A Consultation with Dr.l Saranthcahdran

A Consultation with Doctor Saranthchadran


Having access to both our Ayruvedic teacher, Saranth (pronounced Sharant), and two excellent Ayurvedic hospitals nearby precipitated visits to the hospital for both Eleanor and me regarding certain chronic medical conditions: Eleanor with her asthma and me with an inability to adequately digest certain kinds of food. We have both been treated by various methods over many years with some success, though we had never tried Ayurvedic medicine, as there are no true Ayurvedic doctors in our area.

We arrived at the hospital at 4:00, leaving our shoes outside the front door, as is customary in most places in India. The hospital was in a home that had been converted into a clinic with some rooms available for long term patient care. At this particular hospital, a new and beautiful wing was under construction for the use of long term patient care. This wing is projected to be completed in 2010 and has two parts. One first walks into a foyer which opens onto a courtyard. The courtyard is surrounded by rooms on all four sides. This is the working part of the new wing where there will be consultation rooms, a pharmacy, a room for yoga (as exercise and meditation are essential parts of wellness), a kitchen area, and other rooms for common use. Then, off to the side is a long veranda with a large open space in front. Rooms for patients are off the veranda. Each room not only has a window facing the front veranda and open area, but has a porch overlooking and accessible to a back garden with a beautiful, breezy view of the river below. It is wonderfully calm and serene, with trees draping over the river and sunlight making dazzling diamond patterns on the ripples.

Eleanor and I, however, went into the original house, now clinic. Inside was a room with a counter for some common medicines as well as a welcoming pharmacist/receptionist. Our doctor teacher was also there to greet us. We sat in chairs to start the process of filling out paper work. (Previously, I asked what kind of identification would be required. Will we need to bring our passports? Sharant looked at me with a smile, one might even say a slightly mischievous grin, and said, “You know who you are? Don’t you? You don’t need to bring anything.” This was my first hint that this was not to be like most other doctor visits!) Paperwork: The paperwork was: our name, country, and age. That’s all. Nothing else necessary.

Next, we went into the consultation room. Here there was a desk, 3 chairs, and a bed off to the side with a few medical instruments like a sphygmomanometer, etc. Sarnath was at the side of the desk while an older, woman doctor was behind the desk. In India, women are treated by women, or at least in the presence of a woman doctor, and men are usually treated by men. In our case, we wanted to consult with Sarnath because of our previous relationship. Having the two physicians was doubly required. First, it was necessary for us to have a woman doctor. Second, Sarnath had finished his studies within the past year or so. Part of the medical training here is a long period of consultation with an expert doctor – this is after residency training. There are often two doctors consulting on a case. So, both doctors listened, asked questions, and examined where needed. It was a dynamic interchange between patient and doctors, with both doctors consulting each others, asking further questions, consulting more, more questions, and then that knowing smile. 20 or 30 minutes later, a note was sent to the pharmacist outside and Eleanor was in the room for a similar experience. Afterwards, the pharmacist comes with our medicines, instructions are given for taking them, dietary and exercise regimens are discussed, and a decision is made for Eleanor to have a medical massage for an old knee injury. While our medical needs were being addressed in a thorough fashion, tea was served. We had to ask a couple of times to find out what dosa we were diagnosed with (kapha, vata, pitha). Others who have consulted with the doctor since then had a similar experience, so this must be something they don’t necessarily tell people. I think most people here (and everywhere) aren’t particularly interested in the details of their type and condition – they just want to be treated. I wonder if there is a philosophical reason for not mentioning it as well. And so ended Day 1. Tomorrow, and for three more days, we would return for Eleanor’s massage. Medicines in hand, we go to pay for our visit.

