Dr. Prabhat Sinha (Amol Parashar) arrives in a remote village of Bhatkandi, Jharkhand totally unprepared for the chaos that’s rural India. He should have at least watched Panchayat, where Jeetendra Kumar was shown facing similar issues. Dr. Prabhat barely has time to unpack before he’s handed his to-do list. Approve vaccines for the upcoming camp without a receipt? Obviously—because who needs proper protocols? Falsify medical certificates to help a shady bureaucrat milk his paid leave, learning the fine art of getting caught in the feud between two local politicians. In addition, he has to address mental health in a region where it’s still considered a myth. This show isn’t aiming for the breezy charm of Panchayat. This is more gritty and as the series progresses, more melodramatic.
Amol Parashar delivers a committed and nuanced turn as Dr. Prabhat Sinha, an idealistic young medical officer posted to a dilapidated public health centre. His initial enthusiasm is quickly confronted by the chaotic reality of rural healthcare: broken equipment, missing medicines, and a deep public mistrust of government services. His interactions with the local quack, the hilariously misinformed Chetak Kumar (played with great comic timing by Vinay Pathak), and the disillusioned staff members form the emotional and comedic core of the show. Ironically, it’s the quack who teaches the newbie doctor the importance of forming good relations with the patient – ‘Patient kamaana padta hai, bharosa jeetna padta hai’ (you have to earn the trust of patients if you want to win them over). Another humbling encounter is with the Chief Medical Officer, who says coming here either as a punishment posting or to satisfy his idealism doesn’t mean Prabhat is doing the village a favour.
The ensemble cast is uniformly strong. Anandeshwar Dwivedi and Akash Makhija bring an earthy charm to their roles as the skeptical yet oddly supportive compounder and ward boy respectively, while Garima Vikrant Singh stands out as the stoic and grounded nurse Indu. Santoo Kumar, as her troubled son Sudhir, delivers one of the show’s most affecting performances, adding a welcome layer of emotional complexity. Akansha Ranjan Kapoor is hardly recognizable as Alia Kapoor’s bestie, playing a doctor named Gargi who has more street smarts than Dr. Prabhat. There is just a hint of romantic interest between them and perhaps it will be explored later in the next season.
The music by Nilotpal Bora and songs like Kanchi tori kaya and Kanhaiya add cultural texture and a sense of place, beautifully underscoring moments of community and catharsis.
Yet for all its sincerity and skill, Gram Chikitsalay feels somewhat formulaic. The narrative beats unfold predictably, echoing Panchayat so closely that at times it feels like a remix rather than a fresh take. The five-episode arc lacks narrative urgency, and while the rural-vs-urban theme remains relevant, the series doesn’t offer new insights into it. The inclusion of melodramatic subplots, particularly around political interference and family trauma, occasionally bogs down the storytelling.
Ultimately, Gram Chikitsalay is elevated by its earnest performances and authentic setting, but would have benefitted from tighter writing and a more original structural approach. It’s a worthy watch for fans of rural dramas, but one that leaves you wishing it had taken a few more risks. The series is currently streaming on Amazon Prime Video.