I Place My Dream at the Feet of Lord Jagannath — and Walk On

Sometimes, I Wonder Whether I Belong to This World Anymore

There are evenings when I sit quietly, reflecting on the world around me, and a strange sadness enters my heart.

Everywhere I look, I see people running. Running after money. Running after power. Running after recognition. Running to acquire more, control more, own more.

Businesses are expanding. Profits are multiplying. Buildings are becoming taller. Technology is becoming smarter. And yet, somewhere in this extraordinary race for material success, I fear we are gradually making the human being smaller.

The question that increasingly dominates our relationships, institutions, and professional decisions seems to be: “What is there for me?”

Before offering help, we calculate the return. Before joining a mission, we examine the benefits. Before supporting an idea, we ask how much money, recognition, or influence it will bring. Sometimes, even humanity appears to have acquired a price tag.

I am not against business. I am not against wealth. I understand that institutions need resources, professionals deserve fair compensation, and noble missions cannot survive indefinitely on good intentions alone. But I am deeply troubled when profit stops being a means of sustaining human service and becomes the ultimate purpose of human existence.

When money becomes more important than the person who produces it, something fundamental has gone wrong with civilization.

And when I see this happening in healthcare, the profession to which I have dedicated more than three decades of my life, the sadness becomes deeply personal.

The Surgeon Who Began Questioning the System

For thirty years, my world revolved around patients, operating theatres, emergencies, and the immense responsibility of protecting human life.

I have seen frightened families outside operating theatres. I have held human organs in my hands. I have witnessed the extraordinary resilience of the human body. I have also seen how easily human suffering can become an economic opportunity.

Today, a hospital can be financially successful even while the community around it becomes progressively less healthy. A doctor may receive greater professional recognition for performing more procedures than for preventing someone from ever needing one. An institution may celebrate increasing patient numbers without asking why so many people are falling ill in the first place. And a healthcare system may continue expanding while the simplest knowledge of maintaining health remains beyond the reach of millions.

I repeatedly ask myself: Who will work for the people who are not yet patients?

Who will teach children how to protect their health? Who will teach families to understand their bodies before disease takes control? Who will help young professionals achieve success without sacrificing their sleep, peace, relationships, and biological wellbeing? Who will remind doctors that they, too, are human beings?

These questions gave a deeper purpose to the remaining years of my professional life. They became the foundation of Global Self-Healthcare Education & Research (GSHER).

My Dream Is Big. My Resources Are Small.

I dream of a society where health education becomes as essential as conventional education. Where people understand their bodies, minds, and daily choices. Where doctors do not merely prescribe medicines but also share their knowledge of preventing illness. Where healthcare and disease care coexist, each fulfilling its responsibility.

Where young people do not destroy themselves in the pursuit of success. Where hospitals remain centres of ethical healing, and communities become centres of health education. And where self-healthcare becomes a people's movement rather than another expensive product.

Through GSHER and the CelluReva™ Protocol, I want to bring this knowledge into homes, schools, colleges, workplaces, and communities. Our message is simple: From Self-Care to Cell-Care.

Because meaningful health awareness begins when people understand the living biological systems that sustain them.

CelluReva™ expresses this journey through four movements:

• RESET — Release unnecessary stress, harmful patterns, and the noise that disconnects us from ourselves.
• REVIVE — Nourish the body through food, movement, sleep, relationships, and healthy daily rhythms.
• REPROGRAM — Replace destructive habits and unhelpful responses with healthier, sustainable behaviours.
• RESTORE — Build a lasting culture of wellbeing, meaning, and self-responsibility.

This is not a rejection of medicines or modern medical science. It is an attempt to strengthen prevention, informed participation, and everyday health alongside necessary medical treatment.

But here lies my greatest challenge. I am trying to build a movement around the principle of giving in a world where almost everyone wants to calculate what they will receive.

When I speak of training thousands of Self-Healthcare Educators, I am asked about revenue. When I speak of bringing doctors together to educate society, I am asked about incentives. When I speak of empowering people so that fewer unnecessary medical interventions are required, I am asked about the business model.

These are legitimate questions. A movement must have financial discipline and institutional sustainability. But sometimes I wish someone would first ask: “Doctor, how many human lives could this mission improve, and how can I help you make it happen?”

That one question would mean more to me than a hundred compliments.

Then Comes That Moment of Doubt

I must confess something. I am not always as strong as people imagine. I have moments when I question myself.

When proposals remain unanswered, when good intentions are misunderstood, when people measure everything through commercial benefit, and when the magnitude of my dream appears much larger than my capacity, I sometimes feel overwhelmed.

I wonder whether I have undertaken a mission too large for one lifetime. I wonder whether I am trying to swim against a current too powerful to overcome. I wonder whether the wisdom gathered over thirty years of practising medicine will ever reach the millions who might benefit from it.

And occasionally, a painful question rises from within:

“Biswajit, why are you doing all this? You have worked enough. You could live comfortably, enjoy your remaining years, and leave the world to follow its own course.”

For a brief moment, silence follows. Then something extraordinary happens. Another voice rises from somewhere deeper. A voice that has guided me through difficult years. A voice that does not shout, argue, or demand proof. It simply whispers:

“Do not worry. Continue your work. The universe is conspiring to make your dream come true.”

I cannot scientifically prove that the universe has made such a promise. But I know what this belief does to me. It replaces helplessness with hope. It changes my relationship with uncertainty. It reminds me that I need not control every person, every institution, or every outcome to remain faithful to my purpose. And suddenly, my burden becomes lighter.

At the Feet of Lord Jagannath

This is where my faith becomes my greatest personal strength.

