The Unheard and Unseen Struggles of AYUSH Doctors in Modern India
By Junaid Maqbool & Dr. Andleeb

It was a cold morning in January when Dr. Andleeb, a young, determined AYUSH doctor, stood outside the Health Directorate office with a file clutched tightly to her chest. Inside that file were certificates of years of study, sleepless nights of emergency duties, and countless hours spent treating patients in government dispensaries. Her eyes searched for hope in a system that had long turned its face away. Like many of her colleagues, Dr. Andleeb had served during the pandemic, putting her own health at risk, attending hundreds of patients every week in under-equipped clinics, all in the hope that one day, the government would recognise the value of her service. That day, however, hasn’t arrived.

The story of AYUSH doctors, graduates of Ayurveda, Unani, Siddha, and Homoeopathy is one of quiet resilience and collective disappointment, I call it a widespread silence. Despite being registered medical practitioners and frontline health providers, they continue to face systemic neglect. Be it employment opportunities, promotion prospects, or inclusion in government schemes, AYUSH professionals remain marginalised. While thousands of MBBS graduates are absorbed into government infrastructure through regular PSC (Public Service Commission) exams, AYUSH doctors are left stranded. The Public Service Commission has not advertised posts for AYUSH Medical Officers for over a decade in many states. Meanwhile, hundreds of AYUSH dispensaries across India are run on an ad-hoc, honorarium-based, or temporary engagement basis. Is this how we value our noble healers by reducing them to paperwork and promises?

India has long prided itself on its rich heritage of traditional medicine. The establishment of the Ministry of AYUSH in 2014 was meant to promote and integrate these systems with the national healthcare mission. But the ground reality remains starkly different. While the government has launched schemes such as the National AYUSH Mission NAM and announced integrative healthcare plans, the actual implementation lacks depth. Most AYUSH practitioners in government roles remain outside the purview of permanent recruitment, pension schemes, or regularised salaries. Their medical degrees are recognised yet their dignity as doctors is denied. Despite being posted in remote regions, often filling the gaps where allopathic doctors are unavailable, AYUSH doctors are still not offered regular service benefits. They have to knock on the doors of bureaucrats and ministers for basic human dignity and career growth. The wisdom of ancient India rests on the shoulders of its healers, the very people we now leave unheard. If we can trust an AYUSH doctor during a pandemic, if we can rely on them in rural communities, then why can’t we secure their rightful place in our system? This is not merely a professional crisis; it’s a national oversight. AYUSH doctors are not asking for privilege, they are demanding equality, dignity, and rightful inclusion. As citizens, media voices, and policymakers, it’s time we asked: Can we afford to ignore the very backbone of our community health structure? We call upon the Ministry of AYUSH, state health departments, and the Government of India, listen to the voices echoing from dispensaries, community clinics, and village health centres. Honour their service. Empower their future. It’s not just a policy decision. It’s a moral one.

“We Studied, Waited, and Still Remain Jobless”: An Unani Postgraduate Doctor’s Plea for Justice

By an Unemployed Postgraduate Doctor

It’s been years since I completed my undergraduate degree and almost a year since my postgraduate degree ended in Unani medicine. Like hundreds of others across Jammu and Kashmir, I entered this field with the hope of serving people and building a secure professional life. But today, that hope feels more like a burden. Despite years of study, preparation, and unwavering patience, we remain unemployed-trapped in a cycle of delays, broken assurances, and bureaucratic silence. Let me start with the Government Unani Medical College Ganderbal. The Jammu and Kashmir Public Service Commission (JKPSC) first advertised faculty and gazetted posts back in January 2022. When nothing happened, the same posts were re-advertised in June 2023. Over two years have passed since the initial notification, yet the written examinations haven’t even been scheduled. Why? Because of legal cases filed by a few contractual faculty members- individuals who already hold positions and continue to earn monthly salaries. Meanwhile, those of us without any employment are paying the price. These legal roadblocks have stalled the recruitment process entirely, leaving us in professional limbo. Is it fair that a handful of people benefit from the delay while the rest of us continue to suffer? We’ve reached out to the authorities countless times. We’ve submitted formal representations, to the concerned officials. But no action has been taken. Our letters might as well be vanishing into a black hole. No answers. No timelines. Just silence. And it’s not just the faculty posts. The last time JKPSC advertised open merit posts for Unani medical officers was in 2018, seven years ago. Seven years of waiting. Seven years of watching our degrees gather dust. Seven years of watching our peers from other streams progress while we stay stuck. Then there’s the National Ayush Mission (NAM), where the situation is no better. Recruitment for Community Health Officers (CHOs) began in Jammu division last year. Results are still pending, but at least there was movement. In Kashmir, nothing. Not even an advertisement. It’s like our existence as professionals simply doesn’t register with the system. Many of us are dealing with the mental and emotional toll of this neglect. We carry the weight of our families’ expectations, our own ambitions, and now, the harsh reality that none of it seems to matter to the people who are supposed to help us build a future. We’re not asking for favours. We’re asking for what is rightfully ours: a fair, timely, and transparent recruitment process. We’re asking for the written exams to be held without further delay. We’re asking for fresh posts to be advertised, for both medical officers and CHOs. And we’re asking the government to create new opportunities for unemployed Unani graduates and postgraduates before another batch of doctors ends up in the same uncertainty. We chose this path to serve, not to suffer in silence. But silence is all we’ve received so far. How long will we be ignored? “

