Why I Keep Speaking Up

Why I Keep Speaking Up: A Self-Reflection on Ayurveda’s Critical Crossroads

By Dr. Aakash Kembhavi

Dr. Wayne Dyer’s words resonate deeply with me: “Leave your reputation for others to debate; it has nothing to do with you.” Yet, I find myself repeatedly writing about the uncomfortable truths in Ayurveda—the failing education system, student apathy, clinical disconnects, teacher indifference, and compromised research standards. Why do I persist when silence would be easier?

The Weight of Experience

Twenty-five years of clinical practice, two decades of teaching across continents, and the responsibility of shaping future Ayurvedic physicians have given me a vantage point I cannot ignore. As a double gold medalist who once embodied youthful enthusiasm, I’ve watched the system that nurtured me slowly crumble under the weight of mediocrity and complacency.

When I walk through the corridors of institutions where I have served in various capacities and continue to do so, I see a healthcare system in crisis—not from external threats, but from internal decay.

Why I Cannot Stay Silent

It’s Not About My Reputation

Some colleagues suggest I’m being too critical, too harsh, that I’m damaging my standing in the Ayurvedic community. But Dyer’s wisdom reminds me: what others think of my criticism is their business, not mine. My business is the truth I witness daily.

It’s About the Patients We’re Failing

Every poorly trained graduate who enters clinical practice represents hundreds of patients who will receive substandard care. Every research paper built on flawed methodology sets back our collective understanding. Every apathetic teacher creates a ripple effect of disengagement that spans generations.

I’ve treated piles, fistulas, diabetic foot, and other challenging health issues for two decades. I know what competent Ayurvedic care can achieve—and I know the harm that incompetence causes.

The Uncomfortable Truths I Keep Writing About

1. The Education System’s Hollowness

We’re producing graduates who can recite Sanskrit shlokas but cannot diagnose basic conditions. The curriculum remains disconnected from clinical reality. Students memorize for exams and forget within months. The system rewards rote learning over critical thinking.

As someone who has restructured syllabi and taught across continents, I see how far we’ve fallen behind global educational standards.

2. Student Attitude: The Entitlement Epidemic

Today’s students often view BAMS as a backup option, not a calling. They seek degrees, not knowledge. They want the title of “doctor” without embracing the responsibility it carries. The fire of genuine inquiry has dimmed.

I was a university topper, yes—but that achievement came from passion, not just ambition. Where has that passion gone in our current cohorts?

3. Clinical Practice Reality: The Theory-Practice Chasm

Fresh graduates enter practice woefully unprepared. They’ve memorized textbooks but never learned clinical reasoning. They can describe Sushruta’s surgical techniques but cannot manage a simple anorectal condition with confidence.

My work with Astanga Wellness, has shown me that authentic practice requires depth—something our education system no longer cultivates.

4. Teacher Apathy: The Guardians Who’ve Stopped Guarding

The most painful observation: many teachers have given up. They go through motions, deliver lectures without conviction, avoid clinical responsibilities, and show no interest in student development. Some have never practiced clinically themselves.

As a recognized PG and PhD guide with multiple scholars under my mentorship, I know the commitment teaching demands. But I see colleagues who’ve forgotten that teaching is not just a job—it’s a sacred trust.

5. Research Quality: Building Castles on Sand

Ayurvedic research is plagued by poor methodology, inadequate statistical rigor, and confirmation bias. Papers are published to tick boxes for promotions, not to advance knowledge. My work in research methodology and biostatistics has exposed me to countless flawed studies that waste resources and mislead practitioners.

We need integrated research and innovative designs specific to Ayurvedic paradigms—but who’s willing to do the hard work?

The Uncomfortable Truth: We’re Not Sustaining Ayurveda—It’s Sustaining Us

Here lies the deepest source of my discomfort: we operate under the false pretense that Ayurveda survives because of us—because of our degrees, our institutions, our publications, our conferences. The painful reality is exactly the opposite - It is Ayurveda that sustains us. We draw salaries, earn reputations, build careers, and claim authority—all on the strength of a system created by luminaries whose intellectual and clinical brilliance we can scarcely comprehend.

