DOW MEDICAL COLLEGE CLASS OF 1977 REUNION KARACHI 1994
AN ARTICLE BY PROF. MURAD MOOSA KHAN, DOW77
WRITTEN AND PUBLISHED ON DOW77.COM IN 1997.
Some of us had changed beyond recognition.
Others had managed to retain their youthful looks. Most fell somewhere in between. But we all came.
Pulled as if we were by the powerful force of
camaraderie that was now seventeen years old.
You see, we had the reunion the other day.
We had a union once. It lasted almost seven
years.
The Dow Medical College was the setting and we the Class of ’77. From the initial revulsion of
dissecting human bodies in anatomy and “pithing” the frogs in physiology to receiving the M.B.,B.S.degree, we were together. We faced many odds and trials together. from the “first year fools” initiation ceremony to going on the “hygiene tour”. From facing Prof. Colonel Najeeb Khan in Medicine and Prof. Razia Latif Ansari in Gynecology to surviving “Baba” Rizvi in Surgery. From hernias and hemorrhoids to amoebiasis and arthritis we were together. Thrown together as we were by fate and our percentage in Inter! We made alliances- political, social, romantic. As we made them, so did we break them, only to make them again.
The 70’s was in many ways a time of change. One of the post world war’s greatest and perhaps the most
controversial conflicts – the Vietnam War was drawing to a close with t humiliating defeat for the world’s largest superpower.
The Watergate affair was to shake the entire breath of the American political system. Its repercussions would be felt for a long time to come. Demonstrations by students against war seemed to be taking place in almost every capital of every
country of the world. The student body politic seemed to be united by a common cause.
Closer to home, the crisis in East Pakistan led to defeat of the Pakistan army and the creation of Bangla Desh. We welcomed and accommodated a number of students from medical colleges in the former East Pakistan. In the Western part a somewhat democratically elected government of Z.A.Bhutto took power after almost fifteen years of military dictatorship – first of Ayub Khan and then Yahya Khan. for Pakistan, it was s momentous time which promised much. We were swept away by the euphoria of the winds of change and had a first hand taste of politics ourselves through the elections for our college union, held after a lapse of many years. We discovered how political alliances were made and votes “bought”!
We struggled with the first Professional examinations. We staged a “walk-out” in one of the Anatomy papers because we thought someone decided to give applied instead of descriptive anatomy questions. How could they? As us the muscle attachments on any bone or the course of any artery. But how dare they ask us about “arterio-venous anastomosis” or “facial palsy”. Did the examiners think we actually used our brains to think?. It was bad enough trying to “rote memorize” all these things! We were all failed and had to sit the memorized exam.
We discovered some of our friends had developed new and novel ways of helping themselves and their friends during the exams. The water boy was not merely carrying the water jug! “Pharras” became a catch word on everyone’s lips, Despite advice to the contrary one well built friend even decided to take the thickest book in the whole curriculum – “Love & Bailey’s” textbook of surgery in the examination hall! Rumor has it he only avoided discovery by placing his massive backside on it! Needless to say he passed!
The clinical years gave us our first taste of the reality of life – and death. We discovered – rather cruelly, that hospitals were not just places where people came to be treated and get well. Many times they were places where people came to be treated and get well. Many times they were places where people did not get well and died. At times it seemed at Civil Hospital Karachi, the latter was the norm rather than the exception. Yet no one had prepared us for it. We came face to face with human distress of unknown proportions. We discovered what it was like to be poor and ill in Pakistan. We were overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of patients in the “OPD’s” – people who had no one to turn to but God above and doctors- mere mortals, on earth below. It was tremendous responsibility which none of us had anticipated when we entered medical school.
Then one day we “graduated” and went our separate ways. Some went abroad for “higher” studies, some stayed behind at home. Some never returned from foreign lands, some went and came back. As time passed we drifted away, made new alliances, developed new relationships. In time we forgot many of our class fellows. Sometimes only the face was remembered, the name having been erased from the mind. Sometimes the name remained but the face could not match it.
But when we re-united the other day it was as if we were transported back all those seventeen years. Old enmities and past differences were forgotten in the euphoria of discovering the remnants of our cherished past. the r-union reminded us of that exciting time when we were carefree and happy and everything to look forward to. it reminded us of that enchanting time when the world appeared to be under our feet and the sky the limit. The people – our class fellows were proof that such a time did actually exist once and we were part of it. the re-union helped refresh our memories of that incredible time in our lives that may never come again but that it existed once.
When we met we found many of us had impressive letters after their names while others were still struggling to acquire them! Some were working in prestigious, high flown institutions, others in re modest surroundings. We discovered that many of us had lost their parents, a few their spouses. Some had grown up children while others were still struggling with nappies! We recalled old times and as we sat down to hear the welcoming address it was as if we were transposed back to the anatomy lecture hall all those years ago. there were few familiar catcalls, a few familiar remarks. It was then that we discovered that despite the passing of years some of us had not changed in the slightest!
We talked and talked – with almost childlike excitement and would not – perhaps could not – let go of each other. it was almost as if we afraid of losing each other again.
But then it was time to part. having reposed our trust in the past and having rediscovered the fragments of the broken bonds we parted once again – hopefully for a briefer period this time.
