an itinerant observer

It wasn’t an ordinary day at work. I’d been called into the proverbial ‘supervisor’s office’ for a discussion about my recent projects. Fair enough, I thought. I’ve led programs in emergency medicine, innovation, wellness, and research. But no. This wasn’t about any of that. Seated across from me were two senior colleagues, firmly rooted in the traditions of academic medicine; faces tight, as if I'd ‘Zalsa’ed’ over a patient chart. Yes, you read that right. Not a research misstep, not an issue with departmental operations - dancing. Specifically, the Zalsa sessions I lead, share about, and - horror of horrors - post on social media. “It’s unbecoming of someone of your stature,” one said, with a look so grave you’d think I had performed a Zalsa routine on the hospital helipad. The other nodded sagely, as if this intervention might save me from further professional disgrace. For a moment, I wondered if I was in a workplace sitcom. Was this an episode of The Office: Acade...

Back in 2020, while COVID-19 was peaking during its first wave, as a front-line emergency physician I was frustrated. It was not just my hectic work routine in one of the busiest emergency departments of the megapolis   of Karachi to blame. The unavailability of my gymming routine because of the pandemic-mediated lockdown was adding to my woes. To keep sane, I, therefore, settled into a nice daily home-based exercise routine: 2.5 km of outdoor running followed by 15 minutes of indoor creative movement (aka Zumba-like dancing, to be precise). The fact that I went overboard with my routine and ended up fracturing my right ankle is a story for another day .  After I had reflected enough on my intra-pandemic/post-fracture predicament and my ankle (with a metal screw inside) had healed enough, I resumed my home-based Zumba routine. But this time I added Salsa steps to it so I could make it a high-intensity/low-intensity workout. Although I became quite happy with my workout, I ...