The shocking assault on doctors and nurses inside a municipal hospital in Maharashtra’s Dombivli is not merely an isolated act of violence by an elected representative. It is symptomatic of a much deeper malaise that has taken root in Indian politics, a growing culture where many politicians, intoxicated by power and insulated by political patronage, increasingly see themselves not as public servants but as feudal overlords who can intimidate, threaten, and assault anyone who dares not bend to their will.
The incident unfolded at Shastri Nagar Hospital, operated by the Kalyan-Dombivli Municipal Corporation (KDMC), where doctors Srishti Baviskar and Vaibhav Salunkhe were attending to a critically ill newborn. With the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) already full, the doctors advised the baby’s family to shift the infant to another hospital capable of providing specialised care.
It was not a case of negligence or refusal to treat the patient; it was a medical decision compelled by a lack of infrastructure, a reality government doctors confront every day across India’s overstretched public healthcare system.
Instead of accepting the doctors’ professional assessment or demanding accountability from those responsible for the shortage of critical care beds, the family called Shiv Sena (Eknath Shinde faction) corporator Ramesh Mhatre.
What followed was nothing short of disgraceful.
CCTV footage that has since gone viral shows the corporator approaching woman doctor Srishti Baviskar from behind while she is holding a mobile phone. Without warning, he forcefully strikes her hand, sending the phone crashing to the floor. Moments later, he and his supporters begin assaulting other hospital staff, including doctor Vaibhav Salunkhe, who sustained injuries in the attack. Images emerging after the incident showed visibly shaken doctors and hospital employees who had simply been performing their duties.
A major controversy has erupted at Shastrinagar Hospital, operated by the Kalyan-Dombivli Municipal Corporation (KDMC), after Shiv Sena corporator Ramesh Mhatre allegedly assaulted doctors and hospital staff.
— Hate Detector 🔍 (@HateDetectors) July 7, 2026
A video purportedly showing the incident has surfaced on social media.… pic.twitter.com/9qmilEdegf
If the visuals themselves were disturbing, the corporator’s subsequent defence was arguably even more alarming.
Far from expressing regret, Mhatre claimed he had done nothing wrong. He insisted he had merely struck the doctor’s phone because she “was not listening” and described her as “arrogant.” He even suggested that if doctors apologised first, he might express regret. His justification rested on the assertion that his actions had somehow “saved the lives of the mother and child.”
Shinde Sena thug Corporator Ramesh Mhatre joins me to face my questions on @NDTV. Remorseless goon, fearless in the certainty that nothing will happen to him. pic.twitter.com/AIC4uC2xRA
— Shiv Aroor (@ShivAroor) July 8, 2026
Such statements reveal a dangerous mindset, one in which political authority is considered superior to professional expertise. The issue was no longer about a newborn requiring specialised care; it became about an elected representative believing that a doctor owed him immediate obedience simply because of his political status.
This is precisely what makes the episode far more significant than an ordinary criminal assault.
Across India, one increasingly witnesses elected representatives barging into police stations, storming government offices, threatening bureaucrats, humiliating teachers, browbeating engineers, intimidating revenue officials, and now, assaulting doctors inside hospitals. The common thread running through these incidents is not political ideology but a deeply entrenched belief that electoral victory confers personal supremacy over institutions.
The irony is impossible to ignore.
Politicians are repeatedly described as “public servants.” The Constitution envisions them as representatives entrusted with safeguarding institutions and ensuring governance functions effectively. Yet many behave in precisely the opposite manner. Instead of serving the public, they demand to be served. Instead of strengthening institutions, they weaken them through intimidation. Instead of respecting professionals, they expect unquestioning submission.
The transformation from public representative to political strongman has become increasingly visible.
Many politicians today operate less like constitutional functionaries and more like local warlords. They command entourages, expect deference wherever they go, and perceive even the slightest disagreement as an affront to their authority. Their power is not exercised through law but through spectacle, public displays of dominance designed to reinforce the message that their influence overrides rules applicable to ordinary citizens.
Hospitals have unfortunately become frequent theatres for such displays.