AN ARTICLE BY PROF. MURAD MOOSA KHAN, DOW77
WRITTEN AND PUBLISHED ON DOW77.COM IN 1997.
Some of us had changed beyond recognition.
Others had managed to retain their youthful looks. Most fell somewhere in between. But we all came.
Pulled as if we were by the powerful force of
camaraderie that was now seventeen years old.
You see, we had the reunion the other day.
We had a union once. It lasted almost seven
years.
The Dow Medical College was the setting and we the Class of ’77. From the initial revulsion of
dissecting human bodies in anatomy and “pithing” the frogs in physiology to receiving the M.B.,B.S.degree, we were together. We faced many odds and trials together. from the “first year fools” initiation ceremony to going on the “hygiene tour”. From facing Prof. Colonel Najeeb Khan in Medicine and Prof. Razia Latif Ansari in Gynecology to surviving “Baba” Rizvi in Surgery. From hernias and hemorrhoids to amoebiasis and arthritis we were together. Thrown together as we were by fate and our percentage in Inter! We made alliances- political, social, romantic. As we made them, so did we break them, only to make them again.
The 70’s was in many ways a time of change. One of the post world war’s greatest and perhaps the most
controversial conflicts – the Vietnam War was drawing to a close with t humiliating defeat for the world’s largest superpower.
The Watergate affair was to shake the entire breath of the American political system. Its repercussions would be felt for a long time to come. Demonstrations by students against war seemed to be taking place in almost every capital of every
country of the world. The student body politic seemed to be united by a common cause.
Closer to home, the crisis in East Pakistan led to defeat of the Pakistan army and the creation of Bangla Desh. We welcomed and accommodated a number of students from medical colleges in the former East Pakistan. In the Western part a somewhat democratically elected government of Z.A.Bhutto took power after almost fifteen years of military dictatorship – first of Ayub Khan and then Yahya Khan. for Pakistan, it was s momentous time which promised much. We were swept away by the euphoria of the winds of change and had a first hand taste of politics ourselves through the elections for our college union, held after a lapse of many years. We discovered how political alliances were made and votes “bought”!
We struggled with the first Professional examinations. We staged a “walk-out” in one of the Anatomy papers because we thought someone decided to give applied instead of descriptive anatomy questions. How could they? As us the muscle attachments on any bone or the course of any artery. But how dare they ask us about “arterio-venous anastomosis” or “facial palsy”. Did the examiners think we actually used our brains to think?. It was bad enough trying to “rote memorize” all these things! We were all failed and had to sit the memorized exam.
We discovered some of our friends had developed new and novel ways of helping themselves and their friends during the exams. The water boy was not merely carrying the water jug! “Pharras” became a catch word on everyone’s lips, Despite advice to the contrary one well built friend even decided to take the thickest book in the whole curriculum – “Love & Bailey’s” textbook of surgery in the examination hall! Rumor has it he only avoided discovery by placing his massive backside on it! Needless to say he passed!
The clinical years gave us our first taste of the reality of life – and death. We discovered – rather cruelly, that hospitals were not just places where people came to be treated and get well. Many times they were places where people came to be treated and get well. Many times they were places where people did not get well and died. At times it seemed at Civil Hospital Karachi, the latter was the norm rather than the exception. Yet no one had prepared us for it. We came face to face with human distress of unknown proportions. We discovered what it was like to be poor and ill in Pakistan. We were overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of patients in the “OPD’s” – people who had no one to turn to but God above and doctors- mere mortals, on earth below. It was tremendous responsibility which none of us had anticipated when we entered medical school.
Then one day we “graduated” and went our separate ways. Some went abroad for “higher” studies, some stayed behind at home. Some never returned from foreign lands, some went and came back. As time passed we drifted away, made new alliances, developed new relationships. In time we forgot many of our class fellows. Sometimes only the face was remembered, the name having been erased from the mind. Sometimes the name remained but the face could not match it.
But when we re-united the other day it was as if we were transported back all those seventeen years. Old enmities and past differences were forgotten in the euphoria of discovering the remnants of our cherished past. the r-union reminded us of that exciting time when we were carefree and happy and everything to look forward to. it reminded us of that enchanting time when the world appeared to be under our feet and the sky the limit. The people – our class fellows were proof that such a time did actually exist once and we were part of it. the re-union helped refresh our memories of that incredible time in our lives that may never come again but that it existed once.
When we met we found many of us had impressive letters after their names while others were still struggling to acquire them! Some were working in prestigious, high flown institutions, others in re modest surroundings. We discovered that many of us had lost their parents, a few their spouses. Some had grown up children while others were still struggling with nappies! We recalled old times and as we sat down to hear the welcoming address it was as if we were transposed back to the anatomy lecture hall all those years ago. there were few familiar catcalls, a few familiar remarks. It was then that we discovered that despite the passing of years some of us had not changed in the slightest!
We talked and talked – with almost childlike excitement and would not – perhaps could not – let go of each other. it was almost as if we afraid of losing each other again.
But then it was time to part. having reposed our trust in the past and having rediscovered the fragments of the broken bonds we parted once again – hopefully for a briefer period this time.
— with Murad Moosa Khan.
