Radhe radhe everyone

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Author's pov:

The sun hadn't even considered peeking over the horizon yet, but at 5:00 AM sharp, the silence of the Devang household was shattered. In the upstairs bedroom, a retro alarm clock let out a persistent, metallic ring that could wake the dead—or at least, it woke Veda.

Veda Devang didn't groan or pull the covers over her head. She sat up with the precision of a soldier, clicked the alarm off, and stretched her arms toward the ceiling. After a quick trip to the washroom to freshen up, she rolled out her mat. For the next twenty minutes, it was all about deep breaths, sun salutations, and some intense muscle stretching.

By 5:30 AM, the "Zen" version of Veda was gone. The "General" version had arrived.

Veda marched downstairs, her ponytail swinging like a pendulum of doom. She reached the kitchen and saw the house was still too quiet for her liking. She grabbed a steel spoon and a plate, giving it a light cling-cling-cling sound.

"Good morning, family! Chalo chalo, utho! The sun is waiting, and so am I!" she announced, her voice a mix of a drill sergeant and a stand-up comedian.

She walked toward the living room where her brother, Arpit, was buried under a mountain of blankets on the sofa. She didn't hesitate; she yanked the blanket off in one swift motion.

"Oye, Kumbhkaran ke vaaris! Wake up! It’s 5:45. If you aren't in the gym in ten minutes, I’m charging you a late fee," Veda declared, standing over him with her hands on her hips.

Arpit groaned, squinting at the light. "Yaar Veda, thodi der aur sone de na... It’s too early."

"Early? Beta, early was an hour ago. Now it’s just 'lazy.' Get up before I use the cold water technique," she warned with a playful but very serious glint in her eye.

She moved swiftly into the kitchen where her mother, Prema, was just starting to boil water for tea. Veda draped an arm around her mother’s shoulder, giving her a quick side-hug.

"Mummy, chai baad mein. First, your warm lemon water. You know the rules," Veda said, gently taking the kettle from her.

"Veda, tu bilkul apne papa pe gayi hai. Just as stubborn," Prema laughed, though she secretly appreciated the discipline her daughter brought to the house.

Just then, Aanmol Devang walked in, rubbing his eyes and looking for his morning newspaper. He saw his daughter commanding the room and chuckled. "What’s the agenda today, General Veda?"

Veda turned to her father, pointing a finger at the dining chair. "Papa, the agenda is simple. You are going for a walk, and nahi, you cannot take your phone to check emails. Sirf walk pe dhyaan dena hai. Understand?"

Aanmol raised his hands in mock surrender. "Theek hai, baba. Maan liya. I’m going."

Within fifteen minutes, the Devang house was a whirlwind of activity. Veda was everywhere—checking if Arpit had actually started his push-ups, ensuring Prema had her almonds, and making sure her father had his walking shoes on.

"Arpit! Focus karo! Those aren't push-ups, you're just nodding at the floor!" she shouted from the kitchen.

"I’m trying, Veda! Har cheez mein perfection chahiye tujhe!" Arpit yelled back, though he was smiling.

Veda leaned against the kitchen counter, taking a sip of her own green tea. She looked at her family—complaining, moving, and alive. Her "authority" was her way of showing love, ensuring everyone stayed healthy and on track.

"Someone has to keep this ship sailing," she muttered to herself with a satisfied smirk. "Warna tum sab toh dopahar tak sote rahoge."

Veda's pov:

The morning sun was finally starting to filter through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over the breakfast table. As I watched Arpit reluctantly finish his last set of mountain climbers and Papa lace up his walking shoes, I cleared my throat. This was the moment to set the new house rules.

I leaned against the counter, crossing my arms over my chest. I waited until Mumma set the plate of soaked almonds down.

"Attention, everyone!" I announced, my voice dropping the teasing tone for something more professional. "I have a small update for the family schedule. Aaj se, main roz itne hi baje uthungi aur ghar ka saara kaam jaldi finish karungi."

Arpit stopped mid-stretch, looking suspicious. "Wait, kyun? You’re already a drill sergeant at 5:00 AM. What more do you want from us?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "It’s not about you, Arpit. Main subah jaldi nikalna chahti hoon kyunki hospital jaane se pehle mujhe Tanuja Di se milne jaana hai."

