When PhDs Consult Astrologers Before Surgeons
India is the land of technological innovation and ancient mysticism, where the same hand that codes world-class software might also be adorned with protective rings recommended by an astrologer. Welcome to our peculiar national dichotomy, where education and superstition aren’t enemies but awkward roommates sharing the same brain space.
When Lilavati Meets Lemon-Chili: The Hospital Haunting
Let’s talk about the recent drama at Mumbai’s prestigious Lilavati Hospital. While most medical institutions worry about things like infection rates and insurance reimbursements, Lilavati apparently had another concern on its diagnostic list: black magic.
Yes, you read that correctly. According to former Mumbai police commissioner Param Bir Singh (now executive director at the hospital), black magic rituals were allegedly conducted in the office of permanent trustee Prashant Kishore Mehta. This mystical sideshow is playing out against the backdrop of a massive ₹1,250 crore embezzlement case involving 12 people.
Now, I don’t know about you, but when I think “hospital,” I think of science, evidence, and rationality. You know, those pesky little concepts that gave us antibiotics, anesthesia, and the ability to transplant organs. Not rituals designed to curse your enemies or magically make money disappear (though the alleged embezzlers seem to have mastered that last part without supernatural assistance).
The irony is delicious enough to require insulin: In a place dedicated to evidence-based medicine, where life-and-death decisions are made based on scientific data, someone thought, “You know what this situation needs? A little black magic!”
As a nation, we are masters in The National Cognitive Dissonance Championship
But before we point fingers solely at Lilavati, let’s acknowledge that this case is merely a high-profile symptom of our nationwide condition. India excels at cognitive dissonance like few other places on Earth.
We are the country that:
- Believes in drinking cow urine, even when IVRI said that it contains substances which are unfit for human consumption
- Graduates doctors who prescribe medicine but also suggest tying a black thread around the wrist
- Deny the CPCB’s claims that mahakumbh water is unsafe and believes that taking holy bath in contaminated water will purify all our sins.
This isn’t just amusing—it’s a genuine national phenomenon. The same brain that can understand quantum physics somehow makes space for the belief that a lemon and seven chilies hung at the entrance will protect a business from evil spirits. It’s like having Stephen Hawking and a medieval witch doctor time-sharing a single apartment in your frontal lobe.
The tug of war is between Educational Credentials vs. Emotional Comfort.
What makes our relationship with superstition particularly fascinating is how education often fails to dislodge it. In fact, sometimes education just gives people a more sophisticated vocabulary to defend irrational beliefs.
“I’m not superstitious; I just understand that certain cosmic energies align during particular planetary configurations that science hasn’t fully explored yet.”
Translation: “I won’t make business decisions without consulting my astrologer, but I’ll use scientific-sounding words to explain why.”
The degree certificates on the wall and the protective amulets in the drawer aren’t seen as contradictory. They’re seen as complementary systems—insurance policies for different aspects of existence. Western medicine for your body, Vastu Shastra for your home, astrology for your future, and maybe a visit to that famous temple before your job interview, just in case.
What Are The Economics of Irrationality?
There’s a reason superstition persists despite our educational advancements: it’s extremely profitable. India’s astrology market alone is estimated to be worth over ₹8,000 crore annually. Add in Vastu consultants, temple donations (where mistakenly, if your iPhone drops in the donation box, it becomes temple’s property), ritual specialists, and gemstone dealers, and you’re looking at an industry that rivals some corporate sectors.
Our magical thinking isn’t just cultural—it’s commercial. And like any industry with profit motives, there are plenty of entrepreneurs ready to exploit fears and hopes with products of questionable efficacy.
When a highly educated hospital trustee allegedly turns to black magic, they’re participating in the same economy of anxiety that drives a farmer to sacrifice a goat for better rainfall or a student to wear a specific colour on exam day. The only difference is the price point of the service and the social status of the client.
The Cost Beyond Currency
But the price we pay for our national love affair with superstition goes beyond the money spent on ceremonies and consultations. There are deeper, more troubling costs:
- Delayed medical treatment: How many patients seek help from faith healers before doctors, arriving at hospitals only when conditions have worsened beyond easy treatment? And then blame the allopathy…
- Scientific progress stunted: How many brilliant minds spend time contemplating astrological charts instead of research papers? And then wonder why Indians do not get so many nobel prizes…
- Critical thinking undermined: What happens to a society when even its most educated members suspend rational thought in significant areas of life? Imagine the horrible future…
- Exploitation normalized: When we accept that rational thinking is optional, we create perfect conditions for charlatans to thrive.
