The Indian people are convinced that their prime minister is a Good Doctor; but that is media-driven hyperbole. True, Manmohan Singh has a doctoral degree, from Oxford no less, for which he burnt the midnight oil, so to speak. But his degree is in economics. His knowledge of medicine does not extend much beyond aspirin; his experience of it is only as a patient. There is only one real doctor in the cabinet, and that is Anbumani Ramadoss. He has actually cut their hearts out of frogs. He is a man with a mission. He banned smoking in films, and cigarette advertising anywhere. He has got terrifying messages printed on cigarette packets. If anyone is fined for smoking in public, he has Mr Ramadoss to thank for it. He is the cabinet’s most active, successful and envied minister.

But he was uncharitable when he alleged that the four chief ministers and 150 members of parliament who opposed his horror message on cigarette packets were in the pockets of cigarette manufacturers. According to his own statistics, a quarter of India’s population smokes. If they were average Indians, there should be seven smokers amongst the chief ministers and 200 amongst the MPs. So maybe those smokers were only protesting against Mr Ramadoss’s macabre warnings; and maybe they smoked in support of their tobacco-farmer constituents.

Mr Ramadoss has abundant fervour, but he could do with some more political finesse. Instead of trying to dismiss P. Venugopal, director of the All India Institute of Medical Sciences, the health minister should have put him in charge of his anti-cigarette campaign; that would have killed two birds with one stone. Instead of refusing to give AIIMS graduates their degrees, he should have asked them to come to the convocation with anti-tobacco cartoons on their cheeks; that would have got the campaign great publicity. The other doctor may not have a genuine medical degree, but the prime minister has considerable brand value. If Mr Ramadoss could persuade him to join his anti-tobacco crusade, he may be able to bring down smoking considerably, at least amongst economists. But whatever tricks the health minister may try, he faces an uphill task. For a cigar after a good dinner is sheer luxury; and conversation gets better over a smoke. Mr Ramadoss’s dire warnings are perfectly justified, but before they listen to him, many smokers will be tempted to have one last one, and then another. He needs to give them a substitute, for which he needs to look no further than across the lower house. For there sits Jaswant Singh, who has brought opium back into the picture. Once India was the world’s greatest opium producer, though the British did not let us consume it; Mr Ramadoss should endeavour to restore its past glory, this time on the basis of our own market.