What troubles me most is this thought: if Charaka, Sushruta, Vagbhata, or any of our revered Acharyas were to visit our institutions today, what would they witness? What would they take home in their hearts?

They would see their profound surgical techniques reduced to PowerPoint slides. They would watch students yawning through lectures on principles these masters spent lifetimes perfecting. They would observe teachers who’ve never treated a patient confidently expounding on clinical protocols. They would read research papers that violate every principle of systematic inquiry they established. They would witness the commercialization, the shortcuts, the lip service paid to tradition while substance is abandoned.

How uncomfortable they would be in their graves, knowing that those who claim to be their inheritors are actually diminishing their legacy with every passing day. We wear the garland of Ayurveda around our necks while slowly strangling it with our mediocrity.

This is what keeps me awake at night. This is what compels me to write, even when it’s unpopular. We are borrowing credibility from giants while giving back so little. We are tenants treating an ancestral home with casual neglect, forgetting we don’t own it—we’re merely temporary custodians.

The question that haunts me: are we worthy of what we’ve inherited?

The Self-Introspection: Why I Look Critically

Because I’ve Been Part of the Problem

Early in my career, I too was complacent at times. I too avoided difficult conversations. But clinical practice humbled me. Patients who suffered because the system failed them taught me that silence is complicity.

Because Excellence Demands Honesty

My multiple degrees, international teaching experience, and editorial roles aren’t accomplishments to celebrate—they’re responsibilities to uphold standards. If someone with my credentials and platform doesn’t speak up, who will?

Because Ayurveda Deserves Better

This 5,000-year-old science has survived empires, colonization, and modernization. It shouldn’t die from our negligence. Ayurveda can be a robust healthcare system—but only if we’re willing to fix what’s broken.

Because Future Generations Are Watching

The ongoing research projects I’m guiding, the PG scholars I mentor, the UG students I teach—they deserve to inherit an Ayurvedic system that works, not one that merely exists.

Why Critical Examination Isn’t Criticism

I’m not tearing down Ayurveda; I’m trying to save it. Critical thinking isn’t negative—it’s essential for growth. When I point out that students lack clinical competence, I’m advocating for better training. When I challenge research quality, I’m pushing for genuine advancement.

The alternative to critical examination is comfortable delusion—and patients pay the price for our comfort.

The Loneliness of the Critical Voice

Yes, it’s isolating. Colleagues avoid difficult discussions. Administrators prefer those who don’t rock the boat. Students sometimes resist being challenged. It would be easier to coast on my credentials, collect my salary, and retire quietly.

But I remember the patients with diabetic foot ulcers who found healing when conventional medicine had given up. I remember the students whose eyes lit up when they finally understood integrated practice. I remember why I fell in love with Ayurveda in the first place.

Moving Forward: Hope Amid Criticism

I write not from despair but from hope. Change is possible, but only if we acknowledge the problems first. My articles, lectures, and advocacy work aim to spark conversations that lead to action.

We need:

  • Education reform that emphasizes clinical competence
  • Student selection processes that identify passion, not just marks
  • Teacher accountability and continuous professional development
  • Research standards that match international benchmarks
  • Clinical training that bridges theory and practice

In Conclusion: It’s Not About Me

Dr. Wayne Dyer was right. My reputation—whether people see me as a critic, troublemaker, or advocate—is not my concern. What matters is whether my voice contributes, however small, to Ayurveda’s evolution into a healthcare system worthy of its ancient wisdom and modern patients’ trust.

I keep writing because the alternative is watching something precious die slowly while those who could save it look away.

And that, I cannot do.

Dr. Aakash Kembhavi is Director & Consultant Surgeon at Astanga Wellness Pvt Ltd, Hubli. With over 25 years in clinical practice and teaching, he specializes in Shalya Tantra, research methodology, and integrated Ayurvedic care.

Share your thoughts in the comments below.