A gentle soul remembered :Dr.K.Mohandas

 

A Gentle Soul Remembered: Dr. K. Mohandas

Dr. K. Mohandas, former Director of the Sree Chitra Institute and the first Vice-Chancellor of the Kerala University of Health Sciences, passed away on October 9, 2025. My association with him was that of a tenant and landlord—but it soon became much more personal and meaningful.

In 2005, after leaving Delhi, I returned to my hometown, determined to settle down in Pattom, Thiruvananthapuram. Since both my children were studying in Kendriya Vidyalaya, Pattom seemed the most convenient location. My wife Jayashree and I, along with my friend Satish, a PSC officer, visited several houses. None of them felt quite right, though we finally decided on one just to end the search.

It was then that I remembered my family friends Raji and Shammy, who lived in Vrindavan Gardens. We went there to meet them, and during the visit, Shammy’s mother mentioned that a flat nearby was vacant. It belonged to the Director of Sree Chitra Institute. Without delay, Shammy’s sister Sheela called him, spoke briefly, and handed the phone to me. I introduced myself.

When Dr. Mohandas said, “I’ll give you the house, but…,” I thought he was about to ask for a high rent. At that time, rents in the area were around ₹5,000 and above, and I was prepared to agree to any reasonable amount because we liked the place at first sight. But that “but” meant something entirely different.

“That house is my first investment,” he said gently. “Would you take good care of it as your own?”
I assured him that I would. Then he added, “The previous tenant paid ₹3,500 per month. Can Ajith give me that much?”
“Yes, sir,” I replied immediately.

He then said, “If it’s convenient for you, please come to the institute. I’ll give you the keys.”

We went straight there, and after a pleasant conversation, he handed over the keys. He spoke with such warmth about that house—the first property he had ever bought—with the innocence and affection of a child. I felt a deep respect for him that day.

After settling in, I mentioned that a few maintenance works were needed. He said, “Do whatever you want; I’ll pay for it.” I got the house painted and repaired, and later invited him to see it. When he visited after many years, we spent some wonderful moments together. As we offered him apples and other fruits, he smiled and said, “When I wanted to eat all this, I didn’t have the means. Now I can buy anything, but I can’t eat it—diabetes doesn’t allow that.” He drank his tea without sugar and left with a smile that I can still recall vividly.

Later, I would handle all the small repairs myself, never bothering to ask him for reimbursement. Every month, I went to Sree Chitra to pay the rent. He would ask, “Did you do any work on the house this month?” and I’d say “No.” Then we would chat about politics, administration, and the world in general.

One day, he said, “Ajith, don’t trouble yourself coming in person every time. I know you’re busy with official duties—just hand the rent over to my PA.” After that, it became our routine.

We continued living in his flat until I bought another one in Vrindavan Gardens, encouraged by Justice Thankachan Sir. When I returned the keys, Dr. Mohandas said, “Thank you for taking good care of my beloved house.” His voice reflected how deeply his heart was tied to that first possession of his.

Over time, as often happens, I lost touch with him—something I regret to this day. But the memories remain—of his kindness, his humility, and his gentle smile. I also remember how, during those years, I was able to help many people who visited Sree Chitra for treatment, thanks to that association.

That handsome, gracious man and his warm smile are now just a memory.
Farewell, Dr. Mohandas. You will be remembered with affection and respect.