all began mastering our skills in various fields. My brothers never mentioned about visits by daddy in spirit form but I was constantly guided by him. To me it seemed he became closer to me in death than in life.  Death had cleared away the physical distances of the living world. He teased me frequently, played the naughty angel tricks, warned me of forthcoming happenings.

I felt privileged and very special by his visits of which some were not at all visual. At times he came as a voice in my head (not in my ears), at times he came as a thought and sometimes he came as a smell. I often felt him by his perfume that he used while alive, and that usually happened while I was praying. Then one fine day I decided I must not be selfish and revel in this pleasure. I told daddy in my mind that he was free to move on and I would be fine without him. Yes, I am fine indeed but I miss him dearly even after twenty two years.

My passion for writing took birth after daddy’s death as I wrote his eulogies and poured out my grief as poetry. I never knew I had the talent. Gradually I started getting my write -ups published. My entry into the world of journalism had begun thanks to the inspiration that came as grief. Daddy made an exit but stays on with me through my thoughts, deeds and words.




A lot has been publicized about the excellence of healthcare in India over the years. The medical fraternity should feel proud and better themselves further after having created a name for themselves. Instead, they seem to be losing their ethics. A bitter experience has resulted in this report.

I am so full of disgust at the way the doctors primarily form a team to work at a patient and towards the end disintegrate the team to form a new one. In this particular case, not only were new doctors introduced to the team in the last three days of the patient’s life, but they weren’t even introduced to her family members. It is not amusing that someone who pays your bills, has no right to meet the doctors ( they cannot spare five minutes update the caregivers of the patient) , has no right to see the reports of the numerous tests ( who knows if all the tests actually occur), has no right to get the updates.

In the hospitals in India one who takes a family member there becomes a beggar asking for details ref his or her condition and diagnosis. Why is it that the results cannot be shared at ease? Why is it that the intensive care where the visitors are supposed to wear masks and gloves permit people to enter casually without precautions? Why is it that those with influence have no restrictions and have access to areas that are usually barred for others?

I happened to witness a case in a hospital where a patient in his blooming youth was brought in by his sibling as he complained of chest pain that left him very uncomfortable.  Upon diagnosis it was announced as a heart attack and was advised a heart bypass surgery.  The family referred to their family doctor the next day who suggested that the bypass surgery wasn’t required and implanting a Stent would be sufficient.

The doctors at The hospital refused to place the Stent but the family of the patient insisted on the same.  Finally the procedure was performed for the Stent and the next day the family were informed of the failure of the procedure.  This left them with no other choice but to give their consent for the bypass surgery.

Meanwhile the patient had already been in the Intensive care for almost a week resulting in huge amount of bills.


Below is a narrative of my mother who landed in India from her country of residence in a fairly good condition but once admitted in the hospital became worse by the day as each day resulted in a new complication eventually leading to multi organ failure and death within nineteen days. To add to abuse over injury the Doctor had the audacity to tell us (my brothers and myself) that she had lived a good 75 years and that we shouldn’t be very hopeful as she was old. Who decides on how long long a person should live ? The doctors? Such medics are the ones to malign the name of the noble profession where there are many others who try their best with diligence to save lives.

End Of The Road

In God’s very own country we saw the end of the road
A stepping stone but we had guessed…..
That would lift you up to good health….
……..yet it didn’t happen that way….
The sky was bright in the morning light….
When from the flight you did step down….
…..the wheelchair awaited you as did the others few
…Cchandar, Mukesh and the Delhi family crew….
Wheeling you up to the ambulance, pre arranged…
… preparedness for wonder what?
The scare of the ambulance wasn’t enough though…
……you were taken straight into the ICU….
They pricked and pierced …… to take samples….
Of the rare commodity on your charts….
…… the blood squeezed out from your veins….
…and landed up in numerous vials and tubes.
An oxygen mask placed on you….. a first step…..
…..towards the realization that you needed help.
Help was required to make you breathe…. how….when ..
….. did it happen so?
Hadn’t you been breathing fine till you arrived at the hospital?
We failed to understand things when we were told…
…… we had limited access at being near you.
That sounded dramatic…yes, it did….
There seemed no danger as you alighted or disembarked..
……from the airplane , breathing pretty normal……
And then you were secluded as if you had the worst of ailments
……for you had landed in Apollo Hospital – one of the best they say.

