THE ODYSSEY OF COMMUNITY

SERVICE: A PERSONAL REFLECTION

By DR. MANDAKINI AMTE
2008 Ramon Magsaysay Awardee
Presented at the 50th Ramon Magsaysay Awards Lecture Series
1 September 2008, Manila, Philippines

For any woman to be a partner in the pains of her husbands doings is not a new thing. But
to be a partner in his honour and award and for the world to recognise her humble
contribution is indeed a rare pleasure. I am glad that this pleasure is mine today. I express
a deep sense of gratitude to the Ramon Magsaysay Award Foundation to have conferred
this honour on me and for giving me space and time to voice my feelings on this auspicious
occasion of its golden jubilee celebrations.
As I walk down the memory lane to gather glimpses of our partnership in life and work, I
wonder whether I can ever separate the two. It is true that I had never thought seriously of
doing any social work before I met Prakash. I had nothing of the stuff of which he was
made. He was Baba Amtes son and I came from a middle class family with nothing
unusual to be distinguished by. The circumstances in which I was brought up hardly left
any space even for ordinary adventures. Study of medicine was the only common ground
that we shared. I never knew that it would make the difference that it has made today.
It was my good fortune that my mother insisted on my taking medicine despite my fathers
opposition for financial reasons, though valid in a sense. My elder sister was already
engaged with medical studies and it would have been beyond his capacity to bear the cost
of our education. But my mother, as all mothers do, sensed my strong urge to study
medicine and convinced my father to allow me to join the medical stream. We had our
share of fun during our college days. After completing graduation, I decided to proceed for
post-graduation in anaesthesia. At that time Prakash too was doing his post-graduation in
surgery in the same college. We happened to meet for the first time in an operation theatre.
Gradually our friendship blossomed and soon we realised that we were meant for each

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other. We decided to get married as our ideals too matched. In December 1972 we got
married. That year was marked by a severe famine in our state. It was a simple wedding
without any razzle-dazzle, any pomp and show. No sweets were served in the wedding
feast. However, we were happy to receive blessings from all the inmates of Anandwan, a
home for leprosy patients, and from a number of dignitaries from all over Maharashtra. We
did away with all sacred rites. Soon after our wedding we left for our destination of life,
the virgin forest of Bhamragad.
Before marriage, Prakash had laid before me his plan to work for the tribals in the remote
forests of Central India. I agreed instantly as the idea of doing something for the destitute
touched my heart. I had seen the forest once before, only as a tourist, enjoying all the
amenities of a wild life sanctuary. Visiting the forest as a tourist is one thing; making a
permanent home there is another. Choosing to live in the wilderness was certainly not a
romantic adventure especially when it was to be a lifelong commitment. The fury of the
elemental forces such as extremes of climate, floods, the wild animals of all kinds was
frightening enough but it could not deter us. More challenging was the discomfort of being
cut off from the civilised world for most of the year. We had to start from scratch. There
was no electricity, no arrangement for drinking water, no sanitary blocks, no roads, let
alone the other comforts such as a telephone, a radio, or friends to talk to. I realised what I
was in for. But this did not affect my determination to work here. It was not the case that I
had not seen poverty before but what I saw here was worse than poverty. Looking at the
condition in which the Madias were living, it was difficult to call them human beings. Our
brothers and sisters, our fellow Indians were living a life no better than that of savages. Our
domestic pets lived a better life, I wondered. Dumb struck, I was trying to read this side of
the jungle-book. Every page had a revelation, an epiphany that sent shock waves. Now, I
realised why
Prakash had decided to work in such a remote place. I was convinced that this is where our
knowledge as doctors could be put to the best use.
In December 1973, when my father-in-law, the late Baba Amte, started this project at
Hemalkasa with the help from his team mates, the cured leprosy patients from Anandwan,
I had finished my post- graduation and was working as a full-time anaesthetist at the
Government Hospital. Prakash was yet to finish his post-graduation in surgery. But after
hearing that Baba had already started the work there, we could not wait any longer at
Nagpur. Prakash left his post-graduation halfway and headed for Hemalkasa. I too resigned
my job and joined Prakash.
From Nagpur to Hemalkasa was a journey, arduous enough in terms of gaps in culture,
facilities of communication and transport. Our first home, a hut with a thatched roof that

