Amudha, Lakhmi, Ramu – four legged friends

Amudha, Lakhmi, Ramu – four-legged friends


Vijay Gopichandran


As a thoroughbred urban child from an orthodox family, the closest I have come to pets and animals is outside the home, with loving pet owners taking their dogs for a walk or the stray cow that would wander around in the streets while findings its way back to her shelter. I have heard many friends go on and on about how smart and intelligent their pets are and how unconditional their love is. But I have always kept my arms-length from pets, especially after a traumatic chase-fall incident that happened when I was a child, the physical scars of which I still bear on my self. My work in rural Tamil Nadu over the past 12 years has substantially reduced my apprehension for animals. Though I wouldn’t call myself an animal-lover even now, I am OK with them and even allow myself to rarely touch and pet a dog. I can now comfortably walk on my street late at night without my heart racing at 130 beats per minute when an army of stray dogs are patrolling my street. When I see a cow slowly marching on the same side of the road that I am walking on, I can walk by her, without having to speed away, or cross over to the other side of the road. In the past 2 months, I have encountered three patients in my clinic, all of whom had a life in which animals were an integral part. They were in the clinic either because of a problem caused by their animals or because of their animals themselves, but their love for their four-legged friends was palpable. I was washed over by the warmth of human kindness when I interacted with each of these humans, who were brimming with love for their four-legged friends. Here are the stories of Amudha, Lakshmi and Ramu and their two-legged friends.

Karuppayee is a 70+ years old lady, who comes to my clinic regularly for treatment of her high blood pressure and joint pains. I still remember the first time we met. She was brought by her daughter in law to the clinic in a frantic state. She was restless and crying. As I approached her in all earnestness to understand what had happened, the daughter in law started laughing. Then Karuppaayee got even angrier. Then I understood the real story as it unravelled slowly. Karuppaayee had worn fake ear studs and nose stud that day to go to the market. They looked bright but were not gold, but cheap fake metals. In the market, a stranger had given her a cool drink, as the sun was scorching down and immediately Karuppaayee had felt dizzy and fallen asleep in the shade of the bus stand. When she got up 30 mins later her ear and nose studs were gone. This had made her frantic and angry. But her daughter in law was laughing at the joke which was totally on the thief who was up to a huge disappointment when he realizes that the jewellery was fake! So every time I see her I jokingly ask her, “kaathu, mookkellam nalla irukka?” (Are your ears and nose fine?) and Karuppaayee would give me a toothless, shy grin. That day when she walked in, she was in deep distress. She was crying inconsolably. When I checked her blood pressure, it was sky-high. Karruppaayee told me, “do something and kill me, doctor. I don’t want to live anymore. What worth is this world to me, where Amudha is not alive?” I asked her what happened, and she said that her cow, Amudha had died the previous week, immediately after giving birth to the calf. She had massive bleeding following delivery of her calf, and following a brief period of suffering, she had passed away around 2 AM the following morning. Karuppaayee was inconsolable as she narrated the birth of Amudha, how she had named her after her childhood friend, and fondly recalled how Amudha would rub her forehead on Karuppaayee’s hips and relax. “She would never allow another soul to touch or milk her. It has to either be me or my son. If anyone else comes near her, Amudha would kick them away” she said. The grief was severe and all I could offer her at that time was a patient and engaged listening. It took Karuppaayee a few weeks to come to terms with the fact that Amudha had died. She had to give away Amudha’s little one as the calf was bringing back very painful memories for her. Then it took several more weeks to handle and settle Karuppaayee’s blood pressure and knee pains. Now Karuppaayee has moved on. But she taught me that the love that a human has for an animal is no lesser than the love they have for one another.


Kala is another lady, coming from a little far away village from my clinic. When she comes, she is always dressed in a clean, bright cotton saree. She always has a bright huge vermillion dot over her forehead and the central parting of her hair neatly combed hair. She also has a bright smile and a sonorous greeting, “how are you doctor?” Kala suffers from a severe form of arthritis of her right elbow. She is on large doses of pain killer medications, has undergone several rounds of physiotherapy and has taken all forms of complementary and alternative medicines for it. But her pain never goes away. Sometimes, behind that bright smile and happy greeting would lie days of sleepless and painful nights, which she always camouflaged in her happy disposition. Kala also hails from a farming family. She had 5 cows, all of which she and her family lovingly cared for. One day when she was working in her cowshed, milking her favourite cow, Lakshmi, accidentally Lakshmi pushed her down. Kala fell on an outstretched hand and had broken the arm bone at the elbow. As per village practice, they had taken her to the traditional bone healer, who had done traditional bone setting. This had led to abnormal healing of her right elbow. This had developed into a severe pain over the right elbow, which is now extremely disabling and crippling. On one occasion, while trying to balance pain relief with the serious side effects of taking pain killers, out of frustration, I commented to her, “this is all because of your cow. Why do you continue to work in the cowshed? Can’t you just leave it to someone else? That cow is the reason you are in so much pain. why do you still give your life to the cow?” This pushed Kala into a fit of anger, and she retorted to me, “Doctor, do you have children? Just because your child is naughty, will you give away your child? My Lakshmi is more than a child to me. how can you ask me to stop taking care of her?” This kind of passionate love for an animal was new to me at that time. I slowly started understanding that these animals were part of their family and not just some means of livelihood. From then I learnt my lesson never to talk to a farmer or animal lover, about an animal, as though they are lesser than humans.


Chinnappan was lying in the treatment room of my clinic as I entered one day. His son was sitting near him, looking anxious. As I went near Chinnappan, I could get a hint of decaying flesh. I was thinking in my mind that he must have some form of cancer and asked him how he was doing. Chinnappan was in no state to answer me. The son immediately said, “Doctor, my father was working in the field the other day. Our bull, Ramu got a bit angry and pushed him off the bullock cart. My father fell and injured his groin area. This happened 1 week ago. We thought it would heal on its own. But it is increasing and for the past 2 days it has pus and it is giving out a bad odour. Please help”. When I examined Chinnappan, there was a huge gash in the inner side of the thigh extending up to his scrotum and the skin of the scrotum was torn and looked swollen and infected. I started treatment with medicines to kill the infection and started dressing his wound. He came daily for dressings and in 10 days his wound was healthy and had started healing. Chinnappan slowly recovered and started walking to my clinic. One day, when his treatment was completely over, he was walking down from his farm to my clinic and he remarked that he had just returned from taking Ramu grazing for food nearby. I was smart enough not to ask him, “how can you forgive Ramu like that after he caused such a serious injury to you?” By this time, I knew Amudha, Lakshmi, Ramu and numerous other such four-legged friends, are not just animals of the farm and sources of livelihood but are integral parts of the lives and families of these farmers.


Having studied zoonotic diseases and diseases transmitted by animals in medical school, I was not prepared for seeing and treating patients who did not have diseases spread by animals, but because of sharing life and space with them leading to accidents and injuries and other consequences of responsibilities of caring for them. These experiences taught me the infinite capacity of humans to love. The infinite capacity to love across species. Being a good doctor is all about being able to understand these intricate human emotions and work with them.