The room softened at the mention of my elder sister. Tanuja Di was seven months pregnant now, and while she lived just a short distance away with her husband, being her younger sister—and her doctor—meant I was always on high alert.

"Is everything okay with her, Veda?" Mumma asked, her brow furrowed with a mother's natural worry. "Sab theek toh hai na? Any complications?"

I walked over and squeezed Mumma’s hand. "Everything is fine, Mumma. Bas precautions le rahi hoon. She’s in her third trimester now, and the commute to my hospital is on the way to her place anyway. I want to check her vitals and make sure she’s eating her iron-rich breakfast before I start my shift."

Papa nodded approvingly, standing up straight. "That’s my girl. Ek doctor ka farz ghar se hi shuru hota hai. It’s good that you’re looking after her."

I turned my gaze back to Arpit, pointing a finger at his half-empty protein shake. "And since I’ll be leaving early, Arpit, zimmedari teri hai. You will make sure Papa doesn't sneak any extra sugar in his tea, and you’ll help Mumma with the heavy lifting. And college on time no bunk. Samjhe?"

Arpit gave a mock salute, though his eyes showed he was actually proud of me. "Yes, Boss. Di ki chinta mat kar, main yahan sab sambhal lunga. You go take care of our future nephew or niece."

I grabbed my stethoscope and my bag, checking my watch. 6:15 AM. Perfect timing.

"Theek hai, main nikal rahi hoon," I called out, heading toward the door. "Tanuja Di probably thinks she can skip her morning walk today, but she’s forgotten her sister is the one in charge of her chart! Doctor Veda is on the way!"

As I stepped out into the crisp morning air, I felt a familiar rush of energy. Between managing my chaotic family and keeping an eye on my sister's pregnancy, my life was a whirlwind—but I wouldn't have it any other way.

I pulled my car into the driveway of the little bungalow where Tanuja Di and Tushar Jiju lived. The morning air was crisp, but my heart was doing a happy dance.

The situation wasn't always easy. Because Di and Tushar Jiju had a love marriage, Jiju’s family had essentially washed their hands of them. They lived alone, creating their own little world. But as far as I was concerned, they weren't alone—they had the Devang squad. Especially me.

The moment I stepped onto the porch, I dropped the "Dr. Veda" persona. No white coat, no clinical jargon. Today, I was just the over-excited, slightly bossy Aunt-to-be.

I didn't even knock; I had my own set of keys. "Surprise! Ghar ki malkin kahan hai? Where is the world’s prettiest pregnant lady?" I shouted as I stepped into the living room.

Tushar Jiju was in the kitchen, probably trying to navigate the mystery of making a healthy breakfast. He looked up, his face lighting up with that big-brother grin he always had for me. To me, Tushar wasn't just a brother-in-law; he was the elder brother I hadn't been born with.

"Veda! Tu itni subah? Don't tell me you’ve come to take my blood pressure again," Tushar joked, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel.

"Shut up, Jiju! Aaj se no doctor talk, okay? I’m strictly here as the baby’s favorite Masi," I laughed, giving him a quick side-hug. "How is she? Is she still sleeping?"

"She’s in the veranda," Tushar whispered, leaning in. "Subah se mood swings chal rahe hain. She wants parathas but she’s worried about her diet. Tu hi sambhal le."

I marched out to the veranda and found Tanuja Di sitting in a rocking chair, looking like a glowing, slightly grumpy angel. Her seven-month bump was prominent now, and she looked beautiful, even with her messy morning bun.

"Di! Meri jaan! How is my little champion doing today?" I knelt beside her, reaching out to gently touch her belly.

Tanuja Di smiled, but she sighed dramatically. "Veda, * thank God you came* Tushar is trying to feed me oats again. I can’t look at another bowl of oats, I swear."

I laughed, looking back at Tushar who was standing in the doorway with a 'help me' expression. "Don't worry, Di. Masi is here. Jiju, forget the oats. Let’s make her some light, stuffed parathas with less oil. Itna toh chalta hai."