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was covered with a plastic sheet to prevent water seepage was ready. But the inmates of
the jungle would not leave us alone. Rats, snakes, frogs and a variety of insects had already
perched wherever they could find space in this false ceiling. They would often fall down
on our bed. The surrounding forest was infested with insects, poisonous snakes, reptiles
and various ferocious animals. Prakash and I were the only married couple in our group.
There were no women to talk to except for an elderly lady who used to work in the common
kitchen. The grocery for the entire year used to come from Anandwan during the dry
season, as there were no bridges on the rivers. Many a times, Sadhanatai, my mother-inlaw, would accompany the volunteers from Anandwan with all the necessary provisions.
Often, she had to abandon the vehicle midway and cross the rivers and walk the rest of the
distance. During the entire year we had to manage with reserved stocks. We had to make
do with just rice and dal most of the time. Vegetables were a luxury for us during periods
of isolation. We had no choice other than to eat potatoes and onions. We never complained
since there was no one to turn to. Taste did not matter as there was hardly any choice. I did
not have to cook but checking the stocks was my responsibility.
We learnt to take all this in stride. However, what we could not take was the indifference
and distrust shown by the natives, the Madia, towards us. We had given up everything to
come here and work with these people and they were not ready to even consider the services
we were offering to them for their own good. It was a test and trial for me; causing a
momentary depression since I was totally unprepared for this. But I did not let this dissuade
me from my promise to Prakash. I had decided that I would not complain. Moreover, our
marriage was not just a contract. It was a bondage of love, and everything between us, a
matter of love! His love for work became my passion and his compassion, my inspiration.
His honesty of purpose coupled with an amazing capacity for silent endurance moved me
to stand up and take on anything. He would go anywhere and to any extent when the heart
cried and I walked by his side unhindered. Neither Prakash nor I ever liked to speak about
what we did because we did it for our pleasure. It was enough for us to see the faces of the
tribals beaming with joy when they went back from the clinic.
At the earlier stages, it had been a matter of treating a community for physical ailments,
yet things were not easy. This community was totally ignorant about modern medicine. For
them, the cause for any disease was the curse of god or black magic practised by some evil
souls in their community. Initially, they would not turn up at the hospital that we had set
up. Whenever we visited their villages, they would look at us suspiciously but with
curiosity too. If we ventured any closer, they would get scared and run away into the forest.
This experience was discouraging for us but we did not give up. Instead, our determination
grew even stronger. Slowly, we started moving in the villages on foot in order to
communicate with them. Looking at the half-clad adults and naked children, Prakash first
gave up superfluous items of clothing and started wearing only a vest and half pants. I gave

