𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗧𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗔𝗰𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗥𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴

Nostalgia.

I use this word often. Perhaps it comes with age, a habit of looking back, of holding on to the past.

But sometimes I wonder. Am I using it right?

The ending -algia makes me pause. In medicine, algos means pain. Every day, I prescribe analgesics to my patients, medicines that take the algia away. So if nostalgia carries pain within it, what does it really mean?

Sweet memories of the past? Or the ache that those days are gone?

I looked it up. The word was coined in 1688 by a Swiss medical student, Johannes Hofer. He joined two Greek roots: nostos, meaning homecoming, and algos, meaning pain. Together, they made nostalgia: the pain of longing to return home.

At first, nostalgia was a disease. Swiss soldiers serving far away were said to suffer from it, just as one suffers from fever or cough.

But words wander. Meanings shift. Nostalgia moved from being an illness to an emotion. Today it is the warm ache of memory . A bittersweet mix of joy and loss. Not just homesickness, but a longing for moments, places, and people we cannot return to.

So when I recall Sevagram in the 1980s, or when students gather to relive their MGIMS days, that is nostalgia in its purest form.

I am relieved. I am not misusing the word. I am simply naming that tender ache of remembering.

And if I ever slip, I can always lean on Alice in Wonderland: “𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥, 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯. 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴.”