Skip to main content

The Eye of Ayurveda

The old building of the hospital - Supercool

Most people are metaphorically blind. The world would have been a far better place if people could really see. See. See the folly of hatred and that too in the name of gods. See the little child dying in the hut because of starvation while the country is spending enormous wealth on advertising its GDP. See the bloodstains on the walls of temples being built by a dictator. See the monstrous ego of that dictator who hoodwinks you with a tea stall story. A tall story and a distorted history.

When everybody around you turns blind, you begin to suspect your own sight. That’s how I visited an eye hospital and discovered that I was afflicted with cataract. “Nothing but a surgery can restore normal sight to your right eye,” I was told. I nodded assent to the prescription instantly because I wanted a proper vision in a country of apparently blind people. I longed to see. See clearly.

The surgery was done and my right eye got back its pristine 6/6 vision. But I continued to see waves of poison lashing against the shores of my oceans. My country’s oceans, rather. I continued to see fancy dresses masquerading as nationalist fervours.

And I decided to visit an Ayurvedic eye hospital. A colleague of mine recommended it, in fact. Her mother who is older than me got her cataract healed without surgery, she said. I was interested. One can always give it a try – that’s what I thought. And that’s how I landed at Sreedhareeyam, the “Eye of Ayurveda.”

After the prescribed 45 days of medication, I visited the hospital yesterday.

“How do you feel about your vision now?” The doctor asked.

“I think there’s some improvement,” I said.

He checked up my eye. “Not some improvement,” he said. “It’s a remarkable improvement. A kind of improvement that we don’t see normally.”

That was very reassuring. I recalled the news I had read just the other day about a Kenyan woman whose blindness was treated successfully at Sreedhareeyam.

Having bought the prescribed medicines for the next two months and feeling confident that my left eye will have a clear vision soon without a surgery, I decided to have a look at the hospital’s enchanting environment. Here are some pictures Maggie and I took from there.

One of the many wooden pillars of the old building

The entrance to the hospital


Rich families had their own deities in those days

A selfie that I love


 

Comments

  1. Hari OM
    As a retired medic who specialised in homoeopathics and other ancillary treatments, I heartily approve! My own experiene of Ayurveda is limited, but know many who benefitted greatly from treatments - and actually know two folk who have direct connection to this very institution with positive results. I wish you well for this!

    The building looks very traditional - and a wonderful backdrop to that lovely selfie! YAM xx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. The hospital is a modern building with all modern facilities. This old building has been retained because of its historical value.

      Delete
  2. A person having
    Im-born connection with Ayurveda, the daughter of an Aurvedic medical practioner who pulled hundreds of people from the danger of death in our village, needless to say, how much I respect the Ayurveda tradition. I am happy you found relief at Shreesgariyam, about the place I have heard.

    However, I have no trust in the way, it's practiced presently in many centers priding on some ancient veteran names in the field, and manufacturing medicines and filling the shelf showing any honest info about the ingredients used, that has resulted in me throwing them into the waste bin that I collected from India under prescription and brought over here.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I went there more out of curiosity than anything else. When i saw the clientele - including foreigners - I was rather amazed.

      Delete
  3. I recently read 'The Secret' by Rhonda Byrne and realised that you can cure any illness and that it's all in the mind. All it takes is a strong beleif. Ask, believe, receive.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. The mind does have tremendous powers. But also certain limits.

      Delete
  4. Loved the post, Thanks for sharing.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Nice blog post ,thank you for sharing this valuable information. Maitri Ayurveda in Madhapur please provide some more updates.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Thanks for sharing this info! If anyone is searching for a Ayurvedic doctor in Ludhiana then you should consult Dr. Jawahar of Sanjiwani Health Centre. He is Best in the field of Ayurveda.

