Adyar Gopal Parivar
An extended family of Adyar Gopal
Adyar Gopal Parivar Society
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DR. K. P. S. KAMATH
PAGE 1
By Mohan Shenoy with active participation of Dr K P S Kamath

Karkala Prabhakar Srinivas Kamath is a retired psychiatrist living in Cape Girardeau, Missouri, U. S. A. He is married to Geetha Pai, daughter of
late Sri K K Pai of Manipal, Karnataka India.

PHOTOS OF CAPE GIRARDEAU

COUNTY PARK IN EARLY A. M.

COUNTY PARK IN EARLY A. M.

EARLY MORNING WALK

OUR 50-YEAR LONG FRIENDSHIP WITH MOHAN AND LALITHA
 
July 18th 2020
 
My name is Karkala Prabhakar Srinivas Kamath. Because my name is so long, people often refer to me as K.P.S. Kamath. Many of my friends simply call me KPS. Here in America, where I have been for over fifty years, the local people call me ‘Bob.’
            Just yesterday, my longtime friend Dr. Mohan Shenoy surprised me by assigning a page to me in his AdyarGopal website. He asked me if I would write some articles in it. I readily agreed. Over the past several decades, I have written numerous articles not only on my family’s blog, but also on several other blogs. I enjoy writing very much, and have published several books, which are on amazon dot com.
            I landed in America on 26th June 1970 to join Elmhurst General Hospital in Queens, New York as an intern. My wife Geetha joined me in July. I was 25 and Geetha was 20. We had no friends, and knew no one in New York.
Around August, we met a young couple from Udupi by the name of Balachandra Pai and Vijaya Pai. My recollection is that around August 1970, we met Mohan and Lalita after a Hindi movie show in a movie theater or a high school hall. Those days, Indians were anxious to meet other Indians on the occasions such as movies and concerts. I distinctly remember their 3-year old daughter Preethi standing by them and looking up at us curiously. I have no idea how Shenoys zeroed in on us among the crowd of people. It is purely a chance meeting, which proved to be a great blessing.
            Over the next few weeks, Mohan and Lalitha invited us several times to their home for dinner. They lived in Brooklyn, N.Y. They had a car and we did not. So, Mohan came to our small apartment in Queens and picked us up. Sometimes, he drove through Manhattan at night just to show us what the great city looked like at night. In September, when the trees were full of fall colors, they took us in their car to the outskirts of the great city where the forests were so colorful.
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Mohan introduced us for the first time to the wonderful fall colors in America.
            When Deepavali came, Mohan and Lalitha invited us to their home for celebration. They gave me an oil bath followed by Aarti! We had wonderful time with them. They made us feel at home in a strange land. On the back of one of the photos taken on the occasion, I wrote, “The acting father-in-law in New York, Dr. Shenoy and Co.”
            Months passed. After serving for one year as an intern, I took up a job in Middletown, Connecticut, 120 miles east of N.Y. City. I had to move there, but I had no car, nor was I proficient enough to drive there, though I had a license to drive. If I drove there in a rented car, I was sure to wreck the car.
            I was truly in a quandary not knowing what to do when Mohan called me and asked me, “How are you going to move there?” I told him I was thinking of renting a car. He knew the seriousness of this situation. He said, “No. You should not drive. Let me drop you off.” I felt that he was literally godsent. On the day of the move, he showed up and helped me to load up our stuff in his car. He drove us safely to our destination and returned home. Thus, he saved our lives.
            Over the next few years, our friendship grew. Mohan, Lalitha and Preethi visited us in Connecticut and we visited them in Brooklyn as well as in Binghamton, Upstate New York in 1974 where they had moved.

            When they moved to India, we continued our association with them. Whenever I was in Bengluru, I visited them. This is the bare outline of our most enjoyable association with Mohan and Lalitha. I have sent some photos taken during the period I mentioned above.
           
            I look forward to sharing with you some articles over the next few years.

KPS.       

