Dr. Shivnarayan Acharya and I share a bond from our days as alumni of GMC Nagpur. We both did MBBS and MD around the same time, though our paths took different turns after that. He became a nephrologist in Nagpur, while I focused on teaching and serving in a rural medical school in Sevagram.

Over the years, our interactions became infrequent, limited to the occasional Kamon aachhen? Bhalo aachhi! exchanged during chance encounters at the Academy of Medical Sciences, Nagpur.

Then, a few days ago, a courier arrived. Inside, wrapped in a sturdy envelope that took some effort to open, were two books written by Dr. Acharya. On the first page of each, he had handwritten my name with a personal note, gifting these works to me.

I started with Dolls of Clay. Three hours later, I was deeply moved.

This book is not just a collection of stories. It is a mirror of life, reflecting Dr. Acharya’s keen observations, his interpretation of human nature, and his quiet critique of the social issues entangling medicine.

Dr. Acharya’s writing style is simple and unadorned. He uses short, clear words and avoids decorating his language with unnecessary adjectives. His writing never feels pompous; it’s straightforward and genuine. The stories come straight from his heart.

“We are all dolls of clay,” he writes, borrowing Kabir’s timeless wisdom. “Our pride, ego, love, hate, and attachments—all of it will crumble one day. Like a bubble, we will vanish without a trace.” These words form the heart of the book, giving it a soulful, reflective tone.

Dr. Acharya’s teachers come alive in these pages—not through vibrant colours, but with simple, vivid sketches. He paints their personalities with care: Dr. B.S. Chaubey, the brilliant physician; Dr. Vikram Marwah, the skilled orthopedician and passionate bibliophile; Dr. P.H. Soni, the soft-spoken skilled surgeon; and Dr. A.M. Sur, the kind paediatrician who loved his dog as deeply as his patients.

From his private practice days, he introduces us to stalwarts like Dr. G.M. Taori, Dr. Vijay Shrikhande, Dr. Arvind Joglekar, and Dr. Mukund Baheti. Their passion and ethics shaped the humane doctor he is today.

Each of them taught us what makes a good doctor. Each of them showed what makes a good doctor. They could explain things clearly, stayed well-prepared, paid attention to details, and always made patients feel cared for. Above all, their kindness and warmth stood out.

His stories are simple yet profound. He observes a mother bird building a nest, nurturing her chicks, and fiercely protecting them. He connects this tender love to that of his own aging mother, frail but enveloping him in warmth even now.

He takes us to Yeravda jail, where Sanjay Dutt served time, and reflects on the tragedy of Pramod Mahajan’s death. He reminds us of the frenzy when Lord Ganesh was rumoured to drink milk.

His humour shines in the tale of his wig—a tool to cover baldness—and the eventual liberation of discarding it.

In one memorable story, two friends meet after decades. One, living modestly in a village, is content and at peace. The other, wealthy with a Mercedes and a mansion, is burdened by the emptiness of his riches. The contrast is striking, the lesson clear.

And then there is Shakespeare. “All the world’s a stage,” he says, weaving human emotions, events, and complexities into a tapestry of interconnected lives.

Dr. Acharya’s gift lies in his ability to draw from the ordinary and turn it into something extraordinary. The stories are layered yet relatable, profound yet unpretentious.

This is more than a book. It is an insight into the heart and mind of a humane doctor who reminds us that life is fleeting, fragile, and full of meaning—if only we choose to see it.

Reading Dolls of Clay felt like a deep conversation with an old friend. It made me reflect on life and medicine.

There is more to life than meets the eye, I realized.