Expulsions from the oral cavity via the keyboard

Return gifts

2011-04-23T12:31:00.000-07:00

Return (verb) gifts - that’s what we ought to do, but of course, we’re too socially correct for that. Return (adj.) gifts, then - uniquely Indian terminology, I think. Party favours, souvenirs... makes them sound optional. In truth, the only option you have is, distribute or disintegrate. Traditional weddings ended with guests taking away a memento – a coconut, a fruit, betel nut and leaves, a hanky – now it’s nothing less than a “gift item” that had better cost a respectable sum. No wonder weddings, forget marriages, are daunting propositions now.

Remember the days when a scented eraser, a book, or a cricket ball was a birthday gift welcomed with whoops of delight? Now something like that is too cheap even to qualify as a ‘return gift’.

Whether you’re buying (outward) gifts or return gifts, it boils down to expenditure for you. With the explosion in ‘-Days’ (Friendship Day, Valentine’s Day, Doctors’ Day, Administrative Professionals’ Day,...(insert whatever your idle mind drifts to) Day), the pressure to gift has soared. This translates to a much greater outlay on objects to give others. I suspect that the spirit of the act suffers in the process.

Nobody has (yet) come up to me and enquired about a return gift at the end of a party, but that’s probably because I haven’t had any parties for kids, and my associates know better than to expect a return gift from me. Which brings me to the solution – If the return gift rigmarole pains you, you are in the majority, and what you need to harness to put an end to the needless bother is the collective pain.

I am assuming that no one likes the return gift rigmarole. So, the fact that it prevails indicates that people are too timid to speak their minds and continue to bow to what they deem societal expectation. How unusual!

Please don’t bow anymore. Gather a group of preferred associates, and make a collective plan to eschew return gifts. This promises to be more effective than having a no-return gift policy in isolation, which may put kids under untold pressure. And of course, teach kids not to enquire after gifts! When a community decides to cut the return gift crap, living easier becomes easier for both adults and kids. Go no-return-gifters!

Limit disposables, period.

2011-03-24T11:26:00.000-07:00

Menstruation. It’s not a wound. It’s a discharge, bearing resemblance to tears, snot, urine, sweat, etc. in that it is
• usually normal, i.e., not infected/infectious,
• generally not remarkably copious,
• potentially inconvenient, and so seldom enthusiastically received,
and its exhibition is mostly socially undesirable.

The differences between menstrual and the other discharges (ibid.) are
• the composition,
• the disconcerting resemblance of menstrual flow to “blood”, i.e., the discharge consequent on injury, and
• the demographic restriction – menstruation occurs only in women, only in the reproductive phase lasting 3 or so decades, and that only in the absence of pregnancy, lactation, undernutrition or severe disease.

Why the fuss?
It has to do with “private parts”, of women, that too women in the reproductive phase of their lives. It may be interpreted as an advertisement of sorts of suitability for procreation. Of course, there’s a fuss about it. Is it realistic to expect everyone to treat this normal biological process like a normal biological process?
The answer to that is ‘No’.
An indication of the coyness surrounding menstruation is the list of euphemisms for it – out of doors, chums, monthly test, that time of the month, not clean, etc. Not to forget the quaint enquiry often made of female guests who land up at religious-tinted functions: “Are you fresh?” If you fail this test, you get to eat but not pray. Don’t you just love it?!

Normal biological processes... What’s left? Puberty? Pregnancy? Childbirth? Menopause? Ageing? A sneeze or a cough? None of the above. Modern science has medicalised most bodily functions to the point where they are “symptoms”, “conditions” or “disorders” calling for treatment/management/even hospitalisation. E.g. “We’re trying to find a cure for ageing.”
So, menstruation is a recurring “condition” requiring attention of the medical kind, at the very least hygienic napkins.

A word on hygiene here. It means healthy living – yes, more than just over-enthusiastic washing and repeated wiping with sanitisers. A balanced diet, regular physical activity, adequate sleep and more along these lines, all fit into hygiene.
But back to the conventionally understood meaning of hygienic – CLEAN.
And clean to the point of antiseptic, pure, free from any physical, chemical and biological foreign agent. Say, sterilised. Say disposable, because any level of washing we might do at home cannot possibly leave a napkin truly clean. Say, pure white, because white means ultra clean, doesn’t it? Can you think of anything white that’s not good for you?
Now how did we get to the point where we feel that we need disposable, white, sterilised napkins because anything else wouldn’t be hygienic enough? Did, perhaps, napkin manufacturers have anything to do with this?

How clean does a sanitary (there’s the reference to high-level cleaning again!) napkin really have to be? Remember it’s not a surgical wound, a burn or a rash. It’s a discharge. It needs to be handled in as clean a manner as other discharges that don’t ring alarm bells. In other words, a napkin needs to be as clean as a handkerchief or underwear. That’s all. You don’t need a sterilised napkin unless you need a sterilised panty.

What’s the truth about commercially available disposable napkins?
• They’re hugely convenient. Carry them around progressively more discreetly. Peel and stick – no athleticism required. They’re getting drier and drier with every successive innovation, so they’re fairly comfortable. You get various lengths, widths and different thicknesses, and wings and perfumes if desired.
• They’re hugely inconsiderate of the environment. They’re made of absorbent material, usually wood pulp, which comes from, yes, wood. Some contain cotton. Most contain hi-tech materials that prevent leakage while keeping you extraordinarily dry. Now, what might be leakproof, light, flexible and smooth to the touch? Could it be or contain plastic?
Plastics are extremely eco-profligate materials, making dents in environmental security in the extraction of their raw materials (mostly petroleum), their manufacture (consuming many times their volume of fresh water), their use (including transportation), and their disposal (dumping, burning, incineration, even recycling, which requires energy for the industrial process and finally salvages only a small proportion of the material). In a nutshell, the entire life-cycle of most plastics is one of eco-hostility.
• The clean, sterile, white napkin is bleached and pressed and so forth to achieve its looks and function. Strong chemicals come into play. There are permissible limits for the various compounds that appear in sanitary pads. Permissible limits? As in things not healthy in amounts large, medium or small, but bearable in tiny, tiny concentrations to facilitate some desirable property? Yes.
But the manufacturers will ensure that their products are perfectly safe, won’t they? And even if they default, the government will strictly ensure that consumers are completely protected, won’t it? Santa Claus is a verifiable occurrence, isn’t he?
• Be all that as it may, convenience rules. You’ve used the disposable napkin. Now for disposal. It’s not segregable into recyclable, compostable, reject and “medical/hazardous”. Of course, it’s not segregable. It’s hardly even visible. It just goes incognito to the toilet drain which it clogs; or to the garbage dump where a part of it rots, somewhat, and provides a home for pests and germs, and a morsel for stray animals; or it gets burnt in a dump; or, the best fate under the circumstances, goes undisturbed to a landfill (Find one in India that fulfils all the criteria for a safe landfill!) and stays there forever (like we have real estate to spare for the never-ending supply of used napkins).

