Phony Cacophony

Washing dirty laundry in public is always fun. As long as it is not yours. Every once in a while, when an incident of harassment (political or sexual) washes up our shores, we righteously lean in favor of the victim. It is heartening to note that we  now applaud the victim for coming out in public. But what after that?

It all begins with good interest. As the event unfolds, the debate intensifies. Soon we begin to lose focus. Personal interests of the powerful come into play. Amid all the din and bustle of charges and counter-charges, the victim becomes a pawn in dirty shadow boxing.



Strange as it sounds, one has to be a victim to know how it feels. A week ago, we met with a minor car accident. As we were about to turn right after the traffic light turned green, a truck carrying liquor bottles rammed into our car. Fortunately, we were safe. The car was damaged. While my husband was trying to untangle the car from the truck, scores of bystanders crowded our car. No, no one lunged at me. No one harassed me either. They were peeping inside the car, some were sneering and some watching out of curiosity.

A bystander offered to be a witness, almost forcing us to press charges against the errant truck driver. His interest? His share.

An auto driver promptly offered me a ride back home. His interest? His share. Sensing urgency he charged thrice the regular amount when I reached home.

The cop? Well, let’s not even begin.

Naturally, we did not register a case. Who wants to deal with a bootlegger? Or a cop who smiles wickedly as if saying, ‘Ab ayeega maaza’.

What happened with me was a snapshot of a different kind. But the feeling was similar.

Sometimes I feel as if vultures are circling over our heads. They promptly descend, the moment they spot a piece of dangling flesh.

If the unfortunate incident unfolds on the national screen, it is soon drenched in political filth. In cases of sexual assault or harassment involving women, the picture becomes so murky that the victim begins to wonder why she reported it in the first place. Is it any surprise that a majority of cases go unreported?

Geetika, Durga, stalked woman in Gujarat, assaulted girl in Goa – all became objects of a bigger fight between political adversaries. In their enthusiasm to lynch the perpetrator, politicians conveniently ignore the voices of the family of the victim. We cannot even imagine the trauma suffered by Geetika’s mother who also committed suicide after her daughter was found hanging. Who cares about the Gujarat victim’s father who is pleading, “Please leave my daughter alone! She is happily married.”

In an election year, the victim becomes a football. Even rape is categorized as secular rape versus communal rape. And the foxy concern evinced is mainly to score political goals.

Milking the incident

Perhaps the victims of harassment (political or sexual) feel the same – that they are being used as bait. Once the last drop of orange is squeezed, the media moves on to squeeze the next juicy one. As I write, news channels are busy dissecting the Tehelka case. Arnab is angry. Rightly so. He seemed particularly peeved because Shoma Chaudhary spoke to all the channels except his channel. Imagine speaking to Rajdeep and Nidhi but ignoring the mighty Arnab? Ouch! Hurts.

The lynch mob on social media was no different. Under the garb of expressing solidarity with the victim, many were interested in the details of what transpired in the elevator. After a woman lawyer divulged the details on national television, I realized that her confidential e-mail had leaked in public domain. It was on social media. I read it too. But saw no point in sharing it.  At one level, I am glad that the CCTV footage of the elevator was unavailable. Else, it would have leaked too. And garnered maximum hits. I am wondering how private e-mails leak in public domain? Everything sells? 
The media needs to introspect. Milking a story beyond a point is detrimental for any victim.

While it is heartening that cases of assault or harassment are not treated with indifference, I think it is time to look inwards. Let’s look beyond self-interest. Let’s be a little more sensitive. Let’s be human.

Picture Courtesy: Google Images (www.123rf.com)

Nurturing Supermen: Minus the Cape

 Why, I hear you asking, am I writing on health and immunity? Two things. Long ago, far away from the world of writing, I was a research scholar studying Plant Physiology and Biochemistry. Not many know that I write ‘Wellness Articles’ for publications. Read Here

Second, there is a personal connect. Born as a premature baby, my immunity was as strong as a kitten. Any weather change had me sniffling and exploding into paroxysm of sneezes. It began with the common cold, followed by seasonal flu, stomach flu, eye flu and seasonal flu again. It was a bi-monthly unfailing occurrence.

Much like the viral fever, I hated the pesky common cold. There were two ways of combating it. The first, easy way was to stop looking at every bout of cold as a curse. If you can’t beat it, enjoy it. A viral attack has higher purpose. Each spell is an excuse to spend quality time at home. It is God’s way of telling us to relax. Plus you don’t suffer alone. Rather unknowingly, you pass on the infection to wife and kids. So a family that sneezes together stays together.

