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A Library Born of Memory and Light
Reimagining the Architecture of Learning
The genesis of a great project often lies not in a boardroom, but in the quiet intersections of family history and shared memory. For me, the transformation of the MGIMS library began with a story often told by Shailaja Asawe, a niece of my mother-in-law. Every time we meet, Shailaja recounts the day my wife, Bhavana, was born. She was just a ten-year-old girl then, but she vividly remembers being among the first to lay eyes on the newborn. That bond, forged in a moment of arrival decades ago, eventually paved the way for another birth—the rebirth of our medical library.
Shailaja’s father, Shri Ramnarayan Manudhane, was a self-made man who lived by the principles of values-based excellence. After his passing in 2012, his children—Shailaja, Nilima (a Stanford pediatrician), and Aninash (a New York finance professional)—established the RG Manudhane Foundation for Excellence, known as the “Motivation for Excellence” (MFE) initiative. Shailaja, a well-read philanthropist with an astute sense of management, visited Wardha frequently to see her aunt, Suman Tai Bang, a legendary Gandhian activist. During one of these visits, the conversation turned to the state of our academic facilities. With a stroke of a pen and a heart full of purpose, Shailaja set aside 2.5 crores to fund a library that would do more than just house books; it would inspire minds.
Architect of the Sacred Spiral
To bring this vision to life, Shailaja introduced us to Sheetal Gandhi, a conservation architect from Mumbai known for her meticulous restoration of landmarks like the Rajabai Clock Tower. For me, this project was deeply personal. Since joining MGIMS as a student in 1982, the library had been my second home. It was a campus joke that if I wasn’t in the wards or at my house, I could be found at a specific desk, buried in a medical journal.
Sheetal looked at the space—then a cluttered, aging ward previously occupied by the Obstetrics and Gynecology department—and saw a sanctuary. Her goal was a delicate dance: to preserve the heritage architecture while infusing it with 21st-century fluidity.
The library spans 16,000 square feet, but Sheetal’s design made it feel intimate. She replaced the small, dingy windows with expansive glass panes that invited the lush greenery of the Sevagram campus inside. She introduced the “Golden Ratio” to the exterior and commissioned two striking murals: The Sacred Spiral, designed to draw in universal energy, and Seeds of Light, a blueprint of the cosmos that lines the main staircase. These metallic-hued artworks caught the sunlight by day and shimmered with a quiet dignity at night, preparing the student’s mind for the exploration within.
The Labor of Transformation
The transition from a place of birth (Ob-Gyn) to a place of intellectual growth was not without its pains. I watched as Harshal Deora, a young engineer from our maintenance department, became Sheetal’s right hand. Together, they navigated the “gestation period” of this project.
The demolition was a visceral process. We watched the labor room being dismantled brick by brick. The operating theater, once sterile and hushed, became a skeleton of dust and rubble. Faculty chambers and private wards were stripped of decades of paint. The noise was so profound that the pathologists working on the floor below grew furious, demanding that we only work at night to spare their microscopes from the vibration. But we soldiered on. Several truckloads of debris were hauled away, making room for Italian-inspired concepts, vibrant color-coded zones—shades of green, orange, and blue—and ergonomic furniture from Mumbai.
We installed RFID systems for self-checkout and mobile compactors from Godrej that could store 20,000 hard-bound journals dating back to the 1970s. Every desk was equipped with Wi-Fi and charging ports, ensuring that while the walls were old, the connectivity was cutting-edge. Even the staircase was redesigned with 30-inch-wide risers, allowing a gentle, two-step climb that felt less like a chore and more like an ascent toward knowledge.
A Name to Conjure With
As the project neared completion in early 2018, I realized that such a space needed a name that carried weight—a name that evoked reverence. I took to Facebook to consult our vast network of MGIMS alumni.
“Names are important,” I wrote. “They conjure up feelings and expectations. We are about to deliver this baby, and we seek a name that enthuses the bibliophile as they climb the stairs.”
The suggestions poured in, ranging from pioneers like Anandibai Joshi and Dr. Sushila Nayar to our own beloved teachers. However, one name resonated with the universal spirit of curiosity and excellence: Dr. A.P.J. Abdul Kalam. Thus, the aging Ob-Gyn ward was officially reborn as the Dr. A.P.J. Abdul Kalam Library.
Shadows in the Celebration
The library was officially inaugurated by Dhirubhai on July 24, 2018. It was a day of immense pride but also one of personal regret. Due to administrative complexities, the donors and the architect—the very souls who had breathed life into the project—were not invited to the official ceremony. Shailaja had hoped her aunt, Suman Tai, would represent the family, but the invitation never arrived.
As the Charge d’affaires of the project, this weighed heavily on me. I felt a profound embarrassment. A library is meant to be a monument to gratitude and shared wisdom, yet here we were, failing to acknowledge the hands that built it. I spent much of that day reflecting on the irony of human institutions.
A Legacy Carved in Stone and Light
In the years following the inauguration, the library became exactly what we envisioned: a “verdant island in the midst of a vast sea of ignorance.” But the most poignant chapter of this story was written far from the stacks of books.
Shailaja, the visionary who had catalyzed this transformation, had been fighting a silent, grueling battle of her own. For five years, she fought lung cancer with the same grace and determination she applied to her philanthropy. On 15 May 2023, that battle came to an end. Her passing left a void in our lives, but her presence remains etched in the very walls of MGIMS.
Every time a student walks past the Seeds of Light mural or finds clarity in a quiet corner of the Dr. A.P.J. Abdul Kalam Library, they are touching Shailaja’s legacy. She never sought the spotlight at the inauguration, yet she built the stage upon which generations of doctors will now learn to heal. People and policies are fleeting, but through this sanctuary of knowledge, Shailaja’s spirit continues to nurture the “arrival of new life” in the form of bright, curious minds.