Many years in public life have taught me that wisdom often arrives unexpectedly. Sometimes it comes from economists, diplomats or philosophers. And sometimes, it comes from a doctor who has spent a lifetime standing between life and death.
Recently, I had the privilege of meeting one of India’s most distinguished cardiologist, a man who spent decades at AIIMS caring for patients from every conceivable background. During our conversation, he shared a simple observation that made a very strong impact on me.
He said that after thousands of patients and countless years in medicine, he had come to believe that there exists an invisible guiding principle in human life–namely that the combined total of human intervention and divine intervention is a constant.
His words were not offered as theology, nor as science. They were simply the distilled reflection of someone who had witnessed medicine at its very best and its most humbling. More importantly, this was not stated as words of wisdom but merely as a statement of his experience.
He explained it with remarkable simplicity. A poor villager from a remote corner of Bihar comes to Delhi for medical treatment. He may be late in seeking medical intervention, he most certainly has come with limited resources, he has had fewer investigations than a wealthy patient. The human intervention available to him may be less than ideal. Yet, against all expectations, he survives, recovers and returns home. It is as though something beyond medicine had quietly filled the gap.
At the other end of the spectrum is the influential patient. Every specialist is consulted. Every diagnostic tool is available. The finest hospitals, the latest drugs and the best technology are deployed. Human intervention reaches optimum levels. Yet, occasionally, despite every conceivable effort, life follows its own mysterious script.
The doctor smiled and said, “It is almost as if the sum total of human and divine intervention remains constant.” Whether one believes in God, destiny, providence or simply the astonishing resilience of the human body is a matter of personal faith. But it is difficult to dismiss the intuition behind his observation.
The greatest physicians know that they cure often, but comfort always. They also know that certainty is a luxury medicine rarely enjoys. Every experienced clinician has stories of patients who should not have survived but did, and others who seemed destined to recover but did not. Perhaps this is why the finest doctors are usually the most humble.
The philosopher Blaise Pascal once observed that “the heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of.” Medicine, despite all its precision, still encounters those reasons every day. This thought, though, extends far beyond medicines and hospitals.
How often have we seen two students with similar talent travel completely different paths? Two entrepreneurs with identical ideas meet opposite destinies. Two athletes train with equal dedication, yet only one reaches the podium. We instinctively search for explanations –luck, timing, opportunity, resilience–but perhaps life has always contained variables too subtle to quantify.
Ancient Indian thought has long recognised this mystery. Our traditions and scriptures have encouraged effort without guaranteeing outcomes. The Bhagavad Gita asks us to focus on action while relinquishing attachment to results. It is an extraordinary psychological insight. We control our effort; we never completely control the outcome.
Modern society, however, often tries to persuade us otherwise. We have developed an almost complete faith in planning, data and technology. They have undoubtedly transformed human life for the better. Diseases once considered fatal are now routinely treated. Life expectancy has increased dramatically. Artificial Intelligence promises even more remarkable advances in the future.
Yet every breakthrough also reminds us of the limits of our knowledge. The Covid pandemic offered perhaps the greatest lesson in collective humility.
The world’s finest scientists worked with unprecedented speed and extraordinary vaccines were developed. Millions of lives were saved. Yet every family can recall stories that defied prediction – people who recovered against overwhelming odds and others whose loss seemed impossible to comprehend.
Science and humility proved not to be opponents but companions. Perhaps that was the deeper lesson that this doctor was sharing. Recognising the limits of human control does not diminish the value of human effort. On the contrary, it elevates it. We must strive to provide every patient with the best possible care, every child with the best possible education and every citizen with the best possible opportunities. Human intervention remains a collective moral responsibility.
But when we have done everything within our power, perhaps we should also cultivate humility and learn to accept what remains beyond both our control and our understanding. That humility makes us kinder in success and gentler in failure. It can replace triumphalism with gratitude and despair with hope.
I do not know whether what this remarkable doctor shared me can ever be proved. I suspect it cannot. But, some truths belong not to laboratories but to lived experiences. In a world increasingly convinced that everything can be measured, predicted and controlled, perhaps the greatest wisdom is to remember that there will always remain a small, immeasurable constant.
Some may call it providence; others may simply call it life; but no matter what we call it, it should only inspire us to do our utmost, knowing that while outcomes may not always be ours to command, giving our very best always is.
(The views expressed are personal)
This article is authored by Shishir Priyadarshi, former director, WTO, and president, Chintan Research Foundation, New Delhi.