There were other advantages too. Common cold is a great leveler. Imagine the wicked kick of knowing that the intensity of your ‘Aachchoo’ matches that of Nita ben. The thought itself is empowering.

The more sensible option was to boost immunity. 

Begin early

The ugly truth is that more than two million (UNICEF) children die every year from preventable infections. All children have a right to achieve the highest possible standard of health. At a time when eatables are contaminated and antibiotic ineffective, boosting immunity is the need of the hour. So how do we build a nation of super heroes with super immunity?

Get Shots

As I mentioned, my airways get inflamed with any weather change. A doctor suggested shots of inactivated influenza vaccine. According to him, the vaccine ensures safety only for some time. In case of an ‘antigen shift’ or a new mutation, the vaccine becomes useless. Moreover, most vaccines lose efficacy over time. Enough doctors do not recommend adult vaccination as they themselves are not aware of the preventive benefits. Children of course should be vaccinated according to the medical guidelines but I am not sure about adult vaccines. There are new guidelines each year which add to the confusion. Since I am scared of pin-pricks and allergic to  chemicals, my only option  was to find a holistic natural way.

Move It

“Unfortunately, shopping cannot be your cardio,” said my doctor. Forsaking all the temptations of lying idle, I opted for yoga and pranayam. One has to begin early – walking, treadmill, Pilates or sport. Whatever works.

Say A, B, C, D, E.

Every third child in India is malnourished. It is a given that immune soldiers need healthy nourishment. Some medications are necessary, but as far as increasing immunity is concerned, you need to look no further than your refrigerator. 

For me, a balanced diet with Omega 3 fats and anti-oxidants helped immensely. Apart from the benefits of gluten free diet (to reduce inflammation) I read about the merits of new super foods like Farro Wheat, Morel Mushrooms, Cacao Nibs, Adzuki Beans, Twig Tea and Chia and Quinoa Seeds. These are new fad foods and still under the lens.

Apple can, Amla can't?

Personally, I prefer the safe, tried and tested route.  My favorite five have been  Amla, Neem, Tulsi Turmeric and Ginger.
Amla, in fact contains twenty times Vitamin C per pound found in oranges. It is a power food with loads of anti-oxidants and phyto-nutrients. As it is bitter, I add it in my green chutneys.If an apple a day can keep the doctor away, an amla a day can keep the diseases at bay.  
My clear vegetable soup is not without a dash of crushed turmeric. It is proven that Neem leaves enhance immunity. The explanation is that Neem boosts the production of interferon by increasing the ability of macrophages to engulf foreign bodies.
Tulsi has long been my herbal fix for seasonal ailments. At home, I have two pots, the holy basil (for tea) and Genovese basil (for pasta and salads).

My Herbal Fix

Modern science swears by it too. If you are interested, read ‘Herbs and Natural Supplements’ by Dr Marc Cohen, a professor at RMIT University. According to him the antioxidant content of tulsi is higher than grapes, ginger or garlic. Read Here On a cautious note, avoid anything that lacks scientific backing. 


 Beat It

Stressful situations reduce the cellular immune response.  So even before you try any thing else, try happiness! Happy kids make healthy adults. Happiness is, as they say, nothing more than good health and a bad memory.

Aan choo.Time to take my daily spoon of Chyawanprash. 

I mentioned that I am prone to allergic rhinitis. Didn't I? See, it is not that I am disease free. But a holistic approach has reduced the frequency of viral attacks significantly.

Hoping to build an immune India, this post is written for Dabur Chawanprash  in association with Indiblogger.

Loo-se Talk

So I met this young lady looking all sassy and smart. ‘Aunty, I follow your blog,’ she gushed. ‘I read it in the loo.'

Gauging my trifle disappointment she added, 'I mean it in the nicest possible way.'

I was a bit shaken. No, it was not the ‘A’ bomb. Once sporadic, the ‘A’ bomb is now hurled at me by aunties themselves. I don’t mind it at all.

It was the ‘Loo’ part that was the party Poo-per. I am trained to process words into images. For a moment, my words were clouded in a smelly fog of ablutions. I was wondering why read in the Loo? Do I Loo-k like a Loo-ny who indulges in Loo-se Talk? Do I Piss-off readers? Are my posts Pee-vish?

Relax, I told myself. Think. Why exactly are you upset?

