Fatal Medicine

India’s fake doctor crisis is playing havoc with healthcare, especially in rural areas and with the poor. With no timely action and cases stuck in courts for years, there is no end in sight nor justice delivered
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11 min read

When 63-year-old Raisa Beg clutched her chest in pain on a cold January morning, her son, Nabi Qureshi, barely paused to put on his shoes. Minutes later, they were racing toward the hospital, desperate for help. “We were told she would need both an angiography and an angioplasty,” Qureshi recalls, his voice breaking. A junior doctor at the hospital recommended a “specialist from London” to perform the procedure. They told Qureshi that two of his mother’s arteries were blocked and insisted she needed immediate angioplasty. When he asked for the angiography reports, the hospital stonewalled him for two days, citing “administrative delays”. “On January 15, my mother underwent angioplasty and just 30 minutes after the procedure, she passed away,” Qureshi says.

Raisa Beg was one of the seven patients who died after Narendra Vikramaditya Yadav, a man posing as a British-trained cardiologist operated on her at Mission Hospital in Damoh, Madhya Pradesh. Yadav is alleged to have impersonated Dr N John Camm, a reputed cardiologist from St. George’s University, London, and performed no less that 15 surgeries. On April 7, he was arrested by MP Police in Prayagraj, Uttar Pradesh. His arrest revealed a scandal that extends well beyond a single instance of medical malpractice. Media reports exposed a troubling two-decade tale of deceit. Armed with forged certificates and a Hospital to grant him surgical privileges. “He walked into the operating theatre like he owned it,” a nurse later told investigators, speaking anonymously. “No one checked his credentials.” Yadav had previously worked at two private clinics in Delhi and Bhopal, using stolen identities to pose as a heart specialist. His arrest followed a tip from a whistleblower—a hospital clerk who grew suspicious after Yadav failed to answer basic medical questions during a staff meeting. Mission Hospital faced scrutiny for its lax oversight. Records showed no verification of Yadav’s credentials, and the hospital’s director declined to comment. Families of the victims, including Qureshi, have filed lawsuits, demanding accountability. “How could they let a fraud operate on my mother?” a shocked Qureshi asks.

In February 2018, another startling case emerged after 33 people in a village in Uttar Pradesh’s Unnao district tested positive for HIV. The culprit, Rajesh Yadav, a so-called doctor, would ride from house to house on his bicycle, offering a “magic treatment” for just `10. His “treatment”—an injection and three packets of some medicinal powder— promised to cure various ailments. Yadav reused the same syringe for all patients, spreading HIV among all thirty three. These bizarre incidents are not just limited to fake doctors. On April 16, a qualified doctor at a government hospital in Jalaun, Uttar Pradesh— Suresh Chandra—was caught on video asking a five-yearold boy to smoke a cigarette as treatment for a cold. Widely shared on social media, the video sparked public outrage. Health authorities transferred the doctor, and ordered an enquiry.

But the scale of the problem of fake medical practitioners is staggering. In November 2023, the Delhi Police arrested two doctors and two fake doctors from a clinic located in Greater Kailash. Neeraj Agarwal, who operated the Agarwal Medical Centre, was a physician, but performed surgeries with the help of counterfeit credentials, along with Jaspreet Singh, Pooja Agarwal (Neeraj Agarwal’s wife who posed as a doctor), and former laboratory technician Mahender Singh (who also posed as a doctor). The issue came to light when a patient underwent gallbladder stone removal and experienced severe post-operative distress leading to his death.

At a debate titled ‘Public Health? Immediate Need for Action Against Quackery’ conducted by the Indian Medical Association (IMA)-Telangana, in March this year, it was highlighted that 75 per cent of fake doctors operate in Telangana alone, many of whom practice in urban centres like Hyderabad. Last year it was found that several unqualified individuals registered as doctors under the Rajasthan Medical Council (RMC) using forged documents and certificates of doctors from other states. A 2016 WHO report found that nearly one-third (31 per cent) of those claiming to be allopathic doctors in India in 2001 were educated only up to the secondary school level, and 57 per cent lacked any medical qualification. Though then Union Health Minister JP Nadda dismissed the report as “erroneous” in January 2018 during a Lok Sabha session, a subsequent FAQ on the National Medical Commission Bill, issued by the Press Information Bureau on August 6, 2018, confirmed that 57.3 per cent of personnel practicing allopathic medicine in India have no medical training.

