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By:

Bhalchandra Chorghade

11 August 2025 at 1:54:18 pm

Healing Beyond the Clinic

Dr Kirti Samudra “If you want to change the world, go home and love your family.” This thought by Mother Teresa finds reflection in the life of Panvel-based diabetologist Dr Kirti Samudra, who has spent decades caring not only for her family but also thousands of patients who see her as their guide. As we mark International Women’s Day, stories like hers remind us that women of substance often shape society quietly through compassion, resilience and dedication. Doctor, mother, homemaker,...

Healing Beyond the Clinic

Dr Kirti Samudra “If you want to change the world, go home and love your family.” This thought by Mother Teresa finds reflection in the life of Panvel-based diabetologist Dr Kirti Samudra, who has spent decades caring not only for her family but also thousands of patients who see her as their guide. As we mark International Women’s Day, stories like hers remind us that women of substance often shape society quietly through compassion, resilience and dedication. Doctor, mother, homemaker, mentor and philanthropist — Dr Samudra has balanced many roles with commitment. While she manages a busy medical practice, her deeper calling has always been service. For her, medicine is not merely a profession but a responsibility towards the people who depend on her guidance. Nagpur to Panvel Born and raised in Nagpur, Dr Samudra completed her medical education there before moving to Mumbai in search of better opportunities. The early years were challenging. With determination, she and her husband Girish Samudra, an entrepreneur involved in underwater pipeline projects, chose to build their life in Panvel. At a time when the town was still developing and healthcare awareness was limited, she decided to make it both her workplace and home. What began with modest resources gradually grew into a trusted medical practice built on long-standing relationships with patients. Fighting Diabetes Recognising the growing threat of diabetes, Dr Samudra dedicated her career to treating and educating patients about the disease. Over the years, she has registered nearly 30,000 patients from Panvel and nearby areas. Yet she believes treatment alone is not enough. “Diabetes is a lifelong disease. Medicines are important, but patient education is equally critical. If people understand the condition, they can manage it better and prevent complications,” she says. For more than 27 years, she has organised an Annual Patients’ Education Programme, offering diagnostic tests at concessional rates and sessions on lifestyle management. Family, Practice With her husband frequently travelling for business, much of the responsibility of raising their two children fell on Dr Samudra. Instead of expanding her practice aggressively, she kept it close to home and adjusted her OPD timings around her children’s schedules. “It was not easy,” she recalls, “but I wanted to fulfil my responsibilities as a mother while continuing to serve my patients.” Beyond Medicine Today, Dr Samudra also devotes time to social initiatives through the Bharat Vikas Parishad, where she serves as Regional Head. Her projects include  Plastic Mukta Vasundhara , which promotes reduced use of single-use plastic, and  Sainik Ho Tumchyasathi , an initiative that sends Diwali  faral  (snack hamper) to Indian soldiers posted at the borders. Last year alone, 15,000 boxes were sent to troops. Despite decades of service, she measures success not in wealth but in goodwill. “I may not have earned huge money,” she says, “but I have earned immense love and respect from my patients. That is something I will always be grateful for.”

Capital Grabs

Born of bureaucratic logic in Delhi, the Chandigarh proposal has collided headlong with history and federal nerves in Punjab.

Punjab
Punjab

The Centre’s recent aborted attempt to pull Chandigarh under Article 240 has turned incendiary. The proposal on November 21 “to amend the Constitution to bring Chandigarh under Article 240” detonated like a depth charge beneath Punjab’s already choppy waters.


The reaction in Punjab was immediate and furious. Chief minister Bhagwant Mann accused the Centre of plotting to “snatch” Punjab’s capital. The Shiromani Akali Dal called it a direct assault on the state’s rights. The Congress demanded immediate withdrawal. Even the BJP’s Punjab unit, wary of electoral fallout ahead of 2027, rushed to distance itself. Within 48 hours the Union home ministry beat a retreat, promising consultations and shelving the bill for the winter session. But the episode has already revealed how fragile India’s federal equilibrium has become.


From Delhi’s point of view, the case is not entirely frivolous. Chandigarh is one of the last constitutional curiosities of post-1960s India: a Union Territory governed under Article 239, administered by the Punjab governor in an additional capacity, yet still governed largely by the laws of a long-vanished undivided Punjab. Shifting the city under Article 240 would align it with other legislature-less Union Territories, simplify service rules, and hand the Centre unequivocal regulatory authority.


There are security concerns behind the rationale as well. The present arrangement dates to 1984, when terrorism and President’s Rule in Punjab made coordination imperative. Four decades later the logic has inverted: a city that hosts two state capitals, sits astride sensitive border politics and houses strategic institutions is precisely the sort of place the Centre increasingly prefers to run directly rather than through layered federal intermediaries. The bitter turf war between Punjab and Haryana cadres, the erosion of the 60:40 officer ratio, and the shift to central service rules since 2022 already point to a de facto central enclave. The amendment would merely formalise what practice has been drifting towards.


Nor would Chandigarh be an exception. From the reorganisation of Jammu and Kashmir to the steady circumscription of Delhi’s elected government, India has been living through a quiet phase of constitutional recentralisation. In this wider mosaic, Chandigarh is just another tile.


Yet, this managerial logic from the Centre’s point of view feels like constitutional trespass for Punjab. Chandigarh is not merely an administrative unit but a historical consolation prize for Lahore, the city Sikhs lost at Partition. Built on land acquired from some 50 villages and inaugurated in 1953 as independent India’s first planned capital, it became a monument to survival and modernity. When Punjab was split in 1966 and Haryana carved out, Chandigarh was declared a temporary shared capital. That ‘temporary’ arrangement hardened into permanence. In 1970 Indira Gandhi’s government declared the city “should as a whole go to Punjab.” The Rajiv–Longowal Accord of 1985 reaffirmed it. Implementation was then quietly buried under territorial disputes and political fatigue.


Against that backdrop, Article 240 is a blunt constitutional instrument that allows the President to make regulations with the force of law, bypassing Parliament altogether. In practical terms, it would allow laws governing Chandigarh to be rewritten by executive notification. Even something as basic as the mayor’s tenure could, in theory, be altered by a file signed in North Block.


The timing only sharpened the provocation. Barely a month earlier, the Centre had interfered in Panjab University’s governance. Since 2022, Punjab has protested the steady sidelining of its officers from Chandigarh’s administration in favour of central and Haryana cadres.


Politicization of this episode has been predictably swift. Mann, once mocked for theatrics, now presents himself as Chandigarh’s defender. The Akalis seek to reclaim their vanished monopoly over Sikh political sentiment. The Congress waits patiently for the churn to weaken its rivals. The BJP, still scarred by the farm-law revolt, knows that even the perception of tampering with Punjab’s symbols is electoral poison.


The deeper issue, however, runs beyond party advantage. It is about how India now reconciles power and federalism. Chandigarh’s present governance, though improvised, has nonetheless worked for over 40 years. The reform it truly needs is not presidential fiat but local empowerment. 


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