Revisit your childhood. Remember those last minute revisions in the loo? When you can think about what you have written, or, what you are going to write in the privacy of the washroom, why sulk?

Newspapers have long accompanied people inside the loo. To judge the quality of writing by the place where it is read, rather than the effectiveness of its prose is to miss the trees for the woods. 

Then, where is the time to read? More importantly, where is the time to think? Archimedes, they say, figured out his theory of water displacement while soaking in a bath tub. Ideas can strike anywhere. Anytime. Given the noise pollution, toilets are not a bad place. Even Modi Ji is endorsing them.

Moreover, loo readers are a flourishing tribe. People carry newspapers, tablets, smart phones and Ipads to the Les Cabinets. A hot cup of tea and a juicy tabloid can do what a bottle of Cremaffin cannot. Why, even restaurants are being designed as toilets. Modern Toilet is a bathroom themed restaurant chain in Taiwan. A new restaurant opened in LA as recently as last month. So if you can eat in a toilet, you can certainly read in a toilet. Read Here

Anyway, what I write is not rocket science that needs a table lamp or a study table for finer assimilation. I can only hope that my words stay long after the reader is done with the toilet paper. If a gripping narrative results in easing things, even better.
By the time the party ended, I felt better. I even smiled at the young lady. 
In the loo or on the mountains, one reader is better than no reader at all.
Picture Courtesy: AFP News

Gurgaon Times

‘News is what somebody wants to suppress- all the rest is advertising’.

While the main newspaper tells you stories of maids being assaulted in Delhi, the magazine supplement (Gurgaon Times) tells a different story. As you read the newspaper supplement where they tell you that Gurgaon residents are looking for maids with passports, a sinking feeling envelops you like the dust haze embracing NCR.

Here is my problem with the magazine supplements. Reading them brings out the disgruntled activist in me. It makes me knock on the editor’s door and ask, ‘Who the hell is gifting diamonds for

festivals? Where the hell do these people work? If they are salaried people, how the hell do they manage to splurge on a vacation for their maid when I am struggling to buy vegetables?’

The fact that I live in Gurgaon exacerbates it for me. At a time when inflation is battering us black and blue, publishing stories about the privileged is more like dangling celery and asparagus on every woman’s face who is struggling to dice onions and tomatoes for salad.

But Gurgaon being Gurgaon, one learns to live with the feeling that you are nobody unless you wear a Herve Leger, carry a Fendi or flaunt a Tissot. No, don’t get me wrong. Gurgaon’s newly minted residents, bless them, are modern, but rooted in culture. My newspaper tells me that they celebrate all festivals from Holi to Halloween with fervor, albeit with a futuristic twist. While the women religiously fast for their husbands on Karwachauth, they prefer to break the fast by using an app which turns their smart phone into a channi. Likewise, there is always a reason for Gurgaon- wallas to party. And Halloween is an interesting one. Another paper tells me that social creepers were planning to buy expensive Evil Queen costumes and skull shaped diamond earrings to celebrate Halloween on foreign shores. I am assuming the maid with a passport accompanied them.

Well, nothing wrong with that at all. I am pure jealous. Don’t judge me, I am human. Who wants to be a struggling writer, when you can be a household cook and enjoy a paid vacation on the beaches of Seychelles?

Every morning after reading the newspaper supplement splashed with advertisements, the urge to get intoxicated and numb the feelings of emptiness and inadequacy overwhelm me. As it happens, there is a 24/7 online home delivery of wine and liquor in Gurgaon. That is if you can decide between a kilogram of onions and a bottle of booze.

But frankly, there is little point in cribbing and whining. I have two options. For minimum impact, I am contemplating reading the national daily with a glass in my hand. As I read the magazine supplement and snuff wine, I can imagine myself dressed as a billboard, hopping on my chartered plane and celebrating festivals in style. So what if Diwali is over, Christmas is on the horizon.

The other, better option is to read the main newspaper. It tells me that there is a slowdown in the festive spirit as price rise has hit sales. It also tells me that Gurgaon’s top cop suffers from dengue and that two people were stabbed to death in a call center.

Bad is never good until worse happens. One kilogram of onions hitting a century is better than one onion hitting a century. To hell with the maid with a passport - there is joy in simple things. Like watching television with the family. Like taking a walk in the park. And news? Well, as they say, ‘No news is good news’. All the rest is advertising. 


Picture Courtesy: Thinkstock, Gurgaon Times (The Times of India) 
 Originally in Friday Gurgaon.