DR.R.V.PATHY AYURVEDA

When silence was mistaken for guilt… The unupdated case issue, which began as a small departmental mistake, suddenly turned into chaos. What started as a few missing records became a storm that none of them saw coming. That evening, the professors and interns all sat together, trying to complete the pending files. It was late — exhaustion, tension, and guilt hung in the air. Even though everyone took responsibility and stayed back to finish the work, the damage was already done. The next day, when Janani took a rare leave to visit home, something unexpected happened. Someone had reported the incident of arguments and alleged harassment that occurred in the department to the university head. The mail went anonymously — but soon, rumors started to spread. By evening, Janani received a call from one of her relatives, who also happened to be a professor at the same institution. His voice was heavy with concern. > “Janani… why did you send that email? The Head of the College is saying it...

March 9–10, 2023 Janani sat on the hostel bed that evening, staring at the half-empty canteen plate. She remembered how Anjana had walked past her earlier without even saying a word. > “When she goes out, she never even tells me anymore. I used to think if I went out somewhere, I should at least tell her… but she doesn’t even bother now.” That day at the canteen, Janani waited, thinking Anjana would ask her to come along. She didn’t. She sat there alone, watching her friend laugh with others. Even when she had to buy medicine from PG, Anjana didn’t ask her to join. > “I was right there… but she didn’t call me. I sat alone — she didn’t even talk once. She sat with Sanghu and talked so freely. I don’t know why, but it really hurt. Still, she never realizes she’s hurting me.” Later during the KC period, when Janani tried to say something, Anjana ignored her again. She didn’t even look up when Janani asked a question. Her expression felt cold — distant. > “I don’t even know what s...

Not every distance begins with anger; some begin with quiet neglect.  Kayal, her best friend. They had shared laughter, food, late-night talks, and the comfort of knowing someone always had your back. But lately, that bond had started to fade without explanation. It began with small things — Kayal went out to buy scrubs and didn’t tell her. Then came the birthday celebration, a few group outings — all without Janani. She noticed it, but stayed quiet at first, hoping it was unintentional. But silence has a way of growing heavier. One day, when another misunderstanding broke out during their internship, Kayal chose to support someone else — not Janani. That moment hurt more than she could admit. She smiled on the outside, but her heart whispered, “Why didn’t she stand by me this time?” That night, Janani couldn’t hold it in any longer. She wrote to Kayal — not with anger, but with honesty. > “I wanted to talk to you about something that’s been on my mind. I’ve noticed some changes...

When everything ends, strength begins. Days passed. The tension slowly settled as the issue faded from whispers. The department changed — people moved, work shifted, and the same corridors that once echoed with pressure now felt strangely quiet. Janani too was moved to another department. It felt like starting all over again — new faces, new responsibilities, and a heart still healing from unseen wounds. But this time, something inside her had changed. She wasn’t the same girl who once broke down under blame. She had faced doubt, injustice, and isolation — and still chosen truth. That pain had taught her the difference between weakness and compassion. She began focusing on her duties again, this time with more clarity and boundaries. She didn’t explain herself to everyone anymore; she saved her words for those who truly listened. Her fiancé, Ajith, stood beside her quietly — reminding her that storms don’t destroy strong hearts; they refine them. There were still moments of sadness — t...

When she chose action over accusation. Janani went to the Head’s office with calm steps but a storm in her chest. She looked him in the eye and said plainly, > “Sir, I did not send any email. I was on leave that day. I want this investigated properly.” She didn’t beg. She didn’t plead. She offered facts — her leave records, her messages, names of those present that evening — and then she added, firmly, > “If needed, I am ready to file a complaint with cyber crime. Let them trace the sender. I want the truth to come out.” The room filled with a tense quiet. Some faces shifted; others were still. Janani spoke again, voice steady now from the strain of holding herself together for so long, > “What hurts most is not the blame — it’s that people hide behind masks. They create messes and leave others to suffer. If you meant well, show your face. If you did wrong, own it. But don’t make someone who wasn’t there pay the price.” Her words were simple but cutting. She named the injustic...

  When assumptions spoke louder than truth… The next morning, Janani gathered all her courage and went to the institute. Her heart was pounding, but her voice stayed steady. > “Sir… I didn’t send any email. I don’t even know what happened.” For a moment, there was silence in the room. Then, one of the faculty members looked up and said, > “Janani, you were also part of that department. And the email location — both the first and second — came from the same area. So, we thought it was you.” Those words hit harder than any accusation. She stood there frozen, trying to process how easily her name had become a suspect — not because of proof, but because of proximity. > “You thought it was me…” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Because I was there?” No one answered. Some looked away; others stayed silent. Inside, Janani felt a deep ache — the kind that comes when your honesty is questioned, not because you failed, but because you were convenient to blame. She walked out of th...

When duty becomes heavier than learning... After her breakup and months of quiet recovery, Janani believed she had finally found her balance again during her internship in 2024. The hospital corridors felt alive with purpose, and she tried to blend her learning with sincerity. In the new department, things started normally — teamwork, laughter, shared duties, and the sense of belonging she had missed for so long. She and her co-intern reetha worked together, diligently updating OP cases and IP records. Everything seemed manageable until small shifts began to happen — one intern got transferred, another withdrew slowly, and responsibility started piling on silently. When Reetha was moved to the IP side, Janani suddenly found herself standing alone on the OP front — juggling registers, patient cards, and updates that used to be shared among five people. She tried to hold it together, fearing judgment and wanting to prove herself capable. But the imbalance soon took its toll. Some records...