Am I trying to put you on a guilt trip? Not exactly. But if the shoe fits, wear it. We’ve got to recognise our part,... and do our part.

What’s the alternative?
Reusable napkins, made of cloth. If any other material comes to mind, please publicise.
The usual reaction to this suggestion: Yuck!

Why ‘yuck’?
• Cloth gets stained.
Yes, it does. So?
Most of the underwear-using world is familiar with stains. Well-timed and intelligent washing usually obviates stains. One quick wash immediately after use and another leisurely one – in a machine with other cloth(e)s – work admirably. Some stains make it despite people’s efforts to discourage them. So, let them be. Dispose of the stained cloth after numerous uses if you must.
Cloth pads are amenable to myriad thicknesses, lengths and widths as the period of your period dictates. The flexibility in use, and the tactile comfort are great, and you can add and subtract layers at will.
Any soft cotton cloth will serve. But there are some cottons that are perfect for the purpose – like the soft towelling material that’s sold for baby linens. They’re unbelievably soft on the skin, very absorbent, and wash stain-free. They’re meant for ever-discharging babies, after all.
• It’s a pain to wash.
True. But just about. Set aside 2 minutes more at each change than you would have discarding a disposable pad.
• You need your own space for all this.
You do. This is not easy to achieve in hostels and shared cramped quarters. And certainly not on long trips without convenient washing and drying zones.
• It’s embarrassing.
Is it? Think another think about the people who’ll get embarrassed/ embarrass you by glimpsing your washed, drying cloths. Are they worth the bother?
• It’s old-fashioned.
Yes. With good reason. It has worked – well, for centuries.
• It’s infra-dig – the kind of thing underprivileged women use.
Yes and no. They use cloth; that’s where the resemblance ends. They don’t always have clean cloth; they don’t always get to wash pads thoroughly and dry them fully before reuse. Some unlucky women don’t even have cloth to spare for this: They use dirty rags and often share them with others.
• It’s unhygienic.
No. Not if the cloth is washed and dried thoroughly, with as much attention as underwear gets. Women who use dirty cloth, or worse, are known to suffer infections and chronic unhealthy pelvic conditions leading many to surgeries to excise their reproductive organs. Women who use clean cloth need not suffer any of this.
In addition, women with limited economic resources may be constrained to use cloth, and are in the process, avoiding adding their used pads to the ever-growing continent of garbage. Those with more comfortable spending capacity save themselves the bother of washing and reusing and give the earth the bother of dealing with their leftovers.

Itna lecture maara. Do I use cloth?
I do, almost always. Long trips, etc. excluded.

Would I like you to?
I would.
Try it. At least think about it. Period.

Important, not implemented

2010-09-07T10:32:00.000-07:00

The recent announcement of the ban on disposable plastic bags in the Secunderabad Cantonment Board would have been greeted with much enthusiasm by any environment-conscious person in the SCB jurisdiction. Unfortunately, the ban has not even been well-publicised, let alone enforced.

Plastic bags and disposable utensils accumulating on roads and in drains are a health hazard on many levels – emitting toxins especially when heated; facilitating the proliferation of pests like rats, pigs and flies; clogging drains and contributing to water-logging during the rains; forming a node for stray dogs; seriously damaging the health, and threatening the lives, of cows and dogs who eat them. To compound matters, in contravention of the Municipal Solid Waste Management Rules established 10 years ago, garbage is still burnt regularly, releasing several toxic compounds into the atmosphere. A socio-economic dimension of this ill is the phasing out of employment and crafts related to reusable and biodegradable bags and containers, such as the manufacture of cloth bags and leaf plates.

We do not have the luxury to be able to wait for the information on the ills of non-biodegradable disposable plastic, from sourcing (fossil fuels), manufacture (energy-intensive), use and disposal (wasteful and toxic) to trickle down to every user, and hope that people move away from disposables out of pure environment-friendliness. An immediate ban on most disposable plastics is vital to public health; this should be supplemented with regulations on the composition and processing of plastics deemed not as harmful. The SCB should enforce the ban and detailed regulations, and the other urban local bodies follow suit without delay. The outlook for the burgeoning population of the twin cities, with grossly inadequate solid waste treatment and disposal facilities, is dismal if citizens and the government do not take concerted, judicious and timely action.

Beshak mandir masjid todoh

2010-04-20T01:44:00.000-07:00

We don’t need any more religious edifices. There are plenty and more for the ritual purposes of the population, and too many for the smooth running of society. All the effort that goes into the construction of new ones can be better directed to the maintenance of existing ones, and better still to social service.

Shrines seem to crop up in any public space, beginning as a small idol or even an uncarved stone, with here a wall and there a roof added until a point where a decorative compound wall and security beepers get installed. Spots where people paused to piss have been transformed to spots to shed footwear and discard the plastic wrappers of worship paraphernalia. These hypertrophic shrines soon draw stalls selling material for worship and souvenirs, and stacks and people to guard footwear.

Naturally, traffic flow is utterly disrupted by the parked vehicles and milling crowds around them. To compound the inconvenience caused to users of the roads and areas around these shrines, many of them have audio equipment to amplify the announcements, music and chanting occurring within.

