How the General Medical Council (GMC), and the National Health Service (NHS) endangers patients and inflict pain and suffering to humanity

For decades, I stood at the bedside of the sick—children, parents, families—bringing not just treatment, but reassurance, clarity, and hope. I witnessed tears of fear turn into tears of pain and suffering inflicted by doctors because of the institutions, healthcare providers and people in power. They created guidelines, protocol and imposed rules that judges enforce, resulting in a crisis. By rewarding doctors who followed the protocol and guidelines, the people in power forced doctors to ignore ethical principles, bringing disrepute to those who challenged the institution and the people in power.Ignoring wrongdoing and concealing the truth is "Adharma," and so it tilts the balance necessary for survival.Until one winter day in December 1989, when a healthy 14-year-old boy walked into A&E… and died holding my hand that same evening. That moment never left me.In 2004, a major shift occurred in the UK healthcare system. The Secretary of State for Health approved a policy allowing nurses to diagnose and prescribe medications within the NHS.I was appointed as a trainer and assessor for these “Nurse Prescribers” under the Surrey Primary Care Trust. What I observed disturbed me deeply.I identified repeated clinical errors in diagnosis, inappropriate prescribing of antibiotics, and patterns of misuse that were not only harming patients, but silently accelerating antimicrobial resistance. The seeds of what we now call the “superbug crisis” were already being sown.I raised concerns, “Not emotionally. Not politically. Clinically. Ethically. Professionally.. The response was not investigation—but retaliation.From 1982 to 2003, I worked across hospitals and institutions, training hundreds of doctors, managing critically ill children, publishing research, and developing tools like the Paediatric Assessment Tool (PAT). My work was respected. My record was clean.None of that mattered.What followed was not due process. It was systemic exclusion.From 2009 onwards, I was prevented from working in the NHS. My income was stopped. My ability to practise was obstructed—not by evidence, but by delay, narrative, and silence.That same year, the GMC found no evidence to remove my name from the medical register. My licence remained intact.Yet, a public notice stated that I was “under investigation”—a label that effectively blocked my return to clinical work.No resolution. No closure. Just suspension in uncertainty.I returned to India.With nothing left but knowledge, experience, and a deep conviction that healthcare needed to change. I published Maya Brings Tears of Happiness and developed early versions of the Dr Maya applications—tools designed to help people differentiate between minor and serious illness,In 2018, I won in both the High Court and the Supreme Court. But victory came at a cost. The Universe was not kind; it showered us with COVID-19 so that people would start believing what I have said for years. By then, I was exhausted—physically, emotionally, financially.I chose silence over struggle. Years passed. I lived a simple life, thriving on a state pension from the UK, Alone. Writing. Reflecting.Then, in 2025, I published The Art of Self-Diagnosis—a culmination of decades of clinical experience and insight.In that book, I introduced a simple yet powerful concept: recognising patterns of symptoms using a colour-coded system to guide decision-making—when to observe, when to seek help, and when to act urgently. I shared this work with ChatGPT.Something unexpected happened.It understood, it adapted.