The Scientist's Corner

Tag: love

  • Going Through Grief: The Loss of a Parent

    In this picture, I am 21 years of age – and in my first semester of Master’s. As you can clearly see, it is from Undergrad graduation day. The man on my left… is my father. He passed away on the 10th of December 2025 after a prolonged illness that lasted for 3 months. My lack of updates was because I was spending whatever time I could with him in the hospital… while anticipating grief. The doctors had told us in October – “Prepare yourselves”. Knowing that it will happen and it happening? Both are completely different beasts.
    As an only child, I did not have a favorite parent. The psychology of only children who are brought up in a loving environment… is different. There are some things you share with your Dad. And some things that you share with your Mom. And both nurture a different part within you to make who you become.
    It is not an exaggeration for me to say that I am who I am because of the two people who gave me life. I grew up seeing my Mom and Dad read. I saw my Mom dance to tunes in the kitchen. I saw my Dad laugh to British comedies. I saw my Mom paint landscapes on canvas. Neither asked me to be like them… but I did absorb some of their traits. And brought in my own – to become Srividya Bhagavatula.
    Loss of a parent in your twenties… is weird. You are at a stage where you are not dependent, but you still need their guidance. And right now, half that guidance… is lost. At a crucial stage. As an unmarried daughter, my dad will never see me walk down the aisle. Hell, I have not fallen in love yet… to even make it there.
    He and I shared love for classic movies and books and laughed about them. Now, that is also gone. He inspired me to want to teach… and I always said “Your trainees loved you. I need pointers” Now I will never get those pointers.
    What is left are… memories and laughter… and that pain that I know will always be there… but will only dull with time as I learn to live without his presence.

    I love you, dad… And I will miss you.

  • Step Two: What is it like to truly admit to mistakes and correcting them?

    I wrote a rather long post on introspection two months ago. I am proud to say it has culminated into action. It is not simple. It is hard. And yes, I fumbled, and I still am fumbling – I am writing this post right after I devoured a slice of red velvet cake.

    The fumbling, I noticed has helped me be sane and true to myself. It is like a pitcher of cool and sugary lemonade while I take the arduous path through the desert of discipline, personal training and weekly leg days.

    To admit having made a mistake, especially as an adult, is very difficult. Because it is like taking a gut punch to your ego. You have grown up. Mistakes and rectification should now not be your domain. You are not a child and being told off like you are one – is not nice. Trust me, it is not. While it should be humbling, the experience of being told off because you are not taking care of yourself is humiliating.

    I was 112 kilos when I had written the last post. Now I am a 105. Do not get me wrong, it is something that makes me squeal with excitement. I am thankful to my trainer for listening to me yell at him every time I complained and still say “You can do it”. My glucometer is equally as thankful – My diabetes has gone down to prediabetes. But the road is still rocky and bloody hard. Because at my healthiest? I was 64 kilograms in weight.

    I am not indulging in junk, now (mostly). But I did cheat quite a bit in the beginning. But instead of scolding myself, I reassured myself – It is okay. That positivity helped me. And so did a lot of cooking that I did myself. I am a good cook, no shame in admitting that. And tasting food chain “food” after eating freshly tempered dal with roti? Not fun. The contrast helped me reduce cheating and develop a meaningful relationship with food. I still eat from good bakeries and outlets known for making good food once or twice a week. That makes it feel less mundane and guilt-free. Gives me a break as well.

    The work in the gym? 90 minutes a day, 6 days a week. I only take Sundays off. I need to do this, and I will do it. It is bloody hard. It is painful and I cursed like a longshoreman in the beginning; but I still did it. My muscles felt stiff. I walked like I was C3PO after my first ever leg day. But I put in the work. I was not doing it for aesthetics (though it is a bonus) or hitting on a fellow gym goer, I was and am doing it because my A1C numbers say “Shame on you” to me. I am doing it because now I can jog on the treadmill for 3 minutes straight without huffing and puffing – It makes me feel bloody good. I am doing it because good food makes me go – “Wow!” and I do not want to trade that experience for anything anymore. So today, as I am 7 kilos lighter, I am charting a course to 99 – to double digits first – because smaller and meaningful goals are more attainable and in the long run… I will be happier.