Governing authorities hesitate to touch such edifices for fear of wounding vote banks, guised as reluctance to injure religious sentiment, but this comes at the cost of public comfort. When will logic take the place of sycophancy and fear, and the (usually unauthorised) proliferation and growth of religious edifices be checked? Exalted representatives of various religious bodies are usually unworthy of the weight given to their views, as is clear from their sanction of religious expression’s becoming a public nuisance.

People should take to treating their minds and bodies as temples, and worship health and civic sense.

The logically penurious Indian Penile Code

2009-07-02T21:50:00.000-07:00

Criminalisation of homosexuality has no place in a thinking, empathetic, realistic society. It is about as illogical as criminalizing myopia or white hair. The fact that it is not observed in the majority of the population makes it uncommon, not unnatural. The stereotypes associated with homosexuality are appallingly inaccurate – promiscuity and unsafe sexual practices on the one hand, and inordinate levels of artistry and sensitivity (for male homosexuals) and coarseness and aggressiveness (for lesbians) on the other. These prejudices also conveniently ignore the prevalence of unsafe, immoral and exploitative behaviour among heterosexuals.

The most ironic fact about the criminalization of homosexuality in India is that our Penal Code, which has its origin in the British code, is steadfast in its adherence to an obsolete tenet, ignoring the spirit of the law (viz., prevention of exploitative homosexuality, as in child abuse), whereas the mother code has changed in response to fresh insights. Homosexuality is perfectly legal in Britain, and has been for a while now. Why did we dilly-dally? If it's stimulation from a western nation without which we cannot budge, what took us so long?

People who project homosexuality as a scourge of a healthy society should take a break from outdated, insubstantial moralising and contribute to the health of society themselves by demonstrating inclusiveness and embracing diversity. They should shift their activist focus to truly unhealthy social practices like corruption, sexual exploitation, discrimination against women and elderly persons, and environmental pollution, and leave people to express their sexuality – a/homo/hetero/bi – in peace, privacy, and free from pressure.

Questions that shouldn't be asked

2009-06-11T03:01:00.000-07:00

If you’re fit to know the answers they will come to you without being demanded. If you aren’t, cork up!

1."Why don’t you get married?"

How many people do you think want to tell you that it’s because whoever they wanted to marry didn’t reciprocate their desire? That they're simply too terrific for anyone they've come across in their long and colourful lives? That blockheaded family members or obsolete societal institutions stood in their way? That in the absence of a large amount of wealth and breathtaking glamour, nobody wants to marry them? That astrological disarrangements send the starry-eyed sprinting away? That they’re not enterprising or attractive enough to find partners for themselves and not “adjusting” enough to accept some of the horrific exhibits proffered by others?
How many Indians in their 30s and 40s do you think are single by choice? Quite a few, perhaps, but certainly not the majority. In short, if they don’t want to get married, they’ll make it clear. If they haven’t, the reasons are too painful. You’re curious – you’re welcome to be. But, bite your tongue. DON’T ASK.

2."Why don’t you have kids?"

How many people want to tell you that they don’t want to be pathetic parents (like you possibly give every indication of being)? That the thought of perpetuating their surnames is simply not exhilarating enough for them to put a child through a tough life that they haven’t the wherewithal to equip it for? Who wants to spill details about impotence, infertility, dysfunction, financial insecurity, immaturity, poor health, or family arrangements in a flux? Or tell you that they don’t want innocent additional participants in the nightmare of their marital lives? That they don’t want to produce heirs simply to shuttle from relative to crèche, school to hobby class, coaching class to mall…and so on? That they don’t want to accept people's ostensibly loving offers to bring up the kids that they (the unready parents) produce? There may be an ideal setting in which to bring up kids – loving relatives, nice house etc., but they cannot make up for lack of preparedness in the parents themselves. Having kids to shut gossipy mouths, or for others’ pleasure (or pain), e.g. for grandparents, in-laws and miscellaneous others to be occupied, is about the most thoughtless activity to engage in.
Everybody does not have to have kids. Many who do ought not to. The entrance exam, GD and series of interviews that aspiring parents should go through with themselves and enlightened guides are almost never undertaken! If someone decides not to have children, be sure that the reasons are good enough. Even the willing are not guaranteed to make good parents; what price the unwilling? Babies are not discharges that you can eliminate once produced by wiping up or washing off. They need thought, love and work before, during, and especially after their production. If these can’t be spared, your gametes should be. In other words, spare the rod, at least sheathe the rod, else you’ll spoil the child.

3."Why did you get divorced?"

You may be itching for lurid details of violence, family clashes, ideological incompatibility, sexual dysfunction, adultery, brain-washing by vested interests and sundries along that line. But you’re not meant to know if you have to ask.
People get divorced for ONLY one reason – they cannot continue to live together in harmony. Accept it and freeze.

Caveat expatriate

2008-12-16T14:00:00.000-08:00

Indulgence in over-consumption is more expensive for Indians abroad than for populations who’ve lived in said countries for ages, e.g., Indian immigrants are worse off healthwise than Americans in the USA, the British in Britain and so on. (Contact me for references to research on this.)
Why? Indians’ genetic gifts translate to a greater inclination to diabetes and heart disease, via an unfavourable biochemical profile (cholesterol etc.) in combination with the adoption of the convenience lifestyle of the developed world. This means that an Indian and an American starting out on a par and following a similar lifestyle – junk food, no exercise, poor sleep, stress, exposure to toxins – are unlikely to end up in the same health mess in time; the Indian will deteriorate further and faster.

Technological and economic development are accompanied by another variety of development that is less welcome – that of chronic diseases. We have evidence of this in the changing demographics of disease in India, especially urban (‘westernised’) India. Disease conditions once put off by youth, to be examined only after retirement, are their early- and mid-career companions these days. The youngish (20s-30s) population with high blood pressure and adverse blood lipid and blood sugar levels, is growing – in more ways than one. Labour-saving devices, inordinately long workdays, uncomfortable public transport, higher-calorie diets, and unavailability of places and conditions in which to exercise are unfortunate fall-outs of the economic progress that India is experiencing. Unfortunately, the Indian body isn’t yet savvy to the growth of the Indian wallet and the changed demands that it engenders.