PHOTOS OF MOHAN & LALITHA

1971

BLOGS WRITTEN BY K P S KAMATH M. D.

  These are among several hundred articles Dr Kamath has written.

Opinion and views in these blogs are of Dr. K. P. S. Kamath alone

STORIES ABOUT HUMANITY AND HUMAN NATURE -1

In the course of our lives, we come across hundreds upon hundreds of people. We meet some of them one time and never see them again. For example, we might talk to someone sitting next to us while flying in a plane. After the flight, most likely we would never see that person again. Others, we meet many times, such as the ones we work with. We change jobs, and then we lose touch with them forever.

In the course of my 40-year-long medical career, I must have evaluated and or treated over 30 thousand people, but I do not remember more than just a few people. Once in a while I meet people in grocery shop or mall who tell me something like, “I used to be your patient; you saved my life.” I do not remember ever seeing them, let alone saving their life.

But no matter how short our contact with people might be, it might or might not be perceived by them as an important event in their life. I had numerous encounters with numerous people, which gave me glimpses of both good and bad human nature.

In this series, I will narrate a few anecdotes to illustrate various aspects of human nature. (To be continued)
STORIES ABOUT HUMANITY AND HUMAN NATURE -2

In 1977, I joined my new job at a local hospital where I live now. At that time, I had very thick hair on my head and needed haircut every month. So, I went to a local barber shop for haircut.

The hairdresser was a white woman who was probably in her early thirties. After I told her what kind of haircut I wanted, she began to cut my hair. Since I did not look like a local person, and people looking like me (colored) being rare in this town, she asked me where I was from and what I did for a living. I told her in a few words that I was from India and that I was a psychiatrist employed by a local hospital. Neither I nor she engaged in a chitchat.

After that, I went for haircut every month. Occasionally, the hairdresser talked this and that, but I kept absolutely silent. Over the next two years, I visited her shop about twenty times. Then, in November 1979 I told her, “This is my last haircut with you. I will be returning to India for good next month.”

I could see her reaction in the mirror in front of me. Her face got red, eyes became filled with tears. Then I felt a few warm drops of her tears on the back of my neck, which she wiped immediately. She did not want me to know her feeling of sadness. I paid her fees, added a small tip and left.

You see, even though I was a psychiatrist, I did not realize then that she had formed an emotional bond with me, no matter how weak. She was not grieving for losing a customer, but a patient listener and a fellow human being. Such is the nature of human bonds.   

   
STORIES ABOUT HUMANITY AND HUMAN NATURE -3

A few years ago, I was waiting for my flight at a gate in O’Hare airport in Chicago. I was reading a newspaper, when I noticed from the corner of my left eye that a woman wearing ankle-length skirt sat three seats away from me. I dared not look at her face, as that would be impolite on my part. However, I noticed that her skirt had noticeably large red flowers printed on it. I kept reading the newspaper. Then, I noticed that she suddenly got up and left.

After a few minutes, I turned to my left and saw an iPhone on the seat next to the seat she had sat on. When I looked at the long passages between gates, literally thousands of people were rushing in both directions. O’Hare is the busiest airport in the U.S. Where was I going to find this woman in long skirt with colorful flowers. I had not seen her face and so I could not recognize her if I saw her face. Besides, my plane would be boarding within a few minutes.

The crowd was elbow to elbow when I joined it in one direction. I kept looking at the ankles of hundreds of women rushing both ways. After about 5 minutes, I suddenly saw the skirt I was looking for coming fast toward me. I stopped her as people rushed by us and said, “You left your iPhone.” She opened her purse hanging from her left shoulder, did not see her phone there. She took the phone from my hand, put it in the purse, said “Thank you,” and just kept walking. Her reaction was, “No big deal.”

