Dr. Chari Diaries: The Man Who Refused to Leave | A Story of Resilience and Dharma

📖 Dr. Chari Diaries: The Man Who Refused to Leave

The corridors of Brindlemalai hospital have seen all kinds of stories — some wrapped in silence, some soaked in tears, some stitched together with laughter.

But today, as I walked into the ward, it was not disease I encountered.

It was resilience.

Mr. Santhanam, eighty years young, sat propped up against the white pillows, his glasses slipping down his nose as he shooed away the nurse fussing over his IV line.

“Doctor,” he grinned the moment he saw me, “don’t look at me like I’m half gone. I’m not even quarter gone yet.”

I smiled, though worry tugged at my chest.

Santhanam lived alone in Ponmanipudi, with only his loyal dogs for company.

His wife had passed three years ago.

His son Arvind — now a vice president in some shiny IT tower in America — sent money home but rarely memories.

Yet Santhanam’s house was never empty.

For decades he had quietly funded the education of countless children.

Many of them now teachers, engineers, even policemen — each still writing their unseen debt to him.

And if this man were to fall, the ripple would break many shores.

The Diagnosis

He had been admitted for a stubborn urinary infection. But tests revealed something more — an incidental prostate cancer.

The word cancer hangs heavy in most rooms. Not in Santhanam’s.

He chuckled when I explained.

“Abba, doctor! Cancer? At this age? That’s like telling a retired accountant he has unpaid income tax from 1964. What’s the point?”

His wit sparkled like old brass polished to shine.

The Refusal

What truly stunned me was not his calm, but his declaration.

“Listen, Dr. Chari. I can’t go now.

Not yet. I have karmic goals… and dharmic goals.

Karmic — because I promised those children their education till they finish.

Dharmic — because these dogs of mine won’t let me leave. Who will walk them to the tank bund? Who will give them curd rice?

Even God Himself cannot budge me from this ward until my duties are done.”

His eyes twinkled as if daring Yama, the Lord of Death, to file an early petition.

The Inspiration

I sat there, not as a doctor, but as a student.

A student of life.

We often think resilience comes from medicine, from machines, from molecules.

But here was proof that resilience can rise from love, from responsibility, from unfinished duties that tie a man gently — yet firmly — to this earth.

Santhanam was not surviving for himself.

He was surviving for others.

And in that decision lay a strange immortality.

As I left the ward, he called after me with a grin:

“Doctor, don’t worry. When God wants to take me, I’ll negotiate. Until then, tell the pharmacy to keep the medicines ready. I have work to finish.”

Ponmanipudi, I thought, is blessed.

Not because it has saints in temples.

But because it has quiet warriors in hospital beds — men like Santhanam who refuse to leave, not out of fear of death, but out of love for life.

✨ Author’s Note:

Every visit to the wards teaches me something no textbook ever did.

Today, Santhanam reminded me — death may be inevitable, but departure is negotiable, when your mission is still alive.