Those growing up years!

You don’t usually find children playing in gay abandon in the premises of a jail. But as a five-year-old, I couldn’t think of a better place to take my tricycle, my toy cooking sets and dolls than the premises of Multan Jail, now in Pakistan. My grandfather Rai Sahib Gokal Chand was the superintendent of the jail and my father Mohanlal Sachdev was in charge of the correction home in the jail. 

This photograph is a rare one and very special for me. I was five years old and you can see me seated cross-legged, second from right. My grandfather, Rai Sahib Gokal Chand and my uncles — Surindar and Jogindar are also there in the picture, which was clicked with the guards in the jail.    

I spent most of my time exploring the grounds of Multan Jail and my playmates included the children of gardeners and labourers. I saw all kinds of criminals in the jail and how they were treated. I also saw how criminals, who had the clout, were treated and kept in separate chambers.  I remember every detail of my childhood playing in the jail compound as if it all happened yesterday. I was often asked by a lot of people if I was scared to be amidst prisoners. In fact, I never viewed the prison inmates as criminals but as merely people who needed direction. 

After my fourth standard, I moved to the government school in Miyanwali and later joined Lady MacLagan School in Lahore after my father was posted there. I was shaken out of my comfort zone when the Partition happened. I was only 15  years old then. I couldn’t fathom why people were at war with each other. The ordinary, innocent people were literally uprooted from their centuries’ old homes and slaughtered to death by men armed with shining knives. 

I realised that it wasn’t the local people who were involved in the killing spree but gangs who thought they could have their way by killing, looting and burning innocent lives. It was really confusing for me. The scenes still haunt me. I didn’t understand what was going on and no amount of explanation from my family helped me come to terms with what was happening. Young girls were abducted and one of my aunts was also abducted and we never saw her again. 

We had to move out to a safe place and the passage to Amritsar wasn’t an easy one. I moved with my grandmother to an aunt’s house in Amritsar while my parents stayed back in Pakistan.

I soon moved to Mumbai where I completed my medicine. It was time to get married and I was hell bent on getting married to someone who wouldn’t take dowry. Nobody was willing to marry me until Amrit Prakash Bhateja, an Army officer took my hand in 1953. My wedding was a simple affair with no ‘band baaja’. We stuck to a basic marriage ceremony and a party thereafter for the members of the family. The next day, my husband hosted a tea party for his friends from the Army. 

My only condition before marriage was that I shouldn’t be prevented from doing my work and I was whole-heartedly supported by my family. My husband was a very organised, well-mannered and sincere person. In fact, I picked up a lot of his good qualities. 

It was on October 24, 1957, that I landed in Bangalore. I applied at St Martha’s Hospital for a job.  On November 17, I joined them but took no salary. I started the obstetrics and gynaecology department in St Martha’s.

Today, at 85, I still meet patients everyday at my hospital. My husband passed on 12 years ago but continues to be my pillar of strength.  I am the happiest at work and most relaxed when I confront complex issues head on. I don’t feel old at all. In fact, tiredness and boredom are alien to me. 

Dr Sita Bhateja (Managing Trustee, Consultant Obstetrician and Gynaecologist, Sita Bhateja Speciality Hospital)