Yeh Mera Deewanapan Hai🍂🏵️🍂

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In the bustling corridors of the city hospital, a steady stream of patients, nurses, and staff moved with urgency, each focused on their duties.

Amidst the clatter of equipment, murmured conversations, and the occasional blaring intercom, a figure in a sky-blue shirt and black trousers, wearing a pristine white coat, stood out for his calm demeanor.

A stethoscope rested around his neck, a notepad in hand, and his gaze was fixed on his patients as he made his rounds.

Dr. Devam Grewal, the physician known for his gentle approach and sharp diagnostic skills, paused at each bed with an attentive expression.

He bent down to speak softly to a frail elderly woman, offering her a reassuring smile before gently checking her pulse.

He noted her vitals on his notepad, his handwriting precise and efficient, before moving on.

In the next room, he listened intently to the worried account of a young mother about her child's fever.

Dr. Grewal's voice was calm and measured, his words both soothing and informative, guiding the mother with a few clear instructions while dispelling her anxiety.

His genuine empathy was evident in every interaction, and even the patients' families seemed to find comfort in his presence.

As he turned down the hallway toward the next patient's room, the faintest hint of a tired smile crossed his face, only visible to those who knew him well.

Yet, he continued his rounds with unwavering focus.

Dr. Grewal was a healer through and through, dedicated to his patients' wellbeing, fully immersed in the rhythm of hospital life where he had become a respected, steady presence amid the chaos.

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Devam leaned back in his chair in the dim light of his cabin, his desk cluttered with patient files, charts, and a half-empty coffee mug.

Just then, his phone rang, and a smile spread across his face as he saw the caller ID: Mumma.

He picked it up and greeted her warmly, "Hello, Mumma!"

On the other end, Ramya Grewal's familiar voice chided him gently, "Tu ghar kab aayega, Devam? Time dekha hai? 11 bajne aaye."

Devam chuckled softly. "Thoda time aur lagega, Mumma. Aap so jao," he replied, knowing that his mother was well aware of his late hours.

Ramya sighed, her tone softening. "Thik hai, jab aayega toh khaana fridge mein se nikaal kar garam kar lena, thanda mat khaana."

He grinned. "Haan, maate, aap bilkul tension mat lo. Main garam karke hi khaaunga. Aapne khaaya?"

A slight pause, then she replied, "Haan, khaa liya."

"Good girl," he teased, unable to hide the fondness in his voice.

Ramya chuckled on the other end, her laugh warm and familiar. "Now I am an old woman, it's your turn to bring a good girl in the house as my daughter in law."

Devam leaned back, grinning wider. "Well, Mumma, what if I liked a bad girl? Would you still accept her?"

Ramya didn't miss a beat. "Haan, accept kar lungi. Jab tere jaise nalayak ko jhel liya, toh usse bhi jhel lenge jise tu apni biwi banake layega!"

Devam groaned in protest, feigning hurt. "I'm not a nalayak! Doctor hai aapka beta. Thodi toh respect do."

Ramya laughed, her tone full of love. "Hamare yaha toh aisa hi hota hai. Ab chal, jaake kaam kar aur ghar jaldi aana."