It was a woebegone trio that trudged into a reputed mental institution in the city one morning, weary after what was a long and harrowing journey all the way from Gulbarga. She was a young woman, one child balanced on her waist, her free hand clutching another child whose legs hung lifeless beneath him. The children, twins, it turned out, were about eight years old, so mentally retarded that they had the intelligence of a one-year-old, physically disabled and hearing and speech impaired.

An elderly man approached the bewildered mother, asked her what she wanted and directed her to the rehabilitation department, showing that there was someone in the big city who was concerned and helpful. This is what Mr Ramaswamy does. He makes people happy, because in the end, it’s the little things that mean the most. Reluctant as he is to extol his own virtues, he talks rather like a kindly grandfather, trotting out interesting anecdotes drawn from what was evidently a captivating life.

He catches two or three buses four times a week, making his way to different hospitals around the city, doing what he insists is just “ordinary volunteer work”. What is extraordinary is the dedication with which he goes about it. When he retired from his job as an aeronautical design engineer in HAL in the year 1997, Mr Ramaswamy chanced upon a lecture by Dr Ali Khwaja of Banjara Acdemy, who was conducting an orientation programme for volunteers.

“I chose KIDWAI Institute of Oncology at once,” he said. “The government gives every cancer patient and his attendant 50% concession and rail and air fare across the country. So I’d help the patients by filling out the forms and getting them the concession.” He found assisting people immensely satisfying, for he says, “It brought me in contact with so many different people whom I’d talk to and listen to and at the end of it all, it’s clear that their gratitude really comes from the heart. It is such a wonderful feeling, although we have done so little for them. I never looked back after that.”

“Dr Ali is my inspiration,” he says. “It’s because of him and the Banjara Academy that I do what I do.”
The work in the organisation involves setting up a help desk at the out-patient ward in 10 hospitals around the city that are manned by volunteers who help the patients who come for treatment. For an ailing person from a tiny village who has spent a major portion of his earnings to make the trip to a big city in the hope of treatment, to stand alone in a big hospital without the faintest idea of where to go or whom to meet is a daunting prospect. “At the in-patient department, we go to the wards, talk to patients, listen to them and comfort them if they need it,” Mr Ramaswamy explains. “We also coordinate blood donation, even though we don’t donate ourselves.”

This means getting in touch with college students who are usually willing to come and donate blood for free. The Banjara Academy and its volunteers are recognised by 10 different hospitals across the city. On Wednesdays, Mr Ramaswamy goes to the city’s neurological institute, which helps patients find a comfortable place to stay in Bengaluru, so that they don’t spend money they can ill afford to pay on expensive accommodation and also shows them around the hospital. “There is a certain protocol to receiving treatment; there are forms to fill and tests to go through and that’s what I help people with.”

People come from all over the country, usually poverty stricken and illiterate and often with a very ill companion. They all have their own stories of hardship and suffering. Sometimes, Mr Ramaswamy’s help is no more than providing a shoulder to cry on, but that little gesture can make all the difference in the world. “I do this because it’s as therapeutic for me, the volunteer, as it is for the person I’m helping,” he says.

Mr Ramaswamy might not think too much of the work he does, but if everybody were to do one good deed every now and then, without expecting anything in return, it will make this world a much better place.