Doctors, particularly those serving in government hospitals, work under extraordinary pressure. They contend daily with overcrowded emergency wards, inadequate staffing, shortages of medicines, malfunctioning equipment, and insufficient ICU or NICU beds. None of these systemic failures is of their making. Yet when patients’ relatives become frustrated, the easiest targets are the doctors standing in front of them. When politicians join that anger instead of calming the situation, the consequences become even more dangerous.
In this case, the doctors reportedly advised referral because there simply was no NICU bed available. That reflects a failure of public healthcare infrastructure, not of the doctors themselves.
Ironically, if there is anyone against whom an elected representative should have directed his anger, it should have been those responsible for ensuring adequate medical infrastructure. After all, politicians control municipal budgets, influence healthcare spending, and frequently inaugurate hospitals while promising improved healthcare facilities. If NICUs remain overcrowded and understaffed, that is fundamentally a governance issue.
Assaulting doctors for the consequences of administrative shortcomings amounts to punishing the messenger while ignoring the cause.
Perhaps the most troubling aspect of the episode is not merely the violence itself but the absence of accountability in the perpetrator’s own mind. Rather than acknowledging wrongdoing, Mhatre repeatedly attempted to justify his conduct by portraying himself as acting in the larger public interest.
This reflects a broader phenomenon in Indian politics where power often breeds impunity.
Many elected representatives appear convinced that public office entitles them to exercise authority beyond legal limits. Their supporters frequently reinforce this belief, treating acts of intimidation as demonstrations of decisive leadership rather than abuse of power. Such normalisation corrodes democratic values. When violence becomes an acceptable instrument of political authority, institutions gradually cease functioning independently and instead begin operating under fear.
The consequences extend far beyond doctors.
If a doctor can be assaulted inside a hospital for communicating an inconvenient medical reality, what message does it send to every government employee performing a difficult duty? Police officers, nurses, teachers, municipal workers, revenue officials and civil servants all become vulnerable to similar intimidation whenever their decisions inconvenience politically influential individuals.
Eventually, professionals stop exercising independent judgment. Decisions become guided not by law, ethics or expertise, but by fear of political retaliation.
That is fatal for any democracy.
To its credit, the Maharashtra Police registered a criminal case and arrested the accused corporator. Shiv Sena MP Shrikant Shinde also publicly condemned the assault, stating that no one taking the law into their own hands would be spared and promising disciplinary action within the party. Such responses are necessary, but they cannot remain symbolic.
The tendency to resort to physical aggression is by no means confined to one party or one state. During a recent protest march in Kolkata, former West Bengal Chief Minister and TMC chief Mamata Banerjee was seen slapping a Trinamool Congress worker and pushing others while attempting to disperse a crowd outside her residence after clashes between Trinamool Congress and BJP workers.
Regardless of the circumstances leading up to the incident, the visuals reinforced an unfortunate pattern in Indian politics: the normalisation of physical aggression by those occupying public office. When political leaders themselves use force to assert control or discipline supporters, they inadvertently legitimise the idea that authority is exercised through intimidation rather than restraint, weakening the democratic ethos they are sworn to uphold.
The law must establish beyond doubt that political office is not a licence to intimidate.
Assaults on healthcare workers should invite swift criminal prosecution, irrespective of the accused’s political affiliation. Political parties, too, must recognise that merely distancing themselves after public outrage is insufficient. Individuals accused of such conduct should face immediate organisational consequences, including suspension or expulsion where warranted.
Most importantly, society itself must reject the growing tendency to romanticise displays of political muscle.
A politician who slaps a doctor, threatens a bureaucrat or assaults a police officer is not displaying strength; he is displaying contempt for the very institutions that sustain democratic governance. Leadership is measured by restraint, accountability and respect for the rule of law, not by how effectively one can intimidate those performing public duties.
The Dombivli assault should therefore be remembered not simply as an attack on one doctor but as a warning about the direction in which sections of Indian politics appear to be heading. When elected representatives begin behaving like warlords rather than constitutional office-bearers, democracy itself is diminished. Public servants become subjects, institutions become battlegrounds for political ego, and violence replaces dialogue as the preferred instrument of authority.
The Constitution did not create elected representatives to rule over citizens. It empowered them to serve. Every assault committed under the illusion of political superiority is a betrayal of that constitutional promise.
