When Staff Shortage Kills Hope and Healing
Farooq Brazloo
In the shadow of Srinagar’s majestic mountains, the Sher-i-Kashmir Institute of Medical Sciences (SKIMS) has long stood as a beacon of hope for the people of Kashmir, and even swathes of Jammu. This premier institution, envisioned by the legendary Sher-e-Kashmir Sheikh Mohammad Abdullah, was gifted to the residents of the Valley, Peerpanjal, and Chenab regions as a world-class medical hub—brimming with cutting-edge instruments, research labs, and facilities rivaling AIIMS in New Delhi. For decades, it has been a lifeline, mending the wounds of conflict, poverty, and illness for countless souls. We must salute its tireless staff—from the humble sweepers scrubbing floors at dawn to the Director steering its course—for upholding this noble legacy with unwavering dedication.
Yet, beneath this veneer of excellence, a quiet crisis festers. SKIMS, once a model of efficiency and autonomy, now grapples with a debilitating staff crunch that threatens its very soul. Years of non-recruitment have left departments operating at half-strength, with retirements carving out voids faster than they can be filled. Doctors, paramedics, and support staff bid farewell annually, but fresh faces are scarce, strangled by bureaucratic inertia. This shortfall doesn’t just strain resources; it erodes patient care, turning what should be swift healing into agonizing waits.
The heartbreaking collapse of a young MBBS intern on October 30, 2025, lays bare this rot. A 26-year-old from Pulwama, just months from postgraduate training, he succumbed to severe pneumonia contracted on duty in the pulmonary ward. Enduring 24- to 48-hour shifts amid a respiratory case surge, his exhaustion was ignored. Admitted to SKIMS’ own ICU, he fought two days before passing—leaving behind a family who sacrificed everything for his white coat and a fiancée whose dreams now lie in ruins. His was not just a medical tragedy, but a symptom of systemic sepsis.
Officials label it pneumonia—clean, clinical. But the real infection runs deeper: a system riddled with exploitation. Interns survive on ₹12,000 monthly, far below the National Medical Commission’s ₹30,000 mandate. In J&K’s fragile health landscape—scarred by COVID, unrest, and post-2019 centralization—such rules are ignored. Medical bodies demand ex-gratia, calling it “martyrdom in service,” yet silence from the administration speaks volumes. On X, #JusticeForDoctors trended, with voices crying: “They save lives while theirs are quietly drained.”
This isn’t isolated. From RG Kar suicides to Maharashtra burnouts, young doctors across India are breaking. In Kashmir, the burden is heavier—harassment by attendants, verbal abuse from seniors, and a culture where dissent risks career ruin. A 2024 study shows 60% intern burnout. Doctor-patient ratios hover at 1:5,000 against WHO’s 1:1,000 ideal.
A recent personal visit drove the point home. Advised a cytology test—usually reported in a day or two—I waited a full week. Inquiry revealed the lab running at 50% capacity due to retirements and zero new hires. This likely mirrors radiology, oncology, and beyond. Patients from remote Peerpanjal or Chenab trek hours, only to face endless queues. Delayed diagnosis turns treatable conditions fatal, especially for the poor who can’t afford private care.
The root? Lost autonomy. Once self-governed, SKIMS now bends to centralized control. Recruitment is frozen—over 1,000 posts vacant. Retirements hollow expertise yearly, but job ads gather dust. Overworked staff compromise quality; errors rise; tragedies follow.
The government must act. Restore SKIMS’ independence. Fill vacancies urgently. Raise stipends to ₹50,000. Cap shifts at 12 hours with mandatory rest. Install anonymous grievance systems. The NMC must audit training. Civil society—students, traders, lawyers—must turn outrage into action.
Sheikh Abdullah dreamed of a sanctuary, not a struggling shadow. Staff dedication deserves protection, not exploitation. Without reform, SKIMS risks becoming a relic—where hope arrives too late, and healing hands give up.
The Valley needs its lifeline strong, not fading. Time to save the saviors.