Not only was she not attached to her iPhone -as evidenced by her leaving it on the seat next to her seat- but also, she did not know that she had lost her phone. Nor did she seem to care that she got it back! Nor was she curious to know how a complete stranger could locate her in the middle of crushing crowd of thousands. Nothing seemed to bother her. Nothing was a big deal. I thought, “One cool lady!”
This state of mind is known as Evenness of Mind. When one is attached to tangible objects such as people, power, wealth; and intangible objects such as title, fame, honor, etc. one suffers from what is called Dwandwa -ups and downs of the mind (read The Bhagavad Gita 2:14): I like it, I hate it; I feel good about it, I feel bad about it; I gained it, I lost it. 

The purpose of Yoga of Wisdom (Buddhiyoga), as promoted by the Upanishads and the Bhagavad Gita, is to achieve Evenness, 
Equilibrium and Equanimity of Mind. (The Bhagavad Gita 2:49-51). That requires one to gradually detach oneself from the Sense Objects I mentioned above. As detachment progresses, one’s peace of mind increases.
STORIES OF HUMANITY AND HUMAN NATURE – 4: Part 1.

Some years ago, when I went to see a patient in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU), of a local hospital, the nurse said, “The father of one of our patients is on the phone from Mumbai, India. I can’t understand what he is saying. His son is in our ICU after a one-engine training plane crash. Will you please talk to him?” When I looked at the ICU room she was pointing at, I saw a thin, dark, young Indian man in bed. He was bandaged all over his head, legs and hands.

I introduced myself as Dr. Kamath. The father seemed delighted to hear my name, as Kamath is a well-known name in Mumbai. The father sounded very anxious. His voice quivering, he asked, “How is my son Rajesh, doctor? He is going to live?”

Though I had not seen his son, I told him, “He is doing very well. There is nothing to worry about. We will take good care of him.” Instantly, the father felt relieved. He thanked me for my timely assurance. He seemed happy that his injured son in a faraway land was being taken care of by an Indian doctor by the name of Kamath!

Though Rajesh was not my patient, I felt pity for him. As he was not insured, I took him home to nurse him back to health. Geetham changed his bandages. I paid for all his medicines and doctors’ appointments. We fed him and nursed him back to decent health. He said he was a student of a pilot trainee school in Carbondale, IL. He was flying a single engine plane when it crashed on a tree. He was lucky to be alive. His plane was totally destroyed.   

During this time, I called his father every day and updated him Rajesh’s progress. After about three weeks, I arranged for him to return to India. Before he left, Rajesh said, “When I become a pilot of Air India, I want to fly in my plane.” I just smiled. This was not the end of this story.   

STORIES OF HUMANITY AND HUMAN NATURE – 4: Part 2.

After a few months, Rajesh called me saying he had returned from India and was back in Carbondale, IL, to receive training to fly once again. He said he wanted to stay with us again. Out of pity, I let him stay with us for two weeks, even though my parents-in-law were visiting us from India. Then he went back for his training to Carbondale and kept in touch with me by phone.

During one of his phone calls, Rajesh said he was going to file a lawsuit against the owner of the pilot training school. He wanted my help in this matter. I politely told him that I was too busy with my practice to help him. Lawsuits in America are expensive, complicated and extremely stressful. Obviously, he was thinking that I would finance his lawsuit.

Then Rajesh called me again and said that he wanted to stay with us again for a couple of weeks. I told him, “Sorry, we are planning to be out of town for a week soon from tomorrow.” He said he would be willing to stay alone at our home. I politely told him no. In America, letting strangers to stay at your home alone is inviting trouble.

After a few weeks, Rajesh called me when I was in Atlanta airport waiting for my flight. He said, “Dr. Kamath, can I borrow $5,00 from you?” I realized that Rajesh was becoming increasingly dependent on me and his demands were escalating a little by little. I had already spent over two thousand dollars for his medicines, doctor’s visits, food, transportation, etc. I told him firmly, “I am sorry, I cannot do that.” He seemed very disappointed. Had I given him money, he would have asked for more after he had spent it. My generosity and philanthropy were not limitless. Obviously, Rajesh was a lost soul, and in his helpless state of mind, he was clearly trying to take advantage of my generosity. So, I decided to end our relationship. Such is the human nature.


