It is with some reluctance that I start another article, for another magazine, about my elective in India just over a year ago. Not that I feel any ingratitude to the R.M.S. who partly financed my trip but merely because I seem to have been talking about India, its culture, its medicine, its people and problems, from the day I set foot again on the chalky soil of Kent and I ’m beginning to feel a bit of a fraud, rather like the American who spends two weeks in Europe and then starts to profess intimate knowledge of its every nuance the moment he returns home. At the end of two months in India I had seen enough to realise that I’d seen nothing yet.Many impressions remain, of course, and I’d like to focus on just two of them. One of the happi...