The Aam Aadmi Party had promised Punjab a healthcare revolution so dazzling that the sick would recover just by hearing about it. Sixteen new medical colleges were to spring up, turning every district into a hub of stethoscopes, white coats, and hope. Instead, all we have is a government that’s writing prescriptions of excuses on paper that even chemists refuse to read.
Kapurthala and Hoshiarpur were to be the first test cases. But the only test that’s happening is of the public’s patience. The projects are lying buried under “tendering issues”—that magical black hole where every government plan goes in alive and comes out dead. At this rate, the colleges might open only when patients themselves qualify as doctors after years of waiting.
For 2026–27, the government has politely excused itself from even applying for new medical colleges. In plain Punjabi, it means: “Bas karde, hor sawaal na puchho, vote mil gaye na?(ਬਸ ਕਰੋ, ਹੋਰ ਸਵਾਲ ਨਾ ਪੁੱਛੋ, ਵੋਟ ਮਿਲ ਗਏ ਨਾ ?) The people of Punjab were hoping for an injection of progress, but all they’ve been handed is a placebo( harmless pill)called “maybe in 2027.”
The irony is delicious. AAP promised 16 colleges, but two haven’t even seen the light of day. The Centre offered to share funds in a 60:40 ratio. But AAP clearly calculated it differently: 60% drama, 40% disappointment. By the looks of it, the only thing in surplus is press conferences, not medical infrastructure.
And why only medical colleges? This government has made a habit of over-promising. Remember the tall tales of giving every youth a job? The only jobs multiplying are for spin doctors, busy drafting new excuses. Free electricity was supposed to bring light to every home; instead, it has brought darkness to the treasury. The “badlav” (change) they promised is so magical that it changes only when the microphone is switched on.
Even the phrase “revamp of hospitals hanging fire” fits perfectly—because under this government, everything is either hanging, on fire, or hanging and on fire. If hanging fire was an Olympic sport, Punjab would have a gold medal by now.
So what’s the prescription for Punjab? According to AAP: no doctors, no new hospitals, but don’t worry—you’ll have plenty of slogans to heal you. The revolution is still alive, but only in speeches. Until then, Punjabis must swallow the same bitter pill again: “Trust us, next time for sure.”
And now, the future promises are even more revolutionary:
By 2030, Punjab will have medical colleges on the moon—students can attend lectures via rocket launch.
By 2032, MBBS degrees will be available through WhatsApp forwards, complete with emojis for anatomy diagrams.
By 2035, every household will have a “virtual doctor” hologram that only prescribes two things: “vote again” and “wait patiently.”
In the end, AAP may not give Punjab doctors, but it will definitely keep providing what it specializes in: hope injections with no expiry date, and overdoses of hollow promises.
Mock Boli (Satire):
“Vaade kite college de, bane na koi imarat,
Hawa vich udd gaye sapne, te reh gayi sirf siyasat.
Doctor taan na aaye, par navi jhoothi kahani,
Punjab da voter kehnda — bas karo hun, meharbani!”
ਵੰਡੇ ਪਤੰਗ ਕਾਲਜ ਦੇ, ਬਣੇ ਨਾ ਕੋਈ ਇਮਾਰਤ,
ਹਵਾ ਵਿਚ ਉਡ ਗਏ ਸੁਪਨੇ, ਤੇਰੀ ਰਹਿ ਗਈ ਸਿਰਫ ਸਿਆਸਤ।
ਡਾਕਟਰ ਤਾਂ ਨਾ ਆਏ, ਪਰ ਨਵੀ ਝੂਠੀ ਕਹਾਨੀ,
ਪੰਜਾਬ ਦਾ ਵੋਟਰ ਕਹਿੰਦਾ- ਬਸ ਕਰੋ ਜੀ, ਬੜੀ ਮੇਹਰਬਾਨੀ