STORIES ABOUT HUMANITY AND HUMAN NATURE - A TEN PART SERIES

STORIES OF HUMANITY AND HUMAN NATURE -5

In 2018, I received a card from a Social Worker by the name of Pam I had worked with in New York between 1974 and 1977. It was an invitation to attend the wedding of her third son to be held in St. Louis, Missouri, about 120 miles north of Cape Girardeau, MO. After we left New York State in 1977, I lost touch with her. I had vague memories of her brief visit to our home in Missouri about 25 years ago. 

Pam was very happy to see us. She now looked old, but still as graceful as ever. To my surprise, she introduced me to her friends as, “My mentor Dr. Kamath.” I don’t remember ever mentoring her during that period, when I was myself learning the trade.

Then Pam called me aside and said, “I never got around to thank you. When I visited you 25 years ago, I was down in the dumps. I was going through a difficult divorce. I was unemployed and penniless. I was raising three kids. I had just moved to Ohio. My father had just died. I did not tell you my difficulties because I was too ashamed to ask. During our conversation, you must have sensed my plight. You offered me $5,000 without my asking for it. I declined. But, that was like a shot in the arm for me. For once I felt that in my difficult situation, there was someone who cared about me and I was not alone.”

I told her, “Pam, I remember a little about your visit but I have no memory of ever offering you money.” She said, “You did, and I will never forget your kindness when I needed it the most.”

Generosity rooted in empathy for other people’s suffering is the ultimate virtue of human beings. I was able to sense Pam’s plight only because I knew what it was like not having a penny in my pocket. My father was poor, but he was a generous man. While growing up, not one of our rich relatives was generous. That pain sensitized me to feel people’s suffering. People who grew up in comfort, often lack both the ability to empathize and the virtue of generosity. Such is the human nature.    

GARDEN IN FRONT OF HOUSE OF
DR. K P S KAMATH AT CAPE GIRARDEAU

STORIES OF HUMANITY AND HUMAN NATURE -6

We have been friends with a Sindhi math professor and his wife for over 43 years. They are both 10 year older than me. Like most north Indians, he secretly looks down upon south Indians as “Madrasi.” This deeply ingrained superiority complex is impossible for most north Indians to overcome even when they have to face the fact that south Indians are often more successful than them. The result is intense jealousy.  

The problem is, our friends consciously like us and brag with people, “Kamaths are our best friends.” They invite us for coffee and dinner very often. We have traveled together to various places. But they do not want to know anything good about us, nor acknowledge our accomplishments. When they come to our house, they sit in the living room with their back to our beautiful backyard garden and never venture out to see it. If I ask the professor, “Do you want to see my garden?” he would say, “No, I am fine sitting here.” If I ask, “Did you read my article in yesterday’s newspaper?’ he would say, “I did not read yesterday’s newspaper.”

His 2nd daughter was classmate of my older boy. After high school graduation, his very smart daughter did not get a seat in any of the colleges of her choice. Someone told him that my son got accepted by the prestigious Stanford University. He called me, “I heard that your son was accepted at Stanford. Do you have the letter of acceptance from Stanford?” I said, “Yes.” He said, “I would like to look at it.” He drove to my home, looked at the letter and drove back to his home. In spite of their jealous behavior, we continued to be their friends because, “No one is perfect.”

The good professor’s behavior betrays intense jealousy whenever he has to deal with us. We see such behavior in many Indians we deal with in America. When a Punjabi professor of plant genetics was elected as the Man of the Year by an agriculture magazine, I celebrated his success by throwing a party in his honor. None of his close Indian friends offered to do it. Jealousy is rooted in insecurity. The best remedy for jealousy is to be happy for others’ success. Celebrate the success of your friends! Jealousy is like a ton of burden on one’s back. It robs one off of any pleasure of their friends’ success. Such is the human nature.

STORIES OF HUMANITY AND HUMAN NATURE -7

There is a great deal of difference between what one thinks superficially, and what one thinks deep in his mind. What one thinks superficially is mostly expressed in words; what one really thinks deep in one’s mind is expressed in one’s actions. Therefore, one who sees the discrepancy between what one says and what one does, can get a glimpse into the hidden mind of a person.

