Let’s start with an imaginary neighbour of mine. One week she was treating patients with tiny sugar globules wrapped in tissue paper, the next she was prescribing antibiotics strong enough to bring down an elephant. “Dual practice,” she told me with a proud smile, “I’m both a homeopath and an allopath now!”
I stared at her in shock. Not because she had suddenly discovered the secret of switching streams like a trapeze artist between two ropes, but because I had just watched our MLA switch from one political party to another with the same ease. “No ideology, no problem,” the man had said, “as long as I get the chair.”
And now, it seems, our politicians want our doctors to learn the same trick.
Now don’t get me wrong—I have the highest respect for both homeopaths and allopaths. In fact, when my toe gave me a problem years ago, and an allopath wanted to remove the nail, it was a homeopath who cured it, without any nail removal. And my wife an allopathic doctor has saved my life many times. Both are good, both deserve my gratitude.
But each one did it in their own way. The homeopath with a whisper of sweet pills, the allopath with a surgical roar. Both approaches, both philosophies, are different as chalk and cheese, or as a soothing lullaby is from a rock concert. One cannot wear the other’s clothes without looking ridiculous.
Yet here comes the government of Maharashtra, hasty as always, wanting to mix them up like some dangerous cocktail. “Why not let homeopaths prescribe allopathic medicines after a one year certificate course?” they say, smiling, as if they’ve just discovered the secret to eternal health. But what they’re actually mixing is confusion—served in large doses to unsuspecting patients in villages and slums.
Imagine the chaos: a villager with a fever walks into a clinic. He’s given antibiotics one day and sweet pills the next, depending on the doctor’s mood, weather report, or horoscope. How long before this poor villager becomes more confused than cured?
And here’s the danger. Tomorrow, dentists will demand the right to treat kidney stones. Physiotherapists may want to prescribe psychiatric drugs. And who knows, maybe even the village barber will petition for permission to deliver babies—after all, hasn’t he been shaving chins with steady hands for decades?
What’s happening is a tragic imitation of the crossovers our politicians perform so casually. They jump from one party to another, from saffron to green, from left to right, without a second’s hesitation. And now, in their infinite wisdom, they want our doctors to do the same.
But while a politician’s betrayal may only wound democracy, a doctor’s confusion can kill.
So let us stop this dangerous masquerade. Respect homeopaths for what they do best. Respect allopaths for what they do best. Let each stream grow, develop, and flourish in its own direction.
And let’s tell our politicians: we don’t want crossover dressing in medicine. One dose of their “party-hopping” is bad enough. Please don’t let our doctors catch the disease too…!