By 2003, Sevagram had ceased to be just a workplace; it had become a crucible—professional, personal, and at times, painfully practical. Life was crowded: young children at home, overflowing wards in the hospital, residents at my dining table, and the silent, persistent pressure to keep growing. Looking back, I don’t recall grand milestones. I remember the ordinary days that quietly reshaped me.

Some of those days were unintentionally comic. A foot wound once forced me into home confinement. Bhavana, despite having no formal medical training, ended up administering my intravenous gentamicin. She did it with the calm, terrifying confidence of a seasoned nurse.

In other seasons, I found myself chasing elusive alumni addresses or proofreading pages deep into the night. I quickly discovered that editing a newsletter or a college annual report requires as much stamina as a medical emergency. These tasks may seem trivial on paper, but they defined the rhythm of our lives.

This was also the era of my slow drift from the bedside toward the world of words. Editing taught me a different kind of discipline: how to prune the fluff, respect the hard facts, and keep the human voice audible. My association with the Indian Journal of Medical Ethics provided a different education. I was on a steep learning curve, guided by two mentors I revered: Dr. Samiran Nundy, the AIIMS professor and former editor of the National Medical Journal of India (whom I had never met but deeply admired), and Sandhya Srinivasan, a self-effacing editor who gently nudged me in the art of writing. It was during these days that my critical view of the pharmaceutical industry took root, and my understanding of the ethical fault lines in our profession began to sharpen.

Then, almost without warning, Sevagram opened outward. Evidence-Based Medicine (EBM) entered my life like a fresh wind—first through workshops and friendships, then via McMaster, and later the UK. In London and Aberdeen, I met alumni who still carried Sevagram in their accents and their habits.

Along the way came unexpected companions: typists who delivered theses with the weary pride of midwives, residents who tested my patience only to strengthen my purpose, and colleagues who made the heavy lifting feel lighter.

What follows is not a ledger of achievements. It is the story of how a world widens.