DOCTORSPEAK: Beyond Crime…
Dr Reema Goswami
My first true encounter with criminals did not happen in the shadows, but in my Casualty duty during my brief period of junior residency at Deen Dayal Upadhyay Hospital in Hari Nagar, New Delhi. As a young doctor doing her duty in the Casualty, I viewed myself as nothing less than a hero. I took a solemn pride in my medical knowledge, classifying injuries into simple, grevious and dangerous and carefully noting them down in Medico-Legal Case (MLC) register. The proximity of the hospital to Tihar Jail meant that the presence of the “criminal element” was a daily reality. I watched as the police escorts marched prisoners through our corridors for routine check-ups or for the repair of wounds sustained in the brutal ecosystem of inmate fights.
By the time I reached my post-graduation, the initial adrenaline rush of the Emergency Room had calcified into a rigid moral philosophy. When prisoners were brought into the OPD for medical or surgical treatment, I found myself scanning their faces not with clinical compassion, but with a cold, investigative curiosity. I wanted to know the specific sections of the Indian Penal Code they had violated. To me, the world was a simple binary: there were the law-abiding and the lawless. I believed that anyone who had committed a crime deserved the weight of their punishment. They were “bad” people, and had to be put behind the bars. In my mind, their suffering was merely the debt they owed to society.
Though this philosophy hasn’t changed over the years I have realised that along with the accused and victims, there is an invisible victim too, often many invisible victims. Recently a brief moment in the hospital parking lot left me deeply moved. I had parked my car as usual in the designated doctors’ area in the Bundelkhand Medical College campus, where I work now, but when I returned after my OPD hours, I found my exit blocked. A police van, transporting prisoners for their medical check-ups, had double-parked behind me.
As I approached the driver to ask him to move the vehicle, I witnessed a heartbreaking scene. A woman stood nearby, cradling a small baby boy in her arms, while another young child stood beside her, weeping and reaching out toward the van. It was clear that the children were trying to connect with someone inside — their father, perhaps.
That sight stayed with me long after I left. It was a stark reminder that while a crime may be committed in a moment of impulsive anger or may be even through cold calculation, the true weight of the sentence is often carried by the innocent families left behind. We often focus on the perpetrator, but we rarely consider the “invisible victims”— the ones who still love and wait for them. That image of a child reaching for the van is a powerful “human moment” that cuts through the labels of ‘prisoner’ or ‘criminal.’ It highlights how a single decision — whether impulsive or planned — can leave a family navigating systemic trauma and emotional displacement.
Dr Reema Goswami is Professor and HOD, ENT at Bundelkhand Medical College, Sagar (MP)
For more stories from the heart click here
