Born to three generations of government employees, I was so full of ideology when I finished my medical school. I wouldn’t practice, I said. I would only serve the poor, I proclaimed; a good teacher would I become, I yearned. And so was it, over the next few years. I wasn’t unhappy at all. I had very few needs and no serious financial commitments. Life was good, and little things kept me happy.
But over time, I started feeling uncomfortable. Was I doing enough? I fancied myself a good surgeon-to-be, and as and otolaryngologist, I needed technology to go a step higher. But that needed money. I decided to work for it, but also balefully remembered my classmate in school, a perpetual cynic, who told me once, without mercy- “soon, you will be just the same as everyone else- do things only for money, and rot inside”. I so badly wanted to prove him wrong. Then, as if by sheer chance, I…
