MY MEMORIES OF PROFESSOR DEODHAR: KPD

KPD (as I always referred to him, given that he was my pathologist-father’s contemporary and close friend, from 1955) was my first formal teacher in postgraduate pathology when I started my MD in 1988. (My father, of course, was the first informal teacher in that subject). My initiation to postgraduate pathology, not surprisingly, was in the autopsy room, which KPD referred to as the ‘Temple of pathology’. Dr Chitra Madiwale has written above about his dedication to and passion for the autopsy as a teaching tool. If there were an award for ‘pathologist most committed to autopsy’, it would probably have ended in a draw, with KPD among the finalists—because there were other wonderful teachers and champions of the autopsy in the Bombay school of pathology. (I use the word Bombay advisedly. Unfortunately, in Mumbai now, autopsies are far less commonly done). But if there were an award for ‘Most humble and unassuming pathologist, despite lofty credentials’, KPD would have won the award hands down.

KPD was a popular and excellent teacher; his students from LTMC never let us, from other colleges, forget that their professor’s paper was reference number 99 in the chapter on the Liver in our edition of Robbins’ Pathologic Basis of Disease. KPD’s high scruples (which led some to compare him with Ramshastri Prabhune, the model of integrity in the Peshwa’s court in the 18th century) belied a wit that was subtle at times (I know—I was on the receiving end!), to positively droll at others.

His eyes had sparkling green-grey irises, which would light up when discussing something that gave him pleasure— a challenging diagnosis, a point to make during a talk, or humming a tune while walking in the college corridors and rhythmically tapping the walls (something he was probably not even aware of). Incredibly, one day after I wrote the previous line, an automated email from A. word. a. day landed in my Inbox on 29th May, 2025, and informed me that the word for that day was ‘devil’s tattoo’, which meant ‘A rhythmic tapping of fingers, knuckles, or feet’. The quote offered as an example was ‘They say an idle mind is the devil’s workshop. Well, an idle hand does a devil’s tattoo on any available surface, usually as a sign of impatience, agitation, or deep thought.’ With KPD, it was always a matter of deep thought.