There is something deeply uncomfortable about the way we respond to genuine grievances in Jammu & Kashmir. Too often, a citizen submits a representation, meets an official, waits patiently—and nothing happens. The file moves from one table to another, assurances are given, and months turn into years. Then, when patience finally runs out and people come onto the streets, suddenly the issue becomes “serious”.
Why do we wait for people to come onto the roads before their grievances are heard and resolved?
This is not merely a question about medical interns. It is a question about governance, responsiveness and the dignity of citizens.
I raised the issue of J&K medical interns’ stipend as early as January 25, 2025, through an article in Ziraat Times, at a time when there was no strike, agitation or political mobilisation around the issue. The concern was straightforward: why should young doctors undergoing compulsory internship receive such a disproportionately low stipend when their counterparts in several other parts of India receive considerably more?
At the time, interns were receiving roughly ₹12,300–₹12,500 per month. More significantly, this was not simply a student demand. A government-constituted committee had already examined the matter and, in August 2023, recommended enhancement of the stipend to ₹26,350 per month, based on half the basic pay of a Medical Officer and with reference to the applicable National Medical Commission framework.
The question, therefore, was never simply what the interns wanted. It was why a considered recommendation of a government committee had remained pending.
Nearly two years later, that question has returned with greater urgency. MBBS and BDS interns across J&K have now launched an indefinite strike, seeking an increase in their monthly stipend to ₹30,000. They point to long working hours, emergency and night duties, and the responsibilities they shoulder in hospitals, while the existing stipend remains around ₹12,300.
Whatever one’s view of the exact figure demanded, the underlying grievance deserves to be taken seriously. This is not a demand for luxury or privilege. Internship is a compulsory stage of medical education, during which these young doctors are simultaneously learning, working with patients and contributing to the functioning of hospitals. A fair stipend is therefore not merely a financial matter; it is also about professional dignity and institutional fairness.
But the debate should not become narrowly centred on the figure of ₹30,000. If the government believes that amount is financially or administratively unjustifiable, it should explain why. If ₹26,350 was the earlier committee recommendation, the government should explain why it was not implemented. If circumstances have changed, a fresh assessment can be undertaken.
What is difficult to defend is indefinite silence.
A young doctor should not have to stand outside a hospital with a placard to discover whether the government has heard a legitimate grievance. A file should not need a protest before it begins moving. Administrative attention should not depend upon political intervention or media pressure.
Good governance should follow a much simpler sequence:
Application → representation → delegation → reminder → waiting → frustration → protest → media attention → government response.
Unfortunately, the latter has become far too familiar.
Responsive governance should seek to prevent legitimate grievances from becoming protests—not by suppressing dissent, but by resolving genuine issues before frustration reaches the streets.
There is, however, another dimension to the present situation that must not be overlooked: patient welfare.
The interns have every right to raise a legitimate grievance, but they are also healthcare professionals. Government hospitals serve many patients who cannot afford private healthcare and who may already be waiting for treatment under difficult circumstances. Any prolonged disruption in essential medical services can disproportionately affect the poorest and most vulnerable.
My message to the interns, therefore, is simple: Do no more harm.
Keep patients at the centre of the agitation. Maintain professionalism. Explore ways of registering the protest without compromising essential emergency and critical services. The ethical responsibility to patients must remain paramount.
But the administration has an equally important responsibility. It should recognise that prolonged inaction itself has consequences. Young doctors should not be pushed into a corner before they are heard.
Compassion is not weakness
I support the interns’ demand for a serious and compassionate consideration—not because every demand made by a protesting group must automatically be accepted, but because a genuine grievance deserves a genuine hearing.
These are young people who have spent years studying medicine, competing for admission, enduring demanding academic schedules and now undertaking compulsory clinical training. Their stipend must be considered against the realities of inflation, transport, accommodation, food and other living expenses.
The government need not necessarily accept ₹30,000 simply because it has been demanded. But whatever decision it takes should be based on evidence, comparable stipend structures, inflation, the earlier committee recommendation, fiscal sustainability and the actual responsibilities assigned to interns.
There should be no administrative ego involved. The issue should not become about who protested first, who has political support or why the interns came onto the streets.
The question should simply be:
What is fair, financially sustainable and commensurate with the responsibilities placed upon these young doctors?
A decision is now overdue
This matter has already consumed too much time. A government committee examined it. A recommendation was made. Representations followed. Yet the issue remains unresolved.
The present agitation should therefore not be treated merely as another protest to be managed. It should be seen as an opportunity to restore confidence.
The administration could constitute or reconvene a small, empowered group to examine the earlier recommendation alongside current stipend structures in other states, inflation and the present financial position of J&K, and arrive at a time-bound decision.
Most importantly, that decision should be communicated formally and transparently.
An assurance is not a decision. A promise is not an order. A file under consideration is not a solution.
I therefore stand with the interns—not because every demand must automatically be accepted, but because their grievance is genuine enough to deserve a fair, transparent and timely determination.
I raised this issue when there was no movement on the streets. Today, when the interns have finally been compelled to come out, my position remains unchanged:
Listen before people are forced to protest.
Resolve before frustration becomes agitation.
Decide before trust becomes confrontation.
Our young doctors should be inside hospitals—learning, treating and serving patients—not outside them protesting simply to be heard.
And perhaps the most important question for our system of governance remains the simplest:
Why do we wait for people to come onto the roads before we rectify their genuine grievances?
If we can answer that question honestly—and change the way grievances are handled—we will have done more than settle one stipend dispute. We will have taken a small but meaningful step towards a more responsive, compassionate and citizen-centred administration.
The author is a senior physician and healthcare reform advocate writing on healthcare, medical ethics, social justice, civic responsibility and community welfare, and promoting informed dialogue and constructive change.
