Dedication

Malay Kumar Kar Ray (1939–2023)
and Mohan Krishna Goswami (1945–2025)
My coalfield philosophers. My compass and light.

This project is dedicated to the memory of my two Dadu(s) (grandfathers), who spent their entire lives in the service of Coal India, each retiring as Chief General Manager, in 2000 and in 2006. They didn’t just work with coal—they understood it, respected it, and somehow always saw the diamond within. That’s how they saw people, too. Especially me.

They were different in many ways, but alike in all the ones that matter: fiercely intelligent, endlessly curious, unwaveringly kind. And even though neither of them lived to see me wear the white coat, their belief in me has never left. They were my first mentors, my quiet heroes, and in every way, my guiding angels.

My Dad’s Dad, Malay Kumar Kar Ray, was a geologist by profession and an artist in spirit. A photographer, thinker, and lifelong learner, he moved through life with intention and grace. He believed in the beauty of precision—whether in language, in science, or in the way he encouraged us to think bigger, dig deeper, and stay curious. He believed, with quiet certainty, that I was meant to be a doctor. He didn’t live to hear that I’d been accepted—a sorrow I still carry. He passed away on the first day of my Year 12 exams. But his voice still echoes every time I teach a class, solve a case, or take a step forward.

My Mum’s Dad, Mohan Krishna Goswami, was an engineer, but really, he was a builder of people. Even after his official retirement, he kept working, consulting, mentoring, lifting up others with his energy and insight. He battled kidney failure with unshakeable optimism, attending dialysis every other day, yet never complaining. He smiled through everything. And when my brother Mayank and I would visit, it was like the light came back into him. His love for us was healing in itself. His belief in me was quiet but fierce.

Both of them loved detective stories, complex puzzles, and asking “Why?”
Both of them believed in education, in action, in service.
And both of them believed I would be a doctor who makes a difference.

They never saw Medlock Holmes. But I see them in every part of it.

This platform was built in their honour—for those like me who grew up between cultures, between systems, between expectations. For the students who feel a bit in-between, and a bit unsure. For those still learning to belong in medicine—and in their own story.

This is for them.
And for the many lives they continue to shape—through me.

— Mahi Kar Ray