After giving medicine to the patient the nurses leave the glass unwashed on the bedside table saying it is the job of housekeeping to attend to i

In God’s own land, whence you land…. with you all problems land.
They said your infection rate was very high……
……….and the blood count was getting low…..
…a low of platelets…low WBC…low Hemoglobin… a sign…..
…..that your functioning was getting to an all time low.
Probe after probe….several tests done… awaiting anxiously all results.
A bomb shell then did drop on us…. your marrow of the bone tumults…
….. they said not in those very words…. it had depressed ….
… later we learnt.
The septicemia had set in ….. in the body fluids it had spread in…..
Who was responsible for that nasty bacteria……
…… caught on in the ICU by the unhygienic ways and means.
They were meant to cure you …. but did they?
They messed it all up and you panted for each breathe.
The nursing staff was ruthless and uncouth in mannerisms.
The dietitians prescribed menus by the book…..
I would say they know not that to go by book makes them a crook.
Sentiments were lost… same boring meals repeated in and out….
That last glass of lassi much against my wish that you relished…
I wonder if that led to the unease and breathlessness
….perhaps you needed to cool ….those itchy insides…
…….from those nasty tubes and medicated pipes
It gave me pleasure to see you fuss over like usual
……your unhappiness at the television not working….
….we took it as a sign ….of your return to normalcy…
Alas! That was our fallacy….
The engineer came to get it work….. but… didn’t watch
For you lost interest….of your usually loved soaps…
The yellow in your eyes….suggested yet another diagnosis
Oh! Hadn’t you had enough of the tests in the process
In your ambition to get up and running…
You left dear mum no stone unturned….
In that feverish state you were hopeful as were we all…
…..your excitement at getting the much awaited parcel ….
….that came from home …. the pair of your glasses…
….now you could watch the videos and photos on our phones..
…and then what happened was surely a shock..
…. as of your condition now that I take stock…
When, why, how did you seem to lose focus.
I waited to hear you complain and fret over various things
……but the oxygen mask made you go silent….
You wanted to speak, you wanted to know why you were there
You questioned me … what the doctors wanted….
And they, the medics just sneered at your query….
I think it was then, that they decided….
They had to silence you in a cruel manner…
Inflicting pain and all that ugly torture…
…..your delicate self now gone so week, so very week..
….could resist no further, and you couldn’t speak….
……. unanswered went all questions that your mind did seek

Developments occurred of the unpleasant kind…

sugars went rising and pressure dripping down by bands..
Units after units of transfusions added, with unhygienic hands..
….and unsanitized, unsensitized habits of the nursing staff…
Uncouth appeared the ICU hall, with scores of hygiene flaws.
Apollo one of New Delhi’s biggest Hospital…. a name of shame…
….where the nurses, the doctors and accounts department
…..all merciless by money ridden mind have lost their hearts
They cared not enough for the well being charts….
……instead filled pockets by playing infectious tricky darts
They stepped on our tender nerves of saving our mother…
by introducing a new failure, a new diagnosis each day….
And helplessly we all saw you gradually fading away…..
…till you reached a saturation point and finally gave up the fight.
The fight to live, the fight of our brave warrior, our mother..
…..ended in God’s very own country….. your end of the road…
…..leaving us bereaved and grieved with a painful bitterness….
That spoke tales of their tight lipped betrayal of the oath …..
…..the oath they took….as they took their first steps ….
In the medical profession…..
……they are nothing but murderers living in respect….
……for their conscience and their pockets find no connect….
Bringing untimely, unethically many a living to dead ….
……the end of the road on the hospital bed!


This link below to yet another incident as well as messages received via social media:

Medical Kidnapping and Murder by Doctors of Fortis Bannerghatta Hospital
#Justice4Maa Fortis Hospital, Bannerghatta Fortis Bangalore Republic Aaj Tak NDTV Zee News ABP News Headlines Today

Generally Kidnapping and murder is carried out by anti social elements/criminals of the society but there are people in this society who are not recognized as anti social element but they are not less than a kidnapper or a murderer.They are known as Corporate Doctors and their crime location is Hospital.Here,the ransom amount(Hospital Bill) is Rs 43 lakh and result :- Murder of my mother after keeping her in ICU for more than 50 days.This is reason why I compared Kidnapper with Doctor. Can you imagine the medicine cost they charged is nearly Rs 12 Lakh. With this amount I can even open a medical shop.

I lost my mother who was fit and fine till 13th May 2017 before her admission in the hospital.Now,I am fighting for the justice.

On 13th May,we went to Fortis Hospital for a small 5mm Gallbalder Stone treatment which hardly takes 45min of surgery.She was fit and fine and was not having any pain till 13th May 2017.Each and every report/parameters tested by Fortis Banneghatta Hospital Bangalore such as WBC,RBC,Hemoglobin,Platelets,Bilirubin,Creatinine all were normal.Lungs,Heart,Kidney,Liver,Pancrease all the vital organs were working perfectly fine when she got admitted on 13th May 2017.

These big corporate hospitals have marketing team who will insist you to come and get the treatment done in their hospital and also they will ask you what kind of insurance you have so that they will complete their target.In my case Mr. Kanniraj keeps calling me even when he was on leave.They want to trap you because they know you love your dear ones and you will come for the treatment.

