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یہ رات اُس درد کا شجر ہے There are some poems that do not arrive all at once. They unfold slowly, almost reluctantly, revealing themselves differently each time they are read. This poem by Faiz Ahmed Faiz has remained like that for me. It does not demand attention. It stays, and over time, it deepens.…
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A resident described the family as misdirected anger. It was a phrase that let everyone move on quickly. But standing at that bedside, watching a family ask the same question for the fourth time, I kept thinking about the word misdirected. As if there were a more appropriate place to point their anguish.
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She had always been disciplined. Not as a performance, but as a governing principle. Then something uncharacteristic appeared, and the life she had carefully constructed began to make room for something it had never allowed before.
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The tension between being approachable and maintaining authority is one medicine rarely prepares you for. A reflection on what happens when warmth is mistaken for leniency.
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What perseverance, consistency, and long term commitment can quietly achieve. A reflection on building a pulmonology department from the ground up.