Azhini opened the door of her small but cozy rental house, her eyes scanning the tidy living room illuminated by the soft orange hues of the setting sun. She removed her sandals with a sigh and placed her bag on the nearby table, her mind swirling with thoughts of the day. The memories of her presentation at the conference and the string of questions that followed still lingered. Some were skeptical, others genuinely curious. But she knew she had done well, and that was enough.
Walking to the bathroom, she splashed her face with cold water, letting it refresh her tired skin. Her reflection stared back—a woman in her mid-twenties, with expressive eyes that carried the weight of determination and exhaustion in equal measure. Azhini Nadarajan, the Siddha doctor from a small town, who had spent years proving herself in a world that often dismissed her field. The skepticism she faced was nothing new, but it no longer fazed her. She had learned to let her work speak for itself.
“If you truly want to be respected, prove you can survive without them. If you want to be celebrated, prove you can succeed without them.”
These words had been her guiding mantra for as long as she could remember. They weren’t advice from a loved one or lessons from a mentor—they were the harsh truths she had learned through life’s trials.
She closed her eyes, splashed water against her face, as water flows down her skin, memories flowed in her mind. Her parents’ warm smiles were the first to greet her. That warmth, however, vanished in an instant—a fatal car crash snatching them away and leaving her under the care of her uncle.
Her uncle was neither cruel nor kind. He wasn’t a villain, but he was far from a savior. He was simply a man burdened with responsibility he didn’t ask for. Azhini didn’t begrudge him. She knew he wasn’t equipped to fill the void her parents left. If anything, she had learned early on that expecting kindness from others was often futile.
But Azhini didn’t just survive under his care—she thrived. She worked harder than anyone else her age, because she knew she couldn’t afford not to. When she topped her district in her 10th exams, it wasn’t just a victory; it was a declaration. When she secured state first in her 12th, it wasn’t just an achievement; it was a warning to those who doubted her. And when she cracked NEET with a score that left everyone speechless, it wasn’t just a milestone; it was proof that she could carve her path without anyone’s help.
She had done it all without private coaching, without expensive tuitions, and in Tamil medium from a government school. In her small town, she was nothing short of a star. But stars, she realized, often made others uncomfortable.
Her uncle’s family began to resent her. Her cousins, struggling to live up to the expectations set by her success, grew jealous. The humanly couple, as Azhini thought of them, couldn’t completely ignore her accomplishments—society wouldn’t let them. But they couldn’t celebrate her either. Instead, they found ways to diminish her, to remind her of her place in their household.
It was during this period that her grandmother suffered a stroke. The humanly couple, already stretched thin, had no patience or resources for the ailing sixty-year-old woman. They admitted her to a nearby Siddha hospital, where they hoped the costs would be lower.
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Azhini had gone to the hospital reluctantly, not out of love for the couple but out of duty toward her grandmother. She hadn’t expected that trip to change her life. But as her grandmother recovered, Azhini discovered a world she hadn’t known existed.
The Siddha hospital was unlike the sterile, impersonal facilities she had seen in textbooks. It was a place where ancient wisdom met human compassion, where remedies were crafted with care and patients were treated with respect. She had been fascinated.
The CRRI sisters and brothers at the hospital had noticed her curiosity. Guided her through the basics of Siddha medicine and encouraging her to consider it as a career.
When her grandmother recovered, Azhini made a decision that shocked everyone: she would study Siddha medicine. Her uncle’s family hadn’t objected— it's neither too high nor too low for them. And also gives space for their children to perform. So, simply perfect choice that even they struggle to come. They are naturally happy.
At first, as a diligent student, Azhini immersed herself in her studies with unwavering focus, relying on her modest student stipend to sustain herself. However, as time passed, she began to confront the harsh realities of society—the prejudice, the dismissive remarks, and the skepticism toward the path she had chosen. But it was never in her nature to endure suffering passively or wait for a helping hand. She reminded herself of the principle that had guided her life: If you want to be celebrated by those around you, prove that you can succeed without them.
Azhini understood that success was the only way to make her value undeniable to others. She believed that when people recognized the worth of what she offered, they would not only respect her but also protect her contributions for their own benefit. Driven by this conviction, she made it her mission to showcase the hidden treasures of traditional Siddha wisdom. To do so, she chose the most powerful tool at her disposal: science. It was through the language of science that she could bridge the gap between ancient traditions and the modern world, ensuring that her light would shine far beyond the shadows of doubt.
So for her mission went well. It is not a loss for her. But there is still ways to go. As for now what's she wants more is a sound sleep. Even though it's still seven her body and mind craves it. Changing into one of her cotton pajamas, she brushed her long, wavy hair back and tied it loosely. The small, comforting rituals of her evening felt grounding. By the time she lay down on her single bed, her body melted into the mattress.
After two hours of deep sleep, Azhini was abruptly pulled from her dreams by the persistent ringing of her phone. Groggily, she reached out, squinting at the glowing screen. The contact name, "Childhood Sweetheart ❤️," brought an instant warmth to her sleepy features, and a smile graced her lips.
“Hello,” she answered lovingly, her voice soft and tender despite the interruption.
From the other end came a familiar voice—warm yet strict, full of affection wrapped in a tone of authority. “Did you eat dinner, Azhini? Or are you still running on an empty stomach like always?”
Azhini chuckled softly, leaning back against her pillow. “I was too tired to cook,” she admitted, her voice tinged with guilt but laced with a quiet happiness.
Her friend sighed dramatically, yet the worry in her tone was unmistakable. “You’ll never change, will you? Hold on, I’m ordering food for you. It’ll be there in thirty minutes. No excuses. And don’t you dare try to send it back!”
Before Azhini could protest, the woman on the other end—her childhood friend who worked in a prominent IT company in Chennai—continued her gentle scolding. This friend, who had been her constant companion through every storm and success, knew all of Azhini’s secrets—the struggles she had hidden from the world, the moments of quiet triumph, and the bittersweet memories she carried in her heart.
As the call ended with an order, not a suggestion, Azhini smiled to herself. No matter how tough life became, it was moments like this, filled with love and care from someone who truly understood her, that made everything feel worthwhile.
In the meantime, as she waited for the love—aka food—sent by her childhood sweetheart, Azhini decided to make the most of her time. Stretching lazily, she pulled her laptop closer, intending to check her emails for any updates regarding her paper publications or conference feedback.
The soft glow of the screen illuminated her face as she navigated through the inbox, her mind still drowsy from sleep but curious enough to sift through the mundane and the significant.
What she didn’t realize at that moment was that she wasn’t just opening her laptop—she was unknowingly opening a new chapter in her life. A notification blinked on her screen, a new email waiting to be read. Something about it felt different, a pull that she couldn’t quite explain. With a slight tilt of her head and a furrowed brow, Azhini clicked it open.
And thus, without knowing, her ordinary evening began to unfold into something extraordinary.