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up wearing warm clothes during winter. This was one way of winning their confidence in
us by minimising the gap in our lifestyles. We proceeded further to learn their language
with the help of the forest officials and vendors who were residents of this area for a number
of years. We even prepared our own dictionary of the Madia words. Now we can effectively
communicate with them.
Health is of utmost importance in one's life. As doctors, we had an added advantage. Our
medical knowledge helped us gain the trust of these people. This jungle was swarmed with
mosquitoes. Thus malaria was rampant here. Most tribals were undernourished. Being a
primitive tribe, they had their own blind faith. Milking of cows was considered a taboo.
They resorted to shifting cultivation, which provided them with hardly enough of food.
They had to depend on forest produce like tubers, fruits or the animals they hunted. A full
square meal was beyond imagination. Because of their under nourishment their immunity
was at its lowest. They would fall easy prey to various ailments such as tuberculosis,
pneumonia, diarrhoea, anaemia, various infections, skin diseases, etc.
Once we won their trust, patients started frequenting the hospital. Our hospital was in a
hut, our equipments and experience too was limited. However, we were expected to treat
all kinds of patients. We were not trained to tackle all kinds of obstetrical emergencies. We
could handle normal pregnancies and deliveries with ease. However, only complicated
deliveries were brought to us and normal deliveries were conducted at home. Many times
we could not save babies as they would bring expectant mother too late to us. The life of
the baby had to be compromised often to save the mother as there was no blood available,
nor were we trained in performing caesarean section. Later we started storing blood bags
or in an emergency, one of us would volunteer to donate. As most of the deliveries were
conducted by the traditional birth attendants at home, the mortality rate of pregnant mothers
was high. In the absence of the mother and due to the taboo on milking a cow, life of the
new-born was also in danger. We started taking care of such babies and after two to three
years when the baby could eat normal food it would be returned to the family. Interestingly,
my presence at the hospital as a doctor proved to be a great relief to the female patients
especially when they came to consult for gynaecological problems. They could share their
problems without any inhibitions. Sometimes they shared family matters with me too.
The changing panorama of the beauty of the landscape was awe-inspiring but the dance of
death was breathtaking at times. Once there was an epidemic of cholera in the area during
monsoon. We treated nearly 300 cases in a span of three to four days. Many could not make
it to the hospital due to floods. Some of them reached the hospital in a serious condition
and we had to helplessly witness the deaths of 15 of our patients. I can still remember the
day when a woman brought her two-year-old son in a serious condition. He responded
positively to our treatment and improved by the next day. Soon she was in a hurry to go

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back. We were puzzled and greatly annoyed at that. On questioning her about the need to
go back so early, she started weeping and related to us her sad story. Her husband had died
of cholera the previous day and she was on her way to the hospital with two of her choleraaffected children. The elder one had succumbed on the way. She just covered him with
some twigs and leaves and continued her journey to save the younger one. Making sure
that he was safe, she now wanted to go back and cremate her dead child. We were left
dumbfounded. Deeply moved by her plight we could do nothing but sympathize with her.
At this juncture, we realised how little we had accomplished and how much more was yet
to be done.
I must put on record that despite all adversities, the tolerance shown by these people is
commendable. I would like to narrate to you a case of a ten-year-old girl. This girl hailed
from a village, fourteen kilometres from our hospital. She had climbed on the roof of their
hut to dry the Mahua flowers. She slipped and fell flat on the compound made of bamboo.
The sharp edges of the bamboo sheared through her abdomen and pierced her insides. As
she herself pulled out the bamboo, her intestines popped out through the gaping wound.
She came walking to the hospital accompanied by her father. She had covered the intestines
in a cloth and was holding them in her hand. We were rendered speechless and stood aghast
at the terrible sight. She was courage and endurance incarnate! We rushed for immediate
surgery under local anaesthesia. With our treatment she recovered within eight days. She
did not receive any Bravery Award for the courage she had shown. But we did learn
something from her; we learnt how to endure.
The village folk had to travel long distance even for minor ailments which, if left untreated,
could become serious. We thought of preparing a paramedical force that would treat people
in their villages for minor ailments. So we trained some of the tribal youths, handicapped
persons and cured leprosy patients. With their help we opened eight health sub-centres in
the remote areas where simple ailments like fever, diarrhoea, dysentery, minor injuries, etc.
could be cured at the local level and serious cases could be referred to us.
It took twenty long years for electricity to reach us. Today, we have equipment like an Xray machine, ECG and sonography machines and a pathology lab to assist us in our
diagnoses. We have also started a TB Diagnosis and Cure centre and a centre for dental
check-ups. We treat about thirty-five to forty thousand patients annually, free of cost. We
are now happy to announce that our son, Digant, who is a doctor, and our daughter-in-law,
Anagha, assist us in the hospital. Anagha, who is a gynaecologist, looks after maternal and
child health. Since there are four doctors now, we have started a mobile clinic. We visit
remote villages four times a week within the radius of forty kilometers in the region, where
there is no transport facility available.

