The Institute of Preventive Medicine (IPM), located in Narayanguda, Hyderabad, spans 3.27 acres of land. It is a prime government institution situated in the heart of the city. Vaccination for yellow fever prompted this writer to visit the place, as earlier the certificate was valid for 10 years for travel to African countries. Now, it carries lifelong validity.
The institute is dotted with old, dilapidated buildings, though there is a decade-old new block that houses the International Vaccination Centre, besides accommodating the blood bank and providing other facilities.
About 12 years ago, when this writer received the first vaccination, it was a walk-in service and free of cost. Now, the scenario has changed. One needs to take a slot online and shell out ₹345 for the service, which is limited to two days a week—Tuesdays and Fridays. Slot booking is seamless through internet cafes, but the same seamlessness is missing when you are physically present.
At the stroke of 11 a.m., about 10–15 people were huddled together at a time, and it was very much a jo jeeta wohi sikandar situation. The rest were asked to go back to their flimsy plastic seats, only to be called later and dumped in one go, with no sense of disciplined entry. When it is booked online, can’t we have the same level of efficiency in ushering in people in the sequence in which they logged in, or by issuing tokens on a first-come, first-served basis? This was missing, and as usual, senior citizens had to take the brunt of it.
All said and done, the staff were not rude, if not particularly courteous. The number of applicants has increased manifold—an indicator that Indians leaving for jobs even in far underdeveloped countries speaks volumes about the desperation to leave India. One applicant said he was leaving for Benin, where he claims to own a borewell firm. Another was headed to Uganda for a job in the agriculture sector. Every week, 90 to 120 candidates apply, among whom very few are tourists, while the rest are leaving for employment.
The length of the queue for anti-rabies vaccination in an old building indicates the increasing trend of dog bites in and around Hyderabad. Ironically, a stray dog was barking randomly, and mercifully, the proverbial saying “dogs that bark do not bite” seemed applicable to this canine. Thankfully, it was not biting at the doorstep of the vaccination centre.
Incidentally, on the same day this writer visited the place, news trickled in that nearly 40 government offices presently located in rented premises scattered across the twin cities have been ordered to move into the T-Hub, which is the world’s largest innovation hub and startup ecosystem enabler, established to catalyse connections between startups, investors, corporations, and the government. This appears to be a retrogressive step.
In fact, can’t we utilise the 3.27 acres of centrally located government land at IPM to construct an exclusive 20- or 30-storeyed building that should suffice to house all these government offices in one go, without disturbing the T-Hub? It may cost about ₹100 crore or so—not really a big sum for a government that does not hesitate to squander money on beauty pageants that serve little purpose in return, or on lavish foreign and domestic jaunts for corporators even as their terms are coming to an end.
The government should reprioritise what it is doing in this haphazard manner, unless Revanth Reddy is bent upon erasing all traces of what the previous government built and achieved in gaining international fame and pride for Telangana.
Please reflect on this and put IAS officers in a brainstorming session on how to save the T-Hub from defeating the very purpose for which it was built. Telangana’s pride is directly impacted when the T-Hub is tinkered with.
