The Bank has done just that—and much more. In West Bengal, the public health system has withered away and derelict government hospitals are run by rapacious mafia-like party-sponsored unions. In this nightmarish world, Ashis' organisation, run out of a small office in Hatkhola, is an oasis of care and attention for the poor who flock here from far-flung suburbs. In a sterling effort at mobilising the community, it has signed up 1,000 locals, each of whom buys a pair of new spectacles for the bank, which then distributes it to the poor. Eight years ago, they began collecting old pacemakers from homes, hospitals and crematoria to give poor heart patients a new lease of life. Many a time these pacemakers can still be used for a few more years. They are tested, recharged and hospitals persuaded to implant them for free. (A new pacemaker costs anything between Rs 45,000-Rs 1.2 lakh, plus another Rs 30,000 for implanting charges). Already, the bank has managed to collect and implant over 300 pacemakers. "The pacemaker bank," says Ashis, "is one of our bigger successes." The bank also runs a free outdoor service—25 doctors treat about 100 patients every day—and a sparse pathology lab out of rented rooms in the neighbourhood. It has also managed to start monthly health camps for streetchildren and children of prostitutes in the area. Last year, it organised some 500 blood donation camps in Calcutta and its neighbourhood after networking with over 1,000 para (neighbourhood) clubs—there being a shortage of some 2 lakh units of blood in West Bengal, after a 1989 Supreme Court fiat banned professional blood donors. Then there is a highly successful night emergency service: six doctors man two telephones taking emergency calls and rushing two donated ambulances to critical patients. Public donations keep the crusade going, about Rs 7-10 lakh are raised annually.