Desicritics Category: Culture: Health

The Facebook Breast Feeding Controversy

Aditi Nadkarni — Sat, 3 Jan 2009 22:56:34 EST

In present times, freedom of speech and expression have turned into somewhat of a joke. Unfortunately, while freedom is universal, intelligence, a sense of responsibility and propriety are not. Time and again, debates have been stirred up by this constant struggle to define and balance freedom of expression especially in America where one can find ample examples of abused freedom in both the real world and the virtual world. A recent debate involves protests against Facebook taking down pictures of mothers breastfeeding.

Facebook says it has clearly outlined on its website what the terms of acceptability are for profile and album pictures on the website and has duly taken down pictures after complaints from members. Orkut is comparatively lax I have noticed and so are Orkut (desi) users. Although Orkut explicitly states that pictures of celebrities and copyrighted images are not to be used, so many Orkut users have pictures of movie stars up as profile pictures. A third of the girls on Orkut are Aishwaryas, Kajols and Ranis.

That is just plain annoying and despite of how much we all want annoyances pronounced illegal, it cannot be done. However, I wonder what I would think if someone on my friend's list uploaded a picture of themselves breastfeeding. I wouldn't find it obscene but maybe it is a cultural thing that it would make me pause to wonder why a mom would put up a baby-feeding activity involving her bare breast up on such a public forum. I must admit, I would speculate on the intentions of the woman and I would worry about who may be looking at such pictures. I am not a mother but I am a woman. My personal opinion is that breastfeeding is a personal time between a mother and a baby. Having pictures of that taken and put up on such a public forum is confusing to me.

I watched on Yahoo's video section, an interview with the woman who started a community on Facebook protesting their taking down breastfeeding pictures. The community is called: "Hey Facebook, breastfeeding is not obscene". I agree with the title of the community but I personally do not believe Facebook's actions suggest that that breastfeeding itself is obscene. Putting up pictures of breastfeeding on a public community, though, is another story. There are teens on Facebook who won't exactly look at the pictures and go "Aww, look how cute. Mom feeding baby! That is so beautiful."

No. A more likely scenario would involve teen boys, high-fiving, giggling and taking unhealthy pleasure in ogling at a partially exposed breast. During her interview, the creator of this community launched into a detailed explanation of how even with proper "latching on" by the baby, parts of the nipple and the aureole are visible and women whose aureole is visible should still be allowed to put up their breastfeeding pictures. I kid you not. She actually said all this much to my discomfort. Mind you, my embarrassment was not at the subject matter of discussion but at how far away from the point this woman was drifting in her far fetched rationalizations. She then explained how breastfeeding is normal and therefore pictures of the activity should not be deemed as vulgar content. I agree. The problem is I can almost imagine another girl in some other part of the world using this very logic to justify why pictures of masturbation too should be allowed on Facebook. After all, masturbation too is a normal activity.

What about breast exams? And childbirth? All these are normal activities that one should not look at as vulgar or shameful. Should pictures of all these be allowed on public forums? Where does the freedom end and the violation begin? Where is the line? I want to ask these mothers a question: My friend's thirteen year old son is on Facebook. As moms you must know that just a picture on Facebook is not an appropriate introduction to breast feeding for a 13 year old boy. So how does Facebook protect your right to put up pictures of yourself breastfeeding and his fragile psyche all at once?

Is Dieting Required? Ask Oprah

Deepti Lamba — Wed, 10 Dec 2008 13:18:59 EST

"I want to be thin. I want to lose weight fast. Put me on a diet."

My dietitian frowned at me and replied "No diet. Eat fruits, vegetables, salads. Lots of water, no sugar, no bakery stuff and you will naturally lose if you exercise regularly."

I was exasperated "But its gradual."

She smiled "That's good. You want to glow not look like a starved mannequin. No diet. Don't your clothes fit you better? Haven't you already lost 5 kilos with exercise and regular eating habits? Diets don't last. You will fall off the wagon, feel disappointed and one day you will stop exercising as well. This has to be a life long habit not a hardship."

I returned to my crunches chastened but unconvinced until I read an article about Oprah falling of the bandwagon:

"I'm mad at myself," Winfrey writes in the article. "I'm embarrassed. I can't believe that after all these years, all the things I know how to do, I'm still talking about my weight. I look at my thinner self and think, 'How did I let this happen again?' "

Oprah's mea culpa comes at a time when a growing number of books, including "Rethinking Thin" by journalist Gina Kolata, argue that diet-induced weight loss is extremely difficult to sustain long-term.

