17/08/2026
A Thank You Long Overdue to Rajeev
Year : 1980 - My Defining Moment
The pain was the kind that doesn't let you think in full sentences. Both bones of my left forearm had come clean out through the skin; a fall no cadet at the National Defence Academy wants to write home about. I'd been evacuated to a Military Hospital in Pune, loaded with painkillers that dulled almost nothing, and told that surgery would happen the next morning. I lay there that night, staring at the ceiling, doing the math on what a shattered arm might mean for the rest of my life.
That's when the attendant wheeled him in. A boy, maybe two years older than me, parked in the bed of wheelchair right beside mine. He looked at me and said, gently:
"Nothing serious has happened to you. You'll be fine. You are brave."
I nearly laughed, except it hurt too much to laugh. I turned my head toward him instead, sharper than I meant to be.
"You have no idea what kind of pain I'm in," I said. "You don't know what this means for my life. How am I supposed to cope with this?"
He didn't argue. He just smiled and as he smiled, something strange happened; he began to tilt, slowly, to one side, like he had no way of holding himself up.
"Can't you even sit straight?" I snapped, more irritated than I'd like to admit now.
His attendant came rushing over and gently propped him back into position. And it was only then, watching that, that it landed on me: this boy could not move a single muscle below his neck. He hadn't been leaning out of carelessness. He had no control over his own body at all….he was completely paralysed below the neck!!!
The guilt was instant and enormous. I opened my mouth to apologise. But before I could get a word out, he spoke first; the same calm voice, no trace of hurt in it:
"Nothing has happened to you. You'll be all right sooner than later. Just enjoy being in the moment, and being alive."
He smiled at me one more time, and the attendant wheeled him away.
His name, I learnt later was Rajeev Nagrath. In the days that followed, we became close friends and somewhere in those conversations by my bedside, something in me shifted and reorganised itself. I went into surgery the next day; bone grafting, plating, the works but with a different mindset than the one I'd carried in the night before. My recovery, doctors would later say, was nothing short of remarkable.
Today : 2026
It has been forty years plus and I still don't know where Rajeev is today. But he has never really left me…. He silently stays inside me. He was there in the Army, in the toughest postings and the coldest nights. He was there through fifteen-plus years of corporate leadership, in boardrooms under pressure. He is there every time someone tells me they admire my calmness in a crisis because that calm isn't really mine. It's his. I'm just the one who got to keep it.
What Rajeev taught me, without ever meaning to teach anything
- Your mind decides what "serious" means not your circumstances. I had two broken bones. He had a body that no longer answered to him. And yet he was the one reassuring me. Adversity doesn't come pre-labelled as a crisis or a footnote. You choose which one it becomes.
- Comfort can come from the person you least expect, at the moment you're least ready for it. I wasn't in a state to receive kindness that night. I met it with anger. Rajeev didn't flinch, he simply offered it again.
- Self pity is optional, even when suffering isn't. Rajeev never asked for sympathy. He gave it. That single choice, repeated daily, is the difference between surviving a hardship and being defined by it.
- “Enjoy being in the moment, and alive" is not a platitude, it’s discipline. It is far easier to say than to practice, especially from a hospital bed. But once you've heard it from someone who had every reason not to believe it, you can never fully unhear it.
I don't know where you are today, Rajeev, but I hope this reaches you somehow. Thank you for the smile that leaned sideways and still held me up. You didn't just get me through a surgery, you handed me a way of seeing the rest of my life.
Thank You Rajeev