Pehechaan

30/08/2026

! 📚
I'm now a published co-author! 1 of 45 authors in
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We eat together, but do we really talk?

This book is not just pages, it's 45 pieces of one big family truth. United or Divided? You decide.

My chapter - "WHERE SILENCE SPEAKS AND LOVE LISTENS" - is about what families often miss: sometimes love isn't loud advice, it's quiet listening. It's about how silence in Indian homes isn't always distance, it's sometimes respect, sometimes pain, waiting to be heard.

Grateful to all fellow authors across the globe 🌍 and the editorial team for bringing 45 different family perspectives together into one puzzle.

Thank you to everyone who supported this journey. 🙏

25/08/2026

🚬 🚭

Strange are the ways of life.

A man who marked a golden jubilee of smoking, fifty years of that one constant companion, is now at the end-of-life stage with cancer.

And in this most vulnerable chapter of his life, somehow, he got my reference.

What moved me more was his wife. His caregiver, his anchor. She was unwavering. She did not want to meet any other counsellor. She wanted only me to counsel her husband.

They are a couple from Japan, here in India for a very short period. Time was limited, yet their trust was limitless. They said they were ready to wait, for as long as it takes, but they would not see anyone else.

In , we often speak about holding space. But who is really holding whom? In that moment, I realized they were holding space for me too, with their immense faith.

A stranger from another country, another culture, another language, choosing to wait, choosing to trust you with the most tender and final conversation of their life. If this is not grace, what is?

It reminds me why I chose this path. It is not about fixing anything. It is about being present. About listening when words are few. About honouring a life of fifty years and more, without judgment, with only compassion.

I counselled them. I listened. And I left with a heart full of gratitude.

Gratitude to the Universe for making me an instrument, for this trust, for this love that knows no borders. 🙏

Indian Cancer Society, Bangalore

21/06/2026

14/06/2026

I still remember the cool of the hospital bed and the quiet resolve in my heart. That day in my college, I gave my precious blood for the first time. Not for a certificate, but for Ramalakshmi. To share blood is to share life, and I am grateful I could.My first donation of my precious blood ❤️
→ to Ramalakshmi.
Never knew a needle could connect two strangers so deeply.
Share blood. Save a life. It’s that simple.

Donating blood matters because one unit can directly keep someone else alive. Here’s why it carries so much weight:

- Lives depend on it:
BLOOD CANNOT BE MANUFACTURED. Accident victims, cancer patients, people in surgery, and those with conditions like thalassemia need regular transfusions. A single donation can save up to 3 lives because it’s split into red cells, plasma, and platelets.

- Hospitals run short constantly:

Blood only lasts so long. Red cells: 42 days. Platelets: 5 days. That means supply needs steady donors, not just one-time drives.

- It’s used more than you think: Childbirth complications, burn victims, organ transplants, and chronic illnesses all rely on donated blood. About 1 in 7 people entering a hospital will need it.

- YOUR BODY REPLACES IT QUICKLY: You donate ∼350-450ml. Your plasma rebounds in 24 hours, red cells in 4 to 6 weeks. The cost to you is less than an hour and biscuit. The gain for someone else is everything.

CAN HELP SOMEONE CELEBRATE THEIR NEXT .

In short: it’s one of the few times you can literally give life, with no substitute available anywhere else.

I have already done my donation. How about you?
What are you waiting for?



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25/05/2026

is the process of thinking through and documenting your preferences for future medical care, especially for situations where you can’t speak for yourself. It involves reflecting on your values, goals, and what quality of life means to you, then having open conversations with loved ones and healthcare providers about the kinds of treatments you would or wouldn’t want. Key parts often include choosing a trusted person as your healthcare proxy or durable power of attorney, and completing documents like an advance directive or living will that outline wishes for life-sustaining treatments, resuscitation, ventilation, and comfort care. ACP isn’t a one-time form — it’s an ongoing conversation that can be updated as your health, priorities, or circumstances change. Done early, it reduces stress for family members, helps clinicians honor your values, and ensures your voice guides care even if you’re unable to communicate.

Thank you Prakash Samiksha for publishing my writing on the most difficult topic know one bothers to talk about in advance. It's always been a taboo.

Karunashraya
Indian Cancer Society, Bangalore

16/05/2026

The Pani Puri Hug in the Middle of Bangalore Traffic.

Two years. That’s how long it had been.

When I first met her, she was in a hospital bed with a new diagnosis: oral cancer. She was also a new mother, juggling a newborn, a new job, and now, this new disease that threatened to take everything.

I remember her words clearly. "I eat to satiate my food cravings," she told me. But the doctors had stripped that comfort away. Restricted diet. Restricted movement. Restricted life. She held on to one hope: "Once I recover I will be allowed to eat everything."

We walked through that turbulent journey together. The chemo. The fear. The dull, gloomy days where identity slips away between hospital visits and sleepless nights with a baby. My job was to help her hold on to herself when the disease tried to erase her.

Then, life moved on. Two years passed without word.

Until one evening in Bangalore. I was walking with my daughter when I saw her. A flash of color dodging autos and bikes, running straight at me from the other side of the road. Before I could process it, she had me in a tight, fierce hug right there in the middle of traffic.

My daughter screamed at the top of her lungs. She was sure this stranger was trying to sn**ch my chain. I had to laugh and tell her, "Stop. It's okay."

