Two huge paintings, about 12 feet high - one of Sant Dnyaneshwar (the 13th century Marathi saint who wrote a critique on Bhagwad Gita in Marathi) and another of Sant Tukaram (the 17th century Marathi saint) - stare impressively at you. Besides, there are two other photographs of Sant Dnyaneshwar and an idol adorned with fresh flowers.

Amidst these plush environs, that exude the fragrance of incense sticks, Karad talks about Sant Dnyaneshwar, the source of inspiration in his life. ``To me, he does not represent any particular religion or cult. He is even beyond being a great poet or a great yogi. It is his portrayal of scientific vision in the Dnyaneshwari that leads me to term him the greatest scientist ever born. He has been my inspiration in promoting world peace as also in establishing MIT.''

How did his devotion to Sant Dnyaneshwar originate? He elaborates, ``My family has been following the warkari sampradaya for the last 100 years. I came to Pune in 1960 as a student of the College of Engineering, Pune (COEP). I used to visit the Alandi temple regularly along with my parents. Since I had high regard for my parents' faith, I would silently bear the gutter water that mixed with the waters of the Indrayani river. I'd bathe in it and also accept it as tirtha. But I always wished that I could clean the place some day.'' Sure enough, his dream has come true. A visit to Alandi now would throw up a new look. And the metamorphosis is courtesy Karad, who spent lakhs towards this endeavour.

Going by his office, his lifestyle might be thought of as being high-flying, but it is quite the reverse. Karad says, ``I still sleep on a ghongdi (a coarse woollen blanket used by the rural folk). Even when I'm travelling (he is quite the globe-trotter), I carry it around and sleep on the floor.'' No beds and luxurious mattresses for him!

His morning begins at 6 a.m. and a good one and a half hour is spent doing exercises. What kind? ``It comprises yoga, pranayam and some traditional exercises.'' After that, breakfast includes a glass of milk followed by bhakri and a vegetable. At the MIT, where he works till about 10 p.m., Karad nibbles a light meal at around 2.30 p.m. Back home in the night, it is bhakri, a vegetable and some rice. ``My eating habits are like that of a farmer,'' he says. And he unarguably looks fighting fit!

The MIT campus, today, is situated amidst salubrious surroundings and has an impressive cluster of buildings. And it has been built by a man who hails from Rameshwar, a nondescript village in Marathwada, near Latur.

He reminisces with amusement, ``Our school was held in a cow-shed. When the cattle went grazing, the shed turned into a school. But first, we had to clear the cow dung! The school did not even have a bell, but when the cows came back before sunset, the jingling of the bells around their neck would tell us that it was time to go home.''

Indeed, Karad has built an educational empire he can rightfully be proud of. But when he retires for the day, simplicity is his watchword. He unfolds his meagre ghongdi and gives himself up to blissful sleep. Waking up to the chanting of the Bhagwad Gita which he knows almost by heart!

Dogged by fear
I May almost seem like an anti-stray dog campaigner, raring to write something about it at the slightest of opportunities, but when the Sassoon General Hospital alone registers a frightening 5,758 stray dog bite cases in just May, 1999, it is an issue that cannot be relegated to the hospital records.

From January to May 1999, 22,926 citizens (barring a few who come from neighbouring villages) had to take the post-bite anti-rabies injections at Sassoon. In 1998, 50,766 victims of dog bites were registered at the Out-Patient Department (OPD) at Sassoon. Dr. Mrudula Phadke, dean, B.J. Medical Collage, states, not without alarm, ``It has become a very serious problem, considering that at least 100 patients come to us everyday, having been bitten by stray dogs.''

Besides Sassoon, OPDs of various hospitals as well as general practitioners receive cases of stray- dog bites. So one can safely assume that all this accounts for 200 patients per day in Pune. At Sassoon, 70 per cent of the patients come from the lower strata of society, with the rest coming from the middle and upper middle class. At the general practitioner's, most patients are from the middle and upper middle class. But it is the slum-dwellers who are most vulnerable to dog bites, states Dr. N.K. Kamble, casualty medical officer, Sassoon, and sometimes, they neglect them too.

With a sizeable dog population in Pune, their presence is felt in practically every locality, from slum dwellings to high-profile high-rises. These self-styled four-legged guardians would have been ignored had they just wagged their tails and bared their teeth. Their assault on the human population, which is increasing by the day, makes the problem serious.As against the formidable population of stray dogs, the endeavour to contain their number seems feeble, if one goes by the figures given by the relevant authorities. According to Dr. Anil Ravetkar, health officer, Pune Municipal Corporation (PMC), ``We catch about 20 such dogs per day. Out of these, we supply about five dogs per day to the Blue Cross Society (BCS) for sterilisation and then return the sterilised dogs to their earlier territory after a few days. Only the rabid ones are killed by us.''

The department has two dog-catching vans for the entire city. The vans are despatched following calls (about five) from citizens from various parts of the city, complaining about the dog menace in their society. Many a time, the dogs outsmart the dog-catchers, by going into hiding when they sense danger, thus making the effort ineffectual.

The BCS, in a bid to stop the inhumane killing of dogs by the PMC, has taken up the onus, since the past few years, to undertake sterilisation of dogs. This is so that in the long term, the population of dogs in the city would be contained. However, from April 1998 to March 1999, the BCS could sterilise only 1,721 dogs, informed Sunanda Das, secretary, BCS.

Thus, the menace of stray dogs refuses to cease. During late evenings, they hound you and many of you must have experienced the way they charge at your vehicle. If you are on a two-wheeler, it can be truly frightening. Accidents due to dog chases are also not uncommon.

Last month, while going pillion-riding with my daughter on the scooter, two stray dogs (from my colony) charged at me. For the first time in my life, I trembled. That's when I began to wonder - what should the reaction be in such a case? Should you slow down or drive faster? Should you continue at the same speed? This sheer confusion in judgement causes accidents.

The efforts put in by animal rights activists are surely commendable. Because what could be better than bringing down the population of stray dogs without using violence.

But in a country like ours, where disorganisation and callousness rule the roost, and where human life has no value, what can you expect of a sterilisation programme for dogs? The harmonious interaction between a municipal body and an NGO for such a cause seems utopian.

Several social activists in the city are vociferous in their protests about the stray dog menace. They feel that the PMC must take a firm stand. They feel that it is okay for those who live in cushy homes to sympathise for the creatures but they must also spare a thought for those who live on pavements and become hapless victims of the dogs' ire. As also those who cannot afford chauffeurs and have to ride two-wheelers. Animal rights is fine but what about human rights, they ask.

Should we be happy with the availability of anti-rabies vaccines (which, incidentally, are very expensive and are sometimes in short supply) or should citizens voluntarily crusade against the stray dog menace. Going by recent experience (read as the Arun Bhatia comeback), if they will, they can do wonders!