In those quiet moments, I close my eyes and surrender everything at the lotus feet of Lord Jagannath. My ambitions. My disappointments. My unanswered letters. My unrealized plans. My mistakes. My dreams for GSHER. My vision for CelluReva™. And my anxiety about whether I will live long enough to see this movement flourish.

I say to Him, in the language of my heart:

Prabhu, I have not chosen this journey merely to become rich or famous. You have allowed me to learn from thousands of human lives. You have given me knowledge, experience, opportunities, and the ability to communicate. How can I keep these gifts entirely for myself? If this mission has value, guide the right people towards it. Give me the wisdom to recognize them, the humility to learn from them, and the courage to continue when the road appears empty. Let me do my work sincerely. The outcome, Prabhu, I leave at Your feet.

And then I sleep. Not because my problems have disappeared. Not because funding has suddenly arrived. Not because every institution has agreed to support me. But because I have stopped demanding certainty about tomorrow before allowing myself peace today.

My faith does not remove my responsibilities. It removes my obsession with controlling the results.

That distinction has become one of the most beautiful lessons of my life.

Even My Faith Is Teaching Me CelluReva™

As a surgeon and student of human biology, I find a powerful connection between this spiritual surrender and the philosophy behind CelluReva™.

The human body is not designed to remain indefinitely in a state of psychological emergency. Persistent worry and perceived threat can activate physiological stress responses, disturb sleep, and influence mood, attention, and wellbeing. A sense of meaning, supportive relationships, reflection, and personally meaningful spiritual practices may help some people manage stress more effectively.

I see my evening surrender as a deeply personal RESET. When I release the day's frustrations, I give myself permission to rest. When I wake up, nourished by sleep and renewed purpose, I begin to REVIVE. When I remind myself that my responsibility is to serve rather than compete endlessly for recognition, I consciously REPROGRAM my responses. And when I return to my work with patience, discipline, and gratitude, I begin to RESTORE the rhythm of my life.

There is no claim of supernatural biological treatment here. It is simply my lived experience of how meaning, faith, emotional regulation, and self-care can coexist.

Perhaps this is the most important CelluReva™ lesson I am learning from my own journey: I cannot teach the world sustainable health by destroying my own health in the process.

Rest is not a betrayal of my mission. Peace is not an absence of ambition. Surrender is not an abandonment of effort.

My Competition Is Not With Those Who Are Accumulating Wealth

I have gradually stopped measuring my life against those who own bigger businesses, drive more expensive cars, or command greater institutional influence. They have chosen their paths. I have chosen mine.

My race is no longer against them. It is against the limitations of my own yesterday.

Can I become a little wiser today? Can I simplify one more difficult biological concept? Can I inspire one more doctor to look beyond prescriptions? Can I help one more student understand that success need not come at the cost of health? Can I train one more person to become an educator rather than a passive consumer of healthcare? Can I leave behind an institution that continues serving people long after I am gone?

These are the questions that define my success. I do not need to become the richest surgeon in the world.

I would consider my life profoundly successful if the knowledge gained through my years in medicine becomes useful to thousands of people I may never personally meet.

An Appeal to Those Who Still Believe in Humanity

I know I am not alone.

Somewhere, there is a young doctor who entered medicine to serve, but now feels trapped in a system of targets and transactions. Somewhere, there is a retired professor carrying decades of knowledge and wondering whether society still needs it. Somewhere, there is an entrepreneur who has accumulated wealth but now wants to create something that outlives the balance sheet. Somewhere, there is a teacher who believes education should develop human beings, not merely examination scores. Somewhere, there is a student who refuses to believe that success must require self-destruction. And somewhere, there is a person who has very little money but an extraordinary willingness to give.

GSHER is my invitation to all of you.

We need ethical entrepreneurs because noble institutions need sustainable resources. We need doctors because authentic health education requires scientific integrity. We need teachers because knowledge must reach the next generation. We need researchers because every promising idea must be examined, refined, and evaluated. We need volunteers because a social movement cannot be purchased; it must be built through participation.

And above all, we need human beings who are willing to ask a different question. Not merely, “What can I gain?” But also, “What can I contribute?”

I do not expect everyone to abandon their careers, businesses, or financial ambitions. I only ask that we restore a sense of service to the way we define success.

Tomorrow Morning, I Will Begin Again

Tomorrow, I may again encounter unanswered messages, limited resources, indifferent institutions, and the enormous challenges of building a healthcare education movement. My plans may not succeed exactly as I imagine. Some people may misunderstand my intentions. Others may question my optimism. And perhaps the world will continue running after wealth with even greater speed.

But I will continue my journey. I will continue studying the human body. I will continue developing CelluReva™. I will continue building GSHER. I will continue inviting doctors to move beyond prescriptions, educators to move beyond textbooks, and people to move beyond passive dependence towards responsible self-healthcare.

I will continue doing what I believe is worth doing, while remaining willing to question, improve, and correct my methods.

And each night, when the weight of this enormous dream becomes too heavy for my shoulders, I will return it to the feet of Lord Jagannath. Because I have understood something beautiful: I do not have to carry the entire future of my mission in my mind every night. I only have to carry sincerity into my work every morning.

The world may measure success by what it accumulates. I choose to measure mine by what I can leave behind for others.

And if, someday, another generation of doctors, teachers, students, and ordinary citizens carries this movement forward, perhaps my dream will have found its true destination.

Until then, I will work. I will learn. I will give. I will rest. And I will walk on.

With science in my mind, service in my hands, humanity in my heart, and Lord Jagannath in my soul.

Jai Jagannath. 🙏

Dr. Biswajit Mohapatra, MS Senior Consultant Surgeon | Chairman, GSHER | Founder, New Prescription Point CelluReva™ — From Self-Care to Cell-Care https://www.globalselfhealthcare.org

One Cell • One Earth • One Health • One Vision