UP IN SMOKE: On April 16, a ‘qualified’ doctor at a government hospital in Jalaun, Uttar Pradesh, Suresh Chandra, allegedly asked a five-year-old boy to smoke a cigarette as a treatment for a cold. The moment was caught on camera and shared on social media, sparking public outrage. Health authorities transferred the doctor, and ordered an enquiry into the incident
UP IN SMOKE: On April 16, a ‘qualified’ doctor at a government hospital in Jalaun, Uttar Pradesh, Suresh Chandra, allegedly asked a five-year-old boy to smoke a cigarette as a treatment for a cold. The moment was caught on camera and shared on social media, sparking public outrage. Health authorities transferred the doctor, and ordered an enquiry into the incidenthp

The Broader Problem of Fake Doctors

Dr T Sundaraman, former head of the Union government’s National Health Systems Resource Centre and now associated with the Jan Swasthya Abhiyan, explains that while many people loosely refer to informal practitioners as “fake doctors,” the distinction is more complex—and critical. “Fake doctors are those who pretend to have qualifications like an MBBS degree but actually do not,” he says. In contrast, informal care providers—many of whom openly acknowledge they lack formal degrees—offer treatments based on practical knowledge rather than official certification. “They say, ‘I am not an MBBS doctor, but I have learned some things and can help you if you want’,” he adds. The difference matters. In many parts of India, where public healthcare systems beyond maternity care and immunisation often fall short, informal providers fill the gap. They have been around for generations, and where robust public health services exist—as in parts of Himachal Pradesh and Kerala—reliance on them significantly drops India faces a persistent shortage of formally trained medical professionals, particularly in rural and underserved regions. The healthcare system is largely dominated by private providers. In the 1950s, the private sector accounted for just eight per cent of the healthcare market. Today, it controls around 70 per cent. Nearly two-thirds of all doctors now work in the private sector, highlighting a stark imbalance between public and private healthcare services. In response, a large network of informal healthcare providers—often referred to as “quacks”—has emerged. Although there have been no India-wide surveys to estimate how many such unqualified doctors practice in the country, regional surveys reveal that more than 70 per cent of healthcare providers in rural India have no formal medical training. With around 1.6 million informal providers compared to fewer than one million licensed MBBS doctors, the gap between healthcare needs and qualified care is stark.

HIV PEDDLER: In February 2018, 33 people in a village in Uttar Pradesh’s Unnao district tested positive for HIV. The culprit, Rajesh Yadav, a so-called doctor,
would ride from house to house on his bicycle, offering a “magic treatment” for just `10. His “treatment”—an injection and three packets—promised to cure various ailments, but he reused the same syringe for all patients, infecting many with the HIV virus
HIV PEDDLER: In February 2018, 33 people in a village in Uttar Pradesh’s Unnao district tested positive for HIV. The culprit, Rajesh Yadav, a so-called doctor, would ride from house to house on his bicycle, offering a “magic treatment” for just `10. His “treatment”—an injection and three packets—promised to cure various ailments, but he reused the same syringe for all patients, infecting many with the HIV virus

Although the Clinical Establishments Act mandates registration and regulation of healthcare facilities, it is poorly implemented. There is no robust system to verify the credentials of practicing doctors. Medical associations like the Indian Medical Association (IMA) are also not proactive in rooting out fake doctors. Regulatory bodies often focus on trivial aspects like building size or facility aesthetics rather than checking the actual qualifications of those providing care. But as Dr Sundararaman stresses, “You cannot eliminate informal providers unless you provide a viable alternative.”

Doctor deficit

According to the World Health Organisation (WHO) recommendation, one doctor should serve 1,000 people across all levels of care. This means that India needs a total of around 1.2 million doctors. In February 2024, Health Minister Mansukh Mandaviya told Parliament that India had one doctor for every 834 people. This figure included practitioners of traditional medicine such as Ayurveda, Homeopathy, and Naturopathy. However, the WHO and organisations like the IMA do not count the practitioners of traditional medicine when calculating this ratio.