Tushar gave a thumbs-up. "Anything for the commander! Jo tum kaho, vahi hoga."

As Tushar went back to the kitchen, I rested my head near Di’s lap. For a second, the humor faded, replaced by pure warmth. I knew how hard it was for them, living without his parents' support during such a big milestone.

"Are you okay, Di?" I asked softly. "Sacchi batana."

Tanuja Di stroked my hair, her eyes softening. "I am now. Jab tu aa jati hai, lagta hai sab handle ho jayega. I was feeling a bit lonely this morning, thinking about... you know, the family situation. But then I hear your voice, and everything feels normal."

I squeezed her hand. "Family is who shows up, Di. And we are showing up every single day. Main hoon, Mummy-Papa hain, Arpit hai. This baby is going to be the most spoiled kid in the universe."

"I know," she whispered, her eyes shining. "Isiliye toh tujhe Masi banaya hai."

"Actually," I teased, sitting up and poking her bump. "I think the baby just kicked. He’s clearly agreeing with me! Chalo, let’s go help Jiju before he accidentally burns the kitchen down."

The breakfast at Di and Jiju’s place was exactly what I needed—full of laughter, slightly burnt parathas, and enough "Masi-to-be" excitement to power me through a double shift. But as I waved goodbye and climbed into my car, the switch flipped. The playful sister stayed behind, and the dedicated doctor took the wheel.

The drive to the hospital was my time to mentalize the day. By the time I pulled into my reserved spot, I was ready.

I didn't go straight to my cabin. My feet automatically led me toward the Pediatric Ward first. This was my favorite and most heartbreaking part of the day.

"Good morning, everyone! Kaise hain mere chhote champions?" I announced as I walked through the bright, butterfly-decorated doors.

A little boy named Sonu, sitting up in bed with a bandage on his arm, beamed at me. "Doctor Didi! Aaj aapne blue pehna hai? My favorite color!"

I walked over and gave him a high-five. "Specially for you, Sonu! Ab jaldi se dawai khatam karo, phir hum match khelenge, okay?"

I spent twenty minutes moving from bed to bed, checking charts but mostly checking smiles. To me, medicine was 50% science and 50% making sure these kids didn't feel scared of the white coat.

Next was the Geriatric Ward. Here, the pace was slower, and the stories were longer.

"Namaste, Dadiji! Aaj dard kaisa hai?" I asked, leaning over Mrs. Sharma’s bed. She had been recovering from a hip surgery and was notoriously stubborn about her physiotherapy.

She patted my cheek with a withered hand. "Veda bitiya, seeing your face is better than any painkiller. Bas ye exercise thoda kam karwa do."

I chuckled, gently adjusting her pillow. "No shortcuts, Dadiji! Aapko apne poton ke saath park jaana hai na? So, no excuses. I’ll check in on you again before I leave."

As I walked down the main corridor toward my office, I felt like a host at a big family reunion. I didn't believe in "doctor-staff" hierarchies.

"Good morning, Sister Mary! Bachon ne kal raat zyada tang toh nahi kiya?" I asked a passing nurse.

"No, Doctor Veda, all quiet! Aapki vajah se sab discipline mein rehte hain," she joked, adjusting her cap.

"Coffee break saath mein karenge!" I called out over my shoulder, waving to the ward boys and the reception staff. Every "Good morning, Ma'am" I received was met with a "Good morning, kaise ho?" and a genuine smile.

Finally, I reached my cabin. The door had my nameplate: Dr. Veda Devang. I stepped inside, the cool air-conditioning a sharp contrast to the humid morning outside. I sank into my chair for just a moment of peace before the appointments started.

I looked at the small framed photo on my desk—Mumma, Papa, Arpit, Tanuja Di, and Tushar Jiju. My two worlds. One was waiting for a new life to arrive, and the other was here, trusting me to save theirs.

"Chalo, Veda. Kaam shuru karte hain," I whispered to myself, pulling the first file toward me.

Just then, there was a soft knock on the door. It was my assistant, Meera, with a steaming cup of tea.

"Doctor, aapka schedule ready hai. First patient is waiting," Meera said.