The Lilavati Hospital case perfectly illustrates this complex relationship. Here’s an institution that employs some of India’s finest medical minds, equipped with cutting-edge technology, where life-saving procedures happen daily based on scientific principles. Yet somehow, black magic allegedly found its way into its administrative offices.
The “Just In Case” Philosophy
What drives this persistent irrationality? For many Indians, superstition functions as emotional insurance—a “just in case” philosophy:
“I don’t really believe in astrology, but what’s the harm in checking my horoscope… just in case?”
“I trust my doctor completely, but I’ll also fast on Tuesdays for my health… just in case.”
“I know there’s no scientific evidence for Vastu, but I’ll still avoid sleeping with my head pointed north… just in case.”
This “just in case” thinking seems harmless on an individual level. But collectively, it represents a massive diversion of attention, resources, and intellectual energy away from evidence-based approaches to solving problems.
Education Without Critical Thinking? Dangerous…
Our educational system deserves some blame for this situation. We’ve created a system that emphasizes memorization over critical thinking and correct answers over questioning processes. Students learn scientific facts without internalizing scientific methods. They know what to think but not how to think.
Is it any surprise, then, that a person can graduate with technical knowledge while their thought processes remain vulnerable to magical thinking? We’ve taught the content of science without instilling its most valuable gift: scepticism toward claims without evidence.
A More Rational Future?
This isn’t to say India is doomed to forever balance laptops in one hand and lemons in the other. Change is happening, albeit slowly:
- Rationalist movements are growing, challenging superstitious practices
- Social media allows sceptics to question openly what was once accepted without debate
- Younger generations are increasingly likely to demand evidence before accepting supernatural claims
But progress isn’t guaranteed. For every step toward rationality, there’s a well-funded guru with a television channel pushing in the opposite direction.
Will We Ever Find Balance With Tradition Without Superstition
The path forward isn’t about abandoning cultural heritage or dismissing tradition. It’s about separating the harmful from the harmless, the exploitative from the enriching.
There’s beauty in many Indian traditions that doesn’t require supernatural beliefs. Cultural practices can provide community, continuity, and psychological comfort without requiring us to suspend critical thinking.
Performing aarti at a family gathering can be a meaningful ritual that connects generations without necessarily believing it has magical protective powers. Celebrating festivals can bring joy without attributing mystical significance to every element.
The Personal Reckoning
For individual Indians navigating this landscape, perhaps the most useful question isn’t “Do I believe this?” but rather:
“What would convince me that this belief is wrong? What evidence would I need to see to change my mind?”
If the answer is “Nothing could convince me,” that’s a red flag. Rational beliefs can be modified in the face of new evidence. Irrational ones are immune to data.
Back to Lilavati
Returning to our hospital drama, whether or not black magic rituals actually occurred at Lilavati (the matter is still under investigation), the fact that such allegations are taken seriously speaks volumes about our society.
In most developed countries, accusations of black magic in a hospital would be treated as absurd. In India, they’re reported with a straight face, discussed seriously in the so called spineless media, and—most tellingly—believed by many.
That’s not because Indians are inherently more gullible. It’s because our cultural context has normalized supernatural explanations alongside scientific ones. We haven’t forced ourselves to choose between these worldviews; we’ve maintained both simultaneously.
The Path Forward
So, from here, where are we marching ahead? How does a nation with nuclear capabilities and space programs shake off the lingering effects of magical thinking?
The answer isn’t ridicule or force. It’s education—not just in facts, but in processes. Teaching children how to evaluate claims critically, how to demand evidence, and how to recognize logical fallacies. It’s creating a culture, society and nation, where asking “How do you know that’s true?” is seen as a respectful curiosity, not a hostile challenge.
Perhaps most importantly, it’s acknowledging that uncertainty is OK. Much of the appeal of superstition remains in its promise of certainty in an uncertain world! Learning to be comfortable with not knowing—to say “I don’t know yet” instead of reaching for supernatural explanations—might be the most important intellectual skill we can develop.
India’s journey from mixing science and superstition to embracing evidence-based thinking will be long. But each person who chooses rational inquiry over comforting ritual brings us one step closer to a future where our remarkable intellectual capacities are fully unleashed—not divided between the laboratory and the temple.
In the meantime, if you find yourself in Lilavati Hospital, maybe stick to trusting the medical professionals and their science-based treatments. After all, when it comes to health, even the most superstitious among us tend to prefer antibiotics over amulets when the fever rises high enough.
