Rao’s title grabs your attention before anything else can –it’s the choice of the phrase “lady doctors” instead of the increasingly used term “women in medicine”. The title is a surprisingly apt presentation of the book – ironic, in the sense that a term that was widely used is rooted in a history of sexism and misogyny, while also unsettling, knowing that it is still predominantly used to refer to female gynaecologists. 

Reading through the book is somewhat like going out in the monsoon – the rays of Rao’s effective writing and research shine through some pages but not without the overshadow of a one-toned narrative. 

Despite being a compilation of six very different women with wildly different stories, they all seem apparently the same – the stereotypical husband along with a supportive father to show dichotomy; sprinkled in with typical societal challenges thrown at them. It almost feels like injustice to these brilliant women – ones who fought for their own identity through their passion for medicine, but we never really receive the answer to why? Why did they go against everything they’d been taught and seen around them to challenge the status quo? Rao uses the phrase “rebel with a cause” without ever detailing the journey of how the cause developed. We never truly see or hear these women - it's more like their shadows. 

Rao doesn’t fully engage with the rich material she’s discovered – the caste and religion-based segregation within the same gender, the devadasi system and its unique history and impact on women and culture or even the discussion of privilege’s association with money, gender and most importantly, education. Rao’s own views cloud the voices of these courageous women, especially when she expresses how Reddy’s campaign against the devadasi system was simply an act to whitewash her own roots, almost cleansing herself of the alleged distaste. Despite the proclamation of it being a feminist attempt to retell their stories, the author keeps pitting women against each other in order to showcase the wide spectrum of opinions within the same sex. The author doesn’t analyse these complex rebellions beyond their surface level opacity and in doing so, leaves behind the true essence of their courage – questioning and critical thinking. 

Additionally, Rao misses out on the common theme of kindness that these women exhibited, whether it be through years of service or the gracious empathy they displayed. She traverses through more than seventy years of history in an attempt to tell the stories of these six women, yet misses out on the fine detailing of the British Raj and India’s nascent independence.

Despite its shortcomings, however, the book does a wonderful job in highlighting the hypocrisy of the subcontinent’s largest religious group, a side of Bal Gangadhar Tilak that history books discreetly hide to help their hero-building narrative and the complexities of the Bramho Samaj through a rather unexplored feminine perspective. She also doesn’t resort to hero-worshipping or rather heroine-worshipping these women, choosing to show them for what they were – flawed but courageous women. 

Going through the book feels like a disservice to these women, like reading a poem without understanding the thought of the poet or contextualising it with the historicity of the timeline it was written in. We never quite get the full picture and are instead served with breadcrumbs of courage, wisdom and knowledge. Overall, Rao’s choice of giving priority to some of these doctors over others – as displayed by Anandibai Joshi’s picture on the cover, diluted storytelling along with a well-intended and thoroughly researched book delivers a half-baked piece of a very rich pie, something that deserved far more finesse than it’s handled with.