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Health care was the beginning of our work. But soon we wanted to empower the tribal
community with education. We decided to start a school in 1976. We had to literally request
the parents of the prospective entrants and coax them to send the children to the new school.
We had to be extremely cautious during the harvest season as human sacrifice was a
common practice here, especially of the young children. Initially, we used to impart only
formal education. But after a few years, we started vocational and agricultural training.
Now my younger son, Aniket, who has keen interest in modern technology, has started
training young boys and girls in computer education, tailoring, and various other crafts.
Education strengthened their hands as well as their minds. They are now aware of their
rights and they can fight effectively against exploitation. A number of our students who
have graduated from our school are doctors, lawyers, forest guards, teachers, etc. Many
have joined the police force. Most of them have returned to their own villages and are
working for the betterment of their community. Due to education, the financial status has
improved. Now the parents themselves have become seriously conscious about their
childrens education.
Once they came in contact with the civilized world, they started wearing clothes. But they
had to pay through noses for simple items of clothing. So I started buying low cost sarees
from some government outlets in Nagpur and provided them at a no-loss-no-profit basis.
The Madia Gonds may have appeared uncivilised in certain matters but they have set an
example for the so-called civilised world on the other side, something for us to learn.
Despite the adverse conditions and scarcity of food, this community does not indulge in
robbery or begging even now. We have not seen a single Madia beggar till now. One more
thing worth appreciating about this community is that they practice gender equality in the
real sense of the term. We have not come across a single rape case in the last thirty five
years. There is no female foeticide. No quizzical eyebrows are raised at an unwed mother;
she gets married to the father of the child. If that is not possible then the person she marries
accepts her with the child. We would like to preserve this culture and take them ahead in
the modern era so that they can lead a free and healthy life. The wealth of this culture is
worth distributing among the members of the civilised world. It is moral decay that plagues
the world and that is the root cause of all trouble.
To conclude, may I say that my odyssey began when I married Prakash. I must say that it
has been a rewarding experience. Unlike Homers Odysseus we never felt lonely. We drew
strength from each other. Our faith in each other was never shaken. Our involvement in
work never suffered. There were only two occasions on which I was in a dilemma. First,
when my own one-year-old son, Digant contracted cerebral malaria. He had convulsions
and nothing could be done. We could not provide him with specialised care. My mind was
in a state of turmoil. How I wished we had stayed in the city. We consulted each other and

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treated him. Fortunately he survived this attack at that tender age. Later, when it was time
for our children to go to school the thought that we were depriving our children of proper
education pained me. While fighting for the justice of the tribals, are we doing any injustice
to our own children? I asked myself. They attended the same school along with the tribal
children, which was only up to primary level initially. Later, we had to send them away for
higher education. There was no telephone and we used to be cut off from them for nearly
six months in a year. It was hard for me as a mother, but a necessary sacrifice as a social
worker. Only time proved my doubts wrong and things turned out very well for us. Our
family has a long tradition of social work. I am happy that my children, too, have joined us
in our work carrying on with the tradition.
Friends, we all are aware that bringing about change is not the job of a few individuals.
Social work is a voluntary service. Those abusing it for easy money or publicity bring it a
bad name. India still lacks the real passion for social work. However, I see a growing
restlessness in the younger generation. This generation is bored of its affluence and is
looking for exploring paths less travelled. The widening chasm between the rich and the
poor hasn't escaped its attention. What is required is mere proper channelisation of this
restlessness. The pace of change in remote tribal areas is painfully slow. The government
machinery should become more proactive. Government schemes do not reach up to the
grassroots level. Most officers look at the posting here as a punishment.
We are happy that our work has been noticed. The award will help in drawing attention to
the condition of the neglected tribal people and spur more effective government action.
Friends, I can only say that there is more fun in walking along the path you have chosen
than arriving at a destination. Arrival signifies stagnation. Keep walking. Success or failure
does not matter.
Thank you.

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