Look, I’m going to be straight with you. Three years ago, I was sitting where you are right now—stressed out of my mind after NEET, stressed about money, and wondering if I’d made a mistake by not getting into some fancy private college in Delhi. My parents were arguing about fees. My friends were posting pictures from their AIIMS coaching centers. And there I was, looking at Russia.
I chose Petrozavodsk State Medical University. Am I glad I did? Absolutely. But let me tell you exactly how it went—the good, the bad, and the “what the hell was I thinking” moments.
My NEET score was decent—around 580. Not AIIMS material, but good enough for a decent government college or ridiculously expensive private colleges. My parents were middle class. We have a small business. Paying 25-30 lakhs for medical college was just not happening. My dad made the decision—we’d look abroad.
We checked Philippines first. Then Romania. Then someone mentioned Russia. I remember my mom’s face when I said “Russia.” She thought I was insane. It’s dark, it’s cold, people die in winters—that’s what she imagined. But then we actually researched.
Petrozavodsk State Medical University kept coming up in every decent list. Not flashy. Not trendy. But consistent. Good reviews from Indian students. Reasonable fees. And actually recognized by the Indian Medical Council. That last part mattered because I didn’t want to spend six years in another country just to face legal issues when I wanted to come back.
I’m not joking. After going through the NEET nightmare—six months of coaching, stomach issues from stress, waking up at 4 AM to study—applying to Petrozavodsk State Medical University felt refreshingly simple.
They wanted:
That’s literally it. No entrance exam. No interview. No “tell us why you want to study medicine” essay that makes you sound like a robot. My application was approved in two months. Two months! Compare that to sitting around waiting for government college merit lists.
The university’s international student team was actually helpful. This is important because I’ve heard horror stories about other universities where you email and get responses three weeks later. Petrozavodsk State Medical University responded within 48 hours, every single time. They explained the visa process, hostel options, everything.
Okay, this is where I’m going to be real. The night before my flight, I cried. I’m a 23-year-old guy, and I literally cried because I was leaving everything I knew to go to some city I’d never heard of in Russia.
Petrozavodsk isn’t Moscow. It’s not St. Petersburg. It’s a city on a lake, pretty quiet, about 2 hours from the Finnish border. When I arrived in December, it was -20 degrees. I’d never seen snow. I didn’t know how to walk in snow. I slipped on ice three times on my first day. My feet were numb. I genuinely questioned every decision that led me there.
But here’s the thing—the university was prepared for this. They had someone pick me up from the airport. The hostel was warm (seriously, Russian heating is no joke—my room was toasty). And within two days, I’d met about 40 other Indian students in the same boat as me.
The hostel food was… different. Not bad, just different. A lot of bread, vegetables cooked in ways I wasn’t used to, and this black bread that’s actually pretty good. I won’t lie—I went to the supermarket and bought rice and dal on day two. I made Indian food in the hostel kitchen, and suddenly I had 20 friends.
The academic orientation was thorough. They explained the entire curriculum, the grading system, the clinical rotations. Petrozavodsk State Medical University does things in a structured way. No surprises. No drama. Just clear expectations.
The hardest part wasn’t academic—it was psychological. Missing home hit different when you’re in a country where you don’t speak the language and the sun sets at 3 PM in winter. I called my parents almost every day that first month. My mom kept asking if I wanted to come back. I kept saying no, but I wasn’t sure if I meant it.
By week four, something shifted. I’d made a friend group. I’d found a decent Indian restaurant. I could order food in broken Russian. And I’d sat in on my first anatomy lecture. The professor was old, stern-looking, but incredibly knowledgeable. He used these real case studies. He made anatomy actually interesting—not just memorization, but understanding how it applies to actual people.
This is where Petrozavodsk State Medical University really proved its worth. The first year curriculum covered basic sciences—anatomy, biochemistry, physiology, psychology. Standard stuff, right?
But the way it’s taught is different from what I’d prepared for with NEET coaching. They don’t just teach isolated facts. Every lecture connects to clinical cases. My professor would literally say, “Okay, you now know how calcium metabolism works. Let me show you a patient who came with calcium imbalance. This is what happened to them.”
We had cadaver dissection in anatomy. That’s something most Indian medical colleges don’t do anymore. First time I saw a real human body on the dissection table, I nearly fainted. But you get over it. And it teaches you things no video or diagram ever can.
The practical sessions were taken seriously. Not like some Indian colleges where practicals are just for marks. Here, if you didn’t know what you were doing, the demonstrator would make you do it again until you understood.
