Asian Hospital Faridabad Faces Medical Negligence Allegations

Asian Hospital Faridabad Faces Medical Negligence Allegations

For more than a decade, Ritu Verma has carried the weight of grief and an unyielding quest for justice after losing her husband, Manoj Kumar Verma, in 2013. A teacher and a mother of two, Ritu Verma alleges her husband was a victim of medical negligence at Asian Institute of Medical Sciences in Faridabad.

“I was teaching at the time when my husband was sick,” Ritu recalled. “In 2012 his kidney transplant was done in the Asian Hospital. After that, for follow-ups, we were going to the same hospital in Faridabad, and in December 2013… I would say that because of intentional medical negligence, my husband died. It wasn’t that all patients were treated the same way and only my husband reacted adversely. No. The incidents I will share show mistakes were made knowingly. Because of that, my husband—just 39 years old—after 27 days of hospitalisation and suffering, was declared dead on 18 December 2013.”

After undergoing a kidney transplant in April 2012, Manoj’s health began to decline by November that year, yet the couple continued to trust the same doctors and return to the same facility.

“After his transplant at the Asian Hospital, we would go for follow-ups every 15–20 days. In November, on the 8th, my husband complained of increased heartbeat, loss of appetite, and excessive sputum. From 8 November to 19 November, we visited Dr. Jitendra, the nephrologist, three times, and he conducted all the tests. Finally, on 19 November, he prescribed medicines and asked us to come for follow-up after three days.”

When Manoj’s coughing worsened and numbness set in, Ritu pleaded for urgent attention. “I called Dr. Jitendra on 21 November and said, ‘Sir, my husband’s condition is not improving, and he is not getting any relief from coughing,’ and he was also experiencing shortness of breath. The doctor told me the day before that ‘he doesn’t have a kidney-related disease, and you should consult a chest specialist someday.’”

The following day, Ritu rushed home from school when her brother-in-law called to say Manoj’s condition had deteriorated. “I said, ‘Take him to Asian Hospital, Faridabad. I will try to reach the hospital directly,’” she recounted. 

Within days of admission, Manoj’s condition spiraled. What began as shortness of breath soon escalated into a life-threatening crisis.

“I wasn’t there at that time, so my brother-in-law admitted my husband to the IMCU,” Ritu explained. “During visiting hours, we were told he had no issues and was kept for observation. A nasal cannula was fitted, so as a layperson I also felt it was okay, since the health insurance was there and all the tests would be done, I went back home. But when I returned the next morning, I was shocked to find his bed empty. The staff said he had been moved to the ICU as his condition worsened.”

There, she met Dr. Sandip Bhattacharya, head of the Critical Care Unit, who informed her that her husband’s oxygen levels were dangerously low. “He said his oxygen was critically low and carbon dioxide had increased, so he might need to be put on a ventilator, and I agreed,” she recalled.

"Around 3 PM, Dr. Jitendra—who just a day earlier had insisted that my husband had no kidney issues—arrived. But when I spoke to the chest specialist, he said my husband was not under his care. This made me question why Dr. Jitendra continued to oversee my husband, even though he clearly needed the care of a chest specialist. It seemed obvious that the patient’s billing took priority—whoever treated him, the charges would fall under that doctor,” stated Ritu.

Days stretched on in despair. “The 24th passed; on the 25th the patient should have regained consciousness but it didn’t happen. After that they took my consent and started twisting the topic,” Ritu alleged. “Ultimately, apart from me, they told all the family members to let the patient meet anyone who wanted because ‘he won’t survive the day.’”

The ordeal deepened when Ritu says she was forced into signing papers against her will. “For brain dead condition, they called a neurologist Dr. Sushma. Around 12 to 1 PM they called me three times, and every time I refused to sign the consent letter. On the consent letter they had written that my patient had TB, but on the 21st his chest was clinically clear. At the time of admission his chest was clear, but within two days they wrote that he had TB, bilateral pneumonia, and other diseases, and that despite their efforts they could not save the patient.”

