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DR. GOVINDAPPA VENKATASWAMY
Founder, Aravind Eye Hospital |
The
first time Govindappa Venkataswamy held a scalpel over an eyeball,
it took some effort to hold it steady. No, it wasn't because he,
37 years old back then, was feeling nervous. The problem was altogether
different. Struck by rheumetoid arthritis when he was just 30, Venkataswamy
had been battling to overcome the painful disease of the joints
and establish himself as an eye doctor at the government-run Egmore
Ophthalmic Hospital in Chennai. Incredibly, despite his gnarled
fingers, Venkataswamy became so proficient at eye surgery that by
1960-he had moved to Madurai by then-his fame had spread to neighbouring
cities.
Soon, people were coming from all over to get
operated by "Dr. V" (a moniker that has stuck). In fact,
he kept getting so good at his job that by 1976 he opened his own
10-bed eye hospital, which today has grown into the Aravind Eye
care System, with five centres and 3,650 beds, and which, in 2002,
performed a staggering 2 lakh surgeries and treated 16 lakh out
patients, making it the world's biggest community eye care provider.
Besides the hospitals, there's a centre for manufacturing intra-ocular
lenses (at Rs 150 apiece, the cheapest in the world), an eye bank,
an institute for training, another one for research, even a college
that offers a Master of Science course in ophthalmology. And despite
its low-cost care, Aravind is one of the most profitable hospitals
in the country. Says Alfred Sommer, Dean, Bloomberg School of Public
Health at the John Hopkins University in Baltimore, USA: "Not
only has Aravind...made an enormous difference within Tamil Nadu,
but (has) set the standard for the delivery of high-quality, practical,
and cost-effective eye care for all of India and indeed for all
of the world."
If Aravind's business model is a roaring success-and
a model widely studied, including by the Harvard Business School-it's
because Venkataswamy, at 86 the grand old man of eye care, never
set out to create a profitable enterprise. (In fact, it's a trust,
Govel Trust, that runs the hospitals, and the extended family owns
no shares in the hospitals.) Rather, his idea was to help as many
poor patients as possible and, therefore, everything was worked
backwards. When banks refused to lend him money, Venkataswamy mortgaged
his own house to raise Rs 5 lakh to start construction of the hospital.
The civil contractors, his own two brothers, built the ground floor
free of cost and the first two ophthalmologists who came on board
were Venkataswamy's sister and her husband.
Although the first hospital, set up in Madurai,
started with 10 beds, by the end of one year it had added another
20 and even raked in a small profit. By 1978, Aravind had 100 beds,
of which 70 were exclusively for the poor, non-paying patients.
(Today, of the 3,650 beds, only 775 are paid for.) At the same time,
Venkataswamy brought in state-of-the-art equipment, although the
rooms were spartan. The free rooms do not have beds, instead patients
sleep on reed mats. Air-conditioning? Forget it. Explains Aravind
Srinivasan, Venkataswamy's nephew and administrator of the Madurai
hospital, who has an MBA from the University of Michigan: "Villagers
are used to charpoys and they are comfortable with their relatives
around them, and they do not need a whole variety of food. But in
terms of eye care, we make sure there is no compromise."
Since the hospitals deal with patients on an
industrial scale, the patient-handling systems resemble assembly
lines. A telemedicine facility, introduced four months ago, allows
villagers to be diagnosed by Aravind doctors over the internet.
A webcam captures a photograph of the eyes and an online questionnaire
gets information on symptoms. An eye specialist goes through the
e-mailed pictures and data and conducts an online chat with the
patient (the internet kiosk operator helps). When the patient turns
up for his appointment at the hospital, trainee paramedics do the
preliminary tests like dilation, then resident doctors examine the
patient, writing down the diagnosis and making recommendations.
Patients that require surgery are dealt with
in a similar assembly line fashion. In the operation theatre (OT),
the doctor stands his place. Patients are wheeled in (at Madurai,
for instance, one can actually see track marks in the OT), surgery
is performed in about 25 minutes, the patient is patched up, and
out he or she goes. It is this industrial rhythm that allows a doctor
to do a whopping 25 operations a day, or about 2,600 surgeries a
year. Compare that to the national average of 400 a year.
Aravind's model is a roaring success, because
Venkataswamy never set out to create a for-profit enterprise
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How does Venkataswamy, who thinks it is possible
to eradicate preventable illness in another 10 years, manage to
retain doctors with the modest salaries Aravind offers and the backbreaking
work it extracts of them? With some difficulty. Every year, the
hospital system loses a quarter of its doctors, but an equal number,
or more, joins. Why? For one, having Aravind on the resume can take
an ophthalmologist far in his career. The experience that one gathers
here is unlike any available elsewhere. To add to that, the hospital
sends its doctors abroad to train in new technologies.
Venkataswamy was not born a genius. Nor was genius thrust upon him;
he simply grew into one. Born into a poor farmer's family in the
small village of Vadamalaipuram in Tamil Nadu, Venkataswamy's is
a classic rags to greatness story. As a boy, he would walk two kilometres
to the school in the neighbouring village. When a school did come
to his village, it forgot to bring along the teaching paraphernalia
(like a blackboard, paper or chalk). Ergo, the young Venkataswamy
had to write on sand brought from the nearby river bed, and spread
on the classroom floor. When things improved, he got palm leaves
to write on.
Had Venkataswamy continued in the school, you
may not be reading this story. But fate intervened in the form of
his father, who was eager to get his son a good education. Therefore,
when Venkataswamy was 10, he was packed off to his uncle's at the
bigger town of Koilpatti to pursue his next eight years of education.
After a BA intermediate and a year of law, he switched course to
medicine (this, after all, was 1944). He then joined the British
army to serve in the second world war in India and Malaysia. In
1947, when he developed severe arthritis, he retired from the army.
He joined a hospital in Chennai for post-graduate
training. But because of arthritis his joints became swollen and
hands severely gnarled, and he had to abandon his training as an
obstetrician. He underwent treatment in Chennai, and at the end
of a long year he was able to stand on his legs again. "I felt
as if I was on top of the Himalayas," recalls Venkataswamy,
the day still fresh in his memory. In 1950, he got a break at the
Egmore Ophthalmic Hospital in Chennai, but by 1956 had moved to
the Erskine Eye Hospital in Madurai. Here he saw parents bring in
children who had gone blind due to malnutrition. Thus began his
research on Vitamin A, the lack of which is a major cause of night
blindness. By 1961, he had mobilised the administration's help to
launch mobile eye camps.
Four years later, on his first visit to the
US to attend a conference on the rehabilitation of the blind, he
struck a lifelong friendship with Sir John Wilson, founder of the
Royal Commonwealth Society for the Blind (now known as Sight Savers
International), which helped organise eye camps in India. In 1971,
with the Sir John's help, he established a nutrition rehabilitation
centre. By the time Venkataswamy retired from the government hospital
in 1976, he had an eye care network in place. (In any case, he was
already part of the national mission to control blindness.) That's
when he thought of setting up a not-for-profit eye hospital.
Today, with Rs 175 crore in assets, Aravind
wants to build its name in areas other than cataract surgery. For
example, the Coimbatore hospital is focussing on ocular oncology,
and the Theni hospital on glaucoma. Already, the Madurai hospital
is a training ground for interns from places like New York, Boston
and Chicago.
Aravind, and India, may still not meet Venkataswamy's
goal of eradicating preventable blindness by 2013. But one thing
will never be held against the man: That he never tried his darnedest
best.
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