A Punjabi professor of plant genetics, 12 years older than me, sought me out to be a friend. Soon, it became evident that he needed my help in treating his son suffering from Bipolar Disorder. I treated his son free of cost for the next 30 years. During this time, he cultivated me as a close friend. However, he looked down upon south Indians as “Madrasi.” It did not matter to him that we Konkanis are not Tamilians, even though we told him so many times. Not that there is anything wrong being Tamilians. Consciously, he said the right things, and treated me respectfully, as I was his son’s doctor. We travelled together to some places. We helped his wife when she was sick.

I planned a trip to Alaska with him and his wife. I told him repeatedly that he should carry only as much luggage as he alone could carry, as his wife was sickly and could not carry much. The trip was only 8 days long, and there was no need to carry a lot of bags. When we landed in Anchorage, I noticed that he had six bags of different sizes. It became clear to me what he was really thinking deep in his mind: “This Madrasi coolie will carry my luggage.” How did I know it? Well, he waited for me to pick up his bags from the carousel!

Normally, I go out of my way to help people, especially those who are older than me. However, I wanted to teach this snob a lesson. I told him, “I am sorry, I won’t be able to help you with your bags. I told you not to bring many bags.” He got angry as hell. He ended up loading his bags on two carts and then in the truck of the rented car. Naturally, our trip began on a sour note.

Incidentally, his son ended-up marrying a Tamilian girl, straight from Chennai. Obviously, the professor’s prejudice against south Indians made his son to defy him. This led to serious relationship problem between the son and father. The point is, impurity such as prejudice in one’s heart shows up in one’s behavior one way or another, leading to serious consequences. Such is the human nature.

STORY ABOUT HUMANITY AND HUMAN NATURE -8

Some years ago, Mohammad, a Pakistani neurologist, came to town with his wife Farida. Immediately, he declared that his goal was to make more money than the leading cardiologist in town, who was 25 years senior and well-established. Obviously, Mohammad suffered from two common diseases many Indians and Pakistanis in America suffered from: Comparing and Competing Disease (C&C) and Money Disease (M.D.).

Mohammad’s wife Farida and Geetha became good friends. Shortly, his father came from Pakistan and began to beat Farida with shoe for ‘behaving like an American. And mixing with Indians.’ Farida sought refuge with us. We comforted her and helped her. After a lot of physical and mental abuse, Farida left Shakil and returned to her family in Pakistan. After a year or so, her brothers told her that due to social pressure, she must become a true Muslim woman and go back to Mohammad in America.

When Farida returned to America, she wore burqa and stopped associating with us. She practically became a zombie. When she went to the local Farmers’ Market, she covered herself so fully that only her eyes were exposed. She did not talk to Geetha when she saw her there. Her vivacious and friendly personality disappeared. She adopted boy. Then she gave birth to three children one after another.

In the meantime, Mohammad began to make a lot of money by illicit means, like many doctors from south Asia do. After he saw some fine furniture in our home, he ordered a huge amount of furniture from the same shop. He built a huge house and bought expensive cars, all on borrowed money. He stopped paying income tax in order to support his lavish lifestyle. Then he bought a small plane and took flying lessons.

One day, Mohammad took his wife and four children to Hot Springs, Arkansas, about 250 miles southwest of Cape Girardeau, as the crow flies. On the way back, he encountered low-hanging clouds. Visibility became nil. Being a novice pilot, he kept lowering his plane instead of going higher up above the clouds. His plane hit a hill and all six perished. Only his mangled torso was recovered and brought to the funeral home in Cape Girardeau. The bodies of his family members could not be found as they were blown to pieces and scattered all over in the thick forest.

His business partner, a humble Pakistani doctor, did not know that Mohammad had not paid taxes in 10 years. Internal Revenue Service came after him and collected huge amount of taxes Mohammad owed it. Banks, which had loaned him millions, lost most of it.