She remembered repeatedly refusing, until the pressure became unbearable. “The third time, I was forced to sign, with them saying, ‘Either sign or take your patient and go. We won’t treat him.’ Reluctantly, I signed. By chance, on the 26th, the brain-dead condition they had anticipated did not occur. An eye test confirmed that he was not brain dead.”

Allegations of Negligence, Missing Files, and Unanswered Questions

As the weeks dragged on, Ritu Verma found herself crushed not just by grief, but by mounting financial strain. Her insurance covered only ₹5 lakh, and the hospital was not listed on the ESI panel in Faridabad. Forced to run from office to office, she chased approvals, only to later claim that the paperwork revealed how procedures had been manipulated.

“The report we received later says that an MRI was also done,” Ritu recounted. “We were sitting right outside the door. If an MRI was done, why weren’t we asked to sign any consent for shifting the patient from the third floor to the ground floor or basement? How did they move him on a ventilator without our permission? On December 1, they said his haemoglobin levels were low and asked us to arrange blood. On December 2, they performed an endoscopy and colonoscopy, and then reported he was discharging blood internally. Tests followed on December 4. Meanwhile, I had only five lakh insurance, as I was a teacher and could get dependent coverage under ESI. Asian Hospital was not on the Faridabad ESI panel, so I had to go to the ESI hospital in Okhla, requesting them to accept my husband on their panel.”

She said she began collecting reports, sensing that they might be critical later. “Somebody suggested that I should start collecting the reports from the Asian Hospital. That’s why we have some reports, and I will tell you how crucial those reports were,” she revealed.

Then came what Ritu describes as the cruelest twist. A life-saving injection—NovoSeven, often used in critical cases of uncontrolled bleeding—was finally approved, but she insists it was never administered.

“On December 7, they called Dr. Prabal Roy, and he said surgery was too risky. He wrote the patient was ‘unfit for surgery,’” Ritu said. “Till that time the bill had crossed five lakh, but we still didn’t have approval from ESI. On the evening of the 9th, I finally got the approval and gave that paper. On the morning of the 10th they gave me the paper and told me to get approval immediately. I got the panel with great difficulty, and even more difficulty in getting approval for the NovoSeven injection. I called the Asian Hospital immediately and said, ‘Please administer the injection. I have got the approval.’ They said, ‘Okay, we will give the injection.’”

But when she returned, the injection had still not been administered, she alleged. “The next day, I asked the nurse, and she showed me the vial, saying, ‘The doctor will give it when he comes. Dr. Jitendra will administer it.’ As I was leaving the ICU, Dr. Jitendra arrived, and I asked him, ‘Sir, what about the injection?’ He replied, ‘That was given last night.’ That’s when I realised I had been lied to—the injection had not been given. We were completely helpless; we couldn’t even speak up because they would have told us to take our patient out.”

An ESIC vigilance report later observed that “preponderance of probabilities suggests the allegations of the complainant against Asian Hospital in respect of injection NovoSeven may be true.” The same report found that the hospital did not disclose a receipt of ₹10,050 for an angiography embolisation procedure, but still claimed ₹22,000 from ESIC Hospital for a procedure that was never carried out.

By mid-December, Manoj was deteriorating rapidly. On the morning of his death, Ritu says she walked into a nightmare. “All apparatus were detached. The patient was lying on his stomach. There was swelling, and something was oozing out of his mouth. It was so foul-smelling, like the old local bus stand with urinals. Around 12:30–1:00 PM, my brother took a culture report to the doctor and said, ‘Doctor, this is the culture report.’ The doctor said, ‘What can we do now? His heart is not beating. We can try doing CPR.’ After 30 minutes, they said, ‘He passed away.’”

Even after his death, Ritu did not stop. In the years that followed, she painstakingly collected files, records, and official replies. What she found, she says, left her shaken—missing papers, altered details, and contradictions that suggested the truth had been obscured.

