Prasad Iyer
Singapore

Dr. Arjun Mehta stood at the balcony of his Mumbai apartment, gazing out at the chaotic tapestry of the city he once called home. The cacophony of honking horns, aroma of street food, and vibrant saris in the bustling streets below stirred a complex mix of emotions within him. After two decades in the West, he had finally returned to India, a decision that weighed heavily on his heart and mind.

Arjun’s story began in a middle-class neighborhood of Delhi, where his father, a government accountant and his mother, a schoolteacher, had instilled in him the values of hard work and education. From an early age, Arjun showed a keen interest in science and a deep empathy for others, qualities that naturally led him towards medicine.

His years in medical school were a blur of intense study, sleepless nights, and growing ambition. As he excelled in his classes and clinical rotations, a seed of restlessness began to take root. The world beyond India’s borders called to him, promising cutting-edge research, advanced technology, and opportunities he could only dream of at home.

With a mixture of excitement and guilt, Arjun made the life-changing decision to pursue his residency in the United States. He still remembered his mother’s tearful goodbye at the airport, her hands pressed against his cheeks as she whispered, “Make us proud, son, but don’t forget your roots.”

Life in America was a whirlwind of new experiences. Arjun threw himself into his work with characteristic intensity, determined to prove himself in this foreign land. He marveled at the state-of-the-art hospitals, the rigorous research protocols, and the seemingly limitless resources at his disposal.

As the years passed, Arjun’s career flourished. He became a respected cardiologist, published in top medical journals, and was invited to speak at international conferences. Yet, with each professional triumph, the distance between him and his homeland seemed to grow.

Video calls with his aging parents became less frequent, their faces on the screen a stark reminder of time slipping away. His father’s once-black hair had turned silver, and his mother’s eyes carried a weariness that tugged at Arjun’s heart. Marriages, births, and deaths of extended family members became events he observed from afar, reduced to pixelated images and laggy conversations.

Arjun’s personal life in the West was comfortable but somehow incomplete. Something always held him back—a sense that a part of him remained tethered to the land he had left behind.

It was during a routine check-up with one of his long-term patients, an elderly Indian immigrant, that Arjun’s carefully constructed world began to shift. As he listened to the man’s heart, the patient spoke of his recent trip to India, his voice filled with warmth and nostalgia.

“You know, Dr. Mehta,” the old man said, his eyes twinkling, “there’s something about going back home that heals the soul in a way no medicine can.”

Those words echoed in Arjun’s mind long after the patient had left. That night, as he sat alone in his spacious apartment, surrounded by the trappings of his success, Arjun felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness.

The decision to return to India wasn’t made in a single moment, but rather through a series of realizations and soul-searching conversations. Arjun thought of his parents, now in their seventies, and the time he had lost with them. He thought of the country that had given him his first lessons in healing, and wondered what he could offer in return.

With a mixture of trepidation and excitement, Arjun began the process of uprooting his life in the West. His colleagues were shocked, some even trying to dissuade him. “Think of all you’re giving up,” they argued. But Arjun’s mind was made up. It was time to go home.

As Arjun stepped into the bustling halls of a large hospital in Mumbai, his new workplace, he felt a strange combination of familiarity and foreignness. The scent of disinfectant mingled with the aroma of chai from a nearby canteen, creating a uniquely Indian hospital atmosphere.

“Dr. Mehta!” A voice called out. He turned to see Dr. Sharma, a former classmate from medical school. “Welcome back! We’ve heard so much about your work abroad.”

Arjun felt a warmth spread through his chest. “It’s good to be home, Dr. Sharma. I have much to learn and to share.”

As he settled into his new role, Arjun found himself navigating a delicate balance. He introduced advanced cardiac procedures he had perfected in the West, but also had to adapt to the unique challenges of practicing medicine in India—from resource constraints to cultural nuances in patient care.

Weeks flew by in a whirlwind of patient consultations, staff meetings, and hospital rounds. Finally, Arjun found himself standing outside his childhood home in Delhi, heart pounding. The door swung open, revealing his mother’s face, lined with age but radiant with joy.

“Arjun!” she exclaimed, pulling him into a tight embrace. “My son has come home.”

As Arjun stepped inside, the familiar scents of his mother’s cooking enveloped him. His father, looking frailer than he remembered but with eyes still sharp and kind, rose slowly from his favorite chair.

“Namaste, Papa,” Arjun said, touching his father’s feet in respect before embracing him.

“My son,” his father murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve made us so proud.”

As months passed, Arjun found a rhythm to his new life. He poured his expertise into improving cardiac care at the hospital, mentored young doctors, and initiated outreach programs to bring advanced cardiac care to underserved communities.

But more importantly, he rediscovered the simple joys he had missed for so long—Sunday lunches with his parents, conversations with old friends, and the satisfaction of serving the community that had shaped him.

One evening, as Arjun sat in the hospital’s courtyard, a young resident approached him hesitantly.

“Dr. Mehta,” the young doctor began, “I’ve been following your work. I’m considering going abroad for further studies, but…I’m not sure. How did you know it was the right time to come back?”

Arjun smiled, gesturing for the resident to sit beside him. “There’s no perfect time,” he said thoughtfully. “Each choice we make opens some doors and closes others. My time abroad taught me invaluable lessons, and I’m grateful for every experience. But I realized that true fulfilment comes not just from personal achievement, but from using those achievements to give back to the society that nurtured you.”

He paused, watching a group of nurses chat animatedly as they passed by. “Medicine is about healing, yes, but it’s also about connection—to our patients, our colleagues, and our roots. Coming back wasn’t just about being with my family or serving my country, though those are important. It was about recognizing that my journey had come full circle, and that I had something unique to offer right here, where it all began.”

The young resident nodded, his eyes reflecting the same mix of ambition and uncertainty that Arjun had once felt.

“Whatever path you choose,” Arjun continued, “remember that success isn’t measured solely in publications or accolades. It’s measured in the lives you touch, the knowledge you share, and the positive change you bring to your community.”

As the last rays of sunlight painted the sky in hues of orange and purple, Arjun felt a profound sense of peace settle over him. He had traveled far, learned much, and finally found his way back home—not just to a place, but to the very essence of who he was meant to be. In bridging the gap between East and West, between cutting-edge science and age-old wisdom, he had found his true calling. And in the bustling heart of India, Dr. Arjun Mehta knew he was exactly where he needed to be.