Tomorrow is July 1. As India lights candles and garlands portraits to honour its doctors, we must reflect honestly. Symbolic gestures are no substitute for structural reform. Our medical system is quietly bleeding — its doctors are overworked, underpaid, and vulnerable.
This is not just a medical crisis, but also a humanitarian one. As a doctor and, more importantly, as someone who has spent decades building a healthcare ecosystem, I’ve seen this pain up close. We don’t just need better policies, we also need unity, protection, empathy, and respect.
In our country, the judiciary has always stood as one when one of its own is threatened. But the medical community? We often remain fragmented and silent. The tragic suicide of Dr Archana Sharma, in Rajasthan, after being wrongfully accused of murder for a known obstetric complication, still haunts us. Her note pleaded, “Please don’t harass innocent doctors.” Yet, there was no collective outcry. Imagine if the leading medical associations across India had spoken in one voice — how powerful that would have been.
The truth is, as doctors we uphold the spine of society, yet we are left exposed when we most need support. Violence against doctors has become disturbingly common. I remember the video of a young doctor in Assam being beaten by a mob after a patient died of Covid-19. That fear has quietly embedded itself in our profession. According to a 2020 study, 68 per cent of Indian doctors have faced violence.
Countries like China have passed laws to criminalise attacks on healthcare workers. In India, a temporary ordinance in 2020 was helpful — but it has lapsed. We need permanent, enforceable protection, because a fearful doctor cannot be a fully present one.
Wisdom and empathy
Our medical education system is another area crying for reform. We have some of the brightest minds, but we train them to top exams, not connect with patients. Empathy, communication, ethics — these are not luxuries but the very fabric of healing.
In contrast, countries like the UK, Australia, and Canada invest years in shaping both skill and sensitivity in future doctors. Here, hierarchy often overshadows mentorship. Learning through humiliation must stop.
Compounding the problem are financial realities. I was deeply saddened when junior doctors in Bihar recently protested over their meagre monthly stipend of ₹21,000. In the US or Germany, resident doctors start their careers with dignity and decent pay. Here, delays in recruitment, lack of support, and systemic exploitation are pushing young doctors to migrate or, worse, give up.
As someone who has dedicated his life to creating safe spaces for women, babies, and families, I believe it is time we create a safe system for those who serve them. We need a permanent national law to protect doctors, an education system that teaches with heart, fair pay, and a united medical voice.
Above all, we must change the narrative. Doctors are not the enemy. We are your partners in life, in birth, in recovery. This Doctors’ Day, let’s honour not with applause, but with action. Because if we don’t heal the system, there may soon be no one left to heal us.
(The writer is Founder-Chairman and Paediatrician and Neonatologist at Cloudnine Group of Hospitals. Views are personal)