“Masina’s new...”

I read "Masina’s new millennium” (Parsiana, June 2004) with great interest. I was privileged to know Hormusji Masina [who never called himself ‘Doctor,’ since he was a FRCS (Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons)]. He and his brother, Dinsha (a general practitioner), were friends of the family, and we knew his sons and his daughter, Mehroo.

Even a brief encounter with Hormusji was enough to reveal an impressive personality. He had sharp features with hawk-like eyes and a beak of a nose. His speech was incisive (he hardly opened his mouth when speaking) and he had a biting sense of humor.

Hormusji’s reputation as a surgeon had spread beyond India. He also had a reputation for making doctors and nurses quake, but with his patients I have known him to be gentle and caring. He was, of course, an exacting disciplinarian. My grandmother, who had an ingrowing toenail removed by him, used to relate how, when an assistant surgeon had a small hole in his overall, Hormusji inserted his finger in the hole, tore the garment through and asked the trembling assistant to go and put on a new one without holes.

Masina: exacting disciplinarian

Hormusji ordered my father, who had been operated on by him, to leave the hospital at the dead of night because he had disobeyed the doctor’s instructions. It was only due to my grandfather’s pleading that my father was allowed to stay on till the morning.

I was born at our Altamount Road residence. My grandfather, C. M. Cursetjee, had, for some inscrutable reason, got another doctor to do the delivery — a doctor who later confessed that he hadn’t done this sort of thing for years. As he was messing up the job, grandfather rushed (in his brougham) to fetch Hormusji, whose first words on seeing the fumbling doctor were "Aye jaanvar né bahr java kévo (Tell this animal to get out).” I was then brought into this world without a hitch and, as far as I know, without any damage.

SHERYAR OOKERJEE