It was a late January evening in 1986 when the phone rang. The black instrument whose heavy handle one had to lift and hold to the ear. “This is Abhay Mokashi from Indian Express,” the voice at the other end said. My heart skipped a beat. It was not common to be called by a journalist at that time, though I had got to know Abhay when I was a medical student at KEM Hospital. “It is rather urgent. Can we talk?” Abhay sounded somewhat excited. “What is F minus and F plus in your PG exam marking?” By now I was curious. “What is the context?” I asked. “I can’t tell you now but need to know details about the grading system in your exams.” I explained to Abhay whatever I knew. “Read tomorrow’s papers,” Abhay said before disconnecting.

The next day’s Indian Express front-paged a big story. Chandrakala, the daughter of then chief minister of Maharashtra Shivajirao Patil Nilangekar, had been a PG student in gynaecology at KEM Hospital. Abhay’s piece revealed how the marking system had been tampered to change her result from fail to pass. The minus mark had been overwritten to plus. Abhay had managed to get access to this through an insider. A few days later, Mahesh Gosavi, a PG student who had appeared in the same exam and failed filed a petition in the Bombay High Court asking for action. Justice Pendse saw merit in the petition and passed strictures against the role of the CM. The Indian Express put relentless pressure carrying front page stories on 3 consecutive Sundays. The entire press and opposition parties took up the issue. Patil finally resigned. So also the governor and vice-chancellor of the university. The examiners were suspended. Over the years the marking system in medical exams has slowly moved to computerised MCQs. Though the rich and powerful still find ways, it is no longer the walkover it once was.

Abhay later told me how he was repeatedly lured and threatened but stood his ground. And as someone who came to journalism from a social movement, it was natural for him to take up these stories. Abhay went on to do a lot of powerful stories around Mumbai’s healthcare. That was not a time for labels but he was probably an investigative journalist who forayed into health.

Friday evening, as I sat in the majestic precincts of the Jamshed Bhabha auditorium at the NCPA, listening to the Symphony of India orchestra I could not help thinking about how, like much else in our lives, journalism has changed. For the last few years, I have been curating the health section of the RedInk awards instituted by the Mumbai Press Club. This means that I have to read through hundreds of articles on healthcare from across India to narrow down the winners. It’s an exercise which provides both anxiety and hope. At the award ceremony, held in grand Oscar-ish style at the NCPA, it’s uplifting to see young journalists often from small online platforms walk up to applause, with their families watching. Though not easy, it’s best not to look at the names of the sponsors that are flashed on stage. Lest it take away from the courageous work on display.

Health journalism is now a speciality. Most large newspapers have journalists dedicated to the health beat. Many of them have developed deep insights into healthcare. Whether this means that their stories impact the trajectory of healthcare is a difficult question. But pieces highlighting deficiencies like a critical piece of equipment not working in a public hospital do result in action even if temporary. Coverage of lack of medicines for MDR-TB has made th state respond. Health reporting in India has several unique challenges. Starting with decoding the science.

Health continues to be an area of low public interest. Though Covid temporarily changed this, analytical pieces on health policy are not likely to go viral on WhatsApp. On the other hand, the information asymmetry between health knowledge and our ordinary citizens is particularly severe. This places a special burden on a reporter to ‘simplify’ issues without trivialising them. Finally, critiquing the severe fault lines in our public health infrastructure can lead to people being pushed to the mercy of a predatory private sector. For a journalist who wishes to critique public medicine with an aim to improve it, this is a moral dilemma.

Covid was a defining moment for healthcare journalism in India. Some were brave enough to don PPEs and enter Covid wards. Many made deep dives into documents and policy processes to expose commercial interests that were driving protocol. The surge of interest in public health and its relevance to our day-to-day lives meant publications had to devote serious space to this area. Whether this is sustained remains to be seen.

Like in other walks of life where the market now has a ubiquitous presence, health journalists have to deal with the world of marketing and surrogate advertising. A burgeoning healthcare market can only mean constant attempts to use media for planting stories to attract patients. The players are powerful and have easy access to media owners. And then there is television and its unfair advantage in competing for eyeballs. Objective health journalism is at a challenging cusp. It is needed much more than before and yet is under threat as never before. And as Justice Srikrishna observed at the RedInk awards, the media and the judiciary are our final bulwarks.