Dr. Prerna Rai - Healthcare & Beyond

  Every year, thousands of Indians leave their homes, their families, and the streets that shaped their childhoods. But why? Is it the lure of higher salaries, the promise of a better lifestyle, or something less tangible—something we often don’t talk about? Yes, money matters. Financial stability can open doors and provide security that feels out of reach back home. Lifestyle matters too—freedom, better infrastructure, and opportunities that shape not just careers, but identities. But there’s a cost. Leaving behind festivals, Sunday lunches with parents, friends who’ve known us since school, and the everyday culture that feels like home. Sometimes, when living far from home, I wonder—does staying abroad make you feel like  “Ye jo desh hai tera”  ( Swades ) resonates more deeply, or does distance slowly fade the connection we carry with our roots? Living abroad isn’t just about adjusting to a new city—it’s about rebuilding a life from scratch. We learn to create our own t...

  The road to Hemalkasa is not an easy one. Narrow dusty paths wind through the dense forests of Bhamragad in Gadchiroli, a region once known more for its Naxal unrest than for hope. The silence of the jungle is broken only by the sounds of birds and rustling leaves. Traveling deeper into this wilderness, I wasn’t sure what to expect. And then, in the middle of this remote forest, I arrived at a place that felt like another world altogether — the Lok Biradari Prakalp, founded in 1973 by Dr. Prakash Amte and Dr. Mandakini Amte, with the blessings of the legendary Baba Amte. Here, in the most unlikely of places, a quiet revolution of compassion has been unfolding for decades. Walking into the hospital, I saw families who had walked for hours — sometimes even days — to reach here. The wards were simple, but the care was extraordinary. People were treated not just as patients, but as human beings deserving dignity. In the school, children from the Madia Gond tribe laughed and l...

They were more than pets—they were family. Jhumri, my black indie female pup, came into my life in Uttarakhand when I was working there as a doctor. Her calm, soulful eyes could read every emotion, and she carried a quiet strength that made every day brighter. She had a style of her own and the way she played with her pup was super adorable .  Pappu, her pup, was all playful energy and endless mischief—a little spark of joy that kept the home alive. She never left my side. She was a    human shy and preferred to hide away in jungle in my absence. When I relocated to Maharashtra, life pulled us apart, and they couldn’t survive without me. Losing them was heart-wrenching, but the memories remain: the walks, the cuddles, the moments of comfort and laughter. Even though they are gone, their love and loyalty still live in my heart. Jhumri and Pappu taught me about unconditional love, the beauty of companionship, and the little joys that make life meaningful. The dogs that come...

 In the Korean drama Goblin, the lead character lives for centuries — an immortal life that, on the surface, seems like a blessing. But instead of joy, he carries an endless weight of loneliness. It’s only when he finds purpose through love and relationships that his existence feels meaningful. This isn’t just a fantasy theme — it reflects a truth we often see in our professional lives: A long career without purpose can feel empty. Endless working hours without passion only multiply stress. Success without meaning rarely feels like success. As professionals, we don’t need immortality. What we need is intention. ✔ To lead with values. ✔ To create impact in small, everyday actions. ✔ To build connections that outlive projects and job titles. Because in the end, it’s not the length of our career that defines us — it’s the legacy of meaning we leave behind. 💬 What gives you meaning in your work beyond the number of years or achievements?

  🌿  “Reflections from a drama that became more than just a show.📺🧣🌧️🍁 Hi guys, So yesterday I finished one of the most unforgettable K-dramas ever —  Goblin aka Guardian - The lonely and great God.  Honestly, it was one of a kind experience. I didn’t expect a story, cinematography, and characters from another country to affect me this deeply, but it did. Funny thing is, I was supposed to watch this a few years ago but discarded the idea, thinking it might be about a child. But destiny had other plans — and I finally watched it now. And I’m so glad I did. ⸻ ✨  The Experience From the very beginning,  Goblin  pulled me into a different world. The storytelling, the emotions, the visuals — everything felt magical. Each character was so beautifully crafted, with details that made them feel alive and real. The chemistry, the acting, the humor, the heartbreak — it all stayed with me long after the episode ended. ⸻ 💔  The Ending By the time I reach...

   I still remember the silence of that mountain CHC. No ICU, no specialists, no labs after 5 PM — just a stethoscope, torchlight, and hope. During the early days of COVID, I was posted at a remote Community Health Centre in the hills — far from home, far from certainty. Patients would come on foot or in shared jeeps, sometimes after walking miles. We had limited infrastructure — but unlimited urgency. There was no ICU No ventilators No PPE kits  No specialists  Fewer staff One oxygen concentrator and two oxygen cylinders  But we had people. Villagers, families, daily wagers — all scared, all isolated. In times of no roadmap , we created our own . I didn’t just treat fevers and coughs. I held hands through anxiety. I sent and explained RT-PCR results in two languages (Hindi and broken Garhwali ). I helped arrange oxygen when trucks couldn’t reach us. We wrote applications to local leaders and higher centres    to donate us oxygen cylinders. I coordinat...