13th May 2017,Dr Shabber Ahmad,he was supposed to do the Stone Surgery,he asked us to go for ERCP (Endoscopic Retrograde Cholangio-Pancreatography) because he was having 0.5% doubt that there is an symtom of Cancer.To rule out his doubt he asked us to undergo this Procedure and asked Dr,Pooranchandra KS to perform ERCP.The Biopsy report later confirmed that there was no symptoms of cancer.

Dr.Pooranchandra KS did the ERCP where Pancreatic,biliary Sphincterotomy was done and biopsy was taken.Post ERCP my mother was under servere pain because he touched the pancrease which resulted in Acute Severe Pancreatitis.She was continously saying she is having pain in stomach but since it was saturday he left hospital .Junior Doctors were just giving pain killer to her.We were continously crying that she is having pain but no one bothered.They kept her in the ward for 3 days before moving her to the ICU when her BP started falling down.

On 16th May,they finally moved her to ICU saying they wanted to monitor her for 24hrs because they dont have equipment in ward.We agreed.

Post ERCP all the vital oragan got affected.Starting with Kidney,lungs heart,liver etc.They asked us to put Pace Maker because after ERCP her heart rythm was not working properly.We agreed because we want her back.She never had heart problem before but in hospital she was on Pace Maker.

Worst part is that they dont know whom they are treating,in number of the reports they have mentioned Sex as Male,when we raised this point they said it is not affecting her treatment,it is only clerical mistake,you dont worry.One of the document I have where it is mentioned as Male and even signed by Senior Cardiology Doctor.They even stop tracheostomy(a type of surgery for oxygen supply) after taking the consent in middle because there was some outstanding amount pending.Once we paid the amount,than only they started the surgery next day.

She was continuously having pain in her stomach and her stomach size was high but ICU team didn’t bother to take any action.Internal bleeding started and they were not able to find out from where the bleeding happening.

Almost 40-45 units of Blood,Platelets,Plasma were transfused to her.Finally,because of long ventilator stay she got infected with number of bacteria and most deadly one was MDR(Multi Drug Resistant)Klebsiella in her blood.

She also went Pancreatic Necrois surgery to remove the dead pancrease and puse. The worst part is that they did all kind of surgery except that surgery for which she went to the hospital.In one of the report they said there is NO STONE IN THE GALLBLADDER.

Finally we lost the battle on 3rd July 2017.On her last day,her BP was continuously sinking and these doctors were saying we have done out best,we cant do anything more.Even on the last day they took consent to perform Dialysis to remove acid from the body.Slowly and slowlyThey know they cant do anything now and my mother is slowing dying so they called BOUNCERS in the ICU.I dont understand what is the need of bouncers in ICU.We lost her,she was in tremendous pain and we were praying that God Please take her with you.She is suffering.

We lost her and it was nothing less than a medical kidnapping and murder.These Doctors and Hospital are running for money,on 2nd July 2017,One patient died in ICU at around 10 PM and doctors and staff were laughing.CCTV footage can clearly show this.

Please help me out by sharing this post so that I will get strength to fight.If you need any more info,please feel free to reach me out.

Abhinav Verma


This message is received from Mr. Parmanand Khianey of Spain

Dear friends

I am narrating the real incident of cheating and misguidance by the top and famous hospital at Mumbai.
This happened to my elder brother at Fortis Hospital at Vashi Mumbai.
Iniitially we took him to a nearby small hospital for checkup where we were advised to shift him to a nearby Fortis Hospital where all facilities of MRI and other tests are available and accordingly we shifted him to Fortis Vashi Mumbai in an unconscious stage.

Initially they asked us to deposit a sum of rupees 100000 as advanced and immediately he was shifted to Intensive Care Unit for detailed examination of his unconsciousness. To our surprise none of the doctors were able to diagnose the cause of problem and for 8 days he was kept in Intensive Care Unit advising us that his condition is still not out of danger. All his tests including the bone marrow test were done at heavy price and a windpipe was inserted through his throat up to the lungs so the patient was made incapable of speaking and was totally dependent at the mercy of attending doctors. we were allowed to see the patient only once in 24 hours and he was found unconscious all the time.

After 8 days of treatment with no result we got suspicious and consulted one of our family neurologist and on his advice we arranged for visit of senior Neurologist from Lilavati Hospital to examine the patient.

On the 9th day when I informed Fortis Hospital doctors that I have arranged for for a visit of a senior Neurologist from Lilavati Hospital to examine the patient they got disturbed and to our surprise by the afternoon his wind pipe was removed and the patient was allowed to gain consciousness.
He was shifted to a private ward on the same day and a physiotherapist was called to start minor exercises. Ultimately he was discharged in another 2 days and we were told that his ammonia levels were high so he lost consciousness and instead of treating ammonia they kept him unconscious by administering a dose of tranquilizers in ICU for 8 days.
This is the way these big hospitals treat the patient with the intentions of earning huge amount of money. ultimately we end up paying around 500000 rupees towards the cost of 8 days of ICU charges and other unwanted tests which were done by the Hospital in the name of diagnosing the disease.

