betweenthelines-as a gynec I read the silent hidden stories that touch my soul

Bhagya Vidhata -The Makers of Destiny  I was watching a movie recently,Bharat Bhagya Vidhata ,about the exemplary role played by the nursing staff of Cama Hospital during the terrorist attack on Mumbai on 26/11/2008. It took me straight back to my own residency days, way back in 1994. N.Wadia Maternity Hospital was one such place — a saviour for countless women in Mumbai, with dedicated teachers and technology that was always a step ahead, whether it was fetal medicine, laparoscopy, assisted reproduction, colposcopy, or a state-of-the-art neonatal unit. But working there as a postgraduate student meant relentless hours, sleepless nights that stretched to two or sometimes three in a row, no fixed meal times, and an enormous amount of learning packed into every single day. And yet, we have no regrets. That was possible, of course, because of the resilience and perseverance the system built into us, and because we had teachers it was an honour to train under, and colleag...

  Har ek friend zaroori hota hai! Today is Friendship Day, and I found myself thinking about where the word itself comes from. *Friend* traces back to the Old English *freond* — quite literally, "one who loves." Not one who is merely liked, or tolerated, or convenient to have around. One who loves. That's a high bar, and it's the right one. Nietzsche, typically, refused to let it be a soft word. He said that in a friend, you should have your ‘best enemy’ — that you should be closest to them in your heart precisely when you're resisting them. I think about that a lot. The friends who matter most aren't the ones who only agree with us. They're the ones who love us enough to show us what we don't want to see, who criticise because they care about who we become, not just how we feel in the moment. Sanskrit gives us an even older, and to me more beautiful, way into this. The word for friend, *mitra*, comes from a root that originally meant oath, treaty, cov...

 PMS -The Monthly Storm "Amma is so sensitive yaar, she cried over the TV serial again last night." "Careful what you say to my wife this week, she's PMSing, she won't be easy." "Oh here we go, Priya's pulling the PMS card again to skip the client call." Riya had heard all three lines  — one from her brother about their mother, one from her brother-in-law about his wife, one from a colleague rolling his eyes about another woman on their team. Nobody in that week meant real harm, she was fairly sure. They said it the way people say things they've heard said a hundred times before, half-joking, half-believing it. And yet each line landed somewhere quiet in her, because she recognised herself in all three women at once — the tears, the sudden temper, the exhaustion that made her want to disappear from a meeting rather than push through it. She wondered, not for the first time, when exactly her own hormones had become a punchline. There is a pa...

BETWEEN THE LINES  ·  MENSTRUAL Health and the health of the earth Meet the Menstrual Cup?  From cloth to cups — a forty-year journey through periods, products, and the planet we forgot to protect. ——— I was petrified the first time my period arrived. It came in school and i had no clue. There was no warning, no preparation — just sudden, blood. Forty years ago, mothers didn’t speak openly about it until nature forced the conversation. Schools had their token talks, all words and no visuals, all facts and no feeling. Nobody told you what it would actually be like. “No one warned me. No one sat me down. And yet — most women I know have a kind of same story. The silence was universal.” The Evolution We Lived Through We didn’t just witness the evolution of menstrual products — we lived it, body and all. Each transition came with its own mix of relief and imperfection. THE CLOTH ERA Cloth pads — washed, dried discreetly, reused. Functional. Private. La...

  The Monthly Event - You are the show stopper Disclaimer: Terms and Conditions Apply. Subject to Change Without Intimation. When I speak to women — over coffee, at health talks, in my clinic — I notice something that never stops surprising me. Ask them about the latest fashion trends, they're on it.  The new salon that just opened, the one with that amazing hair treatment? They have the address, the price, and already have an appointment.  Footwear sizes, sale dates, which brand just launched what — all of it, downloaded and stored perfectly. And then I ask one simple question about periods. What's normal, what's not, whether they've heard about any of the newer menstrual products available today. Suddenly — "I'm not sure." "How would I know?" A little laugh, a little look away. "And I think to myself — this is a subscription that auto-renewed every single month. No sign up. No welcome email. No user manual. Just — surprise, here you are,...

 AFTER  BUT WHEN LADY ? Her hands were shaking when she unbuttoned her blouse. "I've been meaning to come," she whispered, not looking at me. "For a year." I could already see it. The asymmetry. The slight dimpling on the left side. Before I even touched her, I knew. "Why now?" I asked gently. "My daughter got married. Then my mother had a stroke. I kept thinking... after. After the wedding. After my mother recovers. After." She finally looked at me. Her eyes were wet. "Am i late, doctor?" She was 51 years old. She felt the lump last August.  Not during a self-exam. Not at a routine checkup. She felt it while trying on outfits for her daughter's wedding. The boutique dressing room. Harsh lights. Mirror on three sides. She was adjusting the drape of a silk sari, lifting her arm, when her fingers brushed against it. A lump. Hard. Unmistakable. She froze. Stared at herself in the mirror. The expensive sari. The wedding shopping bag...