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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.”

In Quick Commerce We Trust: Welcome to the Ministry of Instant Gratification

We wanted groceries in 10 minutes. Instead, we got an identity crisis with free delivery.

Respectful public discourse isn’t exactly woven into our fabric, but a provocative photo has divided the country yet again. This time, it is Commerce Minister Piyush Goyal asking us about the price of convenience and rest assured, he’s not alone. I used to wonder who needs groceries in 10 minutes, but that was before I was seduced by the 10-minute grocery charm or racket (depending on how you see it).


Q-commerce has showcased innovations in logistics, tech-human behavioural exchanges, and retail space optimisation. But it isn’t just about getting your eggs in 10 minutes. It’s about what you’re trading off - choice, control, common sense? - that’s making us vulnerable to this irresistible impulse.


Q-commerce was not invented in India but it may be one of the few markets where it is still functional. Many Western countries have tried with varying degrees of success and failure to keep those boats afloat. Even China has some, but we’d be fools to compare India and China. Suffice to say, it is no piece of cake.


To use present-day terminology, Q-commerce is a service you didn’t know you needed until you used it. Minister Goyal’s intentions may or may not have been to evoke an emotional response, but its implications go much deeper than the startup ecosystem into a country that’s drifting where the VC money takes us. And somebody has to wake us up from our Pavlovian reveries. But before pointing any fingers, let’s look at what it reveals about us as a society.


Q-commerce can be dubbed as an optimised way to have groceries at your doorstep. Riding on the tail of the Covid pandemic and digital penetration combined with UPI, it drives one to spend more alongside increasing short-term consumption. To the untrained eye, this may appear like a good micro-economic sign, but scratch the surface and it smells more like a sugar high.


For one, not all spending may be essential and could rack up debt for some. The normalisation of instant gratification could have retaliatory effects in other aspects of one’s life, but one won’t weep over spilled milk, because within 10 minutes, another packet would have arrived.


Even though we’re not necessarily list-making shoppers with a cart and trolley, many people are cognisant about stocking their kitchens with items that are more necessary than discretionary. Maybe it’s a generational thing. Millennials and Gen Z prefer convenience over planning, and they don’t want their deliveries with a grain of salt. They want icing.


On the surface level, it may seem like a good thing that people, especially from economically weaker backgrounds, are gaining employment. But as workers operating in a perpetual “grey zone” (are they employees, contractors or platforms’ favourite “partners”) when it comes to employment status, their working conditions and labour rights don’t exactly make sexy headlines — or any headlines. While this is the bed they have chosen, they don’t need to lie in it. Gig workers across the world continue to fight for their rights, and in India, even their dignity.


Work allocations are driven by technological algorithms, and problem solving a mere hum of the machine. Workers can be barred from the platform in a heartbeat due to customer complaints or tech glitches or really anything. Nobody can tell what’s in the black box of a platform’s tech IP. Additionally, have you ever seen a delivery person drive cautiously and/or follow traffic signals? There’s your pickle. Never mind the policy.


Speaking of pickles, it’s the local kirana store uncle or aunty picking up the cheques of this convenience. Not backed by venture capitalists for whom your mind is inaccessible and probably untameable to a certain extent (think cash transactions, freedom to choose items and their quantities, freedom of prices, variety of brands), the store cannot afford to give you a 50% discount. If you observe closely, you may see a clear distinction in the price of what you’re getting online and offline. Buying on Q-commerce means you lose choice and are now effectively trapped in an online retail monoculture in a country that’s anything but mono. And that value you were seeking for the buck you’re spending? That’s just bad apples.


We’ve not touched last-mile emissions, cold storage challenges, unit economics and the dismantling of urban infrastructure yet, but you may have an idea about where this is going. This is not a criticism of Q-commerce as much as it is a question: with no VC-backing, no technological innovations and little to no difference in the goods being sold, will Q-commerce survive 20 years down the line? Is it old wine in a new bottle, with hidden costs and delivery at neck-breaking speeds? What happens when there are disruptions to supply chains (Covid-19 anyone?) in an already fragile urban infrastructure with shaky economics?


When we have answers to these questions, maybe then, we can finally eat our cake without checking if it’s available for 50 percent off — or delivered in 10.


(The writer is an independent journalist with a keen interest in environmental issues and urban ecology)

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