It was her. The young mother from the hospital bed. But she wasn’t that woman anymore. She was vibrant, glowing, beautiful.

She had been standing at a Pani Puri stall, finally eating her first plate since treatment ended. Doctors had given her the green signal: normal food, normal life. And the moment she saw me, she dropped the Pani Puri and ran.

She held that hug for a long time. When she pulled back, her eyes were wet.

"Madam," she said, "I was always dull and gloomy with my treatment. I couldn't thank you enough then. I am truly indebted to you for what you have done. You brought me back my lost identity. I am doing very well with my health. I didn't want to miss this opportunity to thank you."

A hug in the middle of the road. A dropped plate of Pani Puri. A life reclaimed.

As counselors, we rarely get to see the "after." We sit in the darkness with people, hoping they find the light. That day, in the middle of Bangalore traffic with my startled daughter beside me, I got to see the light. And it was running straight toward me for a hug.

Pehechaan
Indian Cancer Society, Bangalore

12/05/2026

To our incredible nursing team this :

In Pain and Palliative Care, you walk into rooms where hope feels thin and you make them lighter. You catch the unsaid fears, you ease the pain, you hold hands through goodbyes, and you bring dignity to every moment in between.

Your skill keeps patients comfortable. Your compassion keeps families whole. You are the steady presence when everything else feels unsteady.

From your Palliative Care Counsellor: thank you. For the night shifts, the tears you wipe, the advocacy, the grace. The world heals because you show up.

Every patient is safer, calmer, and more human because of you. Thank you for letting me walk this road beside you.

Happy International Nurses Day. We see you. We honor you. We couldn't do this without you.

10/05/2026

Happy Mother’s Day to every kind of mother —
the ones who gave birth,
the ones who adopted,
the ones who nurture without a title,
the grandmothers, single mothers, foster mothers, stepmothers, caregivers, mentors, and women who mother the world with kindness and compassion.

To the mothers raising children,
and to the mothers carrying memories, grief, hope, or silent prayers in their hearts — today is yours too.

“A mother is not defined only by blood, but by love, sacrifice, presence, and the ability to hold another soul with tenderness.”

May every woman who has ever loved like a mother feel seen, valued, and deeply celebrated today. 🌸

Happy Mother's Day 🌺

29/04/2026

Client Feedbacks Pehechaan

"

When I first met Meera, she sat with her scarf pulled low, eyes fixed on her hands. Stage 2 breast cancer at 34. Chemo behind her, fear still ahead. “I don’t know who I am now,” she told me in our first counseling session. “Cancer took my hair, my energy, and my future plans. What’s left?”

We didn’t talk about survival rates that day. We talked about mornings. What did a good one feel like before cancer? Coffee steam, her son’s laugh, the way sunlight hit her balcony plants. “Can you find one piece of that tomorrow?” I asked. “Just one.”

Week by week, with Alpa Dharamshi’s continuous support and counseling, Meera rebuilt. Alpa didn’t give answers; she held space. “She taught me to name the fear instead of outrunning it,” Meera says. “Alpa would remind me, ‘You don’t have to be strong every hour. You just have to be honest for this one.’”

Meera journaled anger instead of swallowing it. She told her husband, “I need you to sit with me in the silence, not fix it.” She walked 10 minutes daily, then 20. During session four, she whispered, “I looked in the mirror today. I didn’t flinch.”

The turning point was a Tuesday. She brought her son’s crayon drawing to Alpa. “He drew me with a cape,” she said, voice shaking. “Under it he wrote, ‘My brave Amma.’ Alpa smiled and said, ‘You were already brave. You just needed someone to witness it.’”

Six months post-treatment, Meera sent a message: “I ran a 5K. Slow, bald, and smiling the whole way. Alpa helped me see that recovery isn’t going back. It’s going forward with scars and still choosing joy. ‘Cancer edited my life,’ I told my support group, ‘but with Alpa’s guidance, I’m writing the next chapter.’”

Today, Meera mentors newly diagnosed women. She always adds, “I am endlessly thankful to Alpa Dharamshi. Her counseling didn’t save me — it showed me I could save myself. ‘You are not your diagnosis’ was the first truth she gave me. Now it’s the first truth I give away.”

( Name changed to respect the identity of the person affected with the Big C)

A true survivor story to inspire others 🙏
Thank you ICS for the platform 🙏

Indian Cancer Society, Bangalore

26/04/2026

's , .

10 months ago, a brave woman reached out to me, trembling with fear. had entered her life uninvited. Through treatment, surgery, and countless calls, I walked beside her. She fought. She healed. She won.

Last week, my phone rang again. I picked up, expecting an update about her health. Instead, I heard a voice more shattered than the first time.

This time, it was her daughter. Stage one. Breast cancer. Again.

The cruelty of life can leave you breathless. How do you tell a mother who has already fought this battle that she must watch her child walk the same path?

We talked. We cried. We found strength in the broken pieces. I reminded her that she’s already proof that this fight can be won. That fear is loud, but .

Today, her daughter’s surgery is done. The first step is behind them. And this family is choosing courage, again.

’t . It doesn’t follow rules. It doesn’t care how much you’ve already endured. But neither does love. Neither does resilience. Neither does a mother’s heart.

To everyone fighting, to everyone holding someone’s hand through it: You are not alone. And sometimes the bravest thing we do is pick up the phone and fight one more time.

Pehechaan

Indian Cancer Society, Bangalore