Born here

 

I was born here. The small old structure in the photograph is part of the Old Gandhi Hospital premises near Secunderabad Railway Station. On June 3, 2026, I visited the place to see how it looked. I knew that all the buildings had been razed to the ground several years ago, but I wanted to visit the place where I was born on January 10, 1968.

All I could see from the outside was a heap of sand, mud, and debris—almost like a mountain. There used to be several buildings in Gandhi Hospital, housing numerous wards. The hospital was shifted to its present premises at Musheerabad during 2003–04. The new complex was constructed after the demolition of the Musheerabad Central Jail that once stood there.

At the gate of what we now refer to as the "Old Gandhi Hospital" premises, the entry was completely blocked. I took a peek through the gaps and noticed some vehicles. If there were vehicles, I reasoned, the place could not be completely abandoned. I knew that for a fact because a portion of the Gandhi Hospital premises had been used for the construction of the Metro Rail.

I entered through another gate and reached the Secunderabad West Metro Station. As I mentioned, a portion of the land had been used for the station. The rest of the land appeared abandoned. I went looking further. There I found the vehicles I had noticed from outside. The police were using the place to park vehicles seized for various violations. There was also a makeshift room for the person in charge of the premises. I felt happy that, at least to some extent, I could explore the "place of my birth".

And then came a discovery. My search had yielded results. Behind some bushes, I noticed a small old structure. I looked around for more, but found none. This was the only concrete structure that had escaped demolition. I went closer. I noticed the words "Police Outpost" and "Health Inspector" written above the doors, indicating the purpose for which the rooms had once been used.

Many memories came back.

My father, Chilkuri Samuel, passed away in the hospital in 1989. By then, I had already entered journalism, having started my career in 1988. Being in touch with Gandhi Hospital was important for crime reporters. As someone who also covered crime, I would call the hospital, sometimes several times a day, and at least twice on most days.

One of the mortuary staff members was a friendly person named Imdad. Reporters from all newspapers would call him. As a friendly gesture, he would inform us if there were any medico-legal cases. He would also provide the name of the police station concerned. The police, when contacted, would then provide details about the bodies at the hospital mortuary and the causes of death in the cases they were investigating.

I wanted a bird's-eye view of the Old Gandhi Hospital premises. I climbed to the Secunderabad West Metro Station. From there, I could clearly see the lone structure that had survived demolition—the only visible proof that Gandhi Hospital had once stood there.

But Gandhi Hospital was not always Gandhi Hospital.

In 1851, the institution began modestly as an infirmary with just three wards in the Secunderabad Cantonment. It was established to serve the growing cantonment population, including British military personnel. By 1900, it had expanded into a 95-bed facility known as the Cantonment Hospital.

In 1913, the hospital was renamed King Edward Memorial Hospital (KEM Hospital) in honour of King Edward VII of England. In 1958, it was given the name Gandhi Hospital. Yet, long after I was born in 1968, many people continued to refer to it as KEM Hospital, as I clearly remember.

Gandhi Hospital is one of the oldest major hospitals in India and among the oldest medical institutions in Telangana. The institution traces its origins to 1851. The Osmania General Hospital, meanwhile, traces its origins to the Afzal Gunj Hospital established in 1866 and later shifted to the imposing Osmania General Hospital building that became fully operational in 1926.

I remembered the numerous visits we made to Gandhi Hospital to see family members, relatives, and friends admitted there for various ailments. I remembered an old lift that used to make a creaking noise. I understand it was manually operated.

Some of my relatives worked there as nurses. They were always ready to help whenever required. Even when they were off duty, they would accompany a relative to the hospital, sometimes in the middle of the night. My aunt, Peram Susheela, was one of them.

Gandhi Hospital was shifted to its present premises at Musheerabad during 2003–04.

It was on June 3, 1806, that Secunderabad was founded. That means the city is 220 years old in 2026.

Little did I know that when I chose to walk from Regimental Bazaar to Gandhi Hospital on June 3, 2026, to recapture a feel of the place I had known as a child, I was in fact commemorating the 220th anniversary of Secunderabad.

I visited Golden Bakery, beside the Ganesh Temple, for old times' sake. There I met Maqbool Syed. His father, Syed Mahboob, had established the shop 80 years ago. He was delighted when I recounted my childhood memories of visiting the bakery, which had been a favourite with many residents of the area.

My next stop was Prem Sports near Secunderabad Railway Station. Vinod Puri, who was at the shop, told me that the establishment had been founded in 1955. I recalled buying sporting goods there during my days at St. Patrick's High School, Secunderabad.

On my return from the place of my birth, Gandhi Hospital, I stopped at Alpha Hotel. Established in 1957, it remains one of Secunderabad's enduring landmarks. I went in and sat down at a table to have biryani. After a moment's thought, I decided to take a parcel home instead, which I did.

I then walked from beneath the Oliphant Bridge towards Chilkalguda. I remembered Bharat Stores near St. Francis Girls' High School, where we used to buy notebooks. It was the go-to place for students from many schools. Some years ago, I revisited Bharat Stores for old times' sake.

I stood for some time observing the construction work taking place at Secunderabad Railway Station. When I was a student at St. Patrick's in the 1970s, that portion of the area was used by the RTC. At the bus station, we followed a queue system to board the buses. Mine was Route No. 1.

Places change. Buildings disappear. New structures rise in their place. Yet, a few memories remain firmly rooted. On that day, amid the debris of a vanished hospital, those memories came alive once again.