The number of public hospitals, excluding specialised institutes, has exponentially risen since the Modi government came to power in 2014. “Our government has worked on a large scale to increase medical infrastructure and medical professionals in the last nine years,” Prime Minister Narendra Modi said, while inaugurating the first specialised medical institute in northeast India in April 2023. The government has nearly doubled the number of undergraduate medical seats in private and public colleges to 1,01,043 as of March from 51,348 before 2014. However, it has not been able to fill vacancies in the most premiere medical institutions in the country. In an answer to a Lok Sabha question dated March 28, the health ministry response showed that there were 2,236 faculty vacancies and 16,501 vacancies of non-faculty position in AIIMS across 21 cities.

In urban India, informal healthcare providers are often dismissed as quacks. But for Dr Abhijit Chowdhury, a hepatology professor at the Institute of Post Graduate Medical Education and Research in Kolkata, they play a crucial role in rural healthcare. Chowdhury, who founded the Liver Foundation Kolkata, has been working to train these providers—not to make them doctors, but to improve the quality of care they offer. The Foundation avoids calling them ‘quacks’, instead referring to them as “informal rural healthcare providers.” In many rural parts of India, access to qualified doctors is limited. Primary health centres are often located over 30 km away from the village, and doctors frequently avoid postings in remote areas. As a result, villagers typically rely on the local “doctor” for basic healthcare needs—someone who treats common illnesses like fever, diarrhoea, malaria, anaemia, hypertension, and urinary infections.

These providers are trusted because they are available when needed, charge little, and often accept payment in kind. They offer vital support, however their lack of formal training sometimes means that they fail to recognise serious conditions, which might put patients at risk.

Medical Education Fuels the crisis

Contemporary medical education in India is not strong in preparing doctors for primary care. The basic MBBS course is seen as a stepping stone to specialisation. Also, aspirants who are unable to qualify for medical colleges in India, often end up in countries like Philippines, China, Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan, and the Caribbean to study medicine. Approximately 20,000 to 25,000 Indian students study medicine abroad every year. Such students who ultimately wish to practice in India must clear the Foreign Medical Graduate Examination or the National Exit Test to be eligible. But only a fraction of them clears the exam. Last year 61,616 such students sat for the exam but only 10,269 passed.

The cost to get a medical degree today is astronomical for an average middle class person— up to a crore. When people make such a large out-of-pocket investment—around `20 lakh per year—they naturally seek higher-paying jobs in urban areas, not in a remote rural location. As a result, the current system produces doctors who are ‘not fit for purpose’ when it comes to addressing the country’s primary healthcare needs. All this has resulted in the rise of fake doctors.

Lack of Strict Action

Dr Anil Bansal, Former Chairman, Anti Quackery Cell of New Delhi Municipal Council (NDMC) explains that there are no real barriers for ‘fake’ individuals to enter the medical profession in India. In 1956, when India became independent, the Medical Council of India was set up to ensure only qualified individuals practice allopathy. But that didn’t stop the issue. Later, the Ayurvedic Council was formed in 1970 and the Homeopathic Council in 1976 to regulate practitioners, but the problem continued. He further explains that the issue is that people who are physiotherapists, dietitians, and even X-ray technicians often add ‘doctor’ to their names. In 1983 and again in 2003, the government issued orders that only allopathic, Ayurvedic, and Homeopathic practitioners could use the title ‘doctor.’ But almost everyone uses it now, making it difficult to distinguish between real and fake.

In 2023, an investigation by news channel NDTV discovered serious anomalies in Madhya Pradesh’s nursing institutes’ operations. It was found that senior health education authorities were operating nursing schools without a campus at all. Following this, the Madhya Pradesh government ordered the shutdown of 66 nursing colleges spread over 31 districts in May 2024.

