By Dr A Kumar
Public Health Expert
Illness can change the way we understand life and relationships. For Dr A Kumar, the fear of not living to receive another Rakhi from his sister turned a familiar festival into a deeply personal reminder of survival, gratitude, emotional support and the quiet strength of human bonds.
There are moments in life when everything that once appeared important suddenly recedes into the background. Professional titles, achievements and public recognition lose their significance, and one is left confronting a much simpler and more unsettling question: Will I be here tomorrow?
I confronted that question during a difficult period of illness.
For much of my life, I have known struggle. I have worked hard, built a professional identity and devoted myself to public health and social service. Yet illness has a way of stripping life down to its essentials. When the body becomes vulnerable and the future
uncertain, even the most familiar aspects of life begin to look different.
For me, one thought kept returning: Would I live to receive the next Rakhi from my sister?
It was not the possibility of losing a professional position or an achievement that frightened me. It was the possibility of losing something far more ordinary — sitting across from my sister as she tied a thread around my wrist.
That simple thought changed the way I understood Raksha Bandhan.
The festival is usually described as a celebration of the bond between brothers and sisters. But beneath the ritual is something much deeper: the reassurance that, in an uncertain world, there are relationships that give us a sense of belonging and security.
Illness also taught me an uncomfortable lesson about relationships.
In ordinary circumstances, we often measure closeness through blood, family names and social familiarity. Adversity can challenge that assumption.
When life becomes difficult, some relationships that appeared close may offer little comfort, while others — sometimes quietly and without expectation — can become an extraordinary source of strength.
I came to understand that being “one’s own” is not simply a matter of biological connection. It is also a matter of presence.
A sibling may be close by birth yet distant in spirit. Relatives may share a family history but remain absent when circumstances become difficult. Conversely, a spouse, parent, sister or another loved one may become an anchor simply by remaining emotionally present.
This is not an indictment of anyone. It is one of the humbling lessons that illness can impose upon us: adversity reveals relationships not by what they are called, but by what they are willing to give.
That realisation also changed the way I look at public health.
Health is not merely the absence of disease. It is also the presence of dignity, emotional support, family, community and hope.
A patient does not exist merely as a diagnosis on a medical report. Behind every diagnosis is a human being, with fears, responsibilities, relationships and hopes. The ability to cope with illness is shaped not only by medical treatment, but also by the people who surround that person.
Perhaps this is why Raksha Bandhan carries a relevance beyond the ritual itself.
It reminds us that human beings are sustained by connections. A thread tied around the wrist may be physically fragile, but the sentiment it represents can be remarkably strong.
This year, when my sister ties Rakhi on my wrist, I know I will experience the moment differently.
I will remember the period when I was uncertain whether I would see another Raksha Bandhan.
I will remember how fragile the future once appeared.
I will remember the people whose affection and presence gave me strength.
And I will remember how easily we take ordinary moments for granted until circumstances make them precious.
To return to health is not necessarily to return to one’s previous life. Sometimes, it means returning with a different understanding of what that life means.
Today, I look at my work in public health and social service through that altered lens. The opportunity to continue working for society feels less like an obligation and more like a privilege.
When life gives us another chance, perhaps the most meaningful response is to use that chance to create hope for others.
Raksha Bandhan, therefore, has acquired a new meaning for me.
It is no longer merely a festival on the calendar. It has become a reminder of survival, gratitude and the quiet power of human bonds.
The Rakhi my sister ties this year will be a small thread on my wrist. Yet for me, it will carry the weight of a much larger story — of struggle, vulnerability, hope and a life that I once feared might not reach this day.
Some threads do more than bind two people together. They remind us that we are still here, that we are loved, and that there is still work to be done.
This Raksha Bandhan, I will not merely receive a Rakhi.
I will receive a reminder of life itself.
