Life in Mizoram is idyllic for most of the year, with just the right amount of sunshine and gentle gusts of wind to keep the heat at bay. However, the monsoons are a different story, often wreaking havoc with landslides and roadblocks wherever the rain strikes.
Despite the challenging weather, during the monsoon of 2001, the rains were not enough to dampen the spirits of 21-year-old Lily Parmawii, who was pregnant with her fourth child. On the 28th of that month, after nearly twenty hours of labour, she gave birth to a healthy baby boy.
Yet, little did Parmawii know that, at just 24 years old, her son’s life would be tragically cut short due to the shortage of doctors in the state and the negligence of one particular physician.
As Parmawii and her husband separated due to unreconcilable differences, she moved to Siaha from Lawngtlai with her children when Daniel was just two. “I did not have a happy marriage but with the birth of my son it seemed like all my worries were taken away, he made me very happy,” she said.
With no formal education to secure a steady job, she began selling baked goods to support her children’s school fees. They lived in a modest accommodation below the church pastor’s quarters, renting the space for Rs. 2,500 a month. In her small kitchen, she would make doughnuts, fried bread, and other bakery items, which she would then sell to shops and passersby. Thanks to her tireless effort, Daniel completed his twelfth grade at Lalchhuanawma Memorial Higher Secondary School.
Daniel grew up and became a handsome young man with fair skin and jet-black eyes. He was well-liked and popular among his friends, always surrounded by a group of people. ‘He was a shy and quiet boy, but he loved his friends and had many of them,’ his mother recalled.
Like every other youth in Mizoram, Daniel had started seeking employment and looking for ways to acquire skills for employment. In 2023, he went to Mumbai to work for a company but it did not work out for him so he came back to Mizoram and started taking computer and music courses in the state’s capital city, Aizawl. After finishing his computer course he returned to Siaha to spend Christmas with his family in December. The family had a wonderful Christmas, never suspecting it would be their last one together.
It all started with a simple stomach ache on the night of January 9, 2025, about a week after the New Year celebrations. Around 8 PM, the pain intensified, so his mother took him to Siaha Civil Hospital. Unfortunately, they could not reach the doctor on-call, so the nurses administered painkillers through an injection and gave him some medication.
“We returned home, but he didn’t feel any better and was vomiting continuously. When I suggested we go back to the hospital, he was not ready, so I went and got medicine to help stop the vomiting,” said Daniel’s mother.
However, around 2 AM, his leg began to stiffen and his condition did not improve so they decided to walk to the hospital, about 500 meters from their house. Parmawii described how they had to stop at least five times along the way because of his intense pain, with the hospital being around a half kilometre from their home.
“I offered to carry him on my back, but he refused. At one point, he sat down because he could no longer walk. Then, miraculously, an empty taxi appeared, and the driver gave us a ride, refusing to take any money,” she said.
At the hospital, the nurses checked his vitals and found that his blood pressure was dangerously low. They administered injections and IV fluids, but shortly afterwards, he became restless and began vomiting blood.
According to Daniel’s uncle, Lalsawmzuala Ralte, throughout the entire ordeal, the medical staff went to the doctor’s quarters and desperately tried to wake the doctor up, but received no response. Out of desperation, they found a doctor from a private hospital visiting relatives and requested the doctor to check on Daniel. They also called the Medical Superintendent, who advised them to administer blood. Around 10 AM, the superintendent arrived and referred Daniel to the ICU at a private hospital, ECM Nursing Home.
“When they were wheeling him out to transfer him to the private hospital, they removed his oxygen and IV fluids. We had barely taken ten steps when he vomited blood once more and breathed his last,” he said. It was 10:57 AM.
Every child is special to their parents, but Daniel being her only son and her youngest child was extra special for Parmawii. She described him as a healthy, carefree boy who never suffered from any illnesses and never gave her cause for concern. Understanding their financial situation, Daniel never asked for more money than she could provide and was always kind and considerate towards her.
Daniel was also an avid sportsman who enjoyed playing futsal and badminton in his free time. A devoted Liverpool fan, he never missed a game when The Reds were playing well. From a young age, Daniel had aspired to become an engineer. Although he didn’t continue his studies after grade 12, he had recently confided in his friends about his dreams of resuming his education and fulfilling his long-held ambitions.
In his final hours, Daniel desperately craved water, but the nurses would only allow him a single drop. Unable to sleep, he could only vomit again and again. No doctor could attend to him, and no medical expert could guide the nurses on his condition. For over ten hours, the nurses, with whatever experience they had, did their best—administering IV fluids and injections. But by the fifteenth hour, his body could take no more.
Until the day EastMojo spoke to his family—seven days after Daniel’s death—they still didn’t know the cause of his passing. “The doctor was never available, even at the time of his death. There was no discharge letter, and we still don’t know what caused his death,” said Daniel’s uncle.
“What hurts us most,” he continued, “is that we went to Siaha Civil Hospital, our largest hospital, hoping it would be the place that would provide healing, with the medical professionals our government had employed. But instead, it led us to death.”
He shared that after telling Daniel’s story on social media and other platforms, many families reached out to him with similar experiences. “So many people have contacted me, thanking me for speaking out on an issue they didn’t dare to address. One man even came up to me in the marketplace and said, ‘That’s exactly how my son died,’” he recalled. He also remembered how, just last year, a neighbour had lost their son in the same hospital. Despite it being 2 PM, they couldn’t reach a doctor.
A social media platform from Siaha, Voice of Maraland, which actively advocates for the region, reached out to the District Medical Superintendent, Dr Sangtea, to inquire about the hospital’s medical capacity. He stated that the hospital currently has 7 specialists and 2 AYUSH doctors. However, according to the Indian Public Health Standards (IPHS), a 100-bed hospital should have more than 30 doctors.
Mizoram has been struggling from a shortage of doctors and rural areas as well as districts far from the capital Aizawl bear the brunt of this shortage. The state, with 871 villages across 11 districts, has 308 sub-centres, 57 primary health centres (PHCs), and nine community health centres (CHCs).
However, the healthcare workforce is critically limited.
There are only 52 medical officers at PHCs and 11 at CHCs. CHCs in Mizoram lack specialists entirely, with no surgeons, obstetricians, gynaecologists, physicians, or paediatricians—falling far short of the government’s guidelines, which mandate that CHCs should have at least four specialists.
Following the incident, the office of the Medical Superintendent at Siaha District Hospital issued a circular stating that all doctors on emergency duty must remain in the hospital after OPD hours.
The circular effectively ended the practice of on-call duty. Additionally, the Health and Family Welfare Department of the Government of Mizoram assigned two doctors and an administrator from the Directorate of Hospital and Medical Education to travel to Siaha and investigate the matter.
Also Read: In rural Mizoram, basic healthcare remains a far-fetched dream
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