Goodbye, My Hatchlings! — A Thousand Days, Eleven Doctors, and a Teacher's Farewell
Goodbye, My Hatchlings!
My dear eleven,
So, here we are.
A thousand days ago, eleven young doctors walked into our department. Today, eleven paediatricians are preparing to walk out.
You came here to learn how children grow. Perhaps you never realised that, while you were watching those children grow, I was watching you grow too.
You learned to recognise the first breath of a newborn, the first cry, the first smile, the first steps. You saw children who achieved their milestones beautifully, and others who struggled to reach them. You saw tiny babies fighting for life, frightened parents waiting outside our ICUs, and families holding on to the smallest possibility of hope.
You learned that medicine does not always offer a cure. But it must never run short of care, compassion or hope.
Over these three years, our department has cared for thousands of critically ill children and lakhs of outpatient visits. Behind those enormous numbers were individual children, each with a life, a family and a future.
And you were part of their stories.
I call you my NICU Batch for a reason.
When you arrived, we were beginning our NICU and our fourth paediatric unit. You have watched them grow, just as I have watched you grow.
You saw us rebuild and strengthen our NICU and PICU. You stood beside me through epidemics, emergencies, difficult nights and extraordinary recoveries. You saw how we mobilised donations worth more than a crore of rupees for equipment, and even found ways to secure the smallest consumables when resources were scarce.
You watched us take child-health programmes into communities, engage with the public and the media, undertake research that reached international journals, including The Lancet, and create digital applications to make healthcare and learning more accessible.
And now, as I move towards building our new Mother and Child Health Block, you are leaving to build something of your own.
Why am I telling you all this?
Certainly not to remind you of my achievements.
You have seen that institutions need not remain as we inherit them. They can be rebuilt. Systems can be improved. Resources can be found. Ideas can become realities.
Not because someone has extraordinary powers, but because someone refuses to give up on a cause worth pursuing.
When honesty becomes your foundation, sincerity your habit, dedication your discipline and compassion your purpose, even seemingly impossible things begin to move.
I hope that is one of the most important lessons you take away from me.
Not merely how to diagnose a disease or manage a ventilator.
But how to pursue a worthy cause relentlessly, even when the circumstances are against you.
You have spent these thousand days studying the beginning of human life. What a privilege that is!
We are among the few people who can welcome a human being into this world, witness those fragile first moments, protect that little life and help it find the strength to grow.
And sometimes, despite everything we do, we lose a child.
Those moments must teach us humility, not helplessness.
Never allow your knowledge to become arrogance. Never allow repeated suffering to make you indifferent. And never let the pressures of the profession take away your curiosity about life.
Become leaders.
Not necessarily leaders with titles or positions.
Become people who can recognise a problem, take responsibility, inspire others and change something for the better.
Somewhere in the future, thousands of children whom I may never meet will live healthier lives because of what you do.
That is the real continuation of my work.
And now, there is something else I want to tell you.
In the film Dear Zindagi, there is a beautiful moment when the teacher knows that his student has found the courage to navigate her own life.
He does not hold her back.
He knows his work is done.
Today, I feel something similar.
For three years, you came to me with questions, doubts, difficult cases and sometimes fears.
Now I want you to discover your own answers.
You will make decisions. Some will be right. Some will be wrong. You will face situations where textbooks offer no easy answers.
Do not be afraid.
Have the courage to question, the humility to learn, and the integrity to face the truth, even when it is uncomfortable.
And remember, the most important thing I can give you is not the knowledge I possess.
I do not want eleven copies of myself.
I want eleven independent minds, eleven compassionate hearts and eleven courageous paediatricians who will go farther than I ever could.
So, my dear hatchlings,
The nest has served its purpose.
Your wings are strong now.
I do not need to hold you anymore.
Explore places I have never seen. Build institutions I could only imagine. Save children I will never know. And when you discover something better than what I taught you, embrace it without hesitation.
That will be your greatest gift to me.
And should life ever become difficult, should you need advice, reassurance or simply someone who understands, you know where to find me.
Even when I am not physically beside you, perhaps somewhere in your thoughts, in a difficult clinical decision, in an act of compassion, or in the courage to do what is right, a little of what we shared here will remain.
I hope you will rarely need to look back for help.
Because I hope you will have learned to fly so well.
Today, I am not sad that you are leaving.
I am happy that you are ready.
A thousand days ago, you came to me to learn how children grow.
Today, I have the privilege of watching my own children spread their wings.
Goodbye, my hatchlings.
The sky is yours now.
I love you all.
God bless you.
Professor & Head, Department of Paediatrics
Andhra Medical College & King George Hospital
Visakhapatnam
5 November 2026
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