Consider the Indian professional (even in India, but particularly abroad):
• a slowly, but steadily, burgeoning non-pregnant tummy
• blood pressure inching upwards
• triglycerides shooting through the roof, HDL (‘good’ cholesterol) plummeting, LDL (‘bad’ cholesterol) soaring
• hyperacidity, even unto an ulcer
• allergies
• backaches, even sciatica
…the cluster of symptoms clustering around the person sometimes as early as in the late 20s. This, unchecked, goes on to official diabetes and heart disease in a few years. That infertility and autoimmune disease are on the rise hasn't escaped anyone's notice. And cancers are not unheard of either.

Some facilitators of this sorry state:

• higher calorie diets than required
• far more fat, especially trans-fats and saturated fats, than the body needs
• far less fibre than needed
• inadequate physical activity
• work and environmental stress
• substance abuse
• compulsive non-vegetarianism…
Till recently, most families that defined themselves as ‘non-vegetarian’ wouldn’t necessarily consume meat on a daily basis. Cost and constrained availability might have been some factors leading to this, as also the fact that the plethora of vegetarian foods available render it really stupid not to follow a largely vegetarian diet. The biggest change today is that vegetarianism for tradition is squashed. Think of the hordes of sausage-chompers today who come from pucca-vegetarian families. People move out and feel no pressure from home, but plenty of encouragement from contemporary society to eat meat – regularly. This by itself need not be bad, but there is no guarantee that the meat you get has been reared and processed in a healthy manner. And over-emphasis on meat may be accompanied by neglect of plant foods – spinach-dal may well get less custom when malai-chicken screams out to the diner.

Men seem to be worse off than women - not a particularly shocking observation. Women have a sliver of inbuilt biological advantage in their young adulthood, but what stands them in better stead, I believe, is their reluctance to let themselves go as easily as men do. Maybe this distinction comes from the pervading sexist requirement for women to be beautiful and responsible, both incompatible with a life of excess.

Some ways the world has changed:

• Population growth
• Polluted water, air and earth
• Toxins in food, water, cosmetics and synthetic materials all around us
• Greatly reduced connection with nature
• Little physical activity
• Reduced opportunity for rest and recreation

In addition to the largely irreversible changes in the world around us, are changes in the world within us. Damage accumulates. Metabolism inevitably slows beginning in the mid-20s. If you maintain the exact lifestyle in your 30s and 40s that you did in your early 20s, don’t expect to look and feel now exactly as you did then. Fat deposition gets a fillip, and muscle- and bone-loss advance, so you need to step up your exercise level even to stay in place. Unfortunately, people tend to ‘take it easy’ and ‘settle down’ (along with the cobwebs in their minds and the love-handles on their trunks) at about this stage in their lives. Also, don’t wait to burst out of your clothes before you acknowledge your fattening. Seemingly slender people are often ‘obese’ by body fat percentage standards. The simple weighing scale doesn’t give you the information that you need. Analyse your body fat percentage and act on it.

What to do?

Don’t take your body for granted. Don’t measure your aptitude for good health by your ancestors’ – your life has practically no resemblance to theirs. In fact, a good way to approach health would be to copy your ancestors' (grandparents or older) lifestyle with respect to food and physical activity.

Exercise: Insinuate movement into your daily life if you ‘don’t have the time to exercise’. Exercise is a multi-pronged salubrious strategy – build muscle and bone, lose excess fat, improve posture and balance, achieve better blood sugar and blood lipid control (increase HDl, reduce LDL etc.) and stave off diabetes, heart disease and certain cancers, minimize stress, sleep better, think better, and of course, look better.
Very few of us Indians have a positive, enthusiastic stance towards physical activity. Most of us who kept up our levels of activity beyond teenage have heard offhand remarks or even earnest queries about why we need to exercise when we aren’t ‘fat’. Difficult as it may be, we need to break out of that philosophy and work for fitness, not just to banish visible rolls of fat.

Eat: Stock up on fibre. Choose fats wisely and conservatively. Rather than spending all your talent on churning out meat dishes chock-full of saturated fat, flavouring agents and added colours, turn your genius to sprouts, vegetables, fruit and whole-grains.

Sleep: Even a week of poor sleep leads to hormonal changes that age you by years.

Be merry: Use your intelligence, not strong chemicals, to this end.

Avoid toxins: Stick to natural fibres for wear and use. Let plants rather than chemicals clear air. Closely examine every single thing you use – food, cleaners, cosmetics, stationery, decor. Don't treat yourself as a hazardous waste disposal bin. Shun disposables – they are, without exception, toxic (this includes disposable diapers, tampons, styrofoam, many plastics, plywood, many glues, most dry-cleaned garments, many inks...the list is too long for me to know, let alone repeat). White is not necessarily clean. In fact, having been bleached, it is usually worse than its non-white counterpart.

Monitor your health: Examine your family history. Check yourself at intervals for the development of disease-conditions that you are susceptible to. If everyone in your family exits the earth after a heart-attack at 50, it is ridiculous for you to avoid blood tests and hog fats between cigarette-puffs or tequila-shots like there’s no tomorrow (or then, you may be right, there will be no tomorrow if you progress like that). That said, don’t ignore conditions that do not feature in your family history – you may be the pioneer in your family. Try and be one of health.

Bald facts

2008-12-16T13:57:00.000-08:00

– main baal baal bach gayee

Why would someone shave her head – her perfectly, okay imperfectly, hirsute head? Disease? Heroic treatment? Preparation for brain surgery? In return for a favour from God? Because a loved one died (although to my knowledge, it’s males who shave at this)? A protest against some atrocity?... These are the stimuli for voluntary baldness that spring to people’s minds, especially Indians’ minds. Glamour? Please! What’s glamorous about a shaven head followed by a stubble and a golliwogesque look for a while afterwards? It is extremely difficult to visualise a healthy bald woman not trying to make a statement.