There is a saying in Kannada: When a poor man becomes rich, he would hold an umbrella in moonlight. In other words, one develops hubris and loses sense of balance. I have seen many Indians in America ruining their and their loved one’s lives by contracting C&C and M.D. Mohammad did not die from plane crash. These two diseases killed him. Such is the human nature.
STORIES OF HUMANITY AND HUMAN NATURE -9

Some years ago, I went to visit the famous Heritage Village in Manipal, developed and run by the late Vijayanath Shenoy. As the gate was closed, I sent a note with the boy guarding the gate. The note read, “I am K.P.S. Kamath from America. I wish to see your village.” The boy came back saying, “He said, he does not care who you are; you can’t come in.” I smiled and left.

Two years later, Ashok Pai, the last son of T.M.A. Pai, told me, “I want to show you the Heritage Village.” As we entered, I saw Shenoy supervising some work, standing under an umbrella in the hot sun. When Ashok introduced me, Shenoy was somewhat curt. He was not too happy to see me. I was puzzled by his discourteous behavior.

As he took us around the wonderful place, I admired the ancient and medieval artifacts as well as the old houses very much. Then he showed me the wonderful old Tanjore paintings, which are worth crores of rupees each. I told him that I had never seen anything like it and encouraged him to keep up the good work. He did not respond.

I always try to match my deeds with my words. So, I went straight to the local bank, cashed Rs. 50,000 and told Ashok to give it to Shenoy. Then I left Manipal on a brief tour. When I returned 4 days later, there was a 5-page long handwritten letter from Shenoy. He thanked me profusely for the donation, which he said was timely. More importantly, he apologized for being rude to me, saying, “I thought you were just like so many NRIs who visit the Heritage Village every year, appreciate and profusely praise what I do, but do not part with one single naya paisa. I knew about your public service spirit, but I was truly surprised by your generosity. I want you to take over Heritage Village after me.”

I was shocked by his offer. I met him and said it was impossible for me to accept his offer, as I lived in the U.S. After much haggling, he appointed me as one of the directors. I declined. He insisted. However, I promised to collect some donations after I returned to the U.S. I was able to collect $4,000. I sent the same to him.

Two lessons from this incident. 1. A lot of Indians I know appreciate good work, but their actions do not match their words. During my work with consumer movement in Udupi (1980-81), a lot of people, including my close relatives loudly appreciated my work, but did not donate even ten rupees for that good cause. When one’s speech does not match one’s actions, it is called hypocrisy. 2. Shenoy prejudged that I, too, am like other NRIs. Every prejudice comes with a price tag. Had Shenoy let me in the first time, I would have and could have helped him a lot more over the years. Such is the human nature.  