Cost of the medicines for both of us in US dollars: roughly $6.00 (and this has no profit). Cost of the consultation: free. And this was NOT because we were visitors and part of the Center. All consultations are totally free! It is based on a completely different philosophy of medicine and funding. I asked about this in class the next day. How is it possible to pay for the doctors, pharmacist, clinicians, facility, new facility, and people who prepare the medicines? First, came a recitation of slokas, or ancient Sanskrit texts, that dictated the doctor’s relationship with his patients and his practice. The foremost of these was that a doctor should never go after the money. They should respond to what is before them and not worry about the money – the money will come to them. I have now heard this from three doctors, though I know there are also other clinics in India which operate under a different philosophy. For long term visits, there is a charge for room and board. I am not sure what this charge is, however. (There is a website, though I don’t have the address as yet. The name of the hospital is Kathika Nair Memorial N.S.S. Ayurveda Hospital, Vallamkulam. 689541 Phone: 2609054. I think the last word is the name of the town in which it is located.) This clinic is completely traditional in its philosophy, though it uses many, many modern technological methods when necessary as well.

The history of this clinic is as follows. 8 generations back, there was a king with a young son. The king died (it may have not been natural – but I’m not sure about this) and there was an insurgency by various parties for power. The young prince, whose life was in danger, was whisked away and protected by a family. When the prince came of age and gained his rightful inheritance, he rewarded the family with a large tract of land. It is upon this land that the family lives, and the proceeds of the agricultural products of the land supports the family. (He wears a necklace with tiger’s teeth on it that is discreetly tucked under his shirt, a family heirloom from long ago. His sister also has one. There is also a rare double edged sword of noble lineage that remains in the family. The only other one like it is in a museum.) They have no financial need, then or now, and their time and intelligence goes to the medical vocation which they have safeguarded and upon which they have expanded since that early time. So, the physicians do not need and do not ask for money. It is against their principles to have more than what they need. And because they cultivate many of the herbs and make many of their herbal preparations by hand and by the timeless methods of old, they prefer to keep their practice small … and perfect. The house and land was donated by another family to be used as a hospital. The new clinic is being funded by a corporation. And so it is. A stream of patients quietly comes through the door, care and intense concentration is given to each one, medicines are given, a few rupees are exchanged (sometimes), and the day proceeds. It is all so … human, so personal and warm. There was a woman from London at the clinic. She had been there for several months and I happened to be there when she was leaving to go back home. It was truly like leaving a family. Everyone came out to see her off, from the servant to the doctors, in a quiet and loving way. All were wishing her well. It was clear that she did not want to leave, and I was moved to see how her health had been nurtured not only physically, but socially and emotionally as well. And so, when she returns to her home and has to face the daily duties and needs once again, she will, in times of difficulty, close her eyes and think of all those caring people and be given a fresh strength in the core of her being. This is a gift beyond mere physical health. It was … beautiful.

The next day, Eleanor and I returned to the clinic for her medical massage. She was escorted to the massage room which has a large wooden massage table. The table is made of a specific kind of wood that has medicinal properties – so the oils, the massage, and the table itself are all helping the patient in different ways. It is lovely, large, dark wood table with little channels on the sides to catch any extraneous oil, keeping everything clean and tidy. In many kinds of Ayurvedic massage, large amounts of oil are used. In Eleanor’s case, she was receiving the kind of massage known as a Powder Massage (using Western words). She sat on the table (mostly because she wanted to watch) with her pants leg rolled up. First, oil is gently placed on the affected air and rubbed in, rather gently. Then, hot towels are fanned on and around the area. This is to prepare the skin for receiving the heated oil. They want maximum absorption as well as protection of the skin from too much of a shock from the heat. Then, hot oil is rubbed into the affected area. The masseuse is medically expert – more like a physical therapist. She manipulates the area, re-aligning and strengthening the muscles and ligaments through various manipulations. Next, a poultice of chopped herbs, especially prepared for Eleanor’s condition, is placed in a cloth. This forms a hard ball which is then firmly pounded into the affected area. More massage, more firm pounding, and 30-40 minutes later, off she goes.

