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The Child in Me

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This weekend was spent with a group of schoolmates whose friendship stretches back nearly five decades. We come from different backgrounds, faiths, professions, and political viewpoints, yet we are connected by six formative years together from the 5th to the 10th standard. What struck me was that our differences made very little difference to our relationships. It made me wonder why. Was it because we first met as children, before labels and loyalties became so important? Or was there something deeper? Our country today often seems marked by divisions, with differences amplified and conflicts nurtured, sometimes for the sake of influence and power. If we had wanted to, our group too could have found enough reasons to disagree. After all, five decades have given us plenty of time to collect opinions, convictions, and a few stubborn certainties. Yet that was not the point of our gathering. There was an unspoken agreement to enjoy one another's company, laugh at old stories, revisit ...
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I worry about worrying

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I worry about worrying. I worry when I am worrying, and I worry when I am not worrying. Before you reach for the phone to counsel me - or gently suggest that I see a counsellor - let me say this: this is exactly why I ramble.  Sometimes I need to place my confusing thoughts somewhere outside my head, preferably before they start holding a committee meeting inside it. Those of you who are non-worriers, please feel free to stop reading and move on to some more meaningful activity. Do not waste your calm and well-organised minds on this blog. Let me try to explain. I grew up like many middle-class children, without too many worries. My parents took care of my needs. I knew my wants - and certainly my greeds - could not always be met, because we did not have the resources for everything. But life was simpler then, and we learned to settle for what was given. So, in those early years, worry did not occupy much space. It had not yet been given a room in my head. Alongside this, I was tau...
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Another Day in Duncan

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Five years ago, I wrote a blog called  "A Day in Duncan".   It was a snapshot of the critically ill patients I encountered during a typical day in the hospital.  read it here If you revisit that post, you'll notice that many of those patients were battling non-communicable diseases, while the major infections were tuberculosis and HIV. The rest were a mix of drug-related complications (such as steroid dependence leading to hyponatraemia), trauma, and a few immunological disorders. Fast forward to a recent "Day at Duncan". Among roughly 50 patients admitted in the wards, more than 20 were critically ill. What stands out is that the disease landscape continues to evolve. We are seeing unusual infections more often, the familiar HIV and TB pairing but with increasingly complex complications, rising addictions, attempted suicides, growing mental health concerns, all layered on top of the ever-present burden of non-communicable diseases. Diseases, it seems, are becom...
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Unconsciously Comfortable

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This  blog may be confusingly complicated. If, by the end of it, you are wondering what exactly I was trying to say, then I have successfully achieved  my objective ! We are on our way home after spending two weeks at a campus and community where we spent nearly a third of our working lives. It was our first extended stay there in more than six years. What surprised us was how quickly we felt  unconsciously comfortable . We were staying in guest rooms, following someone else's schedule, and being kept pleasantly busy. In theory, we should have felt a little out of place. Instead, it felt oddly like slipping into an old, well-worn pair of sandals. I found myself wondering:  What makes a place feel like home even when it's no longer home? I think the answer lies in the people. This is not an easy place. It is demanding work in a complex corner of North Bihar. Yet we met young families in the middle of raising children, seasoned workers nearing retirement, and man...
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