A Divine Turn Towards Healing
From the very first day of my medical practice, I have always been busy — truly busy, working 14 to even 25 hours a day, seven days a week. By 1997, my body began to show the signs of this relentless schedule. I developed severe backache, my knees became swollen, and I was advised to undergo total knee replacement surgery.
During this difficult time, I remembered a patient’s father — a humble man who would visit my clinic with his sons and gently speak about meditation. Sadly, I had forgotten his name, but his words had left a seed in my mind.
Driven by pain and an inner spiritual call, I began searching for him on the roads, hoping to find him and learn more. But as they say, when we truly remember God, He comes to us in His own mysterious ways.
Miraculously, that same person — Shri Jagdish Lal Ji — came to me on his own one day. Seeing my interest, he introduced me to Sahajyoga meditation, founded by Shri Nirmala Mataji.
Slowly, as I began to practice, my knee swelling reduced, my back pain disappeared, and even today — nearly 38 years later — I can run and jog freely.
Beyond physical healing, meditation brought deep peace to my family life and filled it with joy and harmony. My happiness and work efficiency increased manifold.
I firmly believe that my ability to serve tirelessly and joyfully is not only due to my hard work, but also the grace of meditation and divine blessings.
My Spiritual Journey: From a Mud Room to a Life of Purpose
I was born in this small, dark room in village Purkhas — a place of mud walls, limited means, and endless struggles. We were among the poorest of the poor. There was scarcity of food, comfort, and certainty. But there was one abundance that changed my destiny — my mother’s faith and vision.
The photograph of my mother hanging silently on the wall is more than an image — it is a living reminder of sacrifice, strength, and silent prayer. Her eyes reflect years of hardship, yet they also carry an unspoken hope that never faded. In that fragile frame lies the soul of my journey.
My mother was uneducated, yet she possessed a wisdom that no textbook can teach. She had nothing materially, yet she dared to think big. In times when survival itself was uncertain, she carried within her a quiet but unshakeable belief that her son would become a doctor. That dream was audacious — almost impossible — given our circumstances. But faith does not calculate odds; it only believes.
She stood by me through every hardship — hunger, humiliation, rejection, and exhaustion. When the world offered no reassurance, her silent strength became my anchor. She never complained, never surrendered to poverty, and never allowed adversity to shrink her vision. Her courage planted the first seed of spirituality in my life — the belief that purpose is greater than circumstances.
As life progressed, education opened doors, medicine gave me skills, and science sharpened my mind. But spirituality gave me direction. I began to understand that my journey was not merely about personal success, but about service, compassion, and responsibility. Every sick child I treated, every newborn I saved, every poor family I reassured — I saw reflections of my own childhood.
My work in pediatrics, neonatal care, immunization, and tuberculosis elimination is not accidental. It is deeply spiritual. It is my way of repaying a debt — to my mother, to society, and to that small room where my journey began. Each child healed feels like a prayer answered. Each life saved feels like divine grace working through human hands.
Today, when people speak of awards or honors, I quietly return in my mind to that mud-floored room and to my mother’s photograph watching over it. It keeps me grounded. It reminds me that true success is not how high we rise, but how many we lift along the way.
My spiritual journey has taught me humility in success, resilience in failure, and gratitude in all situations. I remain deeply aware that whatever I am today is not my achievement alone — it is the result of a mother’s faith, countless unseen blessings, and a purpose larger than myself.
From that small room in Purkhas to a life dedicated to healing — this journey is not mine alone. It belongs to every mother who dares to dream, every child born into adversity, and every soul that believes that light can emerge even from the darkest corners.
🌸 A Divine Bond Beyond Medicine — My Story with Mrs. Vidyawati Rathee
Among the countless stories that have shaped my journey as a doctor, one shines like a spiritual beacon — the story of Mrs. Vidyawati Rathee, a respected school principal, known for her grace, wisdom, and strength.
Mr. Pradeep Rathee, a devoted school teacher, was blessed with a premature, very sick baby boy after two elder daughters. The baby was born extremely fragile — a true fight for survival. He was brought to my NICU, and I remember vividly explaining the reality to the baby’s grandmother, Mrs. Vidyawati Rathee ji. I told her honestly that the chances of survival were very slim and the outlook was likely unfavorable.
She was filled with genuine questions and deep anxiety. After two daughters and a late pregnancy, this was perhaps their last chance at having a son. I was certain she might not continue the treatment. But something unexpected happened.
The next day, she seemed calmer — she had fewer questions, even though the baby was more critical than before. When I suggested shifting to a bigger center, she simply said a firm “No.”
On the third day, she fell completely silent. On the fourth day, my wife noticed her sitting outside the NICU. As my wife passed by, she gently placed her hand on her head and gave her blessings — a simple gesture that carried immense warmth.
