Halfway through my travels, my mind was filled with questions. I was trying to figure out where I fit in the larger political struggles I kept encountering. Back when I was active in a student political organization, I had a clear role. But now, traveling alone, I felt like an outsider. I was just observing everything, unsure of what I could do.
At one point, I even thought about quitting medicine and studying law. The issues I was seeing felt too big to deal with as just a doctor. I didn’t want to just watch and comment—I wanted to respond, to act. But I felt powerless and alone. I was also starting to feel frustrated with how politics was becoming more NGO-driven and less rooted in people’s movements. I needed a break.
So I paused my travel and went to Sittilingi Valley to attend a workshop called Govern-H, conducted by the Barefoot Academy of Governance**. After that, I spent some quiet time at home. The workshop helped shift my perspective. It focused on healthcare workers, but connected their work to wider social movements. It reminded me that activism requires serious thought, learning, and commitment—it’s not just about being loud or visible.
(Govern H workshop)
After that break, I returned to Kolkata and completed my time with Sappho for Equality. Then I asked the Barefoot Academy team if I could do my final fellowship placement with them in Chennai. They agreed, and it became the last leg of my journey.
While working with the Barefoot Academy team, I got to see how civil society groups operate . They were also part of PUCL (People’s Union for Civil Liberties), so I had the chance to observe how these groups engage with human rights issues.
I was part of two workshops:
One for Tribal Health Initiative (THI) in Sittilingi, focused on improving how they run as an organization,another for Sadhana Mahila Sangha, a sex workers’ collective based in Bengaluru.
Preparing for the second workshop made me read different views on sex work—especially Marxist and socialist perspectives. But what really shaped my understanding was meeting and talking to the sex workers themselves. Their lives were deeply affected by police violence, stigma, and lack of access to basic services. Their political consciousness far exceeds any political scholar’s. Their experiences made me rethink everything I had assumed.
While working with BA, I sometimes felt like I didn’t fully belong. They spoke the language of law, policy, and organizing. My background was only in medicine. But slowly, I realised—that’s exactly what I bring to the table. My medical knowledge can be a tool in social and political work.
Another important part of my time in Chennai wasn’t just the work—it was the people I lived with. The house became a space of learning. We’d spend hours talking and debating different political ideas. These weren’t just casual conversations—they are helping me to build a stronger theoretical base for me. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I had found a group of young, socially committed people who genuinely care. That gave me hope.
Chennai helped me see that I don’t need to leave medicine to make a difference. I can work on improving access to healthcare , supporting workers in health movements, and more. Medicine can be part of the solution—if I use it with a clear political purpose.
Chennai was a turning point. It didn’t answer all my questions, but it gave me direction—and a sense that I don’t have to walk alone.
(At Dalli Rajhara railway station)
As the fellowship comes to an end, I’m beginning to realize that I’m not a traveler . Yet, this journey has taken me down paths I never imagined, introducing me to people with vastly different perspectives and lives. Their stories keep echoing in my mind — stories, smiles, emotions, unspoken silences, and everything in between.
Now, I find myself in a kind of inertia, a quiet push urging me to keep moving, to keep exploring. I began with many dilemmas, and now I’m continuing with even more confusion — but perhaps that, too, is part of the journey.