I shaved my head simply to go through, and savour if possible, the experience in my adult life. And I’m doing just that.

Shaving my head has been a fairly eye-opening experience. The value of hair became sharply clear to me just seconds after the depilatory expedition concluded. My head felt so cold that I had to wrap it up in a knitted cap, even indoors. I am able to examine my scalp at a hitherto impossible level of detail now, and note, right away, that the shape of my head is very different from that of other frequently bald persons such as my brother.

Nobody has reacted neutrally to my shaven head yet. Once the initial hesitation, generated by the unpleasant conjectures ibid., passes – eliminated by assurances from me or someone else with the facts – people begin applauding me for the move. Some go so far as to compliment my appearance, and certainly my ‘guts’ or ‘daring’ to embark on such an undertaking. Many go on to eulogise my spouse for his broadmindedness, declaring that their own would’ve booted them out and only hair regrowth could’ve ensured reunion. And he, far from being a passive proponent, actively aided and abetted me - he was the one who executed the hair-trimming and not-so-close shave. I followed up with the close shave!

I don’t feel embarrassed. I don’t feel very different, except when I look in a mirror, of course. My weight hasn’t decreased. My head doesn’t feel lighter, and neither does my heart! Washing practices have changed – I’ve put away my shower-cap for the future. I have used separate towels for my hair and body for all my adult life; I’m down to one now. Hair accessories are hibernating.

I realise, with an inward chuckle, how used I am to my hair, when my hands involuntarily reach up to move my hair off my neck and onto my pillow, and when on rising, I find my fingers ascending to comb through it. The current softish stubble (like ‘firm velvet’) is not a bad substitute for the nondescript strands that it has replaced. I run my palms over it, like a gunda, now and then!

Hot-headed? Not now!

2008-12-12T18:58:00.000-08:00

Living in and leaving rented apartments in the U.S. – a collection of tips for impecunious students

2008-11-04T11:04:00.000-08:00

Find out at the outset if your apartment policy allows nails to be hammered into the wall, or only poster mounts. Nails and push-pins are far easier to introduce and extract, and apartment complexes that allow them typically do not require that the holes be filled in. If nails are not allowed, or not possible to hammer in (owing to the impenetrable nature of the wall), adhesive strips like poster mounts will need to be used. These strips are the devil to peel off, and the residue will need to be scraped off with a table knife.
Line all shelves with plastic/rubberized/cloth/newspaper liners as appropriate to the contents. It makes them far easier to keep clean, and to clean up after accidental spills.
Cover the refrigerator top with a layer of cling-wrap. The refrigerator top is practically impossible to clean thoroughly. Dust and grime collecting on it over the months will be captured beautifully by the cling-wrap, which, at the end of your stay, can be peeled off and recycled.
Keep baking soda and vinegar handy. The combination is a non-toxic way to clear most slow drains, and to clean a range of surfaces from the refrigerator gasket and shelves to the stove. Baking soda is also an excellent deodorizer and cleansing aid. Vinegar is an almost miraculous residue-remover – use it to clean glass containers and metal fixtures clouded with deposits.
Clean often, preferably every week. If the only reason you clean is to vacate an apartment, God help you! – you are avoiding the pleasure of the fruits of your labour. If you clean only when you invite patently decent persons or delectable girls/boys over, invite said persons over every week. A clean dwelling is no worse than a filthy one; in fact, it is almost universally considered vastly better!
Keep a pair of rubber gloves to use for cleaning tasks. Cleaning supplies and constant washing, esp. in hot water, can torture your skin. Armed (p.i.) with gloves, you can raise the temperature of the water to otherwise unbearable levels and achieve a clean that’s a few notches higher.
Air-fresheners are a scam – air is fresher. Open a window for a while and let air circulate. Indoor air tends to be worse than outdoor, unless your home is in an industrial effluent flume. Use a screen to keep marauders out, and air out the room in your absence if you find it too cold to do so in your presence. If your room actually stinks, get to the bottom of it. Wash your clothes and self. Clean the floors and furniture. Keep your bedroom and closets closed, and your exhaust fan on, when you cook. Stop smoking, unless you want a virtual corpse in an air-‘freshener’ed room. Keep a bowl (not the same bowl) of baking soda in places you want to deodorize, e.g., the bathroom, the refrigerator, the shoe rack.
(Metal, preferably stainless steel, scrubber + moderate effort) > (plastic/cloth scrubber + Herculean effort). Use metal scrubbers to clean sinks – metal and ceramic – and metal pots and pans, esp. those stained with tea/coffee/cooking.
Use a cleaner like Comet, once in a while, to scrub dingy sinks to dazzling cleanliness. Use gloves and the faithful metal scrubber for best results.
Use a mild bleach solution like Chlorox spray bleach to clean abused bathtubs. Two or three runs will do a lot to eliminate mould and accumulated grime. Bleach is by no means benign. Use vinegar for regular cleaning after you get the bathtub to a semblance of cleanliness. Clean bathtubs at least every fortnight. Frequent cleaning ensures that the job itself gets done quickly and without taxing you too much – not much can build up in two weeks. And so, you will not find yourself in a situation where you pass out on the bathroom floor in a haze of cleaner fumes and your own sweat because you had to spray and scrub ad nauseum without making much headway.
Install a shower curtain liner as well as the curtain. Wash the liner every few weeks, in the company of bath mats, cleaning rags and rugs, all of which also, give evidence of doing well for occasional laundering. Use a fistful of baking soda with the detergent to achieve superior cleansing.
Do not use cleaners for surfaces that they are not designed to clean, e.g., a heavy-duty toilet bowl cleaner on a kitchen counter or refrigerator shelf. If you cannot deal with designated cleaners for each surface, get a broad-spectrum cleaner and use it blithely. Better still, use substances like baking soda, vinegar, borax, hot water and rags for your cleaning jobs.
Newspaper, with glass-cleaner, polishes glass to a streak-free sparkle. Vinegar does the same. Tissue, in contrast, tends to disintegrate and leave miniscule crumbs all over its path - yet another reason to steer clear of disposable eco-unfriendly products which promise a pinnacle of hygiene quite superfluous for normal life.
Turmeric, for all its wonderful qualities, leaves persistent stains not appreciated by landlords. This lack of appreciation expresses itself as disappearing chunks of your security deposit. Cover the vicinity of your stove with foil (if allowed by your apartment policy), and counters with shelf-liners or other non-inflammable sheets so that spices and gravies don’t spill or drip onto them and leave permanent marks.
Use a wet rag to wipe down stoves, cabinet sides, and walls above and adjacent to stoves, following tumultuous cooking sessions. Stains and deposits allowed to get comfortable on counters and walls are not as easy to dislodge as those wiped off immediately.
Cooking ranges can be unplugged and rolled out of their crevices to permit wiping down and sweeping every now and then to obviate frenzied chiselling on the eve of apartment-evacuation. So with refrigerators.
If you’re unfortunate enough to live in a carpeted apartment, especially one with a light-coloured carpet, exercise extreme caution about the kinds of substances you use (Actually, this caution is well exercised even if you don’t live in a carpeted apartment!). Don’t make the blunder of playing holi indoors, else you will pay for it with a holey wallet in due course.

