What started as a heartfelt Doctor's Day post by chess Grandmaster Vidit Gujrathi spiralled into a nationwide debate. A social media scuffle, yes, but behind it lies an age-old, ever-growing question: Who really gets to be called a doctor in India?

Vidit shared a photo, proudly introducing his father, an Ayurvedic migraine specialist, his mother, a cosmetologist, his wife, who holds an MD in homoeopathy, and his sister, a practising physiotherapist. But soon after, came the viral takedown. Dr Cyriac Abby Philips, known online as TheLiverDoc, declared: None of them are real doctors.

And just like that, the comment section turned into a battlefield.

This wasn’t just a fight between two users. It triggered a massive debate, one that’s been simmering beneath the surface of India’s healthcare system for years.

On one side, you have people saying: Being a doctor means evidence-based, scientific, allopathic training. Anything else is either pseudoscience or alternative therapy, not medicine.

On the other side, many pushed back: If Ayurveda and Homoeopathy are regulated by the Indian government, taught in full-time medical colleges, and practiced in government hospitals, why shouldn’t those who study them be called doctors?

This debate, of course, is not a new one. But this time, the trigger was emotional, public, and personal, which is why it hit harder.

Supporters of Ayurveda and Homoeopathy argue that these are complete systems of medicine, with their own diagnostic methods, pharmacology, and years-long formal education. In many rural and even urban areas, AYUSH doctors are the first and only point of contact for thousands of patients.”

They say: if the state gives us degrees, builds our hospitals, and allows us to treat patients, then what more proof of legitimacy is needed? They also highlight that these systems are often more affordable, culturally rooted, and offer fewer side effects, especially for chronic conditions.

But the modern medicine camp raises some strong concerns, too. The biggest one? Cross-practice. That means when an Ayurvedic or Homoeopathy doctor starts prescribing allopathic medicines without proper training, it becomes not just unethical, but dangerous.

They argue: using the title 'doctor' is fine if you practice within your trained system. But the moment someone starts mixing without scientific backing, it puts lives at risk.

There’s also the question of accountability. Modern medicine has trials, data, and peer-reviewed protocols. Critics argue that not all AYUSH systems follow the same standards, and without that, how can you ensure patient safety?

But step back a little, and you’ll see this debate is about more than medicine. It’s also about access, hierarchy, and perception.

MBBS seats in India are limited and often insanely expensive in private institutions. Many students, especially from marginalised or lower-income backgrounds, end up in AYUSH systems not by choice, but because they had no other option.

So when we say 'real doctor' are we talking about training? Or are we just upholding an elitist idea of who deserves respect in our healthcare system?

So, yes, Vidit’s post was personal. But the reaction to it was political. And social. And deeply revealing.

Because until we build a healthcare system that respects all qualified practitioners, enforces ethical boundaries, and stops reducing legitimacy to a social media fight, this debate isn’t going anywhere.