In the bustling corridors of SN Medical College, Agra, back in the late 1970s, two young medical students — you, Dr. PK Gupta, and Ram Singh Saini — were probably burning the midnight oil together. One can almost hear the dialogue echoing in the hostel canteen:
“Arre yaar Ram Singh, yeh neonate ka case dekh… fever aa raha hai aur feeding nahi ho rahi!”
To which Ram Singh would reply with his calm, steady voice, “PK, tension mat le. Pehle hydration check karte hain, phir sochte hain. Bacche ki zindagi mein chhoti-chhoti baatein hi badi hoti hain.”
Dr. Ram Singh Saini, born on 5th of April 1959 in Haryana,— or simply “Sardar” as we fondly called him throughout our decade together at S.N. Medical College, Agra (1979–1989) — was the heartbeat of our batch. A Mona Sardar with that trademark cheerful grin, flowing energy, and an irrepressible love for life, he turned even the toughest days of medical training into something memorable and full of laughter.
We were inseparable back then. We stayed together in the hostel, dined together in the mess (often stretching our limited pocket money on late-night chai and parathas), and faced the grind of anatomy dissections, endless ward rounds, and marathon study sessions as a team. While many of us buried ourselves in books out of sheer survival, Ram Singh brought the fun. True to his Sikh roots, he was always prone to a jig — breaking into a spontaneous bhangra step in the corridor after a tough practical exam or humming a lively tune while we walked back from the hospital at midnight. “Arre yaar, thoda nach lo, tension nikal jayegi!” he’d say with a wink, and suddenly the whole group would be tapping their feet.
Master of Mimicry
One of his greatest gifts was his spot-on mimicry. He could imitate Dr. Prabhu Dayal, the famously thin and intense surgeon, with uncanny perfection. Dr. Dayal had this piercing, loud, harsh voice that could make even the boldest intern freeze. Ram Singh would puff out his chest (despite being nowhere near as skinny), throw his arms dramatically, and boom in that exact gravelly tone:
“Patient ko dekho! Incision yahaan se karo, warna main khud kar dunga aur tumhe bahar bhej dunga!“
We’d collapse with laughter in the common room. He’d follow it up by strutting around like the surgeon during rounds, barking orders at imaginary students. It was all in good fun, never mean-spirited — just his way of lightening the pressure that came with surgical postings. Even Dr. Dayal’s residents secretly enjoyed the impressions when they weren’t on duty!
The Flood and Harrison’s
Then there was our dear friend Girija Shankar Verma — the ultimate hard-working, sincere student of the batch. Girija lived and breathed medicine. Even during the infamous Agra monsoons, when heavy rains flooded half his room and water reached ankle level, he refused to stop. Books piled on the bed, he sat cross-legged with a torch, still poring over Harrison’s Principles of Internal Medicine as if nothing had happened.
Ram Singh couldn’t resist. He’d knock on the door, peek in at the half-submerged room, and dramatically declare:
“Arre Girija bhai, Harrison bhi ab swimming seekh raha hai kya? Room mein flood aa gaya, aur tu abhi bhi ‘aetiology of ascites’ padh raha hai! Nikal bahar, warna main tujhe bhi boat bana ke le jaunga!“
Girija would just smile sheepishly and keep reading, while the rest of us howled. Ram Singh’s teasing was always laced with affection and respect — he admired Girija’s dedication even as he poked fun at it. Those moments reminded us that medicine wasn’t just about rote learning; it was about friendship, resilience, and finding joy in the chaos.
A Life Full of Cheer
Sardar was the one who organized impromptu cricket matches on the college grounds (often using a rolled-up newspaper as a bat when we couldn’t find the real one), cracked jokes during boring lectures to keep us awake, and made sure no one felt alone during those long, homesick nights. His fun-loving spirit was contagious — he turned our shared hostel room into a mini hub of laughter, where stories from Punjab villages mixed with medical mnemonics and dreams of the future.
To everyone who knew him in those formative years at S.N. Medical College, Dr. Ram Singh Saini wasn’t just a classmate or a doctor-in-the-making. He was the Sardar who taught us that healing isn’t only about medicines and surgeries — it’s also about bringing lightness, warmth, and humanity into the lives of those around you.