Atithi devo bhava

2008-07-30T21:09:00.000-07:00

- on the presumably well-intentioned but often painful, forceful, even self-righteous, 'hostliness' of many, resulting in praise from parties not in the direct line of the fire of their hospitality, and to a sort of terror in some of their guests

Never may it be said of you
That a visitor came and departed your scope,
Without meandering out like a sated python,
Or tottering out in the manner of a dope.
If a guest tries to adhere to a diet,
Perish the attempt with a hostly frown.
They should need to be shaken not stirred
To settle all the victuals you hospitably shove down.

If someone’s already eaten and so politely declines
Rely on strong arm tactics to ensure your win.
Let them pay the price for visiting you;
Persevere and shovel food in.
Their personal health plans? Not on your time;
It is only meet to render them replete.
Cuss at the parsimony of the host
Who respects a guest’s wish not to overeat.

Fie upon the host whose torrent of hospitality,
The ingenuous guest can contrive to ford.
If the spread features simple, “healthy” fare,
Smirk at the absence of grease on the board.
Scoff at people’s concerns over their bulk, and
Offer them your own shapelessness to ponder.
“Entertain” away sparing neither kith nor kin.
Plaques might make the heart grow fonder.

When, stuffed to capacity with your largesse,
Hapless victims take on an aura porcine,
Dismiss their protestations, unveil your motto –
“Once in a while” is perfectly fine -
For delicacies, with nothing delicate about them,
And mind-numbingly sweet somethings slithering in ghee,
As well as for lipid profile tests and gall stones,
Diabetes, and the occasional bypass surgery.

That it’s called Hospitality is no coincidence;
The indication towards Hospital is clear.
Your acquaintances can make do with digestive pills;
But naught less than the ICU for your near and dear.
Why confine them to human life when the heavens beckon?
From their mortal existence grant them liberation.
Live by the maxim “Atithi devo bhava”
Accelerate your guests’ divine transformation.

Neither here* nor there

2008-07-15T17:04:00.000-07:00

(*Punjaabbi accent)

- on the tightrope that one is forced to walk with difficult friends, too affectionate to be eradicated, and too unreasonable to be endured; supportive and nurturing in many situations, but possessive and trying when another enters the picture… The fat dashes into the fire when they fall in love!

Attend classes; write a paper or two –
Opposition to this will be rarer than rare.
Play a game – as long as it’s a sport
You will not need to yank out your hair.

Hunger, greed or faithful gluttony beckons?
Your chum may serve up lip-smacking fare.
Out of laundered raiment some day?
Your amigo’s apparel is quite yours to wear.

Have an opinion on mediaeval painting?
Go ahead, put your views on air.
Need to dissect another’s character?
You may proceed to lay your soul bare.

In a trough for causes extraneous?
There’s ever a couch in your friend’s lair.
A clash of opinions come your way?
Present (il)logical arguments, if you dare.

Pay a tint more attention to person X or Y -
Your y’kno’what’ll get kicked; who said it’s fair?
But if your friend falls in the … l-word,
Aaaaah! Don’t even go there!

ACT!

2008-03-19T20:01:00.000-07:00

http://hostedsurvey.ics.purdue.edu/takesurvey.asp?c=Physic123854

This link will take you to a brief and anonymous health survey that forms part of my PhD research. Please participate in it. It will take no more (and quite possibly much less) than 10 minutes to complete. After you take it, please forward it to associates of yours, anywhere in the world, who are 18 years or more of age. I would like this survey to be taken by as diverse a group as is possible as it is a cross-cultural comparison of attitudes towards certain aspects of health.
At the end of the survey, you will have the opportunity to enter a lucky draw to win a gift certificate.
As you will be informed when you follow the link and are poised to begin the survey, this study seeks to examine an area of knowledge that is relatively uncharted. This is your opportunity to be the voice of your people! Your responses to this survey will contribute to the understanding of health attitudes of several populations.

To repeat, ACT!

-Ani.

Pariah in Paris

2008-01-08T20:13:00.000-08:00

Paris – everyone raves about it, even those who’ve never been there, perhaps especially those who’ve never been there! A must-do for the romantic tripster… the City of Lights… fashion capital… and a score of other complimentary handles. What did I think of it? Overrated, vastly overrated.

The city is not very clean…no, this is not the NRI in me speaking. I am perfectly used to filth in the streets, dust in the air, slime in waterbodies etc. – but in India, not in a “developed” European nation.

Cigarette smoke – all over the place. The stereotypes that I nurtured about “healthy-looking” types fell apart pretty soon. Absolutely anyone could be a candidate for a cigarette. As a sight-hungry tourist, I found myself in queues every day, and unfortunately for the smoke-intolerant me, more often than not, my fellow queuers would light up several times each before the queue achieved its aim.