These are the forgotten struggles of Unani Postgraduates in Jammu & Kashmir. She was the brightest in her class, always the first to volunteer during clinical rounds, always the one professors counted on to lead group discussions. Her dream was clear: to heal the sick, to serve society, and to build a dignified life through Unani medicine, a system deeply rooted in our cultural heritage. But today, almost a year after completing her postgraduate degree, she finds herself sitting idle at home, disheartened, overlooked, and unemployed. And she is not alone. This is the painful reality of hundreds of Unani graduates and postgraduates across Jammu and Kashmir who, despite investing nearly a decade in medical education, remain jobless and unheard. We are not failed students; we are failed by a system that has refused to accommodate us or even acknowledge our presence, she added.

Let’s consider the case of the Government Unani Medical College Ganderbal. In January 2022, the Jammu and Kashmir Public Service Commission (JKPSC) advertised faculty and gazetted posts. Hope surged. Aspirants across the region began preparing earnestly. But no exam took place. In June 2023, the same posts were re-advertised. Still, nothing happened. Why? Because of a few legal petitions filed by already-employed contractual faculty members, individuals who continue to receive their monthly salaries. These cases have paralysed the entire recruitment process. The result? A generation of young, talented, and qualified doctors now left in professional limbo. Let that sink in: over two years and still not a single written examination held for posts vital to the future of Unani medicine in J&K. Worse yet, the last open merit advertisement for Unani Medical Officers was released seven years ago, in 2018. Since then, hundreds of graduates have completed their degrees, but not a single fresh opportunity has come their way. Can we really afford to abandon a whole stream of qualified medical professionals, especially when our healthcare system is already strained? The National Ayush Mission (NAM) too has fallen short. Recruitment for Community Health Officers (CHOs) began in Jammu division last year, but the results are still pending. In Kashmir division, not even a single advertisement has been issued. There’s a deafening silence when it comes to the needs and aspirations of Ayush professionals, especially those from the Unani discipline. “We have written letters, filed grievances, knocked on doors, only to receive either vague assurances or no response at all. How long will the authorities remain indifferent to the anguish of their own citizens?” says, Dr. Andleeb.

“Unani Doctors Are a National Asset, Not a Forgotten Footnote” – Junaid Maqbool

Ayush systems, including Unani, form a crucial part of India’s holistic healthcare model. In times when the world is recognising the value of traditional and integrative medicine, our own system is letting its practitioners fall through the cracks. The future of an entire medical community is on the line. If this silence continues, we risk losing not just careers, but a generation of healers who chose service over status, tradition over trends, and patience over protest. Let the policymakers hear this not as another complaint, but as a wake-up call. We didn’t choose this profession to sit jobless at home. We chose it to serve. Now it’s time for the system to serve us, fairly, transparently, and urgently. This is not just a personal crisis, it’s a systemic one. Every year, hundreds of graduates from the Ayush stream, pass out from universities with the dream to heal, to serve, and to contribute meaningfully to public health. They come from families that invested every ounce of hope into their education. They come from remote areas with a burning desire to return and uplift their communities. And yet, they are left to drift in a void where there are no job notifications, no transparent recruitment timelines, and no institutional recognition of their worth. If these young doctors are not absorbed into the system, the consequences go beyond personal losses, it becomes a loss to the very healthcare system that desperately needs affordable and accessible solutions in rural India.

