SoulScript by Niharika

  ​I have stood at this crossroads for more decades than the humans around me care to count. My roots run deep into the alluvial soil, drinking the same groundwater that flows from the sacred Ganga at Simaria, while my branches stretch out like a wide, green canopy over the evolving registry of this town. For generations, I was an altar. I remember the quiet, mist-heavy mornings of Vat Savitri Puja , when countless women would arrive in their finest sarees to circle my trunk, praying for enhancing nuptial bliss. They would pour holy water over my roots, offering soaked chickpeas, and tie loops of sacred red and yellow threads around my rough bark. They respected me. Those were the days of a slower, more reverent world. ​Since then till now, the city has evolved completely around me. ​Previously, the rhythm of this street was predictable and shy. Schoolgirls passing by on their way to tuitions would self-consciously pull their skirts below their knees and cross the road in quiet p...

  ​We often walk through life looking over our shoulders, terrified of what "they" will say. In that fear, we bend our words, change our outfits, and reshape our actions just to blend in. But that isn't living. It is a slow way of locking ourselves in a cage, handing the key to total strangers. ​True freedom looks a lot like what Osho called a "regression" —stepping backward into the nature of a child. ​A child doesn't carry an ego. They don't have a voice in their head telling them they are better or worse than anyone else. They don't wait for permission to be happy. If they feel like dancing, they dance. If they want to sing or babble or make a funny face, they just do it. They live completely out loud because they act as if no one is watching. The happiest people in this world are the ones who have broken out of the adult cage and found that childlike freedom again. ​Dogs Bark, People Talk ​Think about it this way: when you walk down the stree...

  ​Every week, I encounter residents and young radiologists standing at a crossroads, paralyzed by the same question: “What is the best career pathway?” Should they pursue international fellowships, climb the corporate hospital ladder in a tier-1 metro, join academia, or set up a high-volume private practice in a tier-2 town? ​They search for a single, objective "right" answer. But the truth is blunt: there isn't one. ​Career pathways are not off-the-rack suits; they are bespoke garments. The perfect path does not exist in a vacuum—it is entirely subjective, tailored strictly to your individual interests, your available resources, and your personal needs. ​The Illusion of "Value" and the FRCR Dilemma ​Let’s look at a classic example. Many Indian radiologists invest years of grueling study, immense emotional energy, and significant financial resources into clearing international exams like the FRCR (Fellowship of the Royal College of Radiologists). Yet, many...

  ​There is a unique comfort in old movies. They have a beautiful, predictable structure—a clear opening, a developing plot, a dramatic climax, and a definitive ending. Even the music is different. The songs don't boom with loud, distracting background instruments; instead, they breathe, carrying meaningful, melodious lyrics that stay with you. ​Recently, I happened to watch Silsila , a classic piece of Indian cinema from 1981. ​If you look at the story in a nutshell, it is a heavy tale of duty versus desire. Amitabh Bachchan plays a famous writer who is deeply in love with Rekha. However, when his brother tragically dies in an accident, leaving behind a pregnant fiancée (played by Jaya Bachchan), Amitabh is bound by a sense of duty. He makes the tough choice to sacrifice his love and marry Jaya to protect her. ​Life moves on, until a chance encounter brings Rekha back into his life. The old passion is instantly reignited, even though Rekha is now married to a doctor. They begin...

  ​ In the world of cybersecurity, social engineering is defined as the psychological manipulation of people into performing actions or divulging confidential information. Today, a new, legal, and highly lucrative version of this is exploding across our social media feeds. It isn't targeting your passwords; it’s targeting your prestige. ​Across the globe, and increasingly within the medical and academic communities, we are seeing a swarm of "ego strikers"—companies designed to manufacture fame for a fee. ​1. The Rise of the "Vanity Architect" ​We see them everywhere: fresh-faced "entrepreneurs" who have mastered the art of the algorithm but have never stepped foot in a clinic or a research lab. Their business model is simple: Ego Baiting. ​They start a magazine with a grand-sounding name, create a polished website, and then flood the inboxes of hardworking professionals. "You’ve been selected as a Top 10 Leader of 2026." To a doctor who ...

  ​In the modern medical landscape, a doctor’s worth is increasingly being weighed not in lives saved or diagnostic breakthroughs, but in grams of paper. The global medical community has entered a "Metric Era," where the number of publications in high-impact journals has become the primary currency of prestige. However, as we transplant this Western obsession with research volume into the Indian clinical scenario, we must ask: Are we measuring excellence, or are we just measuring the ability to play a game? ​1. The Western Blueprint: Numbers as Power ​In the West, particularly in North America and Europe, the academic medical path is rigid. To secure tenure or move up the hierarchy in prestigious institutions, a doctor must be a "Physician-Scientist." Success is dictated by the H-index, the citation count, and the sheer volume of manuscripts produced. ​This has created a high-pressure environment where "manuscript writing efficiency" is often prioritize...

  ​The table fan sits at the edge of my bed, a familiar silhouette against the wall. It isn’t new, and it isn’t quiet. Its rhythmic whirring is a constant, mechanical heartbeat that most people would try to drown out or replace. But I don’t. In the silence of the night, this noise is the only thing that keeps the past from evaporating. ​There is a specific kind of comfort in being "not too comfortable." Today, I could easily flip a switch and let an air conditioner seal me in a vacuum of perfect, refrigerated stillness. But that feels like a luxurious wastage—not just of electricity, but of perspective. Total comfort has a way of making us forget; it numbs the edges of our history. The fan, with its raw, insistent push of air, keeps me grounded. It reminds me that I am a person who was built by the heat. ​I hear that hum and I am suddenly transported back twenty years. Back then, the fan wasn't a background accessory; it was a privilege. Its rotation was strictly restri...