Dr Ramindar Dhillon discovers that life after the Army is fraught with unexpected danger as she heals the sick and wounded in war-torn countries, reports Shyamola Khanna

 
The svelte, silver-haired lady trying on quilted knee-length jackets in an upmarket store in Jaipur could be just about any woman with impeccable taste. Admittedly, Dr Ramindar Dhillon has a weakness for the chic and fashionable. The 72 year-old allows herself these indulgences because, for many years now, she’s been wearing quite a different hat: a doctor treating bleeding soldiers and civilians, and dodging artillery shells in war-torn countries.

Dr Dhillon is in Jaipur visiting old friends before she heads on to Chandigarh, to her husband and her home. After a brief vacation, she will return to the theatre of war. A doctor with UN missions—hold your breath—in Afghanistan and now South Sudan, she is as gutsy and gritty as they come.

“My father joined Amritsar Medical College but gave up his studies to serve in the Indian Army during World War II. Both my parents were committed to seva and they always encouraged me to help those in need,” says Dr Dhillon, summing up just why she chooses to put herself in harm’s way. In fact, her every life choice has been geared towards service, including her decision to study medicine and then join the Services. During her career on home ground, she served as a general physician in the medical inspection rooms of Indian Air Force stations, where she was posted till she retired.

Working with the UN came much later. Her husband was a chopper pilot and as soon as he retired in 1994, Dr Dhillon decided to step out of her comfort zone. Her first calling was working with sex workers in Chandigarh and surrounding regions, from 1996 to 1998. Dr Dhillon took up her assignment as project director of the HIV/AIDS division of the Society for Service to Voluntary Agencies, with whom she worked for two years. “We worked on the national highways in Punjab, Haryana and Chandigarh, targeting truckers and commercial sex workers. Our aim was to get the people into treatment and educate them on how they could take precautions.”

As if dealing with rough-and-ready truckers weren’t enough, Dr Dhillon faced a more sinister challenge: the brokers in the sex trade suspected she was a police informer. “They sent their people to where I was living, in Panchkula, Chandigarh, and dug into my past. It was only when they were satisfied that I was genuinely concerned that they were okay with me,” she shares.

Making an impression on the minds of women who celebrate the birth of a girl child so that she can be sold to the highest bidder at puberty calls for a special kind of patience and tolerance. But there were many poignant moments, too, for Dr Dhillon and her team, who met with sex workers in the backs of trucks, and truckers in their adda. “It was a humbling experience to help those women. It was enriching beyond compare.”

In August 1999, it was time for Dr Dhillon to move on. Far from the dusty highways, her next assignment took her to a posh boarding school, Lawrence School, in Sanawar, Himachal Pradesh, where she headed a 60-bed hospital for four years before she retired in 2003, a few months short of her 58th birthday.

However, it was not long before fate upped the ante and sent Dr Dhillon on her first mission with the UN. “Someone I knew told me the United Nations was looking for volunteers,” she recalls. “Although I applied, I had never imagined I would get these assignments, because I was told it was very tough to get into the UN system. I guess I just got lucky.”

During her first UN assignment, Dr Dhillon was posted as medical officer in the UN’s emergency and accident clinic in Trinidad & Tobago, in the Caribbean, where she worked from 2003 to 2006. Here, she was involved with the medical care of the local people, looking after accidents and emergencies. There is a very large population of Indian origin here, the rest being of African heritage. But regardless of their roots, most people wanted to consult Indian doctors and Dr Dhillon was taken aback at the faith the people had in her. “One by one, the numbers kept rising—from an average 50 per day to 100. The patients started to line up outside my cabin, even though there were three other UN doctors in the county. One day, I asked the receptionist why she was doing this and she replied, ‘It is not me; they want to see only you.’ I was humbled and prayed I would live up to their expectations.”

Her husband, Group Captain (retd) Karanjit Singh Dhillon, had accompanied her on this assignment but the lifestyle didn’t suit him. So she asked for assignments ‘closer home’—not realising the risk this may entail. The UN posted her in Afghanistan from 2006 to 2008, during which time she was provincial reproductive health coordinator, Bamiyan and Daikundi, and later an aero medical evacuation specialist. “Although I had heard of what was going on in Afghanistan, I was okay with the idea as it was close enough to Delhi; it was a short flight away. Besides, I am a doctor and we have to work in difficult situations,” she says. “It was hugely challenging. Patients were nearly always evacuated by air from various provinces to Kabul and, if required, to another country. But, owing to the violent situation, security was good and we were always well protected.”