"Send them in, Meera. Aur suno, did you have breakfast? Nahi toh canteen se kuch mangwa lo, pehle khud ka dhyan rakho."

She smiled, used to my motherly streak. "Yes, Ma'am. Kha liya."

I took a sip of the tea, felt the warmth hit my throat, and straightened my stethoscope. The "General" was back in command.

Author's pov:

The heavy mahogany door to Dr. Veda’s cabin swung open, and in walked a man who seemed to carry the weight of an empire on his shoulders. Prithvi Rathore, aged seventy-nine, moved with a silver-topped cane and an expression that suggested he was perpetually unimpressed by the world.

He was followed by a silent, sharp-suited assistant who looked like he was bracing for an explosion. Veda, however, didn't look up immediately. She was finishing a note in another file, her professional focus absolute.

"I was told the appointment was for 9:00 AM," Prithvi barked, his voice like gravel grinding together. "It is currently 9:03. Waqt ki keemat samajhte hain aap log ya nahi?"

Veda finally looked up, her expression calm and unruffled. She didn't see the grandfather of Abhiraj Rathore, the man whose face was on every business magazine in the country. She just saw a patient with a very complicated medical history.

"Good morning, Mr. Rathore," Veda said with a polite, steady smile. "Please, sit. Tees minute ki deri hoti toh gussa banta tha, teen minute toh banti hai. My previous patient was a five-year-old who needed a little extra courage. I’m sure a man of your stature understands."

Prithvi huffed, surprised that this young doctor didn't flinch at his tone. He sat down stiffly. "Don't give me lectures on courage. Bas kaam ki baat karo."

Veda opened his thick file. As her eyes scanned the pages, her playful demeanor vanished, replaced by the sharp, analytical mind of a specialist.

Patient Name: Prithvi Rathore

Age: 79

History: Chronic Hypertension, Type 2 Diabetes, Mild Cardiac Arrhythmia, and a stubborn refusal to follow post-surgical dietary restrictions.

"I’ve been reading your history, Mr. Rathore," Veda said, her voice dropping into a serious, authoritative tone. "You have several systemic issues that aren't playing well together. Your heart is working overtime because your sugar levels are dancing a Bollywood number they weren't invited to. Yeh mazaak nahi hai. At seventy-nine, your body is a vintage car; you can't put cheap fuel in it and expect it to win a race."

Prithvi stared at her. Usually, doctors hovered over him, terrified of his grandson’s influence. But Veda was looking at him like a naughty schoolboy who had been caught stealing jam.

"Vintage car, huh?" Prithvi suddenly let out a dry, raspy chuckle. The frost in the room melted instantly. "Chalo, kam se kam kisine toh sacchi baat kahi. My grandson, Abhiraj... he treats me like a glass doll. Har waqt 'Dadu yeh mat khao, Dadu woh mat karo.' It’s exhausting!"

Veda leaned back, sensing the shift. "He does it because he loves you. But I’m your doctor, not your grandson. Mera kaam aapko dulaar karna nahi, aapko thik rakhna hai."

Prithvi leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Tell me, Doctor... if I follow this boring diet of yours, can I at least have one Kaju Katli on Sundays? Just one? Ek toh banti hai na?"

Veda laughed, the sound bright and infectious. "Only if your blood reports look like a straight-A student's report card. Deal?"

"Deal!" Prithvi tapped his cane on the floor. "I like you, Dr. Veda. You have more backbone than the last five specialists I saw. Tumhare saath thoda waqt bitana padega."

As Veda began writing out his new prescription, she had no idea that this "funny old man" was the patriarch of the wealthiest family in the state. To her, he was just a stubborn grandfather who needed to stay healthy for his family.

"I’ll see you next Tuesday for the tests," Veda said, handing him the slip. "Aur yaad rahe, no cheating on the sugar."

"Yes, General!" Prithvi teased, standing up with a newfound energy. As he walked toward the door, he turned back. "By the way, my grandson thinks he’s the boss of everything. Par lagta hai usse tumse milna chahiye. He needs someone to put him in his place too!"

Veda just waved him off with a smile. "One Rathore at a time is enough for me, Mr. Rathore. Ab jaiye, walk pe jana hai aapko!"

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