The old mother had come to Kathmandu by bus from Bhairahawa in the morning. She had arrived at Bir Hospital with an old bag in her hand, unbearable toothache in her mouth, and a great hope in her heart. She had not been able to sleep all night due to the noise of the bus, and was exhausted by the time she reached the hospital gate.

The sun had already risen as we stood in line. Our faces were contorted with pain, our words were breaking as we spoke. When our turn came, the examination did not take long. The doctor looked at the report and gave a short decision – come back in three months. Like the old woman who had reached the hospital with great hopes, many do not get the doctor's expected time, inquiries, and sufficient information about their illness. 

The slogan that health is the right of the people is echoed a lot in movements and speeches. But after the movement ends, that right is left at the hospital gate, where the patient neither receives treatment nor answers. Leaders who talk about rights do not have to stand in a line for treatment, return without getting medicine, nor spend the night in a bed shortage. That is why the slogan is easy, but implementation is difficult.

The fact that the country's government hospitals are still burdened with the same old problems is not a misfortune, it is a planned neglect. The weakening of the health system is not just a failure of the state, but a desired choice of the state. Because, when there are strong government hospitals, the people depend on them, question them, and seek their rights.

But when hospitals are weak, people become helpless, are pushed towards private hospitals, and remain constrained despite harboring resentment towards the state. This constraint is the fuel of power. When the state deliberately keeps hospitals disorganized, it should not be understood as mere indifference. Here, the power itself is more dangerous than the disease, and its diagnosis is also very necessary.

The practice of opening hospitals in the name of political figures is not a new context in Nepal. When a hospital is opened in the name of a person or leader, that hospital becomes a center of power expansion, not a service center. A hospital is an institution that should be opened to save patients, not a monument built to glorify the legacy of a leader. But in Nepal, there is a competition to put up 'nameplates' in front of treatment centers. Before asking what the service is, people are proud of which leader's name is affixed. In this way, hospitals have become a tool for political 'branding', not the people's.

The irony is that in a hospital named after a leader, there is neither enough medicine, nor manpower, nor management. The name is big, the service is small. The building is well-organized, the system is in disarray. In other words, healthcare is not focused on priorities, but on power and self-interest. It is not just a matter of naming, it is a mirror of the state's mentality. Where politics is introduced into service institutions, impartiality dies.

When a hospital is tied to a party, leader, and history, it does not remain independent. It becomes a structure that cannot be criticized or questioned. And when the service deteriorates, no one is to blame because its name has been sanctified. A hospital run by the people's taxes should run in the name of the people, not a leader. When citizens need treatment, they need service, not a name.

Health is prioritized in the budget statement. But in the hospital queue, it feels like that priority has been lost. The policy lives on paper, and patients are suffering at the counter. If you have to wait three months for basic dental treatment in the oldest and most prestigious government hospital in the country like Bir Hospital, it cannot be dismissed as a weakness in management. This is a political failure.

If the party's demands are not met, the country shuts down, the streets heat up, and slogans are chanted. When a power deal is stuck, a strike is immediately declared. But why doesn't anyone lose sleep when a government hospital, the backbone of the country, collapses? Why isn't there a movement when people's lives are in danger? Why don't patients suffering from lack of medicine become a political agenda? It is not just a coincidence that they pretend not to see it, but the state has failed to set priorities. 

The country does not shut down when services in hospitals are disrupted, but when the power balance is upset, the country is shown the courage to shut down. This sends a clear message that the demands of the party are greater than the lives of the people. This is why government hospitals are not on the list of reforms. Because power is not saved there, only the survival of citizens is a matter of concern. Unfortunately, in today's politics, the right to life of citizens is not even a priority.

Not all doctors can be implicated, but doctors who serve in government hospitals do not consider themselves servants of the people. The language they speak to patients is like an order, trying to ask questions is insulting, and complaining is even more considered a crime.

Government hospitals run on public taxes, but once they reach there, patients should feel indebted. ‘Not today’, ‘come tomorrow’, ‘get tested outside’ – these words are not treatment, but a show of power. Patients who need to be seen on time wait for hours, but doctors reach private clinics on time. Government duty is a compulsion, private practice is a priority. But this dual character has broken the system.

This tyranny is not just the ego of the individual, but the result of weak state control. Where there is no accountability, there is abuse of power. The mechanism for complaining is limited to paper, patients are afraid to speak up, because they know that if they protest today, treatment may be stopped tomorrow. In such an environment, the hospital becomes a zone of fear, not a treatment center.

The state should respect doctors, but making them gods is weakness. When the profession of service is made a license to show power, the biggest victim is the patient. Unless the environment of a government hospital is made service-oriented, neither the budget, nor the building, nor the new equipment will work. Because ultimately, it is not the machine that runs the hospital, but the mentality.

Even today, Bir Hospital, the oldest hospital in Nepal, is not the pride of treatment, but a showcase of the state’s failure and political shamelessness. Here, patients wait in line for hours, there is a shortage of medicine, a shortage of beds.

Even though the state keeps shouting the slogan of Digital Nepal, government hospitals are still stuck in cash. Cards, QR or mobile facilities are not used. Digitization is only for speeches. Here, treatment is not a priority, but political and administrative convenience has become the first priority.