(As his classmate and close friend Dr. P.K. Gupta, I cherish these memories deeply. They shaped not just our careers, but the bonds that still connect us decades later.)
Dr. Ram Singh Saini — our beloved “Sardar” from the batch of 1979–1989 at S.N. Medical College, Agra — carried that same infectious cheer and warmth from our hostel days straight into his personal life.
After completing his medical journey in Agra, life took him forward with the same joyful spirit. He found a wonderful life partner in a smart and accomplished banker, whose steady professionalism beautifully complemented his fun-loving, lively nature. Together, they built a warm home filled with laughter, much like the hostel common room where Sardar would suddenly break into a jig or mimic Dr. Prabhu Dayal to lighten everyone’s mood.
“Arre yaar, life mein bhi thoda nachna padta hai, warna tension kaise nikalega?” he would probably still say with that trademark grin, even as he balanced his medical practice with family responsibilities.
Their greatest pride is their son, who is currently pursuing his MBBS — following proudly in his father’s footsteps into the noble profession of medicine. I can easily imagine Sardar teasing him gently, just as he once teased our hardworking friend Girija Shankar Verma during the Agra floods:
“Beta, Harrison padh rahe ho? Achha hai! Lekin yaad rakhna, patient ko sirf book se nahi, dil se bhi treat karna padta hai. Aur haan, kabhi-kabhi ek chhota sa jig bhi kar lena, energy aa jayegi!“
Sardar remains the same Mona Sardar at heart — cheerful, fun-loving, and full of life. Whether mimicking professors in college corridors or sharing stories with his family today, he continues to spread lightness and humanity wherever he goes.
As his classmate and close friend Dr. P.K. Gupta, who shared hostel rooms, mess dinners, and countless late-night laughs with him for a full decade in Agra, I feel truly happy seeing how beautifully life has unfolded for him. The bonds we formed back then — through mimicry sessions, flooded-room jokes, and spontaneous bhangra steps — have only grown stronger with time.
This chapter of family and legacy adds even more heart to Sardar’s story: from the mischievous, jig-prone classmate who kept us all smiling during tough MBBS days, to a devoted husband and proud father nurturing the next generation of doctors.
That same thoughtful, no-nonsense approach would go on to define his entire career.
After completing his MBBS from SN Medical College, Agra, Dr. Saini pursued his Diploma in Child Health (DCH) between 1979 and 1989 — a period when paediatrics in India was evolving rapidly. He later earned his MD in Paediatrics from another reputed institution, sharpening his skills in newborn care, childhood infections, nutrition, and the countless unspoken worries that parents carry.
Years rolled on, and Dr. Saini chose the path less glamorous but deeply meaningful: hands-on clinical practice. He established and nurtured Jeevan Jyoti Children Hospital on Ladwa Road in Thanesar, Kurukshetra (Haryana) — right near the Punjab border, serving families from both states. The hospital runs 24 hours, a true lifeline for anxious parents rushing in at 2 a.m. with a crying infant or a feverish toddler.
Parents in the region still speak of him as the doctor who never rushes, who listens patiently, and who treats every child as if they were his own. One can imagine him in the OPD, gently examining a restless baby while reassuring the worried mother:
“Beta, yeh toh normal viral hai. Paani zyada pilao, aur yeh dawai do. Teen din mein theek ho jayega. Aur haan… hasi-mazak bhi zaroori hai bacchon ke liye!”
Dr. Ram Singh Saini belongs to that wonderful generation of doctors who built their reputation not through flashy marketing, but through consistent care, midnight emergencies, and the quiet satisfaction of seeing children grow up healthy under their watch. From the classrooms of Agra to the busy lanes of Thanesar, his journey reflects dedication, resilience, and an abiding love for paediatrics.
Today, Jeevan Jyoti Children Hospital stands as a testimony to his vision — a 24×7 paediatric facility near the New Grain Market, Ladwa Road, Thanesar, Kurukshetra – 136118. Families continue to trust him for vaccinations, growth monitoring, respiratory issues, and the everyday (yet critical) health needs of children.
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