

The night had finally loosened its grip on the sky. The cool air on the Healing Deck of "No Prescription Point: smelled of tulsi leaves and earth washed by dew. Subramanyam sat on the old teak bench, wrapped in a soft, handwoven shawl. The sounds of early morning, distant temple bells, and the occasional chirp of a sleepy bird were like whispers reminding him that life still moved, even when his own had paused on the edge.
It was the first morning in months he had woken without an alarm. No frantic beeping of a smartphone on the nightstand of his penthouse suite. No calendar alerts screaming for attention. No CEO calls slicing into his half-sleep. Just this… silence. A silence so complete that it made him aware of his own breathing, slow, uneven, but real.
He stared at the horizon as the first beam of sunlight broke free, like molten gold. Something humbling about it was how the day returned without asking permission, without hurrying, or missing a beat.
“Do you know what your body is doing right now?” The voice came from behind, calm yet commanding, like a teacher asking a question to which he already knew the answer.
Subramanyam turned. Dr. Biswajit stood there, dressed in a simple white kurta-pajama, holding two mugs steaming like little clouds. The scent reached Subramanyam: lemongrass and something citrusy. Herbal tea. Another reminder he was far from the world of espresso shots and corporate chaos.
Subramanyam shrugged, pulling the shawl tighter. “Breathing? Trying to survive another day?”
The doctor smiled, walking closer. “Yes. And something far more profound. Your cells are reading the morning light.”
Subramanyam frowned. “Cells? Reading light? You make it sound like they have eyes.”
“In a way,” the doctor said, handing him the tea. “They don’t have eyes, Subramanyam. They have clocks.”
Subramanyam took a sip, the warmth spreading through his chilled fingers. “Clocks?" Inside my body?”
“Not one clock,” the doctor replied, lowering himself onto the bench beside Subramanyam. “Billions. Every cell in your body is keeping time. They’re adjusting, synchronizing, and tuning themselves for the day ahead. You, Subramanyam, are an orchestra. And the conductor is the sun.”
The words hung in the air like mist. Subramanyam stared at the rising sun, then at the doctor. “An orchestra,” he repeated slowly, almost tasting the metaphor. “If I’m an orchestra, Doc, I must have been playing out of tune for years.”
The doctor’s eyes softened. “Yes,” he said quietly. “And that, Subramanyam, is what brought you here.”
Subramanyam looked away, gripping the warm mug tightly. He didn’t want to go there, not yet. The memories of those sterile hospital rooms, the hushed conversations outside his door, the pity in his wife’s eyes, the panic on his board members’ faces… it was too raw.
“Forget the past for a moment,” the doctor continued, sensing his resistance. “Let’s talk about now. Do you know why this sunrise matters to your healing more than any drug you’ve ever taken?”
Subramanyam smirked. “I’m guessing you’re about to tell me.”
“Yes,” the doctor said. “Because right now, as the sun rises, your body is resetting itself. Light hits the back of your eyes, sending a signal to a tiny part of your brain—the suprachiasmatic nucleus. That’s your master clock. From there, the signal travels through your body, telling your cells, Wake up. Produce cortisol. Get ready for energy. Prepare for repair. Every system—your heart, your liver, your gut—takes its cue from this clock.”
Subramanyam blinked. “And what happens if the clock breaks?”
The doctor’s tone turned grave. “When the clock breaks, chaos begins. And chaos, Subramanyam, is the seed of disease.”
Subramanyam felt a strange shiver run through him, unrelated to the morning chill. He thought of the nights he had stayed up drafting billion-dollar deals at 3 a.m., the midnight whiskey, the skipped breakfasts, and the board meetings where he barely noticed the sun setting outside skyscraper windows. He had conquered markets but lost… something. Something invisible. Something essential.
“Doc,” he said, his voice quieter now, “are you saying my cancer started with… time?”
The doctor looked at him, eyes deep and unwavering. “I’m saying this: When you fell out of sync with the rhythms of life, your body fell out of sync with health. Circadian biology isn’t just science, Subramanyam. It’s survival.”
Dr. Biswajit begins to peel back the layers of this hidden science: the clocks that rule life, health, and healing…. To be continued
Next Part II tomorrow: The Science of Inner Clocks: Deep Dive with History and the Research That Brought the Nobel Prize and How It Works.....
Dr Biswajit Mohapatra, MS, FMAS
Senior Surgeon, Chairman GSHER