Recognition, Without Noise

A marker, not a milestone

For Dr G V Rao, the Padma Shri stands apart from a career already marked by numerous honours—not because it eclipses them, but because of what it recognises. “What distinguishes this recognition,” says the renowned gastroenterologist and Director of the Asian Institute of Gastroenterology, “is that it acknowledges a journey rather than a moment.” While earlier awards reflected surgical skill, patient outcomes, or professional milestones, this one feels broader. “It reflects a lifetime of intent. I don’t see it as a culmination, but as a marker along a long road that still has many miles to go.”

The source of the honour matters deeply. “When recognition comes from peers or professional bodies, it is deeply gratifying,” he says.

“But when it comes from the nation, it carries a different weight.”

To him, it signals that his work has relevance beyond operating rooms and academic circles—touching lives, systems, and communities at a national level. “That,” he adds, “is deeply touching.” At this stage of his career, his focus has sharpened. He speaks urgently about the silent burden of chronic disease — diabetes, fatty liver disease, cardiovascular illness, obesity, and cancers that often surface too late. “These are not just medical problems,” he says. “They reflect how we live, eat, work, and age.” Recognition, he hopes, creates space to be heard. “It allows conversations around prevention, early detection, and bringing advanced care closer to underserved populations,” he says. What brings him the deepest satisfaction today is purpose. “Medicine is a privilege,” he reflects. “When that privilege is matched with responsibility, humility, and vision, the work remains deeply fulfilling. That’s what drives me every morning.”

The long work of healing

For oncologist Dr Palkonda Vijay Anand Reddy, the Padma Shri did not feel like arrival. It felt like reflection. When the call came, it carried a weight unlike any honour before it — not because it stood above the rest, but because it came from the nation itself. “Every recognition has been encouraging,” says the director & senior consultant oncologist, Apollo Cancer Institute.

“But the Padma Shri is deeply humbling. It does not belong to an institution. It belongs to the country.” He is quick to redirect the moment away from himself. The award, he insists, reflects collective work — of teachers, colleagues, hospital staff, patients, and families who placed their trust in him at their most vulnerable.

In oncology, where endurance often outweighs applause, recognition feels less like celebration and more like affirmation. “It reminds me,” he says, “that service, when done with sincerity, never goes unnoticed.” The honour holds particular meaning because of whom it represents. Through the CURE Foundation, Dr Reddy has worked closely with children and underprivileged families battling cancer with limited means. “This award belongs as much to my patients as it does to me,” he says. “If it draws attention to their struggles and their courage, it has real value.” Now, his focus has narrowed to what matters most—preventing cancer where possible, detecting it early, expanding access to care, and ensuring dignity through compassionate palliative support. “Cancer is not just a medical disease,” he says. “It affects families emotionally, socially, and financially.” Despite decades in medicine, fulfilment remains deeply personal. “Seeing hope return to a patient’s eyes still matters more than any award,” he says. Titles may fade, but the blessings of patients endure. “That,” he adds quietly, “is the greatest reward of being a doctor.”

The call that made three decades pause

For geneticist Dr Kumarasamy Thangaraj, the Padma Shri arrived not as culmination, but as quiet recognition of work long rooted in society. The call made him pause—briefly. “I felt very happy,” he says. “It was a thrill to know that three decades of research had been recognised.” But the moment carried weight beyond personal achievement.

“The work we do,” he adds, “is directly relevant to society. Perhaps that is why it found recognition.” A senior scientist at the Centre for Cellular and Molecular Biology, Dr Thangaraj has spent his career at the intersection of population genetics, medical research, and public health. Early in his work, he tackled one of humanity’s oldest questions—how modern humans migrated out of Africa. Using genetic tools, his team established that the indigenous populations of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands represent the earliest known modern human migration, placing India at the centre of a global scientific narrative. His later work turned toward intervention. India’s thousands of endogamous communities, he explains, can carry population-specific genetic disorders. “If a mutation arises within a community that does not marry outside,” he says, “that disease remains confined.” His research suggests nearly one-third of Indian populations may face such risks. The response, he insists, is prevention—not stigma. Through genetic screening and counselling, many such diseases can be avoided in future generations. “The aim,” he says simply, “is a healthier India.”

When the art answers back

When Kuchipudi exponent Deepika Reddy learnt she had been named a Padma Shri awardee, the moment felt less like interruption and more like acknowledgment. The call arrived without spectacle—and left her briefly silent.

“The call came very quietly, and honestly, I didn’t say anything for a moment. I was just silent,” she says. “My first reaction was pure humility. After more than fifty years of sadhana, it didn’t feel like an achievement at all. It felt like a blessing—something the art itself had given me.”

Her thoughts immediately turned to her gurus. “I dedicate this honour to all the great Kuchipudi gurus, especially my own guru, Dr Vempati Chinna Satyam Garu. And of course, I remembered my early days with Sumathi Kaushal Garu. Kuchipudi has never been just performance for me. It’s worship. It’s seva.”

Then came thoughts of family. “We are three generations of dancers,” she says. “My mother performed Chitrangada at the inauguration of Ravindra Bharathi in 1961. So at home, it wasn’t loud celebration—just a quiet, deeply fulfilling moment. It felt like all those silent sacrifices were being acknowledged.”

Messages followed from her students, especially Deepanjali disciples across the world. “When they said, ‘This Padma Shri is ours too, Guru garu,’ it really touched my heart. Teaching has always been at the centre of my journey.”

What moved her most was seeing younger dancers feel inspired. “I always tell them—this is a long, hard journey. Take it one step at a time. If you stay with your sadhana, everything else will follow.” She smiles. “And after that, life just went on. As always—the dance continues.”