I am sharing my experience with all of you with this clear intentions that please do not fall prey in the hands of these big hospitals as they have clear intentions of looting and cheating the patients. I have got all documentary evidences and proofs in my records which clearly shows the carelessness and the greedy attitude of the Hospital.

Request all to share this msg in all your groups so that these big hospitals are exposed and they stop cheating us.

Nanalal @ 90


Your gaiety walk and proud chest
Your fair means and ways are the best
A young child and youngest brother once
You have emerged as a family elder
A lineage of culture and tradition
You proudly continued with a rich hue
Never forgetting those dim candle lit days
Of scarcity in privileges and endless days
You stood tall and mighty in your right
In what once appeared to be far fetched
In those long nights of plight
That you made your stint into journalism
From far away land your articles came
And Sakkerben reveled in the happiness game
A pride of prides Nanalal you became
A respected lawyer among many others
Uplifting the downtrodden on the path
Rising and shining on the law forte
Bringing justice to many on their porch
Never blinking an eye when it came to giving aid
Your selfless nature gave you name
Put to use in your welfare game

Through countless hours of lawyering
You found a passion of a greater giving
Realizing the true nature of humanity
For you attained a doctorate in that philosophy
Compassion that flows through you deep and wide
Even the Nile looks at you in awe
The feats you have achieved through these years
Will be remembered for eons to come
Yet humble you remain
As you strive to achieve your A-game.
Known fondly as Kaka to young and old
At a ripe 90 you stand mighty bold
We wish you good health, happiness and laughter
To celebrate yet another wonderful chapter




I am sorry mum for your suffering!
I am sorry for your pain bearing!
Having lost you to illness left me hurt….
But having lost you to wounds has injured me.
A brave warrior you fought till the end…
….Although the suffering saw no end.
The pricks and piercing here and there…
……And ugly jabs almost everywhere …..
…The uncouth handling of your care….
By the staff of Apollo’s nursing care.
The Intensive care forced upon you,
By the doctors of Apollo whilst their pockets
……..were fed by you.

The painful expression coming from your eyes,
Questioning me everyday,” why O! why?”
Docs pushing you away from the comfort of home,
To leave you alone at a time whilst sickness had grown….
The loss of the vital body fluid….
that should have run smooth and rapid.
Leaving you feeblest like never had….
Causing fevers and tremors of shivering ….
All so firmly accepted and borne by you.
The unethical morals rule medical fraternity ……..
The dirty tricks layered by ego between medics…
Cost me dearly a life that was precious and pure.

I am sorry mum for your suffering!
I am sorry for your pain bearing!
Having lost you to negligence by specialists….
Who forgot to check on you but checked pockets.
To them of interest were the results on charts,
They noticed not the inflicted painful darts.
Causing infection and then finding the cause,
Causing blood loss after blood loss to fulfill the loss….
By hundreds of syringes that extracted your blood……
…..To them it was a mere routine job.
Did they notice ever those shabby helper boys….
Contaminating the samples on the way to pathology lab ?
Holding trays full of samples, with samosaed oily hands,
Stopping on the way satiating their gossipy glands.

I am sorry mum for your suffering!
I am sorry for your pain bearing!
The legs captivated by that DVT pump….
Made you feel imprisoned on the hospital bed.
I should have understood your agony oh mum,
Please do forgive me for the ignorance mum.
The mouth went dry and you felt to cry…..
…..Neither a sip of water nor tears to cry.
I was shocked by that condition and wanted to pry…
Your hands too were bandaged under a pretext oh my!
Your own beautiful, glowing body ……
Turned to emerge a burden or a sort of cage….
Was it your illness or the hospital that laid the trap?
To squeeze out the life force out of you….
……Giving it wings of air to fly far away.

I am sorry mum for your suffering!
I am sorry for the pain bearing!
No apology ever came from them……
They found excuses to give you the run.
Their options all were fatalistic eventually,
They love the game called Life that ends in Death.
The Apollo Hospital at New Delhi,
To me appeared to be a death sanctuary.
I am bitter, yes very bitter at the way things worked,
I lost you at a place where lives are meant to get cured.
You said not a single formal goodbye
You spoke not a word in days lying masked.
You neither hugged nor were allowed to be hugged….
…….In life at hospital or even in death.
I miss by big motherly hug dear mum,
I miss you each day my dear mum.
Now memories alone shall hang on
Of the immediate past and years of past
Like a jigsaw puzzle unfolding on mind screen,
I wish I could get you back my own royal queen.