At the center Beyond the hospital gates, at the center of my world, stands my family. They are the roots that kept me grounded while my career took flight.

I think often of my parents—now gone, yet their quiet strength still steadies my hand. My siblings, too, are ever-present; though two have passed, they remain woven into my life through a shared history and the echoes of our childhood.

Then there is the family I come home to each day: my wife, Bhavana; my son, Ashwini; my daughter-in-law; and our two grandchildren. Three generations living under one roof—a rare and beautiful continuity in a changing world. My daughter, Amrita, and her family live abroad; though separated by miles and time zones, they remain as close as the very air I breathe.

But a house is not merely made of people. Our home in Sevagram is patrolled and protected by our three pet dogs, who offer a different kind of companionship—one that requires no medical certificates or administrative approvals. They are the silent observers of our family dinners, the enthusiastic welcomers at the end of a long day, and a constant reminder that life is best lived in the present moment.

This chapter is a tribute to that inner circle. It is a record of the laughter in the corridors, the shared anxieties over tea, and the unspoken support that allowed me to spend four decades in the service of others. If my work in Sevagram was the tree, this family—and the loyal wagging tails within it—was the soil that nourished it.