AS my friend Bari Mian said, “It is the passing of an era”.

Physicians like Dr S.M. Rab come but once in 100 years. He was a true practioner of the ‘art of medicine’, a dying art indeed.

He could diagnose complex and difficult diseases without the aid of what we modern-day doctors have at our disposal: the CT scans, the MRIs, the angios, the myriads of new blood tests, with just the skills (a gift perhaps?) of sight and hearing and, most importantly, of touch and feel he could come up with a diagnosis and then a solution or cure if one was available.

This could be a cardiac or neurological or kidney or liver, you name it and he could stand at the bedside and give a discourse to his awe-struck students and interns and house officers!

During off-moments he could give you a superb talk on world affairs and then moments later start talking about ancient civilisations like the Roman or Ottoman or Mughal empires.

We, his students of those faraway days in Dhaka, had sometimes the privilege to accompany him on his evening and late-night ‘private rounds’ where the high and mighty and wealthy would always be needing his skills and healing ‘touch’. As one left a particular patient, Dr Rab could give a ‘detailed personal’ history and often a family genealogy of that patient.

When we, students, now in the prime of our own profession, would ever meet him, he would recall some of the minutest events of our lives that may have faded from our own memories into the depths of obscurity.

He made each and everyone, patient or student or colleague, feel very special.

And as my colleague, Dr Saleem, has written: “The lover becomes the beloved”.

Dr Nasir Ahmad
Karachi

Published in Dawn, September 17th, 2014