Our doctor friend was a little less tired today. The busy part of his day is in the morning, beginning at 8:00, when most patients choose to come. Then, he comes from 1:30-4:00 to teach our class, and returns to the hospital to consult with patients until 6:00 or 7:00. Monday through Saturday, every week. Sundays, he returns to his family home to be with his parents and grandmother, with occasional visits to his sister in Kochi. I was most fortunate in that it was at the end of the day and no patients had come at that time. We spoke for the entire time Eleanor was getting treated, and, once Eleanor returned, we talked for another hour or more afterwards. The topics of conversation ranged from medical philosophy and preparation of medicines, to the cosmological cycles of time, to education, to family history, to the various gunas (sattva, raja, tamas), to what yoga was and was not, to japa yoga and invocatory methods, to the duty of the child to expand upon the knowledge given by the parents, to the choice of colleges. (That was interesting, too. It seems that, after several years of private school education, his father had him go to government school! He told him two things. First of all, that he must understand all kinds of people in order to get along in life. Second, that he was to remain true to himself, no matter where, no matter what. This was in response to Eleanor’s choice of education closer to home – which he appreciated - and his unsaid message to her was the realization that no matter where you are, you can get what you need from it, but it is your responsibility to do so. He also told her that many of his high school colleagues are now heads of corporations and/or hold political office. There are no limitations.) And so the conversation went. Back to medicine, philosophy, family, and round again. It was riveting. It was stimulating. It was challenging. It was … wonderful. Back and forth, back and forth, the ebb and flow of ideas, questions, knowledge. The sun was getting low, and it slowly dawned on me that, for Indian etiquette, it was up to me to leave. There would be no gentle suggestions or way of knowing when we were finished. I was rather embarrassed when I finally realized this, thinking the poor man was sitting there hoping desperately that I would leave. But again, that western thinking was not at all the case. We were here. It was all meant to be. The time was valued by all. And, the joy of the end, was finding out that our class would be able to meet his family on the weekend in their family home!

The next day, the entire class went to the hospital for a tour. I had already seen the office and the new wing and massage area, but we were also given a tour of the room where medicines were made. I was, of course, in seventh heaven. There were all these lovely, lovely roots and tins filled with herbs and saps. And that special aroma that I love so much - the aroma of medicinal herbs cooking in oil. I realize that not many may share this sentiment, but for me, it was like coming home. There was the fire (a gas fire, not wood) and a huge copper vessel, brimming with herbs, some pasty substance (looked yeasty, but I’m not sure at all), and bubbly oil. A woman was there, watching a stirring, making sure it was boiling “just so” and for just the right amount of time. We also had an hour tour of all the medicinal plants growing wild in the overgrown yard and by the river. Again, my memories of my internship with medicinal herbs brought back the sweet nostalgia of home. But here, nothing was familiar. The properties were the same. The taste of the herbs or roots that went with certain treatments were the same, but none of the plants were the same. I was in completely new territory. I didn’t take notes, knowing that the plants that grew here may not be hearty in Indiana , but I loved hearing and touching the plants, of listening to all the properties, when to harvest, which part, what care had to be taken to de-toxify certain roots before using them as medicine, and so forth. After an hour, we went to the neighbor’s house. Upon entering, this spry man in a doti bounced forward to eagerly greet us. He was absolutely full of energy and enthusiasm. We were given a little tour of the front part of the garden, and, in a little while, were invited inside for some freshly squeezed lime and water – limes right off the tree. His wife, a school teacher, came in around that time and the conversation buzzed around – light, homely, loving. This man had been the manager of a bank. Upon retirement from a position of great responsibility, he began cultivating his garden. And it is stunning. After lime juice, we got a further tour of his garden – this time the side and back. It is filled with medicinals (inspired by proximity to the hospital) and fruits and vegetables. Everything is beautifully tended, organically, and his side yard is terraced down to the river. He was so animated and gracious, so purely happy and simple. AND, besides being an avid gardener, he was a master fisherman. AH!! We explained. Eleanor rubs her hands in glee – weapons to be seen! SO a demonstration of the various methods of fishing that he has perfected: trident, spear, a fabulous looking crossbow whose arrow (no feathers) has a string attached to the bow for retrieval, fascinating tips for catching different kinds of fish, nets, etc. etc. etc. Again, the sun begins to set. Again, it is up to us to leave. Oh, so reluctantly. Somewhere in the leaving process, Eleanor is whisked away for her massage. The others left, I spoke a bit more with Sarnath, and then, back home for dinner – and anticipation of going out to Sarnath’s home tomorrow.