“Enough is enough,” thundered Dr. Sushila Nayar, her voice slicing through the hall.
“No more free PG seats for MGIMS boys and girls. If they want a PG, they must first serve two years in the villages.”
She meant it.
In 1969, Dr. Sushila Nayar had built MGIMS on a dream: to raise doctors who would heal India’s forgotten villages. She saw them living among the poor, learning their struggles, and dedicating their lives to rural service.
But by the early 1990s, her dream was crumbling. Young doctors, degrees in hand, fled to cities or foreign shores. The villages stayed sick and empty.
Dr. Sushila Nayar, hurt but resolute, struck back. She crafted a bold policy: no rural service, no postgraduate seat.
The 1986 regular batch escaped her net. The 1986 referred batch was not so lucky. They trudged off to remote NGOs.
Then came the 1987 batch.
“We’ll waste two years!” they cried. “Why should we pay for the burden of others?”
Their anger seethed. Resentment thickened the air.
Seven 1987 batch students decided to fight. They pooled money for Mr DK Deshmukh, a lawyer whose fees mirrored his formidable reputation. They went to the Nagpur bench of the Bombay High Court, hearts pounding, futures dangling.
And they won.
The court struck down the rural posting rule as arbitrary and unenforceable. Justice HW Dhabe and BU Wahane sided with the students. MGIMS was ordered to admit the students without delay.
Victory?
Not yet.
Dr. Sushila Nayar stood firm. Dhirubhai Mehta refused to budge. Dr. B.C. Harinath, the Dean, was stubborn.
Anger exploded. The 1987 batch camped outside the Deanโs office, raising slogans, burning effigies, launching a chain hunger strike that stretched into days. Their voices echoed through the campus.
MGIMS dug in. They dragged the fight to the Supreme Court. The students fought too. They scraped together what little they had and hired a big-shot lawyer from the south โ a man who knew his craft but charged like a king.
Every court date cost โน30,000. One adjournment, another โน30,000 gone. Their pockets bled dry.
Broke and broken, the students threw away the towel.
The Supreme Court ruled โ in favor of MGIMS.
The studentsโwho had once roared outside the Deanโs doorโscattered in silence.
They packed their bags and scattered across and beyond Maharashtra, searching for Primary Health Centres. There was no road map. MGIMS had no tie-ups, no ready list of NGOs or health centers waiting to take them. Some returned to their native villages, setting up makeshift health clinics.
Two long years crawled by.
One by one, they returned to MGIMS โ leaner, harder, wiser. Their spirits battered but unbroken, ready at last to claim their MD seats, their futures, and the battles they had earned.
In a twist of irony, the seven students from the 1986 referred batch, who had quietly complied, secured prized PG seats in clinical disciplines. Outsiders, too, found their way into MGIMSโlocal students working for their MDs alongside newcomers from distant places. Some senior students, nearly five years ahead, also returned after working in primary health centers and meeting the rural service rule.
It was a mixed group, drawn together by chance and grit.
The mandatory rural posting had taken root. For nearly twenty-seven years, generations of MGIMS doctors learned medicine not just in the medical colleges, but also from the rural health centers.
Not because they chose to.
But because they had no choice.
The rule finally ended with the MBBS batch of 2009, swept away by the arrival of the NEET examination. Across India, PG seats were no longer rewards for compassionโthey became prizes for those who could master MCQs.
The two-year rule was born, fought over, and buried. Its memory still lingers.
