Yesterday, the news reached me: Dr. Vinod Adbe is no more. It was a simple, heavy message that pulled me back forty-six years to the corridors of Ward 13 at GMC Nagpur. I was an MD resident then, and Dr. Adbe was my teacher.
Year: 2026
Jiji
I always called her Jiji; her first name never seemed to fit the space she held in my life. Pushpa, my second elder sister, was born on May 17, 1946—fifteen months before India stepped into independence.
Echoes of Abadan: When Iran Was a Haven for Sevagram’s Healers
The images flashing across our screens over the last three days are grim. The skies over the Middle East are streaked with the exhaust of ballistic missiles. The geopolitical chess match between the USA, Israel, and Iran has escalated into intense bombardment, leaving cities damaged, civilians terrified, and world peace hanging by a dangerously frayed … Read the essay
The Man in the Khadi Shirt — A Farewell to Dr. Ulhas Jajoo
I have known Ulhas Jajoo for nearly five decades, and in all that time I have never seen him wear a shoe. This creates a problem at retirement. The usual cliché — he hung up his boots — simply does not apply. For days I searched for the right phrase and found nothing that fit. … Read the essay
Three Generations, One Match
Yesterday evening I watched India vs New Zealand (T20) at VCA Stadium, Jamtha, with my son and my granddaughters. Three generations, one match, and my mind full of old memories. It took me back to another India–New Zealand game I saw in Nagpur long ago, in 1969, at the old VCA ground at Sadar. I … Read the essay