September 24, now etched in memory as a black day in Ladakh, left a deep scar not just on the land but on the hearts of its people. What began as a peaceful protest demanding the Sixth Schedule and full statehood for Ladakh spiraled into chaos and violence, leaving dozens injured and claiming four lives.

At the center of the unfolding tragedy stood the team at  Sonam Norboo Memorial (SNM) Hospital  in Leh — doctors, nurses, paramedics, and students — who were pushed to their limits as they responded to an emergency unlike any they had ever faced.

“We didn’t expect it to turn into such a tragedy,” recalls Dr. Rinchen Chosdol, Medical Superintendent of SNM Hospital, describing the moment when patients began pouring in.

“We all know what happened on the 24th. It was an unfortunate and heartbreaking day,” she says. “That morning, everyone was busy with routine work — some doctors were in the Operation Theatre upstairs, orthopaedists were checking patients. No one imagined what was coming.”

Around noon, the first few injured arrived — just one or two, at first.

 “We thought it was minor, stone-related injuries,” Dr. Chosdol continues. “But then, more and more patients started coming in. I immediately sent a message in our group chat, asking all doctors, surgeons, orthopaedists to stop their routine work and gather for emergency duty.”

The hospital shifted into crisis mode in minutes. Routine surgeries were suspended. Every department focused on emergency care.

 “What we saw was shocking — heavy bleeding, deep wounds, patients arriving without names or relatives,” she says. “But despite that, we managed to treat them all. It was teamwork in action.”

Dr. Tsojung Lamo, Consultant Surgeon, was in the OPD when she received the emergency alert. She rushed to the OT immediately.

“At first, I thought it would be a few minor injuries — maybe a couple of fractures. But soon, the flow of patients became endless,” she says. “Every OT was full. We performed eight life-saving surgeries that day.”

For Dr. Lamo, the experience was both professional and deeply personal.  “As a doctor, it’s our duty to help patients. But as a Ladakhi, seeing young boys and girls so badly injured really shook me. It wasn’t just another day at work.”

In the orthopedic wing, Dr. Tsering Wangchuk, Orthopaedic Consultant, was dealing with a different kind of emergency. Most of the patients he saw that day had orthopedic injuries — many caused by bullets.

 “Some had bullets lodged in their arms or legs, damaging nerves,” he explains. “These patients needed immediate surgery. If we didn’t act fast, they could have died or lost limbs.”

Working alongside two senior doctors, he performed surgeries non-stop.

“Some procedures were routine fractures, but many required urgent nerve repair. Doctors from all departments — orthopedics, anesthesia, general surgery — worked together. Blood donors also came forward, which helped immensely.”

Dr. Yangzin Dolma, Consultant Anaesthetist, walked into a scene of urgency on the ground floor. “There was a boy gasping for breath when I entered,” she recalls. “I immediately intubated him. Other doctors, surgeons, and the neurosurgeon joined in to try to save him, but we couldn’t.”

Another boy arrived shortly after, but he was already gone. Then a young Tibetan girl was brought in.

“She didn’t need intubation, but we gave her oxygen. Later, she was airlifted to Delhi,” Dr. Dolma says. 

One of the most challenging cases was this Tibetan girl who was shot and needed advanced care.  “Finding her family and figuring out who would take care of her in Delhi wasn’t easy,” Dr. Chosdol explains. “But with help from Tashi Mutup  of Ashoka Mission, we contacted Tibetan organizations in Delhi.” The girl was treated at the Trauma Centre and has since been discharged. “It was a huge relief,” she says.

Dr. Yangzin Dolma explains that in at least four critical cases that day, timely intervention by anaesthetists, surgeons, and orthopaedists made the difference between life and death.

 “Thankfully, most patients were brought in during the golden hour, which gave us a fighting chance.”

Amid the chaos, there were quiet acts of heroism. Dr. Chosdol remembers one such moment — a young boy from Kargil who needed A-negative blood.

 “Due to the situation outside, arranging donors was difficult,” she says. “But Phuntsok from Basgo, known for his social work, helped us look for donors. Eventually, a person named Lolo from Yurtung, who has O-negative blood — a universal donor — came forward. His donation saved that boy’s life.”

By the end of the day, 46 blood transfusions had been carried out. Nursing students worked shoulder to shoulder with doctors and nurses, moving patients from ambulances to wards, fetching supplies, and offering support.

 “They were outstanding,” Dr. Chosdol says. “Many are still students, but their courage was extraordinary.”

While the emergency wards were overflowing, the forensic team at SNM Hospital carried out one of the day’s most difficult tasks — the postmortems.

Dr. Firdos Khan, Consultant Forensic Expert said, “On September 25, we began postmortems. We found chest, head, and neck injuries. In each case, we recovered small metallic fragments, which were sent to FSL Srinagar for ballistic analysis. Preliminary reports have been submitted to the police.”

Dr. Khan clarifies that families cannot receive postmortem reports directly from the hospital.

 “We hand over sealed reports and samples to the police in the presence of a magistrate. Families must request the reports officially.”

Through the chaos of September 24, SNM Hospital became more than just a medical facility. It was a place where **professional duty met human compassion**.

Doctors from different departments worked side by side. Volunteers and donors rushed in. Students, often unnoticed in regular times, carried stretchers, handed instruments, and held the hands of the injured.

 “We came together as professionals, as Ladakhis, and as people who refused to give up,” says Dr. Chosdol.

The wounds of that day are still fresh in Ladakh. Families continue to mourn. Survivors recover slowly. But amid the pain, the tireless work of SNM Hospital’s staff stands out — a symbol of hope, resilience, and humanity.

“That day tested us beyond anything we imagined,” says Dr. Dolma. “But it also showed us what we can do when we stand together.”