Prices – exorbitant. People may be missing one factor (besides wine, walking, vegetables and garlic) contributing to the celebrated French slimness, vide all the hype about French women never getting fat etc.– food is bloody expensive. This goes for raw and prepared foods. Portion sizes in restaurants are modest – actually sensible, except that they’re overpriced. I can’t think of a more effective deterrent to overeating. Add smoking, and the utter stupidity of driving yourself in the crowded, parking space-deficient city, and the mystery of the French figure is considerably demystified.

Thieves – unethical by definition, I know, but the extreme sadism required to steal from freshly arrived tourists in a train (train, not taxi, read not people who can afford to blow money) boggles the mind. If you must thieve, and have the sophisticated skills called for by the occupation, how about being as considerate as possible under the circumstances, and sticking to locals or blatantly rich tourists who have a base in the place or wouldn’t be deranged by material losses? Thieving is almost traditional in Paris, and the police force (who ought to be outraged, chafe and finally take decisive steps to monitor favoured thief-zones and contain the menace) talk of it with the same ease as they would of the Louvre or escargot or champagne. I wonder why people think of Paris as a good option for a honeymoon spot – it is poorly endowed with unspoilt topographical beauty, for one thing, and for another, with the high level of petty crime, could you entirely discount the possibility that your spouse may get stolen along with a piece of luggage?

Who might find Paris romantic? Someone with loads of money and a chauffeured vehicle, preferably someone white and slender (i.e., with European looks, to sidestep the shades and tints of racism/suspicion/hostility that clearly different looking people stimulate), someone supplied with a knowledgeable, even omniscient, tourist guide to direct one through the ill-organised museum routes and procedures, someone with a hawkeyed bodyguard to deter or deal with the ubiquitous thieves that the city literally boasts, someone who needs to have no interaction with the lackadaisical police force, and someone who is immune to inclement weather. Or then someone whose idea of romance includes hunger, poverty, air-pollution, some dirt, winds in combination with downpours that whip poorly made (French, by the way!) umbrellas out of shape and puddles that allow you to squelch your way to an overpriced (surprise, surprise!) hotel. Would I call Paris romantic? Not with a ten-foot pole!! I’m a comfort-lover myself, and failed to detect romance in the travails alluded to ibid.

Saving graces? (a) I could guess at the contents of signs because I can read the script even if I find the spoken language inaccessible, and English has borrowed a colossal lot from French (one notices that this transaction is not mutual). (b) Public transport is good; the metro is expensive (nothing new there) but remarkably well planned with very, very frequent and timely trains. (c) The physical structures that characterise Paris are beautiful – churches, objects d’art, the Seine, the Eiffel Tower, and so on. (d)Toilets were clean, or at least I was lucky!

Go to Paris if you must. But follow these bits of advice: Staple your valuables to your body from the moment you get there till you reach your hotel. Entrust said valuables to the safe deposit locker in your hotel as soon as you get there. Buy foods from grocery stores if possible. Eat crepes (mildly boring pancakes) to keep body and soul together. Learn some French, or at least carry a phrasebook around with you. Watch your companions so as to intercept pickpockets making off with their good(ie)s. And well before you embark upon your trip there, scan your passport and visa and email it to yourself, and for added precaution, keep a hard copy in each piece of luggage as well. If you lose your passport, you will find yourself in the Embassy, which need not be a place staffed by geniuses. The Indian Embassy certainly isn’t.

More than colours

2007-07-16T10:13:00.000-07:00

-to the select few who are privy to both my ‘colour’ed stance and the provenance of this phrase

Is one justified in calling gray a colour, pray?
Wouldn’t deep purple beat it night or day?
There’s more than enough sky-blue up there
Why use it ad nauseum in your walls and your wear?
What role do cream, beige and brown fulfill
That butter-yellow or maroon couldn’t do better still?

When someone proclaims “I’m in the pink”,
Cogitate, evaluate, consider, think,
Is that really any reason to rejoice?
Who would look like candy floss by choice?
Why condemn practically every little miss
At an impressionable age to swathes of this?

I am woefully devoid of a clue
Why so many clamour after dark blue.
It’s supposed to be cool, and I’ll grant that it is.
But the fuss over “cool” is something I dismiss.
The only blue that has any claim to appeal
In my exalted opinion is teal.

If there’s a colour that’s grossly overrated,
Overused, overexhibited and leaves me sated,
That colour, or lack thereof, is black;
Ebony, jet, sable – I’d give them all the sack.
Black is a necessary evil I will attest -
Needed to form shades and there it should rest.

When the discussion swings to the colour green,
One that prompts showy peacocks to preen;
The colours of parrots, lush grasses and pine -
All hues that gladden this heart of mine,
I can fully understand the enthusiast’s zest
For the colours of deep seas and a healthy meal’s best.

Anybody who fancies yellow
Is – at least in that respect – my fellow.
I’ve a fondness for oranges from melon to coral,
And reds - carmine, rust, scarlet and cardinal.
The dyes of fire from ember to flame -
To applaud them all you’ll find I am game.

A shade that the right-minded should teach
The populace to utilise is peach.
Other pastels can’t harm in small doses, I guess.
And white can be grand – let us all confess.
But in spite of my gripes and the grudges I nurse
I’ve got to say that life is more-than-colours!

Whose fault?

2007-02-12T17:08:00.000-08:00

- on objectivity and self-realisation –

If you think only ‘anal’ people do things on time,

That preparation has neither reason nor rhyme;

If your favourite sports are putting things off,

And finding more targets at which to scoff;

If your circle of acquaintance is comprised

Of psychos, snobs, despisers and despised;

If your criticism is particularly acute,

And regarding compliments you’re more than less mute;

If your organizing prowess is going south;

If you take your foot out of your mouth

Only to insinuate it in the closing door;

If your chaotic ways have passed into lore;

When scraps of paper give you the slip;

When rivals’ successes make your ego flip;

When you can’t find a key in a hillock of junk;

When your shelves and your guts are groaning with gunk;

If when the rainy day, that you didn’t save for, arrives,

Your sense of justice, if any, nosedives,

It’s easy to blame the weather, a colleague, your genes,

The government, the media, the end or the means.