STORIES OF HUMANITY AND HUMAN NATURE -10

In 1977, a young Indian doctor named Ram quit his surgical residency after the first year in a Saint Louis, Missouri hospital, and took up a far better paying job in the Emergency Room of a new hospital in Cape Girardeau, MO, 120 miles to the south. The reason was that he earned a lot less money as a resident than most of his friends in St. Louis, who were already in private practice after four years of training. They were, as the saying goes, minting money.  
            However, Ram’s salary was nowhere close to what his friends were making. So, he felt intense jealousy. He was a heavy smoker. Now he began to drink and brood over his ‘inferior’ financial situation. His performance as emergency doctor suffered. One day, his boss called me saying, “Ram cannot be woken up when there is an emergency. Can you do something?”
            I was working in a different city at that time and I did not know the guy. So, I told him, “What can I do? I don’t know the guy.”
            So, Ram’s boss fired him. Ram borrowed a lot of money from a local bank and opened an Urgent Care to compete with his former employer. He began to indulge in a lot of illicit medical practices to make money. He admitted a lot of patients to the hospital for flimsy reason to milk their insurance. Sometimes he had 30-40 patients in two hospitals. To care for them, he made rounds after midnight. He suffered from serious sleep deprivation.
            Ram bought several luxury cars. He started a plan to build a ten-bedroom, ten-bathroom house. He fell asleep while driving his luxury cars and got into several accidents. He began to use pain medication to control pain of injuries incurred in the accident. One day, when he was operating on a patient, he fell asleep on the body of anaesthetized patient. They carried him out of the Operating Room. Some other doctor finished the surgery.
            By then, I had moved back to Cape Girardeau. I had met Ram a couple of times, but his attitude was that psychiatrists were not real doctors, and so, he was dismissive of me. The Chief Doctor of the hospital called me saying, “I think Ram suffers from a Manic-Depressive illness. Will you take care of him?” I told him, “I don’t think he has that mental illness. He has what is called Andhra-Reddy Syndrome.” I explained to him how Ram has fallen into the trap of competing with his Andhra friends and how he is ruining his own life. In any case, Ram was ordered to see a psychiatrist in St. Louis. Ram saw a psychiatrist, bullshitted him, and got a clean chit about his mental health.
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  STORIES OF HUMANITY AND HUMAN NATURE -10
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However, his performance kept getting worse. He began to abuse intravenous drugs. His fore arm got infected and it needed grafting. So, a plastic surgeon attached his hand to his chest to transfer the skin. In the meantime, the licensing department ordered him to go to a rehabilitation program. He went, but returned saying how he fooled everyone. He was ordered to go for rehabilitation again. He did the same again. Finally, he was fired from the hospital and his license to practice was suspended.
            Ram applied for disability and lived on it. He tried several different jobs, but his employers fired him after a month. During all the 20 years before his death, he put his wife and two children through hell. In spite of all this, he never bothered to contact me for help.  
            Then one day, Ram came to my office. I was shocked by his appearance. He was just skin and bones. He looked like he might drop dead any time. He came close to my desk, threw his insurance cards on my table and said, “You can charge me anything you want.” He wanted me to prescribe him addictive pain medicines. In spite of his terrible situation, his arrogance was very much on display. He had no self-awareness about his own role in his pathetic situation. He treated me like I was a money hungry doctor just like him. I returned his insurance cards to him and said, “I am sorry, I cannot prescribe you pain medications.” Disappointed, he left my office. A couple of months later, I heard that he had died in a city 250 miles away from Cape Girardeau.
            During all these years of his travails, Ram never once asked himself, “What is wrong with me? Why am I behaving like this?” He completely lacked self-awareness. His way of dealing with his own foibles was by total denial, which is exactly opposite of self-awareness. Self-awareness can be cultivated, but that requires one to give up arrogance and cultivate humility. Such is the human nature.

THE END OF THIS SERIES. 

Opinion and views in these and other blogs
are of Dr. K. P. S. Kamath alone

THE FRUITS OF A CHANCE MEETING

The link I have shown here is that of a zoom discussion I had with Emil Draister, a professor of Russian language in a university in N.Y. City. He contacted me last week after 9 years and invited me to participate in the Zoom to discuss his new book: Farewell Mama Odessa. He was originally from Odessa, Ukraine, which was part of Russian when lived there. https://youtu.be/tJip73kxcGo/ 

The story is about his experiences as a new immigrant in America. 
How we met is a story by itself, which is about a chance meeting with a total stranger, which led to great experience for both.

About 12 years ago, I was waiting for my bags at Tel Aviv airport. A white couple stood near me. The man smiled, and I also smiled and nodded my head. As it turned out, he and his girlfriend were in the same bus while we toured Israel. He came and sat near me. We got to know each other. 

