<p>Our family doctor, who was also our friend, had proudly announced: “Amma, by cutting the nails of your son, I have now become Sodaramaava (maternal uncle) of this infant.” He smilingly explained that in some communities in the country, when the maternal uncle trims the first-erupted fingernails of an infant, he is rewarded with a diamond by the child’s parents.</p>.<p>As my son grew up, the family physician, a former army doctor, became my son’s paediatrician too. I always sought Dr Shirdi Prasad Tekur’s advice even when my son developed a minor ailment— forgetting that I and my husband are both doctors too. “Yeno, ice cream tindya, yaake negadi bandide? (Did you eat ice cream and got a cold?),” the doctor would ask my son, auscultating my son’s chest with his stethoscope. He would then prescribe an anti-worm drug and an anti-allergic medication. My son would regain his health in 3 days.</p>.<p>Later, when my son completed his MD in Internal Medicine with distinction, I went with a pair of silver ‘Diyas’ to the doctor’s clinic and told him: “Shirdi, you will have to accept this gift, remember you became my elder brother 27 years ago, the day you trimmed my son’s nails. Instead of a diamond, I gratefully present you with a pair of silver lamps”. With much reluctance, the wizardly doctor accepted the gift.</p>.<p>The doctor, when he called me last November, had requested to send my driver to his clinic, so that he could send a collection of a few of his published articles and would wait for my expert opinion on his write-ups.</p>.<p>The last time that I spoke to him was on March 25 this year, the day I took my first dose of vaccine. A counsellor and a consoler for many families, Dr Tekur succumbed to Covid-19 in May after battling the virus for 15-days.</p>.<p>In February, Dr Tekur’s video where he has talked about “how to face death” was posted on YouTube. He recalled how close he was to death when the van in which he was travelling had fallen into a gorge.</p>.<p>Tears welled down my eyes when I read about him in Deccan Herald that a village in Odisha posthumously has honoured Dr Tekur for his humanitarian services in the field of community medicine.</p>.<p>Adieu dear brother, family physician par excellence, Dr S P Tekur, you were missed acutely on this year’s Doctor’s Day.</p>
<p>Our family doctor, who was also our friend, had proudly announced: “Amma, by cutting the nails of your son, I have now become Sodaramaava (maternal uncle) of this infant.” He smilingly explained that in some communities in the country, when the maternal uncle trims the first-erupted fingernails of an infant, he is rewarded with a diamond by the child’s parents.</p>.<p>As my son grew up, the family physician, a former army doctor, became my son’s paediatrician too. I always sought Dr Shirdi Prasad Tekur’s advice even when my son developed a minor ailment— forgetting that I and my husband are both doctors too. “Yeno, ice cream tindya, yaake negadi bandide? (Did you eat ice cream and got a cold?),” the doctor would ask my son, auscultating my son’s chest with his stethoscope. He would then prescribe an anti-worm drug and an anti-allergic medication. My son would regain his health in 3 days.</p>.<p>Later, when my son completed his MD in Internal Medicine with distinction, I went with a pair of silver ‘Diyas’ to the doctor’s clinic and told him: “Shirdi, you will have to accept this gift, remember you became my elder brother 27 years ago, the day you trimmed my son’s nails. Instead of a diamond, I gratefully present you with a pair of silver lamps”. With much reluctance, the wizardly doctor accepted the gift.</p>.<p>The doctor, when he called me last November, had requested to send my driver to his clinic, so that he could send a collection of a few of his published articles and would wait for my expert opinion on his write-ups.</p>.<p>The last time that I spoke to him was on March 25 this year, the day I took my first dose of vaccine. A counsellor and a consoler for many families, Dr Tekur succumbed to Covid-19 in May after battling the virus for 15-days.</p>.<p>In February, Dr Tekur’s video where he has talked about “how to face death” was posted on YouTube. He recalled how close he was to death when the van in which he was travelling had fallen into a gorge.</p>.<p>Tears welled down my eyes when I read about him in Deccan Herald that a village in Odisha posthumously has honoured Dr Tekur for his humanitarian services in the field of community medicine.</p>.<p>Adieu dear brother, family physician par excellence, Dr S P Tekur, you were missed acutely on this year’s Doctor’s Day.</p>