Three years ago, I had a severe muscle spasm in my back. A top neurologist at Apollo Hospital suggested I get an MRI scan. My wife, being the research-savvy person she is, immediately looked up the prices online. What she found was baffling: MRI scans were priced very differently at different centres — and Apollo charged about 40% more than many others that also advertised themselves as “the best in the country.”
Naturally, I asked the doctor about it.
“What’s the reason for this price difference?” I asked. “Why does an MRI scan cost 40% more here? Are the results going to be better? More accurate?”
He was an honest man. And his answer, though calmly delivered, shook me.
“Kennedi, it’s like this,” he said. “MRI machines, like any electronic device, come with a warranty and wear out after a point. At Apollo, we don’t waste time trying to fix a machine again and again. We simply dump it and buy a new one. ‘Dumping’ doesn’t mean throwing it away — we sell it off. Many smaller centres that offer cheaper scans are actually using our older, used machines.”
That explanation hit me like a truck.
So, if you’re paying 40% less elsewhere, chances are — you’re doing so to lie down inside a second-hand MRI machine that might be past its prime.
That moment re-confirmed a principle I’ve always lived by:
I don’t do anything adventurous in India.
No ziplining.
No parasailing.
No jet skiing.
No hot air balloon rides.
Nothing. Ever.
And it’s not because I’m scared of adventure — I happily try these experiences when I travel abroad. But in India, I keep a strict no-go policy and encourage my friends and family to do the same.
Why? Because of a deep-rooted Indian mindset I call the “Chalta Hai” attitude.
“It’s okay.”
“It’ll manage.”
“No problem.”
Even when there is a problem.
It’s an attitude that tolerates shortcuts, neglects safety checks, and often pushes responsibility to fate rather than accountability. When you combine that with corruption — at every level — it creates an ecosystem where nobody really cares until something goes wrong. And when it does go wrong, we cry, scream, rage, and mourn. But by then, it’s already too late.
We’ve seen it time and again: amusement park rides going horribly wrong, zip lines snapping, boats capsizing, paragliding harnesses giving way — and then a brief outcry followed by silence.
This isn’t about being negative or unpatriotic. It’s about being realistic. Until we overhaul our systems, enforce accountability, and truly value human life over profit, my feet will stay firmly on the ground.
And so should yours.