    ReplyDelete
  7. Your blog is a gem! The simplicity in your writing is a breath of fresh air in the crowded blogosphere. Thank you for making learning enjoyable and straightforward.
    best ayurvedic hospital in india





    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Pranita a perverted genius

Bulldozer begins its work at Sawan Pranita was a perverted genius. She had Machiavelli’s brain, Octavian’s relentlessness, and Levin’s intellectual calibre. She could have worked wonders if she wanted. She could have created a beautiful world around her. She had the potential. Yet she chose to be a ruthless exterminator. She came to Sawan Public School just to kill it. A religious cult called Radha Soami Satsang Beas [RSSB] had taken over the school from its owner who had never visited the school for over 20 years. This owner, a prominent entrepreneur with a gargantuan ego, had come to the conclusion that the morality of the school’s staff was deviating from the wavelengths determined by him. Moreover, his one foot was inching towards the grave. I was also told that there were some domestic noises which were grating against his patriarchal sensibilities. One holy solution for all these was to hand over the school and its enormous campus (nearly 20 acres of land on the outskirts

Queen of Religion

She looked like Queen Victoria in the latter’s youth but with a snow-white head. She was slim, fair and graceful. She always smiled but the smile had no life. Someone on the campus described it as a “plastic smile.” She was charming by physical appearance. Soon all of us on the Sawan school campus would realise how deceptive appearances were. Queen took over the administration of Sawan school on behalf of her religious cult RSSB [Radha Soami Satsang Beas]. A lot was said about RSSB in the previous post. Its godman Gurinder Singh Dhillon is now 70 years old. I don’t know whether age has mellowed his lust for land and wealth. Even at the age of 64, he was embroiled in a financial scam that led to the fall of two colossal business enterprises, Fortis Healthcare and Religare finance. That was just a couple of years after he had succeeded in making Sawan school vanish without a trace from Delhi which he did for the sake of adding the school’s twenty-odd acres of land to his existing hun

Machiavelli the Reverend

Let us go today , you and I, through certain miasmic streets. Nothing will be quite clear along our way because this journey is through some delusions and illusions. You will meet people wearing holy robes and talking about morality and virtues. Some of them will claim to be god’s men and some will make taller claims. Some of them are just amorphous. Invisible. But omnipotent. You can feel their power around you. On you. Oppressing you. Stifling you. Reverend Machiavelli is one such oppressive power. You will meet Franz Kafka somewhere along the way. Joseph K’s ghost will pass by. Remember Joseph K who was arrested one fine morning for a crime that nobody knew anything about? Neither Joseph nor the men who arrest him know why Joseph K is arrested. The power that keeps Joseph K under arrest is invisible. He cannot get answers to his valid questions from the visible agents of that power. He cannot explain himself to that power. Finally, he is taken to a quarry outside the town wher

Nakulan the Outcast

Nakulan was one of the many tenants of Hevendrea . A professor in the botany department of the North Eastern Hill University, he was a very lovable person. Some sense of inferiority complex that came from his caste status made him scoff the very idea of his lovability. He lived with his wife and three children in one of Heavendrea’s many cottages. When he wanted to have a drink, he would walk over to my hut. We sipped our whiskies and discussed Shillong’s intriguing politics or something of the sort while my cassette player crooned gently in the background. Nakulan was more than ten years my senior by age. He taught a subject which had never aroused my interest at any stage of my life. It made no difference to me whether a leaf was pinnately compound or palmately compound. You don’t need to know about anther and stigma in order to understand a flower. My friend Levin would have ascribed my lack of interest in Nakulan’s subject to my egomania. I always thought that Nakulan lived

Randeep the melody

Many people in this pic have made their presence in this A2Z series A phone call came from an unknown number the other day. “Is it okay to talk to you now, Sir?” The caller asked. The typical start of a conversation by an influencer. “What’s it about?” My usual response looking forward to something like: “I am so-and-so from such-and-such business firm…” And I would cut the call. But there was a surprise this time. “I am Randeep…” I recognised him instantly. His voice rang like a gentle music in my heart. Randeep was a student from the last class 12 batch of Sawan. One of my favourites. He is unforgettable. Both Maggie and I taught him at Sawan where he was a student from class 4 to 12. Nine years in a residential school create deep bonds between people, even between staff and students. Randeep was an ideal student. Good at everything yet very humble and spontaneous. He was a top sportsman and a prefect with eminent leadership. He had certain peculiar problems with academics. Ans