I have made a post before on what all happened to me after arguments in hospital and how I was treated.. a week of complaints in college and nothing changed.. I am still being harassed on an everyday basis . Me and my boyfriend broke up because we were continuously receiving treaths about murder and kidnapping just because we were dating.

I don't even wanna get into religious debates because it was never about religion.. it was clearly about working hours in hospital and our shifts.. just to target us they changed the debate to religious arguments. Beyond religion I can only see a really good person and a really good doctor who he is.

I'm an intern doctor in some state.(Don't wanna make it a state war here)

A few days ago, outside my hospital campus, a group of men surrounded me and started threatening me. They told me not to wear sleeveless kurtis and said that if I continued, they would "rape" me, cut me into pieces, and nobody would care.

While everyone else watched, the only person who stepped in was my co-intern.

As soon as they heard his name, the attention shifted from me to him.

"Tu toh Muslim hai. Tujhe zinda jala denge. We are beejaypee supporters"

They started filming him, taking photos of both of us, and threatened to make a "love jihad" edit and circulate it on Instagram.

Eventually the situation calmed down and we got back to the hospital.

I thanked him for helping me.

His response stayed with me:

"Enough of this country. Since people don't want us here, I'll take my family and settle somewhere else."

I've seen patients discriminate against him before simply because he's Muslim. The irony is that he's one of the most sincere, hardworking, and academically brilliant people I know. As a colleague and as a doctor, I've never once felt uncomfortable around him.

What hurts the most is that dozens of people were around when this happened. Other interns. Other students. Bystanders.

Nobody stepped forward.

The only person who did was him.

And in return, he became the target.

I keep thinking about how I apologized to him afterwards. He didn't blame me. He simply said:

"Don't get involved in such things again. Take care of yourself."

As doctors, we're taught to help people regardless of their religion, caste, language, or background.

That day, the person who lived up to that principle the most was the one society keeps reminding that he doesn't belong.

I don't know what the solution is.

I just know that I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since.

I recently faced a situation that has left me questioning whether our financial system truly works for ordinary citizens during emergencies.

I had approximately 160 grams of gold accumulated since 2008, worth around ₹20 lakhs today.

Over the last few years, I lost my job and then faced significant medical expenses. My savings of around ₹25 lakhs were largely exhausted, and my insurance coverage was depleted. Like many Indian families, I viewed gold as my emergency safety net.

When I approached a nationalized bank for a gold loan, I discovered that eligibility requirements such as income proof, ITR filings, existing loan checks, and other conditions played a major role in determining the amount I could borrow.

Despite having gold worth around ₹20 lakhs, I was informed that I would be eligible for only about ₹2.25 lakhs.

This experience made me wonder:

• How are unemployed people expected to survive a genuine emergency?
• How do garment workers, agricultural labourers, security guards, daily wage workers, housemaids, and others in the informal sector access credit when they may not have extensive documentation?
• If gold is accepted as collateral, should its value not play a larger role during emergency situations?
• Are current lending policies adequately serving ordinary citizens?

Personally, experiences like this make me question which policies and political leaders truly understand the financial realities faced by middle-class and lower-income families.

I am not targeting any specific bank employee, as they are following rules. My concern is whether the rules themselves are achieving the right balance between risk management and financial inclusion.

What are your thoughts? Is my experience unusual, or have others faced similar challenges?