India’s hospitals are shifting from places of healing to places of fear. Doctors who were once seen as lifesavers, now work with fear. They are not afraid of disease, but of the very people that they are trying to help. When those who save lives need protection themselves, something has gone deeply wrong. This rising violence against healthcare workers is a painful wound in the heart of our nation.
In the quiet halls of India’s hospitals, an unexpected fear has taken hold. The fear of people who are being served and helped by their own lifesavers.
On June 25, at Thiruvananthapuram’s medical college hospital, Dr. Amiya Suresh, 28, was violently attacked - slapped, kicked, and had her mask torn off while trying to calm a dispute. The attacker was arrested, but the trauma remains. Such attacks are becoming more common. Across India, the white coat no longer guarantees safety.
Dr. Mansi, a doctor at Hindu Rao Hospital, shares this harsh truth: “We are not servants but workers who help people survive.” She fears the violence that often follows when expectations aren’t met. From Delhi to Ernakulam, Faridabad to Assam, doctors have been beaten, stabbed, and even killed. A trainee at AIIMS warns, “The government does nothing... If this keeps happening, every doctor in India will leave.”
This wave of violence runs deep -rooted in poor infrastructure, staff shortages, and broken trust. Despite laws proposed and orders passed, India still lacks a strong, central law to protect doctors. Until and unless the system accepts that this violence is not occasional but widespread, our doctors will stay at risk - exhausted, silenced, and let down by the society that they serve.
The fear gripping India’s doctors has gone beyond violent patients or angry families - it is built into the very systems around them. On what should have been a normal summer day at RNT Medical College in Udaipur, tragedy struck. Dr. Ravi Sharma, a young resident doctor, was electrocuted in a deadly manner by a faulty water cooler in his hospital hostel. His colleagues say it could have been prevented. But in India’s strained public health system, even basic safety feels like a gamble.
Dr. Sharma’s death sent shockwaves through every government hospital in Rajasthan. Resident doctors began daily two-hour pen-down strikes, mourning not just for their colleague but the silent, systemic neglect that made his death possible. Wearing black armbands, they stood for Dr. Sharma and for every crumbling ceiling, every exposed wire, every blocked toilet that shouts of indifference. The Jaipur Association of Resident Doctors said, "This heartbreaking incident - caused by an electric shock from a water cooler – shows the severe neglect of basic safety and administrative care in medical institutions."
The working and living conditions of our very lifesavers are grim: peeling walls, leaking roofs, overflowing sewage, broken windows, and exposed electrical wiring clearly indicates a system where those who heal others are forced to live without dignity. An ARISDA official told The Times of India the decay is so common it no longer shocks – it numbs.
This isn’t just one mistake. It reflects a larger truth: India’s public healthcare system is collapsing under pressure. Doctors aren’t just fighting diseases- they’re also forced to fight with indifference, neglect, and fear. When a doctor dies not while treating patients but because the place he lived and worked was unsafe, we have to ask: what will it take for safety to become a right, not a privilege?
In a country where hospitals were once beacons of hope, the doctors there now sleep on rusting beds, walk through flooded wards, and operate under ceilings that can fall anytime . Their voices may be drowned out by the system, but their silence has started to shout very loud now.
The situation is alarming. A November 2024 study by The Hindu found that 35% of doctors feel unsafe at work. Overcrowding, understaffing, weak security, and a lack of grievance mechanisms have created a dangerous environment in the hospital corridors. Intensive Care Units and emergency rooms, where emotions run high, are especially vulnerable. The result of this is a growing workforce of lifesavers , which is fearful and exhausted.
Though 25 states have passed laws to protect healthcare workers, enforcement is inconsistent and weak. The Epidemic Diseases (Amendment) Act of 2020 made violence against healthcare workers a serious offense, but only during epidemics. Despite many drafts, a permanent national law is still missing. Kerala and Karnataka have set examples with strong laws, fast trials, and harsh penalties.
Even though some laws exist in certain states to protect doctors, India does not have one strong national law that applies everywhere. Because of this lack of a uniform national approach, many doctors and healthcare workers across the country are still not properly protected.
The weight of fear fills the hearts of every healthcare worker, from nurses and interns to senior doctors and surgeons. They express how this fear becomes an obstacle, getting in the way of their ability to diagnose with the clear and focused mindset that patients deserve. Their spirits carry the weight of sorrow, unlike others who can easily find comfort.
Dr. Mansi from Hindu Rao Hospital in Delhi summed up the pain: “We are not servants but workers who help them survive.” Yet she admitted to facing daily anxiety, fearing verbal abuse or worse. A junior doctor at Safdarjung Hospital warned, “If this situation continues, there will be a time when every doctor from India will leave the country.” Their words are not demands but desperate cries from those caught in a failing system.
India is not the only country where violence against healthcare workers exists—but sadly, it is among the worst . According to the World Health Organization, workplace violence in hospitals is a serious global issue. Yet in regions not at war, India ranks shockingly high in such attacks. A 2024 report revealed that the rate of violence against healthcare workers in India was six times greater than that in the UK and eighty-four times greater than in China—two countries that have implemented strong legal protections for their medical professionals. This is not just a statistic—it is a deep scar on the soul of our nation.
In 2024, a young trainee doctor in Kolkata was raped and killed inside the hospital. She came to save lives, but her own life was taken in the cruelest way. The terrible event shook the whole nation, touching every hospital, every doctor, and every parent who once proudly said, “My child will be a doctor.”
The case reached the Supreme Court, which demanded urgent action. A National Task Force was set up to find solutions. But what good is a task force without real action? What’s a promise if there’s no safety? Unless strong laws are passed and truly enforced, her death—and the pain of so many others—will be forgotten in dusty files.
This is not just a failure of policy. It’s a failure of our humanity. We have to ask ourselves – how many more must suffer before we say, “Enough”?
To turn fear into safety, bold action is needed.
First, hospitals must have fully equipped security: trained marshals around the clock, facial recognition cameras, panic alarms, and strict visitor rules like those in high-security places. Central hospitals have approval for a 25% staff increase - this must happen quickly.
Second, a national, permanent law is essential - upgrading the temporary epidemic act into a full Protection of Healthcare Workers Act. This law should require quick FIR filing, fast trials, and presume guilt in attacks, similar to Kerala and Karnataka. It should also ensure compensation for victims and independent audits after incidents.
Third, hospitals need conflict resolution tools. Patient-relations officers, de-escalation training, and community forums can create a culture of empathy. A “Respect the White Coat” campaign in the media and schools can rebuild trust and remind society that violence is never acceptable.
Fourth, hospital infrastructure must improve. Faulty wiring, weak buildings, and dark hallways threaten safety and dignity. Every hospital should be audited, and any issues fixed immediately. Tragedies like the death of Dr. Sharma in Rajasthan demand real accountability.
Finally, gender-sensitive policies are critical. Female healthcare workers face higher risks of harassment and assault. Safety audits, secure housing near hospitals, and active response teams are essential, not optional.
Doctors who care for us despite threats deserve more than respect—they need protection. Allowing violence to continue destroys not only hospitals but the heart of society. A nation that endangers its healers endangers its own future.
We must act with humility and determination to restore trust, safety, and dignity in our hospitals. Only then can doctors care without fear and truly heal.
