Behind hospital walls, doctors quietly toil in the Kashmiri valleys and towns, bringing care and comfort to injured and sick people. Their work is tough, stressful, and often unrewarding. Still, even as they labor devotedly, they find themselves being increasingly confronted with a growing, unacceptable, and alarming threat: violence by the very individuals they are working to heal.
In the past few years, there have been reports of doctors and medical attendants being assaulted during their working hours from a number of hospitals in the province. Be it a public hospital in Srinagar or a district hospital in Kupwara or Anantnag, the tale is troublingly the same one patient dies or fails to improve as anticipated, family members and attendants become upset, and before long, the doctors are being screamed at, pursued, or even physically attacked.
This trend is not only unsettling it is a terrible injustice to those who have dedicated their lives to service. It is a mortal blow to the integrity of healthcare in Kashmir.
Becoming a physician in Kashmir, or indeed India, is no mean achievement. Years of hard work in education, late nights in medical schools, and endless internships are only the start. And then there is the ultimate test working in hospitals that are frequently overpopulated, short-staffed, and under-resourced.
In spite of such challenges, physicians in Kashmir remain at work. Some of them work in rural hospitals with substandard facilities, while others work extended hours in trauma centres and emergency departments, attending to patients in circumstances varying from road accidents to war-related injuries.
Their job requires not only ability but strength of feeling. They frequently must deliver bad news to families, deal with critical cases short-staffed, and make do with scarce resources to save lives. It’s tough work. And yet, when things do go wrong most likely through no fault of their own it is the physician who is blamed and assaulted.
No one can dispute the agony of losing someone dear. The pain is there, and the anger, too, particularly when the health system is sluggish or indifferent. In most hospitals, hours of waiting time elapse. Drugs go out of stock. Facilities are stretched to their limits.
It should be noted that doctors are not magicians. They cannot stop every death. They do the best they can with what they have. Not every tragic event is the fault of negligence. Often, it is a breakdown of the system itself. To blame the doctor and worse, to attack them is to blame the firefighter for failing to save a house if there was no water in the hose.
The health system in Kashmir is already under a lot of stress. Years of conflict, extreme weather, repeated curfews, and now climate issues have all combined to make access to good quality care harder. Doctors are the strongest unifying link in such a tenuous setup.
When they are attacked, it sends a frightening message to the whole medical community. Young physicians are reluctant to practice in high-stress departments like emergency or intensive care. Many are forced to consider resigning from the Valley for better and safer working conditions elsewhere. Others resort to defensive medicine refusing to take dangerous cases or not offering care to critically ill patients for fear of being sued if something goes wrong.
This is not only a loss to the doctors. This is a loss to each and every citizen of Kashmir who might require necessary, qualified medical attention in the future.
First and foremost, the government has to make hospitals safe places to work. Public hospital security measures have to be enhanced. There should be rapid response teams that are trained to diffuse tension and manage rowdy crowds. Doctors should always feel secure while discharging their duty.
Second, awareness campaigns need to be initiated via media, schools, and mosques to inform the public about doctors’ roles. The message has to be simple: attacking medical personnel is an offense. It is not a protest; it is an attack on the community itself.
Third, politicians and media outlets should behave responsibly. Sensationalization of medical failure or scapegoating of doctors for an incompetent system only reinforces public distrust. Instead, attempts should be made to draw attention to the struggles that doctors have and the requirement to support, rather than demonize, them.
Finally, society has to start treating doctors as respectfully as they should be treated. Just like teachers, soldiers, and police officers are respected for their work, doctors also have to be respected not just in words but by action.
In Kashmir, where every life matters and every physician is a lifeline, we cannot afford to allow rage wreck havoc on trust. The next time a family enters the hospital, they need to know that the physician on duty is not the enemy. They are another human being working the best way they can under tough circumstances.
Let us not forget: doctors are not deities, but they are usually the difference between life and death. They do deserve our cooperation, our forbearance, and above all, our respect.
Battling a physician is not merely against the law it is unethical. It jeopardizes potential patients. It shatters the morale of a profession based on compassion. It is time we establish a clear boundary: our hospitals should be places of healing, not terror.
In the holy work of healing, physicians bear loads most of us can barely envision. In Kashmir, it’s even more crucial, as the region’s intricate issues weigh heavily. As a nation, we owe them safety, not suffering; encouragement, not suspicion.
Let us ascend above anger and sorrow. Let us stand behind our physicians. For when we safeguard them, we safeguard ourselves.
ADVERTISEMENT