Is it always the malefic agent, system or destiny’s game

That for your distress must claim the blame?

To this other possibility some thought is due -

Can the words “Mea culpa” ever escape you?

(Declaration: This poem is my own doing. Mea culpa!)

Mohini kyon nahin?

2006-12-19T18:58:00.000-08:00

~ on an oddity in the Dashaavataara ~

A parade of heroes - aswim, pedestrian or mounted;

One wonders (or should) why Mohini is not counted.

Put this puzzling situation to the test,

And revealed is gender discrimination among the highest.

Matsya’s inclusion is not a bit fishy;

Parashurama wasn’t axed though he knocked off a rishi.

Kurma supports a mountain and his position is fit;

Vamana’s gambit dwarfs his ambit.

Varaha, a ‘boar’, doesn’t leave you cold;

Narasimha romps home past the threshold.

Rama tirelessly takes bows as the ideal, free from sin;

Krishna is the hot favourite whose mouth butter does melt in.

Balarama manages to plough through,

Though the light may resist shifting from Buddha and crew.

Kalki gets the benefit of the doubt,

Safe on the roster though he still isn’t out.

But Mohini, woman enough for a top priority mission,

Maintainer of the nectar-recipient deva-asura fission,

Collaborator of Shiva on a divine issue,

Is coolly denied a place among the luminaries - her due.

Not because only human forms qualify

As Matsya, Kurma, Varaha and –simha testify.

Krishna and Balarama shared space and time

As they celebrated their arts and curbed crime.

So it isn’t because two incarnations cannot coexist.

Alas, it’s simply because the gods are not at all feminist.

Puerto Rico

2006-06-10T08:59:00.000-07:00

The first view from the sky was of shades of green - deep, bottle, sap, leaf - draping brown undulating land bordered by restless white and blue water; rivers and snaky roads. The sea, viewed from a distance, is a bright blue, betraying its Caribbean setting.
On landing we were somewhat startled to see stocky iguanas with quizzical expressions waddling off the runway!

We drove through hot, humid, colourful, busy roads with signs in Spanish. That didn't pose too much of a problem - one can read as slowly as necesary for comprehension or conjecture, unlike when following a rapid oral delivery. Distance is measured in kilometres, and petrol in litres.
Practically everyone spoke to us in Spanish - it is the language of choice there, yes, but our appearance played a role too - we look perfectly ready to receive and generate Spanish. The lines I used the most were "No entiendo Espanol" and the somewhat contradictory (to the first) "Hablo espanol, muy poquito"!

Puerto Rico came across as a cross of the physical aspects of Kerala and the hilly parts of Tamilnadu, and the industrial output of the USA and Japan (cars and trucks, though none as humongous as the megatrucks in the US). It felt, many a time, that the most natural thing to do would be to talk in Malayalam or Tamil; instead I had often to crawl over English and be prepared to exercise the meagre Spanish that I had floating around in my head.

The hill roads felt very much like the ghat roads in India, with sinuous curves, no dividing lines in many places, and the frequent need to stop, and sometimes even reverse,to let bigger trucks pass. We found ourselves traversing green arcades of bamboo, and quite a few creeper-covered wires on the hills.
Banana, bamboo, jackfruit, mango, guava, hibiscus, bougainvillea, gulmohar, palms, lilies, lantana, ferns,umbrella trees, tall grasses, cycas, and myriad gaudy flowers crowd every available spot.

Dogs and chickens crossing the narrow roads singly, in pairs or broods, were a familiar sight. Some were utterly stupid, overconfident or rash. We came across more than one dog sitting calmly in the middle of the road even faced with a car moving towards it!

The island is rather small. We actually drove from the sea at the south end (Ponce) to the sea at the north end (Arecibo) in one afternoon, with a trip to the Arecibo observatory thrown in.

People display their mixed ancestry of various combinations of Native American, Spaniard and Black. We saw many a chubby kid, and a goodly number of overweight adults, but by no means can their percentages compete with those of the US. We came across lots of trim, beautiful persons too, especially female (needless to mention)!

We ate a good deal of good food, but I was completely saturated with meat (ad nauseaum is the phrase that strikes me) and yearned desperately for more fruit and vegetables within a couple of days. Tea was the biggest casualtea. In this regard there was no mistaking this place for good old Kerala or Tamilnadu. People here mop up cold drinks of all kinds - chilled beer and lots of fruit juices, even iced tea (yuck) - and condescend to drink coffee (it takes all kinds...) sometimes, but no hot tea...I combed fast food joints and convenience stores, in vain, in an emotional search for my favourite beverage, got heartealy sick of the situation and finally compromised and had hot chocolate instead. It was a taxing day...!
Food is not as expensive in PR as in the US. Another refreshing difference is in the food portions - small is fairly modest (not 'tall'!), 'medium' is really convincingly medium. We ate some delicious "all natural" ice cream - mango, coconut and almond flavours - in Ponce (a city named for Ponce de Leon).

The towns are quaint, with tree-studded plazas equipped with fountains and usually flocks of pigeons, narrow roads, and colourful shops.

Houses and other buildings are stunningly coloured - pinks, greens, bright yellows, oranges, peach, blue, violet, lavender - reminiscent of craft paper samples in a stationery store. There is lots of trellis work - sometimes entire houses looked like cages with the abundant trellises they were wrapped in. Houses are mostly squat, with plants cascading over and around them. Most houses had bougainvillea or hibiscus tumbling out as if to monitor the passers by.

By the way, Christopher Columbus was the European "discoverer" of this island, and there are inevitably lots of statues of him and roads and plazas named after him all over the island. He is called Cristobal 'Colon' - yeah, yeah, it's Spanish for Columbus, but I can't help feeling that it has got to be more than a coincidence that the name comes so close to the anal aperture: the punctuation mark is not so significant here!