"Alarming Negligence and Systemic Failures"

“For the last 12 years… I have been putting all my efforts and resources on this case. What I faced was the reality of alarming negligence from the hospital and systemic failures from the authorities,” she said. “The report they gave us mistakenly on the 25th showed his oxygen level at 20.9 percent, whereas the minimum required is 90. Hospitalisation is usually done at 85, and a ventilator is required at 70 or below. They ignored it at 20.9 percent. By the time I received the papers, they had been altered. The IPD record was changed—one file stays with the patient, the other goes to insurance. When I asked the insurance people, they said they didn’t have any files. Finally, the CIC Judge noted that the original file was lost, and the hospital had provided whatever they had.”

She questioned why a nephrologist was overseeing a respiratory crisis. “This disease is ARDS—Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome. Why was the nephrologist handling it and not a chest specialist? When he was admitted, they knew his oxygen level was dangerously low, why didn't they immediately treat him?”

Her RTI inquiries uncovered more alarming details, she claims. “Dr. Jitendra couldn’t even legally practice as a nephrologist,” she alleged. “His last recorded qualification was DNB, and he hadn’t registered his DM in nephrology until 2017, when I filed a complaint. Faridabad is a metro city, and this was its largest hospital—Asian Hospital Faridabad. I expected at least basic care given the fees, but they had employed an unqualified doctor and staff who didn’t even record the patient’s readings.”

Ritu said standard ARDS protocols were ignored. “A chest specialist should have been called as soon as ARDS was diagnosed. A chest CT was required and prescribed twice but never performed. After my husband was put on a ventilator, a ventilator specialist should have been present. Instead, Dr. Sandeep Bhattacharya, an MD in Internal Medicine only, managed him without any ICU or ventilator training.”

For Ritu, the case exposed systemic failures extending beyond her husband’s death. “There was fraud with the injection, fraud with my signature, and they charged an extra 10,000 rupees even though I was on an ESI panel. Moreover, they took 22,000 rupees in the name of angiographic embolisation. I have the report on this, and the hospital later admitted the 22,000 was taken by mistake and said they would return it.”

Twelve Years On, the Fight for Accountability Continues

Ritu Verma’s pursuit of justice has spanned twelve years and taken her through hospitals, courts, and commissions. In 2017, PGIMS Rohtak cleared Asian Hospital Faridabad of wrongdoing. The Haryana Medical Council, too, in 2020 gave the doctors a clean chit. Her appeal to the National Medical Commission was dismissed, with the commission stating that it could only accept appeals from doctors, not patients.

Undeterred, Ritu has continued her legal battle. Her case is currently before the State Consumer Disputes Redressal Commission in Panchkula, Haryana.

When The Probe approached Asian Insititute of Medical Science with a detailed set of questions, Medical Superintendent Dr. Hilal Ahmed declined to respond directly. Instead, he shared a brief statement through his team: “The hospital has received a clean chit from the Haryana Medical Council and the Rohtak PGI, and as the matter is sub judice, we do not wish to comment further.”

For Ritu, the fight is not only about her husband—it is also about leaving behind a record for her children. Her son Mukul, recalls how his childhood was marked by confusion and loss.

“My sister and I were coming together when we saw an ambulance parked outside our house,” Mukul recalled. “Many people had gathered around, and I didn’t understand much because I was only six. I saw an uncle, and my sister hugged him and started crying, but I still didn’t know what had happened. Then my mother came down, crying, and that’s when I realised something serious had occurred.”

He paused, reflecting on a memory that has never left him. “I was very young, so no one even told me that my father was no more. Over time, I came to understand that something like that had happened. At the age of five or six, a child thinks, ‘This is my dad, this is my mom,’ and starts making memories. But my father passed away when I was so young. I couldn't build those memories.”

More than a decade later, after Ritu’s 12-year struggle, the story remains a reminder of the human stakes involved—and of her relentless pursuit of clarity and accountability from Asian Hospital Faridabad.