Dr Parvin Shah

(1935 – 2017)

We were young and boisterous. After a day of hard trekking in the local hills of the Western Ghats, we slept in the veranda of a local school. A girl amidst us started singing ghazals- a form of Urdu poetry. Dr. Pravin Shah sat down across her, crossed his legs and relaxed. More than being interested in singing or poetry, he had a habit of sitting down, taking ‘his position’, and patiently go through the proceedings, unmindful of the duration. After a while, the girl sang a famous song which implied, ‘My heart is in ecstasy. Oh, Masiha tell me what your opinion about this condition is’. She stopped and explained, ’Masiha means doctor, Pravin’. My friend, sleeping next to me nudged and winked at me – hinting at the new developments!

The next morning, Pravin acquired a grand nickname, ‘Masiha’- doctor who guides one in life. This nickname lived on in trekkers’ circles right up to his passing away and died with this honorific on 15th November 2017.

He was a wise doctor and a great person to be with. As a senior homeopath, it was his job to sympathetically listen to the rants of his patients. This training had made him very good at his profession. For his friends, he was the go to man for all their problems. While trekking, he was always in the habit of walking 50 m behind the group. However fast or slow one would walk; he would still be 50 m behind!

In the 1970’s, the trekking groups to the local hills used to be large. The Club we were associated with was very popular and attracted almost 50 to hundred trekkers every weekend. Soon, we started feeling suffocated. That’s when three of us decided to branch out and go on treks in smaller groups. We drew up plans for longer outings so that we could cover more ground. In one year, we planned almost 30 trips that lasted for three days each on weekends. Masiha excused himself from his practice every Friday for the love of the mountains.

Then came the treks to the Himalaya. Over the next two decades, we completed several enjoyable treks to different ranges. Masiha was not a trained mountaineer but was always ready to join us on camping trips, light treks or just reading trips in the high hills. He was an avid reader of the Himalayan Journal and mountain literature. He initiated us into Yoga and treated us lifelong with his medicines.

I suffered a serious hip dislocation in 1974, and the prognosis was that I may have to be operated on – a serious proposition as the technique for hip replacement was not as advanced as it is today. I used to consult an orthopaedic doctor, who gave me hope. He suggested that if I were to remain on crutches for two years, there were chances for the hip to recover.

Pravin Shah took over, overseeing the treatment prescribed by this doctor and gave me Homeopathic medicines. He monitored me for over two years until I fully recovered, from what allopathy had declared to be difficult. When I was confined to a bed in a plaster and completely immobile, Pravin came over every other day for six weeks from the suburbs to have lunch with me and to cheer me up. I owe the last 30 years of my climbing and trekking to him.
Very often, we would volunteer to take groups of young students on a day’s trek to nearby places. It had to be time bound, as in the days prior to the invention of cell phone anxious parents would be waiting at the railway station eagerly awaiting the arrival of their wards. On one such outing during the monsoons, we decided to take a dip in a river en route. Pravin, in his usual style, took up ‘his position’ in the river talking to the youngsters. Despite the cajoling, he was unwilling to budge quickly. As a result, we missed the last bus and had a harrowing time reaching the station for the train. On reaching Mumbai, Pravin patiently explained to the worried parents the reason for the delay. Only he could talk to the parents, convince them and send back everyone in great spirits!

When I started photographing local mountains for my book, Masiha always accompanied me. We would drive deep into valleys to find suitable locations. He was always obliging when it came to pose for photographs, patiently positioning himself at different angles, even wearing different coloured jackets if required. It became so much of a habit that no sooner would I take my camera out, that he would ask ‘Where do I stand’? He has now moved onto a modelling assignment on a higher plane and I will sorely miss my muse

His wife Sarla, passed away a year before him. He leaves behind a son, a daughter and grandchildren.
Rest in peace, my friend, Masiha.

Harish Kapadia