by Jozia Farooq Mir
Nurses are not invisible, nor are they inferior. They are the backbone of healthcare. They are not merely hands that dress wounds; they are hearts that heal.
Every year, on May 12, the world pauses to acknowledge the relentless efforts of nurses. Banners are hoisted, social media is awash with appreciation posts, hospitals stage photo sessions and ceremonial events unfold. Yet, as the decorations are dismantled, what remains for the nurses?
This singular day of recognition feels like a beautifully wrapped box with nothing inside. It cannot compensate for the 364 days of disrespect, exploitation, and invisibility. A rose on Nurses Day does little to ease the weight of being overworked and underpaid. A cake-cutting ceremony is no balm for the constant emotional and professional indignities that nurses endure in silence.
Nurses are the heartbeat of healthcare. No system can function without them. They monitor, diagnose, intervene, and, most crucially, connect with patients. Their contributions span from life-saving ICU procedures to home-based palliative care. They ensure continuity of care and uphold the dignity of patients in their most vulnerable moments.
Modern nurses are highly trained professionals who bring clinical knowledge, critical thinking, empathy, and leadership to every shift. The World Health Organization that strengthening nursing is vital to achieving Universal Health Coverage.
Today’s nurses are not passive caregivers. They are team leaders, educators, managers, and researchers. They coordinate patient care, manage crises, supervise junior staff, and make clinical decisions. Yet, this leadership role remains largely unacknowledged.
Nurses are expected to function as doctors, work as administrators, behave as saints, and remain available round-the-clock. Yet, when it comes to respect and recognition, they are consistently left behind.
Nurses pursue specialized education in mental health, critical care, obstetrics, paediatrics, and community health. However, after years of study, they find no specialized roles awaiting them. Government apathy towards creating roles that align with nursing degrees is disheartening. There is no roadmap, no incentives, and no acknowledgement of their expertise.
Our dressing allowance is non-existent. Our risk allowance is invisible. Night duty allowances remain uncertain. Yet, when it comes to work standards, nurses are expected to meet the performance benchmarks of AIIMS, PGI, and global hospitals. How is this fair? If AIIMS-level care is demanded, then provide AIIMS-level staff ratios, infrastructure, and benefits. Do not expect premium service on a budget mentality. Respect must be systemic, not symbolic.
Whenever a nurse resists performing non-nursing tasks — cleaning, lifting, running errands — the response is often, “Abhi nursing orderly nahi hai, kaam toh karna padega.”
No. That is unacceptable. The absence of orderlies is the government’s failure, not the nurse’s responsibility.
Nurses are trained to deliver expert clinical care, not to mop floors or carry patients without support. If A-Z patient care is expected, then transition to primary nursing, not functional nursing. Until then, duties must be clearly defined and assigned accordingly.
In every hospital across Jammu and Kashmir — rural or urban, primary or tertiary, public or private — nurses stretch beyond their roles. They adjust. They sacrifice. Yet, their voices are muted. Their demands are dismissed. Their professional identity is diluted.
If our pain is invisible, then keep your appreciation. Hollow gestures are meaningless. We are enough for ourselves. Every day is Nurses Day when we endure humiliation and still show up. We do not need celebrations. We need justice.
While Indian nurses abroad are celebrated with lucrative salaries and prominent leadership roles, the reality in Jammu and Kashmir remains starkly different. In central hospitals outside the region, B.Sc. nurses command monthly salaries of ₹80,000, a figure that stands in sharp contrast to the stagnant pay levels back home. In Jammu and Kashmir, M.Sc. nurses in the government sector remain confined to Pay Level 4, their qualifications unrecognised and their potential unfulfilled. Despite countless letters, meetings, and pleas, recruitment rules remain unaltered. Deputation rights are systematically denied, promotions are indefinitely stalled, and opportunities for further education are consistently obstructed.
The workplace is a battlefield where nurses endure daily indignities in silence. Their voices, when raised, are swiftly dismissed as defiance. Concerns expressed are perceived as arrogance. Protests against unjust treatment are met with isolation, transfers, or coerced apologies. Speaking up becomes an act of rebellion, punished rather than acknowledged. In this toxic atmosphere, respect is a luxury, not a right.
Herzberg’s Motivation-Hygiene Theory offers a grim explanation for the pervasive demotivation among nurses. Hygiene factors — such as salary, supervision, job security, and interpersonal treatment — are glaringly absent. Meanwhile, motivators — encompassing growth, recognition, responsibility, and achievement — are systematically ignored. The result is a workplace rife with low morale, high burnout, and emotional exhaustion.
A 2021 study conducted among nurses in Jammu and Kashmir laid bare the disheartening reality: job satisfaction among nurses ranked the lowest across healthcare cadres. The top reasons for discontent included inadequate salaries, limited professional growth, social stigma, workplace disrespect, and relentless humiliation. Burnout was rampant, fuelled by excessive workloads, a glaring lack of appreciation, role overload, and the complete absence of mental health support. Nurses reported being disrespected by both peers and superiors, their job roles unclear, and their contributions unacknowledged. The cumulative effect was an environment where emotional and physical exhaustion became the norm.
In a world where evidence-based nursing sets the global standard, the nurses of Jammu and Kashmir remain trapped in a battle for basic allowances, fair recruitment practices, and recognition of their specialisations. While international counterparts progress, they are left fighting for fundamental rights. The institutional silencing is perhaps the most insidious aspect of this struggle. A nurse who dares to speak up is swiftly labelled “egoistic.” A formal complaint is met with temporary appeasement, followed by subtle reprisals. The expectation is clear: bend, endure, and survive — in silence.
This is not written in anger, but in responsibility — for those who toil in rural primary health centres and urban tertiary hospitals, in both public and private sectors, under relentless pressure and enforced silence, yet still choose care.
The message is simple: do not wish us; hear us. Do not praise us; promote us. Do not clap for us; change for us. Do not offer bouquets; build policies. Nurses are not robots. They are skilled, committed, and human. What they demand is not symbolic gestures but systemic respect, not empty appreciation but structural dignity.
Enough with the superficial celebrations. A bouquet without basic dignity is an insult. A clap without a contract is a farce. Calling them angels while treating them like subordinates is hypocrisy. It is time to declare, as one nurse put it: “Humein na aapki taali chahiye, na hi gaali.”
Nurses are educated, skilled, and human. And they are not asking for favours. They are demanding what is rightfully theirs.
This year, the declaration is clear: No more Nurses Day — not until salaries reflect qualifications, not until leadership roles are acknowledged, not until workplaces are respectful, not until voices are heard. Nurses are not invisible, nor are they inferior. They are the backbone of healthcare. They are not merely hands that dress wounds; they are hearts that heal.
If the system continues to ignore their pain, no day of celebration can repair that silence. Nurses do not need a ceremonial Nurses Day. They need a revolution of recognition. Until then, every day remains theirs — not through hollow speeches but through the struggle they endure.
(The author is a Nursing Officer, educator, poet, and researcher based in Jammu and Kashmir. She advocates for the rights of nurses, reform in healthcare policy, and the dignity of the profession. Ideas are personal.)
