<p>We reacted with disbelief to the news of the death of 90-year-old Dr Bose. Just a few days earlier, he had spoken to his countless well-wishers of his resolve to get back on his feet and return to his usual hectic life as a doctor. But pneumonia intervened. Like Dr Juvenal Urbino of Love in the Time of Cholera, Dr Bose was the colony’s most erudite doctor and an esteemed public figure. He was a guardian angel to his poorer patients, whom he treated free of cost at his clinic <br>and often helped with money from his own pocket.</p>.<p>I first met Dr Bose 14 years ago at his clinic when I sought medical advice for a health issue. He was a man of many parts — a social activist, poet, and self-taught painter. He also possessed an almost maniacal sense of civic duty that was deeply inspiring. His determination to find solutions to the colony’s civic problems, working in tandem with <br>the local authorities, earned him profound respect. He even suggested that, as a resident of the same locality, I should join him in his mission and support his cause.</p>.Coffee, Conversations, Sociology | My journey with Professor Béteille.<p>As a newly converted admirer, I would meet the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed Dr Bose daily in the neighbourhood park during his morning walks. Full of joie de vivre, he greeted fellow walkers warmly and enquired about their well-being.</p>.<p>Dr Bose reached his clinic at 9.30 sharp every morning. People of all ages waited patiently for their turn, placing immense faith in his treatment. An FRCS from London, he came to Delhi in the late seventies and settled in a private colony. He retired from a government hospital. He had a deep love for nature and was indefatigable in his efforts to protect the environment. Every year, a few days before Diwali, he would lead a procession of children and residents, carrying placards and urging people to celebrate the festival without crackers.</p>.<p>Around seven years ago, the authorities decided to build an underground parking lot by taking over a large portion of the main park—the colony’s green lung. Panic rippled through the neighbourhood. Dr Bose resolved to lance the boil of official indifference. He mobilised residents and launched a campaign to persuade the authorities to reverse their decision. I, too, joined the march. Finally, after residents dug in their heels, the plan for underground parking construction was shelved. </p>.<p>Dr Bose was a role model for the entire colony. He taught us that when adversity strikes, we must face it with courage rather than inflate our troubles—whatever they may be—into matters of cosmic import, a sure path to misery. We will always miss you, Dr Bose.</p><p><em>Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.</em></p>
<p>We reacted with disbelief to the news of the death of 90-year-old Dr Bose. Just a few days earlier, he had spoken to his countless well-wishers of his resolve to get back on his feet and return to his usual hectic life as a doctor. But pneumonia intervened. Like Dr Juvenal Urbino of Love in the Time of Cholera, Dr Bose was the colony’s most erudite doctor and an esteemed public figure. He was a guardian angel to his poorer patients, whom he treated free of cost at his clinic <br>and often helped with money from his own pocket.</p>.<p>I first met Dr Bose 14 years ago at his clinic when I sought medical advice for a health issue. He was a man of many parts — a social activist, poet, and self-taught painter. He also possessed an almost maniacal sense of civic duty that was deeply inspiring. His determination to find solutions to the colony’s civic problems, working in tandem with <br>the local authorities, earned him profound respect. He even suggested that, as a resident of the same locality, I should join him in his mission and support his cause.</p>.Coffee, Conversations, Sociology | My journey with Professor Béteille.<p>As a newly converted admirer, I would meet the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed Dr Bose daily in the neighbourhood park during his morning walks. Full of joie de vivre, he greeted fellow walkers warmly and enquired about their well-being.</p>.<p>Dr Bose reached his clinic at 9.30 sharp every morning. People of all ages waited patiently for their turn, placing immense faith in his treatment. An FRCS from London, he came to Delhi in the late seventies and settled in a private colony. He retired from a government hospital. He had a deep love for nature and was indefatigable in his efforts to protect the environment. Every year, a few days before Diwali, he would lead a procession of children and residents, carrying placards and urging people to celebrate the festival without crackers.</p>.<p>Around seven years ago, the authorities decided to build an underground parking lot by taking over a large portion of the main park—the colony’s green lung. Panic rippled through the neighbourhood. Dr Bose resolved to lance the boil of official indifference. He mobilised residents and launched a campaign to persuade the authorities to reverse their decision. I, too, joined the march. Finally, after residents dug in their heels, the plan for underground parking construction was shelved. </p>.<p>Dr Bose was a role model for the entire colony. He taught us that when adversity strikes, we must face it with courage rather than inflate our troubles—whatever they may be—into matters of cosmic import, a sure path to misery. We will always miss you, Dr Bose.</p><p><em>Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.</em></p>