Emil said he was a professor of Russian language at a college in N.Y. City. He was a Russian Jew who migrated to the U.S. from Russia. He had authored several books, and was now writing a book on a very famous Russian spy by the name of Bystrolyotov, an extremely complicated person who served Stalin. Emil asked me if I could give him some insight into this spy’s complicated persona. I agreed. During the ten days in Israel, all he talked was about this spy. He said, he could not find any professional in New York who would work with him on this book.
BENEFITS OF CHANCE MEETINGS
 
A couple of years ago, I wrote in our family blog The Flowering Tree an article about how a chance meeting of my father with Dayananda Pai, the librarian of Kasturba Medical College, while he was waiting to catch a bus at the Tiger Circle, Manipal, changed my life forever. He handed to my father a brochure for ECFMG examination, which led to my applying for that examination, passing it and coming to America within 8 months after that event. Every one of us might encounter strangers now and then, but often one fails to recognize their importance. Earlier, I wrote about a chance meeting with Prof. Emil Draister, which greatly benefited me intellectually. Here is another example of a chance meeting with a total stranger, which changed my life forever. 
 
In 1989, I was heading to the baggage claim area of Lambert Airport, St. Louis, Missouri, after arriving from a trip abroad, when an American man approached me and placed a hardcover book in my hand. He asked me to give him a ten dollar ‘donation’ in return. I looked at the book. It was titled: Bhagavad Gita, As It Is. It was written by His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada. Obviously, the man was a volunteer of Hare Krishna Cult. I paid him ten dollars and brought the book home. I put it on the bookshelf and forgot all about it. I had no interest in reading it, as I did not know much about its contents. 
 
A year later, an American doctor called me and asked me if I had a copy of the Bhagavad Gita. Apparently, his wife was dying from cancer and he was looking for some spiritual solace. I gave him my book. Some months later, he returned the book with a terse note inside: 
 
Philip W. Taylor, M.D. F.A.C.P.                           September 10th 1990

Bob, thank you for loaning me this book. I found it tough going but interesting. I should probably read it a dozen times to better understand more of it. Thanks, Phil.
 
I can tell you with certainty that he got nothing from reading that book. NOTHING. I wondered, why a ‘Holy Book’ should be so difficult to understand. 
 
The book went back on the shelf. A few months later, I opened the book and tried to read it. I could not understand anything about the shlokas and the Swami’s commentary of them. I read many times, and yet, I could not make head or tail of it. 
 
Over the next 13 years, I became obsessed with understanding the essence of the book. I diligently studied not only the Bhagavad Gita in depth, but also the Upanishads and the Rig Veda. In 2013, I published ‘The Untold Story of the Bhagavad Gita’ subtitled, ‘The True Intent and Spirit of the Bhagavad Gita in its Historical Context’; in 2016, I published ‘Ashoka’s Song in the Bhagavad Gita’ subtitled, ‘The Untold Story of Ashoka’s Edicts’; and in 2019, I published ‘ISHOPANIDHAD’ subtitled, ‘The Story of Brahmanism’s Triumph.’
 
All these things happened because of one chance meeting between a Hare Krishna Cultist and myself. I can say with absolute certainty that if that encounter had not taken place, my life would not have been as intellectually fulfilling as it has been.
After returning to the U.S., Emil asked me if he could send me chapter after chapter of his book for me to analyze the spy. I agreed. Over the next six months, even though I was busy with my practice, I reviewed his chapters and gave him whatever insight I had on Bystrolyotov.
I did not hear from Emil for many months. Then he called me and said his book, titled ‘Stalin’s Romeo Spy’ was published by Northwestern University. He said he had acknowledged my help in the book. He asked me to write a review on it on amazon.com. I obliged.

After a few months, Emil called me again and said, he had arranged a dinner meeting in New York City for retired FBI and CIA spies to introduce his book to them. He wanted me to be his guest. Surprisingly, I had prearranged to be in New York City on that particular date. I attended the dinner meeting at the gorgeous building in midtown Manhattan. I got to meet several retired spies of CIA, FBI and other agencies. 

Emil thanked me for my help with his book. I thanked him for giving me the opportunity to learn about a Russian spy and Russian history. We parted ways never to meet again.
Until last week. I have ordered his new book Farewell Mama Odessa. I have several of his other books also. Since the Zoom presentation earlier this week, he has FaceTimed with me twice.

GARDEN AND HOME FRONT OF K P S KAMATH M. D. AT CAPE GIRARDEAU

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