In June 2024, the central government directed states to crack down on quacks and the illegal sale of medicines. Following this, the state health departments ordered district medical and health officers (DMHOs) to carry out regular inspections and take corrective action. In the past, at multiple instances, quacks have been arrested in the country. But even though crackdowns are reported, they are often ineffective. In India, quackery—practicing medicine without proper qualifications—is illegal. The National Medical Commission (NMC) Act, 2019, under Section 34, prohibits unregistered individuals from practicing modern medicine, with penalties including up to one year imprisonment, a fine up to `5 lakh, or both. The Drugs and Magic Remedies Act, 1954, targets false treatment advertisements, imposing up to six months imprisonment or fines. But that did not stop Patanjali from making a profit during the pandemic, by flooding the market with ‘herbal medicines’ that promised to cure Covid-19. The Indian Medicine Central Council Act, 1970, regulates AYUSH practitioners, penalising unregistered ones. However, weak penalties, rural doctor shortages, and lack of awareness hinder enforcement. In villages, quacks operate without fear because they’ve built trust within the community. The real solution would be for police to raid these places, identify the practitioners, and take legal action. But as long as there’s no punishment, the system continues to fail.

What happens after a crackdown? Dr Bansal explains that under the Medical (Commission) Act, offences attract only a one-year sentence, making them bailable. As a result, cases often drag on for years, and with strong legal defence, it becomes even harder to secure convictions. Officials are hesitant to act because even a minor error in their statements could leave them vulnerable. Dr Bansal recalls a specific case: “There was a man who claimed to have MBBS and MD degrees. He was a member of the Delhi Medical Council and was even elected to a position. But when his certificates were checked, it turned out he had stolen another doctor’s credentials. This is happening all over India. The system isn’t equipped to catch such fraud unless someone goes out of their way to investigate.”

Long History in Courts

The issue of fake doctors in India has drawn significant attention from courts, whose rulings emphasised stricter regulation and enforcement of credentials to protect public health. But the judicial system is too slow. “It’s been almost 10 years since I retired, I still get court summons for quackery cases that I had filed while I was on the field, in my role,” says Dr Bansal, adding, “In foreign countries, you can’t buy medicine without a doctor’s prescription, but in India, chemists freely hand out medication without checking. I recently heard of a case where someone asked for a remedy for loose motions, and they were given Imodium—without understanding the underlying cause. Misuse of medication is rampant, and no one holds these people accountable.”

In April 2018, the Supreme Court expressed concern over the danger posed by quacks practicing medicine without proper qualifications, calling it a great risk to society. The Court, led by Justices RK Agrawal and Mohan M Shantanagoudar, emphasised that the right to practice a profession is subject to laws requiring professional qualifications. In June 2023, a Delhi court found that an accident victim was treated for five months in 2013 by a quack impersonating Dr Virender M Malhotra, who had died in 2006. The Motor Accident Claims Tribunal (MACT) Judge Ekta Gauba Mann called the act “dangerous” and directed strict action against the impersonator. The court ordered the Centre, Delhi Government, and local police to create a verification mechanism to prevent such fraud.

In December 2023, the Delhi High Court, while hearing a PIL, told the Delhi Medical Council to be more proactive in tackling medical quacks instead of waiting for complaints. The Court also issued notice on a plea seeking time-bound verification of doctors’ educational certificates in the national capital. In August 2024, while hearing a petition from K Amirthalal, owner of Surya Nursing Home and AMK Medical Shop in Tenkasi, Tamil Nadu, the Madras High Court criticised the rise of fake doctors, calling them a ‘menace’ to society, and said the government must take strict action against them. The court also pointed out how some individuals in the state are practicing allopathic medicine with dubious diploma certificates.

Recently, in April 2025, the Karnataka High Court directed the state government to immediately act, identify and pull the curtains down on those clinics which are run by ‘quacks’ in the state. Justice M Nagaprasanna said, “It is these quacks, who project themselves to be Doctors, are endangering the life of innocent rural people, by opening clinics in remote areas and hoodwinking them.”

Strengthening the public healthcare system, reorienting medical education towards primary care, and improving regulatory oversight are the only sustainable solutions. Informal providers could be trained, supervised, and integrated safely into the health system, as has been done successfully in some countries. Furthermore, medical education today is not geared towards producing doctors who will work in rural areas; the obsession with urban-centric, specialised medical training leaves rural health needs unmet. The phenomenon of fake doctors and informal providers is not about individual malpractice alone—it is the result of systemic neglect, poor regulation, and policy failures that continue to leave millions of Indians without safe, reliable healthcare.

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