Back to Hyderabad: Echoes of a teacher and a gentleman

    Hyderabad greeted me with its usual blend of chaos and charm. The traffic was as unpredictable as ever, and the heat? Still enough to make you question your life choices. But this time, I wasn’t attending a conference with a group—I was on my own. And yet, my mind was still full of the memories of the last time I was here, back in 2010.

    At that point, I had just completed my MD in Medicine. I was freshly minted, a bit dazed, and, frankly, still trying to figure out how to be a real doctor. So when the opportunity arose to attend a two-day gastroenterology conference in Hyderabad with VK sir, I jumped at the chance. He was a teacher we all looked up to —calm, confident, and a veritable fountain of knowledge. Meanwhile, I was just trying not to panic whenever someone asked me a question.

    What made it even more memorable was the fact that we flew to Hyderabad together from Pune. I couldn’t help but feel a mix of awe and anxiety, sitting next to him during the flight. Here was this towering figure in medicine, and there I was, hoping my seatbelt wasn’t the only thing I could manage to keep together. But he was relaxed, as always, talking about everything from case studies to casual observations. His calm demeanor making me realize that there was no rush in this journey we were on.

    Once we arrived, we stayed in the same hotel. I remember walking into the lobby, pretending to be cool and collected, while internally screaming. While I was just trying to keep it together, he was casually engaging in conversations with the everyone around. It was like watching a Jedi at work—completely unflappable and always two steps ahead.

    That evening, after a long day of lectures, we ended up in the hotel restaurant together. I was convinced that I was supposed to keep the conversation academic—“So, sir, about that case study on IBD…” But instead, he asked me what I thought about the conference, about where I saw myself in the field. He made it clear that while knowledge was vital, so was finding your own path. It wasn’t just about what you knew—it was about how you approached the journey.

    During the conference and on numerous occasions afterwards, I learned a lot more than just gastroenterology. VK sir had a knack for making complex concepts seem like they were second nature. But what really stuck with me were the brief moments and quiet encounters in our association, where he would subtly guide me through the complexities of both medicine and life. He didn’t rush, he didn’t push; he just shared his wisdom in a way that didn’t make you feel overwhelmed. And that made all the difference.

    Now, walking through Hyderabad again, I can’t help but feel a mix of gratitude and sorrow. VK sir passed away a few months ago, and with his passing, a part of my own journey feels a little quieter, a little less guided. He wasn’t just a mentor to me, but to almost every gastroenterologist in our organization. I can confidently for all gastroenterologists in out organisation and many physicians that he would have met that his teachings shaped the foundation of our practice, and his influence lives on through us. I laugh at my younger self, thinking I needed to have all the answers, all the time. But VK sir showed me that sometimes the most important thing you can do is ask the right questions and, more importantly, take your time.

    This visit to Hyderabad isn’t just a trip down memory lane—it’s a quiet homage to a teacher who, without saying it out loud, taught me more about life and medicine than I ever realized at the time. His legacy lives on in the lessons he imparted and in the many lives he touched. I carry his wisdom with me every day, and though he is no longer here to guide me in person, I will always remember the quiet strength and brilliance that made him so extraordinary.