INT. NEUROSURGERY THEATRE – CARE BRIDGE HOSPITAL, SHIMLA – EARLY MORNING

7 am. Snow dusts the windows of the operating theatre. Inside, a battle is underway. A fragile, unconscious seven-year-old boy lies prepped on the table, monitors beeping. Sterile light illuminates the room, thick with tension. This critical pediatric brain surgery has everyone focused on the door. Dr. Kabir Singhania enters, teal gown, masked, gloved, his posture steady. A nurse whispers to an intern, "That's Dr. Singhania, Neurosurgery Head. Don't miss his brilliance." Kabir approaches the table, reviews the boy's MRI, scans, calculates, then looks at the anesthesiologist and his assistant. "Let's begin. Scalpels. Check vitals every five minutes. ICP updates." His voice is calm, a steady hum. Surgery begins. Time blurs. Each incision is precise. Kabir doesn't falter; his hands move with mechanical accuracy, his focus absolute.

TIME JUMP – 3 HOURS INTO SURGERY

The boy's vitals crash. Heart rate erratic, bleeding intensifies. Panic flares. "BP dropping!" a nurse cries. "Clamp the vein. Suction now. Increase pressure. Lidocaine. Fast," Kabir commands. 

No fear, only calm brilliance. He takes control, a conductor in a storm. Within minutes, the crisis is averted. Silence... then the monitors stabilize. The boy's vitals normalize.

TIME JUMP – 7 HOURS LATER, 2 PM

The successful surgery ends. The team exhales. Interns whisper, nurses beam. Assistants step back, all eyes on Kabir. "Sir... that was extraordinary," his assistant says. "You saved that child," a nurse adds. Kabir removes his gloves. "It was teamwork." He walks away, calm, no applause needed, leaving the room in awe. INT. DR. SINGHANIA'S PRIVATE CABIN – LATE AFTERNOON

The modern, organized cabin is sunlit, snow reflecting through the windows. Kabir enters, white coat replaced by a charcoal turtleneck and steel-blue overcoat. His hair is wet, revealing a clean, athletic build. Cool hazel eyes hold depth, a rare, disarming smile touches his lips. A sleek black Nameplate stood upright, Dr. Kabir Singhania, Neurosurgeon. He sets down a file, cracks his neck, and exhales. "Seven hours. Still not my longest day," he murmurs, pouring himself warm water. His phone buzzes. He answers, "Dr. Kabir Singhania here."

VOICE (DR. ADITYA, AIIMS BOARD MEMBER):

"Kabir! Don't forget. Tomorrow, 10 AM. AIIMS Shimla. Board meeting. New cancer and palliative care wing." Kabir chuckles, leaning back. "I might be quiet, Aditya, but I don't forget things. Especially this." "That's exactly what scares us. You remember everything... and still make us look underprepared," Aditya laughs. Kabir smiles, a boyish spark igniting his composure. "I'll be there ten sharp. Don't worry, Aditya." "Deal. See you tomorrow, Kabir." Says Dr. Aditya

Kabir ends the call, walks to the window. Snow falls on Shimla's pines. "Cancer wing. Palliative care. Another project. Another responsibility," he murmurs. Then he turns to his desk, picks up a folder labeled "AIIMS New Oncology Wing Proposal," and begins making notes. The smile is gone, but a light remains in his eyes.

Authors POV

Dr. Kabir Singhania, a respected AIIMS board member, will attend a crucial meeting tomorrow with the Director, senior heads, and fellow members to plan a new Cancer and Palliative Care Wing. The board has shortlisted five architectural firms from across India to design the wing and the meeting aims to select the proposal that best combines medical needs with patient comfort and care. For Kabir, it's about creating a space where patients feel safe, supported, and treated with dignity.

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VOTE AND COMMENT.

Tell me, how did you find Kabir's introduction?

-[Pristi Scrolls]