As days passed, despite the baby’s worsening condition, she stopped asking questions. She would only say, “Doctor sahab, jo aapko theek lage, wahi kariye.” She started talking affectionately to my children, as they shared the same entrance to the NICU and our residence.
On the next day, she placed her hand on my head, blessing me like a son. This silent blessing became my source of strength during those tough, sleepless days. Slowly, by God’s grace and her unwavering faith, the baby began to improve. Day by day, her affection for me, my family, and the hospital staff deepened.
She started worrying about me — asking whether I had slept, eaten, or rested. After about a month, that fragile baby was finally discharged. Just recently, that same boy, now a healthy 22-year-old young man, came to the hospital carrying jamuns from their home tree — a living testimony to faith and love.
Mrs. Vidyawati ji, being a school principal, had always touched many lives with her teaching and nurturing spirit. But here, she became much more than a patient’s grandmother. She turned into a motherly figure, a guiding light, and a spiritual strength for me and the entire hospital. She knew each staff member by name, brought homemade gajar ka halwa and fresh jamuns, and celebrated every festival like family. She became “Hospital Aunty” — a symbol of pure love and divine blessings.
Until her last breath, she continued showering her affection on all of us. Her presence transformed the hospital atmosphere, filling it with warmth, humanity, and grace.
Through her, I realized that healing is not just about medicines or machines; it is about building a bond of trust, compassion, and spirituality with every patient and family.
I feel blessed to have been touched by her love. Her blessings will forever guide me, my family, and my hospital family on the path of service and humanity.
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“ऐसे रिश्ते जन्म से नहीं, आत्मा से बनते हैं। आपकी ममता और आशीर्वाद हमें हमेशा शक्ति देते रहेंगे।”
“Some bonds are not born of blood, but of the soul. Your love and blessings will always guide us.”
Guiding Light: My Guru, Dr. P.S. Dhatt
Spiritual Journey: A Day of Divine Justice
22nd October 1989 — a day etched in my soul forever.
I stood at the edge of despair. It was the day of my final MD Pediatrics examination. My legs trembled, heart sunk, and my mind whispered only one certainty: “You will fail.” Not for lack of knowledge, not for absence of sincerity, but because in our department, success didn’t rest on merit. It hinged on loyalty—to the head of department’s clique, a world of favoritism and politics I never subscribed to. I refused to become part of a system where ethics were traded for personal gain.
My wife, Dr. Deepmala—then glowing with the warmth of motherhood—was expecting our first child. The thought of holding a newborn with the burden of failure in my heart was unbearable. I was the brother of an AIIMSian, the husband of a multiple gold medalist, but all I could see written on the wall was: “Narender will fail.”
Then, something divine happened.
My long case examiner entered. Calm, composed, radiating wisdom. He listened. I presented. And after a brief pause, he smiled and said, “Very good.”
That examiner was none other than Prof. B.N.S. Walia—a teacher of teachers, the mentor of Prof. Meharban Singh himself. With him, there was no space for politics. Only sincerity, hard work, and knowledge mattered. In that examination hall, I met not just an examiner, but an emissary of God.
The department head tried to pull me down at every step. But grace intervened.
When results were announced, only I had passed. The rest—ironically more favored—had failed.
That moment transformed me forever. It wasn’t just an academic victory. It was a spiritual awakening. I came to believe that:
– Hard work never goes unrewarded.
– Sincerity is the soul’s language.
– And above all, when human injustice reaches its peak, divine justice descends.
Since that day, I’ve walked through life with a quiet conviction—that a higher force protects those who walk the path of truth.
This wasn’t just the day I became a doctor. It was the day I became a believer.
A Bond Beyond Blood: My Spiritual Sister Promila
Twenty-seven years ago, destiny brought a remarkable soul into my life. Promila came to me during one of the most difficult moments of her life—her only son, Jai, was gravely ill. She was in deep shock, inconsolable and overwhelmed with fear.
In that moment, I placed my hand gently on Jai’s head, offered her a few words of medical reassurance, and reminded her to place her trust in the Almighty. By God’s grace, Jai recovered.
Deeply moved, Promila asked me with tear-filled eyes, “Permission bhai, may I tie you a rakhi?” That simple thread of love, tied with pure faith, became the start of a bond that has grown stronger with each passing year.
Since then, every Raksha Bandhan, Promila first goes to Haridwar to offer her prayers, and then comes to tie me a rakhi, praying for my well-being. In return, I have always stood by her as a brother—offering guidance, emotional support, and unwavering care.
Over time, this unique relationship has become well-known in our community—a living example of how love, respect, and faith can create bonds that go beyond blood. She is recognized by all as my sister, and I cherish the positive energy and blessings this connection brings into my life.
For me, Promila’s rakhi is not just a thread—it is a spiritual promise, a reminder of the healing power of compassion, and an affirmation that family can be chosen by the heart.