By the end of first year, I’d done things I never thought I’d do—performed a perfect skin suture, identified organs in a dissected cadaver, taken blood pressure correctly. These aren’t fancy skills, but they’re real clinical skills, and I had them before I even finished my first year.
Classes are entirely in English. That was non-negotiable for me because my Russian was basically non-existent.
That said, living in Russia when you can’t speak Russian is annoying sometimes. Ordering pizza was a nightmare. The bus ticket lady yelled at me because I asked in English. I once tried to buy aspirin and ended up with something completely different.
But here’s what happened—I learned Russian. Not because I had to for medical studies, but because I wanted to actually function in daily life. By my second year, I could have basic conversations. It’s not fluent, but it’s enough. And honestly, this skill has become a weird advantage. Most Indian doctors going abroad learn the local language anyway. I got a head start.
The university offered Russian classes to international students, but they weren’t mandatory. A lot of students skipped them. I wish more of them had taken it because being able to interact with locals and understand announcements made life easier.
After completing the basics, we moved into clinical subjects. Pathology, pharmacology, microbiology. And then the real deal—we started going into hospital wards.
This is where Petrozavodsk State Medical University has a huge advantage. We weren’t just sitting in lectures. We were in actual hospitals, seeing actual patients. By second year, I was taking patient histories, doing basic examinations, writing case studies. Real responsibility. Scary? Absolutely. Educational? Incredibly.
I remember my first time presenting a case to a senior doctor. I was terrified. I’d prepared for hours. And he literally just said, “Good work. Next time, ask the patient about occupation—sometimes it matters.” Not harsh. Just practical feedback.
The clinical exposure here is way more than what I’ve heard from friends studying in private colleges in India. They’re sitting in lectures. I’m actually practicing medicine (obviously under supervision).
Let me break down the actual costs, not just the advertised costs.
Tuition: About 450,000 Russian rubles per year, which is roughly $4,500-$5,500 depending on exchange rates.
Hostel: 7,000-9,000 rubles per month = about $70-$90 per month. So roughly $840-$1,080 per year. This includes a decent room with heating.
Food: If you cook Indian food and go to local restaurants, around 15,000-20,000 rubles per month ($150-$200). If you eat like a Russian and eat institutional food, it’s cheaper. If you want to eat like you’re in Delhi, it gets expensive.
Other expenses: Internet, phone, clothes, entertainment. Realistically, $100-$150 per month.
So my total expenditure per year comes to roughly $7,500-$8,500. For five and a half years, that’s about $41,000-$47,000 total.
Now, my cousin is studying in a private college in Delhi. Her fees alone are 25 lakhs. That’s about $30,000 just for fees. Plus living expenses in Delhi, coaching for subjects, etc. Her family is looking at $40,000+ just for the first year.
I spent roughly that for my entire degree.
And here’s the kicker—my cousin isn’t getting more clinical exposure than me. She’s actually getting less.
By third year, I was essentially working in the hospital. Not as a full doctor, but as a clinical medical student. I was seeing patients regularly, assisting in procedures, learning practical skills.
I assisted in a cholecystectomy (gallbladder surgery). I managed a patient admitted with acute appendicitis. I worked in pediatrics and saw things I’ll never forget—a two-year-old with meningitis, a premature baby in the NICU.
This is where studying at Petrozavodsk State Medical University became invaluable. I wasn’t just learning disease in a textbook. I was seeing disease, understanding it, managing it (with supervision).
Was it intense? Absolutely. Was it sometimes depressing? Yes. Did I question my career choice when a patient died? For sure. But that’s real medical training.
People think Russia is all serious and gloomy. In some ways it is. But the student culture at Petrozavodsk State Medical University is actually really good.
There are parties. There are celebrations. New Year’s is massive in Russia—bigger than Christmas. The entire country shuts down. We had parties in the hostel, went out to clubs, made friends from different countries.
The Indian student community is tight-knit. We celebrated Diwali, Holi, Independence Day. The first year I was here, we organized a Diwali party with about 150 people. We decorated the hostel with lights, made Indian food, the whole thing. Random Russian students started showing up because they heard about the party. That’s the kind of thing that happens.
I’ve made friends from Azerbaijan, Tajikistan, Kazakhstan, China, Africa. Medical school naturally creates this bond—you’re all struggling together, you’re all learning together, you’re all stressed together.
Dating was interesting. I met my girlfriend (who’s Indian, also studying here) in anatomy lab. We’ve been together for two years. I know people who got married. I know people who went through horrible breakups. It’s just like anywhere else.
I can’t write this without being honest about the hard parts.
The winters are actually brutal. I’m not exaggerating. -25 degrees with wind chill. Your nose hurts. Your lungs hurt when you breathe. You develop this fatalism about it. “Okay, I’m going outside, I might die, let’s go.” By year three, you stop caring. But that first winter is rough.
