In  my early teenage years, I harboured an unwavering desire: to tread the noble path of medicine. Yet, my academic brilliance did not blaze like a comet across the sky. Like any child, I confided my burning ambition to my father—a man who grappled with financial constraints, yet held within him the promise of unwavering support.“Fear not,” he vowed, “I shall pay the capitation fee and secure a medical seat for you.”And so, against the odds, that promise materialized. A seat in the hallowed halls of Davangere—an opportunity carved from sacrifice and resilience. 

My home-town, Thrissur, lay some 350 miles distant, a chasm bridged by determination and the rhythmic pulse of train wheels.An overnight journey aboard the broad gauge train from Thrissur to Bangalore—the darkness outside mirrored the fervour within. As dawn painted the horizon, I boarded the meter gauge train, its wheels humming a hopeful melody. The sun, a golden witness, guided me towards Davangere, where destiny awaited, and dreams unfurled with the dusk.

From meter gauge train landing at Davangere station, I have to get a horse cart! When I started studying medicine at Davangere, there was no non veg restaurant. Davangere, with its rustic charm and simpler times, must have been quite an adventure. Let me paint a picture of my journey. Imagine the rhythmic clatter of the meter gauge train as it chugged into Davangere station.The platform bustling with travellers, their faces filled with anticipation and stories waiting to unfold. And there I was, stepping off the train, ready for my medical journey. 

No Uber or Ola, just the clip-clop of hooves as you hailed a horse cart.The driver, perhaps was with a weathered hat and a knowing smile, took me through narrow streets, past bazaars and old buildings.As hunger gnawed at my stomach, I realized there were no non-veg restaurants in sight.No sizzling kebabs or aromatic biryanis; just the promise of home-cooked chappathies, sambar and simple vegetarian fare.


Davangere’s Landscape was without any up and down hills,  and most of the buildings were single storey.. There was always a breeze or rather wind, and it seldom rained torrentially as it was in Thrissur. Therefore, I seldom took umbrellas while I went out. The town, surrounded by fields, Kalyana Mandapams and dotted with old temples, held its secrets close. Maybe I glimpsed the Channagiri Hill in the distance, its slopes waiting for my footsteps.

And so I  began my medical education—a path paved with determination, late-night study sessions, and the camaraderie of fellow students. Daytime I was in the anatomy theatre of JJM Medical College Anatomy dissecting cadavers.·The horse cart rides and veg meals became part of my story, woven into the fabric of my memories.

Today, Davangere has transformed. The horse carts have given way to cars, and non-veg restaurants abound. But those early days—the simplicity, the resilience—remain etched in my heart. My father’s investment in my education was not just about money; it was an investment in my future. The memories associated with that payment hold immense sentimental value.

Education is priceless, and the sacrifices made by parents endure through time. So here’s to the days of horse carts and veg meals, to the spirit of learning, and to the remarkable journey that shaped me

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Dr.C.J.George FRCS

This blog is about my experience as a doctor working in various countries in different clinical set up. This experience spans through 45 years, in which I acquired a lot of favourable contacts and unfavourable encounters. I shall dig deep into them and make it interesting to the readers. Unlike others in the profession, I worked as a community medical officer in a remote areas, prison medical officer, benefit service medical officer, in cardiac surgery in prestigious institutions and as a private doctor. I was managing my own businesses, and real estate in three continents. I hope the information I impart will be valuable to the like minded readers.

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