A doctor’s reflection on medicine, modern work, and what truly matters.
As doctors, we often say, “We saved a life.”
These are words that offer hope. It sounds noble. It reassures the family.
But over the years especially in my practice and among the doctors at UWAY— there is one quiet but regular question:
Are we really saving lives? Or are we simply prolonging them?
When someone is in the final stages of cancer, or struggling with a progressive condition, what we do even with the best treatments isn’t saving life . We’re only slowing it down or prolonging death And I’ve realised that often, what people need isn’t more time—but better time.
It’s an uncomfortable thought. But it’s also an honest one.
I remember sometime before covid , an elderly lady came to me with her daughter. She had illness which was a difficult case , and they knew that. But she looked at me and said, “Doctor, I know I may not live long. But if you can help me walk to a near by garden or even spend time sitting at the porch of my house and look outside I’ll be grateful.”
That stayed with me. Because that’s not a request for more years—it’s a longing for quality of life.
At UWAY, almost 95% of the patients who come to us for Ayurveda treatments have already been diagnosed through modern medical systems. They’ve seen some of the best hospitals, consulted experienced specialists—and yet, they come to us looking for something else.
Among them are also patients who are terminally ill, most of them want to take a second opinion or want to avoid the deleterious effects of prolonged medication, and some of them are merely seeking to make their life more peaceful of whatever is left
And maybe that’s what real life saving looks like.
This reflection isn’t just from the clinic. I’ve started seeing it everywhere, especially in the workplace.
I was shocked to read about the suicide of Nikhil Somwanshi, a 25-year-old engineer at Ola . I went through this Linkedin profile and found that he started with a diploma in mechanical engineering, worked his way through engineering college, and finally made it to IISc. It takes a lot of grit to do that and then joined the AI team in 2024. An example you might want to tell your own kids But less than a year later, he committed suicide allegedly due to unbearable work pressure.
I kept thinking: this young man had done everything right. He had overcome difficulties, worked hard and landed perhaps in his dream job. And still, something inside gave way.
And just a few months earlier you would remember the sad story of Anna Sebastian Perayil, a 26-year-old chartered accountant from Kerala passed away while working at Ernst & Young in Pune. Her family said the long hours and constant pressure affected her health. She had joined the company just four months earlier.
These are not isolated stories. They are reflections of something deeper.
It’s not always the workload that breaks a person. It’s the misalignment between the life they live—and the life they truly want.
Many people ask me, “Doctor, how many hours do you work?”
You would be supposed to know that as a resident in medical college it’s very normal to have 24 hours plus duties. That meant managing food, brushing, everything in that stretch. I’ve also know many doctors who consult 150 patients in a single day—including Sundays. And yet, they keep going.
Why?
Because when there is purpose and alignment, the body and mind somehow adjust.
It’s not hard work that kills. It’s friction.
Friction between your role and your heart.
It’s like being in a relationship or marriage with someone you don’t love. Every little thing becomes a trigger. But when there is love, you fight together, not against each other.
Work is no different. At work there are 2 key areas. Let me give you an example. As a doctor you treat patients. And there is an environment which enables you to treat patients. It can comprise of your support staff, your boss, management etc. Simply put, to be a successful doctor it not enough to be just a good clinician (treat patients). You should also have the ability to manage the environment in which you function. But the truth is most of the time you can’t manage the environment entirely, but you can definitely improve it to an extent. What really plays out there is your ability to be resilient. And that requires change in perspective.
And life is no different either.
Sometimes, even as professionals, we chase permanence. We think we are building something that will last—status, reputation, legacy. But even the greatest names fade.
Ask a teenager today who J.R.D. Tata was. Or Jamsetji Tata. Or Dhirubhai Ambani.
And even Gandhiji, who gave us so much—is mostly seen today as a photo on a currency note. If that image disappeared, how long would his memory last in public spaces?
The truth is simple: we all fade.
As the Bhagavad Gita says: “You came empty-handed into this world. You will leave empty-handed.”
Buddha said: “Everything that has a beginning has an end.”
And the Stoics always reminded themselves: Memento Mori—Remember, you will die.
This is not to scare. But to help us live better.
So, what does it really mean to save someone?
Maybe it’s not about adding years.
Maybe it’s about:
– Helping someone breathe without fear.
– Giving a patient hope in the middle of pain.
– Letting a caregiver sleep without guilt.
– Helping someone walk to a garden—one last time
At UWAY, our work is not just about treatment.
It’s about helping people come back to themselves—to their breath, their body, and their own sense of meaning.
Sometimes that means fewer medicines.
Sometimes it means a deep rest.
Sometimes it simply means helping someone feel alive again—even if just for one good day.
Because in the end, the question is not:
“How long can we live?”
But:
“Can we live well—today?”
“Can we live in alignment, even for a short time?”
These are thoughts I carry with me these days, more than ever.
and our mission is to encourage more people to carried them too,
We may not only live longer—
We’d live better.