The isolation hits differently. You’re thousands of kilometers from home. Your parents are worried. Your relatives ask constantly when you’re coming back. You miss Indian food even though you can cook it. You miss the chaos and noise of India. During my second year, I went through a depression phase. I didn’t tell my parents. I just… felt stuck. I went to a counselor at the university (they have one, thankfully), and it helped.
Academic failures happen. I failed a supplementary exam in first year (I studied the wrong exam version, my fault). I had to retake it. My GPA suffered. I know people who took even longer. It happens. The university is supportive but it’s not like Indian colleges where your parents can call the principal. You have to deal with it yourself.
Bureaucracy is real. The visa renewal process, the registration with local authorities, dealing with Russian university administration—it’s slow and frustrating. I once had to go to the immigration office six times for a visa issue. Six times. It was the most annoying thing.
Loneliness is sporadic. You’d think it’s constant, but it’s not. It comes in waves. You’d be fine, and then suddenly your parents say they’re having surgery and you can’t be there because you’re in Russia. Your best friend from school is getting married and you can’t attend. These moments hit hard.
Petrozavodsk State Medical University diploma is recognized in India, but to practice, you need to clear the FMGE (Foreign Medical Graduate Examination). It’s essentially a test that proves your medical knowledge is equivalent to Indian standards.
I’m currently preparing for it. I haven’t taken it yet. But from what I’ve heard from seniors who’ve cleared it, it’s doable. It’s not easier than NEET, but it’s not impossible. Most students from Petrozavodsk State Medical University clear it on their first or second attempt.
There are online coaching centers specifically for FMGE with Indian faculty. So even though I’m in Russia, I can study with people who understand Indian medical practice standards.
If you’re asking me whether you should come here, I’d say:
Come if:
Don’t come if:
This isn’t a shortcut. It’s a different path. Sometimes harder, sometimes easier, but definitely a legitimate path to becoming a doctor.
Very hard for the first month. Moderate for the first year. Easy by year two. It’s not like moving to another Indian city. You’re in a different country, different language, different culture. But if you’re determined to study medicine, the academics will keep you focused, and you’ll find your community.
Petrozavodsk is safer than most Indian cities, honestly. I’ve walked around at night, gone to clubs, traveled alone on buses. There’s petty theft sometimes, but nothing violent. The police are strict but fair. I haven’t personally experienced racism, though I’ve heard stories from friends in other Russian cities. Here at Petrozavodsk State University, it’s pretty diverse and welcoming.
You retake it. There’s no shame in it. I’ve seen students retake exams, pass them, and continue normally. The system is fair—if you didn’t know the material, you retake it. Simple as that.
Yes, after clearing the FMGE. The process is straightforward. Many Petrozavodsk State University graduates are practicing in India right now. I know people in Delhi, Mumbai, Bangalore—they’re doing fine.
Honestly, it depends on your performance and efforts. If you graduate with good grades and clear FMGE easily, doors open everywhere. I know seniors working in the Middle East, UK, and India. The degree is recognized. What matters is what you do with it.
Eventually, yes. My parents were terrified initially. Now, after three years, they’re proud. They’ve met other parents of students here. They understand the value of the education. They want me to stay and finish, not come back. That shift happened gradually.
If I could go back and give advice to the guy who was crying the night before his flight, I’d say:
“Yeah, it’s going to be hard. Yeah, you’re going to miss home. Yeah, you’re going to question yourself multiple times. But in three years, you’re going to have practical medical skills that your friends back in India won’t have. You’re going to have classmates from 15 different countries. You’re going to have stories that don’t even fit the narrative of being an Indian medical student. And you’re going to graduate with a legitimate medical degree without your parents being in debt. So buckle up. It’s worth it.”
Petrozavodsk State Medical University isn’t for everyone. But if you want to become a doctor, you have limited resources, and you’re willing to take a different path, it’s genuinely a great option.
The education is solid. The exposure is real. The cost is manageable. And the recognition is legitimate.
For more detailed information about programs, admissions, and what to expect, you can check https://www.edurizon.in/study-destinations/study-mbbs-in-russia/petrozavodsk-state-university. They have actual student profiles and detailed information about Petrozavodsk State Medical University.
But honestly? Your best information will come from talking to current students. And if you want to reach out, I’m happy to answer questions. Because studying at I chose Petrozavodsk State Medical University. Am I glad I did? Absolutely. But let me tell you exactly how it went changed my life—not in some magical way, but in the real, difficult, rewarding way that medical education should.