Feeling deeply grateful to be named Instructor of the Year. My trainees bring energy, perspective, and creativity that inspire me daily. They remind me of why I chose medicine in the first place—not as a fixed body of knowledge but as a lifelong practice of learning, service, and humility.

In many ways, my parents’ photographs have shaped my writing. They remind me that stories live at the intersection of image and memory, of what’s visible and what’s retold. And just like in the clinic, where both data and lived experience matter, the photographs we keep—whether in albums or in words—help us understand who we are, and where we belong.

From kids’ birthday afternoons with chafing dishes and laughter to adult evenings of themed food, wine, and warm conversations—our home gatherings are about safe spaces, joy, and memories that linger long after the last guest leaves.

I am a Man U wife. I plan weekend brunches around fixtures, keep a stash of tea for extra time, and have learned the delicate art of post-loss triage. More importantly, I’ve come to admire the faith it takes to love a club across eras—the belief that form is temporary, class is permanent, and that somewhere, deep into stoppage time, there’s always a chance for one more goal. In our marriage and in our football, hope is the tactic. And on most days, that’s enough to keep us singing.

If you ever want to know what inspires a writer, look at their bookshelf. My own proverbial shelves are a riot of color, language, and history—hundreds of books collected over the years, each one a branch in the sprawling banyan tree of my imagination. I couldn’t possibly list all my favorite authors, but there’s a special place in my heart for those with Asian roots, whose stories have shaped the way I see the world and the way I write.

Houseplants make wonderful gifts and bring a calming touch of green to any space. I’ve learned a lot from my plant care mistakes—double pots, the right sunlight, and a little patience go a long way. The health benefits and soothing effect on the eyes make this totally worth it…Bring nature indoors!

The ancient Egyptian “Weighing of the Heart” ritual has always fascinated me—your heart on one side of the scale, the feather of Ma’at on the other, and the gods watching to see if you’re worthy. In many ways, putting your work out into the world—whether it’s a book, a podcast, or any creative project—feels just as vulnerable. You pour your heart in, not knowing if it will soar or sink, if you’ll be celebrated or forgotten. The fear of the unknown is real, but so is the courage it takes to try. Here’s to everyone who dares to step up to the scales, hoping their heart is light enough to fly.

At its heart, Lego is about more than just construction—it’s about connection. It’s the laughter shared over a toppled tower, the pride in a finished model, and the memories built one brick at a time. In a world that often feels fast-paced and digital, Lego offers a chance to slow down, create, and play—together. Every masterpiece starts with a single brick, and the only limit is your imagination.

Sometimes, you just have to make a decision and trust that the rewards will follow. Looking back, I’m grateful I didn’t let the obstacles stop me when flight cancellations threatened to derail my plans to visit my Alma Mater at University at Buffalo. The weekend was a beautiful blend of celebration, connection, and reflection—a reminder that the journey is just as important as the destination, and that the fruits of our choices often come in the form of special moments shared with those we love.

Every weekday morning, I slip into the driver’s seat and close the door, feeling the gentle hush that comes with the start of my commute. It’s a short drive, but in the midst of a life that’s always in motion—balancing a demanding medical career, two lively children, and the endless cycle of home routines—these minutes in the car have become a cherished pocket of time, just for me.

Each card is a small celebration of our family’s creativity and a reminder that the most meaningful gifts are often the ones made by hand, with love—and a little bit of glitter.

Lancaster, with its rolling fields and welcoming spirit, became the perfect backdrop for a weekend that was all about family, shared stories, and simple joys.

After eight years of marriage, two children, and a global pandemic, I finally visited my husband’s hometown—Calcutta in West Bengal. Until then, my knowledge of the state was limited to stories, family anecdotes, and, embarrassingly, a stack of library books I checked out before our trip. My husband laughed at my enthusiasm—“Who needs a travel guide for their own hometown?”—but I was determined to see Bengal with fresh eyes.

When I reflect on the women in my family, I see a living tapestry woven from hardiness, grit, culture, and humility—qualities that have quietly shaped three generations of Bansal women.

Spring has a way of nudging us to open the windows, shake off the dust, and take a closer look at the spaces we live in. For many, spring cleaning isn’t just about scrubbing floors or rearranging shelves—it’s about hitting the reset button. In a way, it’s a lot like giving your body a detox: clearing out what’s no longer serving you, making room for what matters, and setting yourself up for a healthier, lighter season ahead.

Since 2022, I've had the privilege of volunteering with Remote Area Medical (RAM) at their eye clinics across rural Virginia. From the rolling hills of Fisherville to the quaint towns of Emporia, Luray, and Cumberland, these experiences have been incredibly rewarding.

Spring break in Panama was nothing short of magical. Traveling with family, we embarked on an unforgettable journey that blended modern marvels with historic charm, all while basking in the vibrant culture and natural beauty of this Central American gem.

Gardening is more than just a hobby; it’s a journey of nurturing life, connecting with nature, and creating cherished memories. For me, it’s a partnership with Mother Nature, where she lends her quiet guidance as I dig, plant, and grow.

My interest in gardening has been shaped by reading blogs, exploring websites, and learning from family and friends who have cultivated their own backyard patches and vegetable gardens. There’s something magical about the process—imagining plump tomatoes, crisp cucumbers, and fragrant herbs as you plant seeds in the soil. The aroma of scallions and the sight of tiny green shoots breaking through the earth bring a sense of accomplishment and joy.

Holi, the festival of colors, is a celebration of joy, togetherness, and the arrival of spring. Traditionally celebrated in India, Holi has found its way into backyards across North America, where families recreate the vibrant festivities on a smaller scale.

As an author and an ophthalmologist, I often find myself reflecting on the parallels between these two seemingly different worlds. At their core, both professions are about vision—whether it’s the literal vision of a patient or the imaginative vision of an author crafting a story.