देवी | Devi | goddess
- Stuart Robertson
- Apr 7
- 3 min read
Updated: Apr 23

Following the first week at Dr Shroff's Charity Eye Hospital (SCEH), I must begin this entry by sharing the devastating consequences that most blind children in India end up facing, due to either a lack of eye care awareness, a misconception that intervention is not possible after a certain point, or just a poor perception of the accessibility of treatment facilities. Over 90% of children are unable to complete their education and will likely be unemployed as adults. It is estimated that fewer than 50% of blind children will even survive to adulthood, with statistics for girls significantly worse. The survivors will join the huge proportion of girls with disabilities who will experience physical or sexual abuse.
Tens of thousands of children are screened and treated free of charge by SCEH per year, with hundreds of walk-ins per day in each of their clinics. The number is growing. In the waiting rooms I observe blind children still turning their heads upward towards speaking adults.
SCEH’s founder, Dr Sorabji P. Shroff, is survived by his grandchildren, who are also ophthalmologists and on the hospital’s board. It was one of the first hospitals to join the Ayushman Bharat Yojana – a national public health insurance scheme providing cover for the country’s low-income households, plus all over-70s. In 2014, SCEH launched the Certified Ophthalmic Paramedics Initiative which trains women from generally marginalised societies who go on to make up over half the hospital’s paramedical workforce.
Alongside training schemes for ophthalmic medical students and nurses, who are provided with stipends, classroom training and practical experience, and administrative staff who are trained in English and IT, the vast majority of the team here are women. Apparently in the October 2018 onboard, all the trainees were women. Around 85% of trainees in all capacities go on to work for SCEH directly, with many of the rest moving on to specialised training placements at its secondary facilities. Discovering this emphasis on women in the medical field can’t help but to bring up in my mind thoughts of Naveena’s career spent treating and researching women’s cancer, of the lives she helped save.
The pure efficiency of the hospital, from its surgeons to laundry workers, is noticeable straight away. There is a calmness and an order, a smoothness in the day-to-day running. Nobody misbehaves. The beautiful plants in the courtyard seem greener to me than elsewhere in the city.
Dr Umang Mathur, SCEH’s CEO, has asked me to refer to him as Dr Umang from now. He has arranged for me to meet 11 of the women who are training to work as the first point of contact for the patients. The plan is for them to hand-paint cards which will go on to be used in SCEH’s merchandise and communications. Together in my classroom, we brainstorm ideas for ways to tell their own stories visually and those of the patients they will encounter. The photographs will go on to be used by research teams.
This is three days in. We have a better idea of what are the best ways to utilise my time here, with Dr Umang’s enthusiasm driving us forward. For my upcoming workshops with the trainees, I spend Rs29 (£0.26 – remarkable) on an Uber Motorbike to Chandni Chowk – Old Delhi’s busiest market – for supplies.
On the way back, I stopped for what could be the best roadside chai in Delhi, behind Triveni Kala Sangam – the art gallery and school.
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