In her early 60s then, Dr Dhillon lived life on the edge while she fulfilled her mission of seva. “When I was not doing non-clinical work, I carried a burkha with me; following the dress code was very important as I was involved with locals from the villages,” she says. “Many a time, the Taliban happened to be in the same village but they did not interfere with our work. These burly men carrying heavy guns would walk into the room where we were meeting, while we carried on with our work.” The Afghan people, who are very fond of Indians, were protective of her. “Whenever I travelled by road and there was an inkling of trouble, my driver would take a detour. We sometimes passed sites where there had been a bomb blast only seconds earlier. And when we knew the Taliban was ahead, I would quickly wear the burkha that was always in my vehicle.”

After a posting like Afghanistan, her next, in East Timor (now Timor-Leste), was a breeze. “I was stationed there for just six months in 2012. It was a short tenure owing to family commitments and the UNMIT [United Nations Mission in Timor-Leste] closing down there.”

Dr Dhillon is currently posted with the UN mission in South Sudan, as clinical director of operations and a senior doctor looking after the UN troops. She has been working there since 2014. “Besides the fact that the country is facing severe famine, the situation is very tense. I was present there during the military crisis last year. Not only were we dealing with casualties but we faced a shortage of basic necessities. Also, our grab bags were always ready in case we, as the critical staff, suddenly needed to be evacuated. It was tough and it took a long time to de-stress.”

Her husband is all too aware of the dangers she has faced. “Her first priority is her patients even if it sets her against the authorities,” he says with a great degree of pride, and fondness. “My message to her when the civil strife started in South Sudan was, ‘Be safe and don’t be too brave’, because I know she’s capable of ignoring her own safety in the line of duty.”

The war in South Sudan had started without any notice and no one had time to prepare for it. Even the UN compounds were being shelled and staff members were huddled inside tiny bathrooms, the only seemingly safe place as they did not have large windows. Moreover, everyone was constantly reminded to stay flat on the ground. Overhead, shells were smashing on the asbestos roof and bullets were ricocheting. “This went on for three days and, at the time, Dr Dhillon was the only doctor in charge of the UN clinic, which was short-staffed. Even though she was a volunteer with the UN, she suddenly found herself in a leadership role in the crisis situation,” recalls Dr Vandana Bhatnagar, who was a part of the UN Peacekeeping Force and served with Dr Dhillon in South Sudan.

Under the circumstances, men, women and children literally spilt out of their camps to take refuge in the UN compound, their bodies riddled with bullets and other wounds. It was Dr Dhillon who attended to the injured, day in and day out. She barely got a few hours of rest and even cooked rice for the injured, who had not eaten for many days.

“The peacekeeping environment calls for strength of mind and the ability to stay calm under extreme pressure. People are shocked at how a senior citizen of her age is working in South Sudan, in the current conflict-ridden environment. She has done India proud,” remarks Dr Bhatnagar. Col Rahul Batra, a colleague of Dr Dhillon, adds, “I am an Indian Army officer and deputy chief of logistic services with the UN Mission in South Sudan. I have known Dr Dhillon for the past two years and she has been an inspirational figure, deeply driven by a sense of caring for those requiring assistance. She is also extremely fit and maintains a positive and vibrant attitude. It’s been an honour to know her and serve with her.”

Back home, Dr Dhillon’s daughters are obviously concerned for their mother’s safety but respect her decision to ‘do what she has to do’. “My mother has always been tough and worked through good health or ill health, in close-to-primitive conditions and for long hours,” says her daughter Maheep Dhillon, 45, a Mumbai-based filmmaker. “But even so, we all protested her decision to take up her first field posting with the UN, in Kabul. Eventually, reconciling to it the same way a serviceman’s family does each time he gets a forward-area posting, we let her go. It wasn’t easy. But mixed with the apprehension was a deep pride in her courage, selflessness and stamina.” Maheep reveals that the person most conflicted by her mother’s postings in strife-torn areas was her grandmother. “Nanu had ensured that her daughters and granddaughters were fearless and independent. Yet, when my mother took up the Afghanistan post, I could see the turmoil in her. She was fiercely proud, yet torn by anxiety. Her solution was in prayer.”

Dr Dhillon’s younger daughter, 40 year-old Amrita Sethi, a Mumbai-based art therapist, adds, “My mother gets so much joy and satisfaction from her work. And while it is also scary at times, I know this is something she has to do for herself. With all its challenges and immense rewards, it is something she just has to do—and I have to respect that.”

How much longer will Dr Dhillon answer her calling while putting her life on the line? “As of now, I plan to work [in South Sudan] till June 2017, return home, relax and, if possible, work with NGOs or charitable clinics for the poor. Later, I might take on another assignment, as long as I am healthy and the family permits!” Dr Dhillon has learnt that life is an open road and it is not wise to have plans set in stone. “The biggest lesson I have learnt is to never take life for granted.”

Photo courtesy: Dr Ramindar Dhillon
Featured in Harmony — Celebrate Age Magazine
May 2017