It is now imperative for the government to shift from passive silence to proactive response. Firstly, the pending recruitment processes especially the JKPSC posts and NAM CHO appointments must be expedited with clear timelines and public transparency. Legal hurdles should be addressed with urgency, and priority should be given to unemployed aspirants rather than accommodating those already in contractual positions. Secondly, fresh posts must be advertised at regular intervals, not once in a decade. A robust recruitment calendar, just like other medical and engineering streams enjoy, must be established and adhered to in letter and spirit. And thirdly, the government should explore innovative strategies to mainstream Ayush professionals into public health initiatives, telemedicine networks, school health programmes, mental health campaigns, and drug de-addiction centres. Their services can complement the overburdened allopathic stream, provided the system gives them space to function. Also, we urge our policymakers to take a deeper look at the future of Unani and Ayush systems in Jammu and Kashmir. It’s time for a dedicated Ayush Development Policy that not only speaks of infrastructure and awareness, but also addresses the livelihoods, career progression, and research opportunities for Ayush professionals. We need fellowship programmes, public-private collaborations, and academic-industry linkages to be promoted in this stream as well. It should not be treated as an afterthought to modern medicine, it should be nurtured as a complementary pillar of healthcare, as the NEP and WHO recommend.

For now, we demand action and not promises. We demand a timeline not another round of red tape. And we demand dignity not abandonment. This is a plea from the heart of every unemployed Unani doctor who has waited for years with degrees in hand and dreams on hold. The government must recognise that justice delayed is justice denied, not just for us, but for the thousands of patients who could have benefited from our care. Our silence so far has been a symbol of our patience, not our helplessness. But if those in power continue to ignore us, that silence may soon turn into an outcry. And in that outcry, the real tragedy will not be the sound of unemployed doctors protesting, it will be the echo of a healthcare system that failed its own healers. Let us not forget that Ayush, is not a foreign concept to our land, it is rooted in the soil of our traditions. It speaks our language, understands our culture, and aligns with our diets and lifestyles. Its affordability and accessibility make it a lifeline for many who either cannot afford expensive treatments or prefer natural healing methods. Yet, it remains side-lined in the planning rooms and budget allocations of our governments. The irony is painful: we have institutions churning out skilled doctors, communities needing their service, and a government machinery that fails to connect the two. It’s like building a bridge but refusing to lay the road that leads to it.

The crisis we face today is not due to a lack of talent or training, but due to a sheer absence of political will and bureaucratic accountability. The National Ayush Mission (NAM), which was introduced with lofty ideals, has unfortunately become a half-hearted exercise when it comes to implementation in states like Jammu and Kashmir. The promise of deploying community health officers (CHOs) under NAM was supposed to bring jobs and strengthen rural healthcare, but the process was riddled with delays, policy confusion, and unfair selections. In many cases, those already working on contractual terms were reappointed without giving fresh aspirants a fair chance. This defeats the very spirit of equitable opportunity and transparency. What we need now is a clear, inclusive, and data-driven policy direction. There should be an annual mapping of unemployed Ayush graduates, their specialisations, and their regional preferences. This data can guide the government in drafting recruitment policies and training modules tailored to real public health needs. Also, collaboration between Ayush colleges, research centres, and government health departments can open new paths for internships, apprenticeships, and even start-ups in herbal medicine, drug formulation, and preventive care. By empowering these professionals with modern tools and integrated platforms, we can transform them into agents of holistic healthcare rather than relegating them to the margins. The media, too, must step up its role. It must shed light on the silent suffering of these graduates who have been turned into mere statistics of unemployment. It must question the policymakers about the delays, the lack of urgency, and the underutilisation of Ayush talent. These are not faceless degrees lying idle, these are sons and daughters of this nation whose aspirations have been caged by neglect. This article is not written with bitterness, but with burning hope. Hope that somewhere, a decision-maker will read this and feel moved. Hope that public pressure will mount and accountability will return. Hope that tomorrow, a young Unani graduate will not have to walk the same painful road as those before them. Let that tomorrow begin today, with action, with vision, and with justice.

Junaid Maqbool is a researcher in immuno-oncology, a public health advocate and a student activist. He can be contacted at junaidmaqboollectures57@gmail.com and Dr. Andleeb is a Postgraduate Unani Doctor. She can be contacted at parrayandleebrazaq@gmail.com