Of Britons’ heartfelt love for children and animals

When I first went to England in 1955 to do my Fellowship in surgery, I was impressed by many things British, particularly people’s love for children and animals. I read recently that there are nine million pet dogs and 12 million cats in Britain.

These figures don’t surprise me but reinforce my belief. I will touch on this subject again shortly but first, let me dwell on an incident which happened in 1955, to support my assertion.

When the Russian Sputnik went in orbit and the whole world was applauding the Russians for achieving this scientific feat, Lord Attlee, the Labour Party leader and ex-Prime-Minister of Britain expressed his concern on the plight of the dog, which was sent in space on the Sputnik! He appeared humour-less to me until I read this uncharacteristic comment allegedly made by him. ‘There is no argument between married couples, which cannot be resolved in a double bed.’

Attlee won the general elections in Britain, held soon after the war, to the amazement of the whole world, because the Allies won the war, thanks to heroic effort by Winston Churchill. But that setback of the Tory party was proof of pragmatism of the British electorate; Churchill was a good prime-minister during the war and Attlee would make a good prime-minister in peace time.

 Anyway, when the press tackled Churchill on how modest Attlee was in his hour of triumph, Churchill quipped. “But he has a lot to be modest about!”

Medical students

On a serious note, the Labour Government, led by Attlee, established a Welfare State in Britain. In that connection, I wish to write about the visit of Aneurin Bevan, the architect of the National Health Service (NHS) in Britain to my alma mater, Grant Medical College (GMC) in Mumbai.

As Health minister of his country, he was invited to give a talk to the medical students. The lecture hall was packed to the full and microphones had been placed in the extensive grounds of GMC and even on the main road. Hearing Bevan, I realised that I was listening to one of the finest orators of Britain.

With his Welsh accent, his shock of silvery hair — which kept falling on his forehead, which he constantly swept back with dramatic effect and his slight stutter, which he used to his advantage to take strategic pauses —  he mesmerised his audience.

The ravages of recent war were fresh in the mind of his listeners and he brought the house down with his famous words. ‘The only war we are still justified in waging is a war against illiteracy, poverty and disease.’

For me, reared in the developing world, this statement of Bevan was electrifying. The very idea of free NHS was appealing to me because I was living in a country where so many people died simply because they could neither access nor afford medical treatment.

 Unfortunately, the same holds true of Kenya. On a different note, I thank Bevan daily because his free NHS provided jobs for me, penniless, to study and obtain my Fellowship in Surgery.

It was the ease with which I could get a job in Britain and support myself that encouraged me to fly thousands of miles from home to train as a surgeon and add the letters FRCS after my name.

Stomach cancer

 To complete Bevan’s story, he died from stomach cancer at a young age. I still remember Nehru going to see him with his sister, Vijyalaxmi Pandit, the High Commissioner for India to Britain.

 There was a touching photograph in one of the daily broadsheets of Bevan with his wife, a politician in her own right, saying good-bye to Nehru on the threshold of their home in Wales. There was a special chemistry between the two men because they both were great socialists, honest politicians, who wanted to build welfare states for their peoples.

We have strayed far from our main topic, but I intend to return to love for animals by the British by quoting from my autobiography, which talks about my first impressions of Marie when I met her at Horton General Hospital in Banbury. I said there: ‘She could not pass a puppy without patting it on the back, walk away from a flower without admiring its colour or fragrance, or leave a baby without eliciting a smile.’

 Little did I realise then that she was not only showing her individual trait but also representing a national trend of her people. Love for animals, children and flowers is universal in Britain. I am pleased to see that both our children have inherited this trait from their mother.

Poodle dog

Accordingly, my son takes his poodle dog, Nero, for a walk every morning and evening, come rain, snow or fog. When I was able to walk with him in good weather, I saw Jan carrying a container and toilet paper so that if Nero passed faeces on the walk, Jan would pick up the pooh from the ground and put it in the bin, if available nearby or put in the box to be disposed off on return home.

I saw all walkers do the same, a fact commented on by the ex- President of India when he commended the British for their discipline. Similarly, I saw Jenny spend lots of money on cat-food and veterinary services for her sick cat, which she deliberately selected from the home for abandoned cats.

 Currently, she lives with us to support her parents, ravaged by age-related infirmity and disabilities. She has hung in our balcony, facing the river Thames, a coconut suet feeder for the small birds to peck and feed themselves.

When I see the British fascination for pet dogs, I absolve the Nawab of Junagadh of his obsession with his dogs (refer to column published on 03-03-19).

To complete the Nawab’s story, I need to add that when the Indian army invaded his state for acceding to Pakistan, according to press reports, the Nawab fled in a four-seater plane with his senior wife and favourite bitch!