Oprah also confessed that she starved herself on a liquid protein diet back in 2005 to get in shape.

In the end she seems to have come to the grand realization that being thin is not the end goal but to be fit and healthy. Given her thyroid problem its good she realized that size zero may be possible but would make life miserable for her.

At my gym there is a thin girl who works out infrequently. She wants to take part in the Miss India contest. She is about 5 feet 7 inches, she is all teeth and has a rake of a figure. She is less than size zero if that's possible.

She wanted to know if she was imperfect in any way and whether she needed to go on a rigorous diet. My instructor laughed and said she needed food not lack of it.

I looked at her reflection and then mine in the mirror and tried my best not to laugh. The realization that I could never be a size zero didn't seem all that bad all of a sudden. That kind of thinking requires a 'foodless existence.' and a certain kind of zeal that I lack.

I realized I could never be 'thin' and it was alright. I will always be a curvy babe in love with food and life. Right food, healthy self esteem and regular exercise is something I can see myself incorporating as a lifelong habit.

Skinny jeans will never be mine and I can live with that.

Dr. Binayak Sen - A Poem

Amitabh Mitra — Wed, 10 Dec 2008 00:55:18 EST

Chattisgarh
Nothing really happened on that day
A few crows bled
Others were strangulated
In a corner of a sky
That turned gradually red
I told you
About these crows
My departure yielding
To another sky
Yet somebody far had been
Brought down suddenly
And cast away behind iron seasons
The crows bled soaking
The sun
I had held aloft
And its redness
Slit the earth too
Faraway again
Would you recognise me then
Would you still mingle your voice
Would you breathe on my shadow
Would you fear catching the corner of
That sky.

Dr Binayak Sen, a medical doctor and human rights defender, was arrested on 12 May 2007 in Chattisgarh, India. He is currently in prison awaiting a trial that has been repeatedly delayed.

Police allege that he passed letters between imprisoned members of a banned leftist group. However, Amnesty International believes the charges against him are politically motivated, aimed at stopping his human rights work. Dr Sen, a pioneer in providing accessible health care to the rural poor, has been documenting the impact of conflict in the region on the rights of marginalised communities.

Children With Learning Problems - It's the Schools, not the Kids, Stupid!

Deepa Krishnan — Tue, 2 Dec 2008 08:24:25 EST

It's a problem fairly common in schools, but we don't know how big it is. It has solutions, but we don't know how to implement them. All we've done so far, is sit by, and let children blunder on.

I'm talking about kids with difficulties in reading, writing and math.

No one really knows how many children in India have learning disabilities (LD), but it looks like a staggering 20 to 50 million might be affected. And still, there are very few schools that have any mechanisms in place to identify children with LD, or offer remedial therapy. The real tragedy is that LD children are not "stupid" - some of the brightest minds of our time, from Einstein to Edison to Pasteur, have had LD.

This Saturday, I went to an LD conference at the Hyatt, a gathering of educators, teachers, researchers and parents. The conference was hosted by Tata Interactive Systems, as part of their CSR initiative. As several speakers presented their thoughts and experiences, I learnt a lot about LD.

What I found most frustrating was when I realised that the real problem is not with the kids. The real failure seems to be of school boards, administrators, and teachers. A survey of school teachers across CBSE, ICSE and SSC schools in Mumbai, conducted by the Bombay Teachers Training College, shows very low levels of real awareness amongst teachers ("Oh, I didn't realise, you mean like Taare Zamin Par?").

If those who are entrusted with teaching our children are themselves blind, then where do the rest of us go?

For the past 2 years, my mother has been tutoring a little girl from the slum nearby. Pranali has problems with the Marathi and the English alphabet. She's also bad with numbers and multiplication tables. But she's a very bright child, with twinkling eyes and winning ways, and can recite poetry and lessons beautifully. My mother's patience, her fair but firm handling, and her genuine love are making Pranali blossom. The child loves coming to our house, loves to write her squiggles, and is almost tragic in her eagerness to please. If my mother moves away to another room, the girl follows her. "Mi ithe basu ka?", she asks......"Can I sit here (near you)?" It is like a flower finding the warmth of the sun and wanting to bask in it forever. It is the first time the child has found love and understanding, instead of strict balwadi teachers with frowning faces.

Last year, she passed her second standard exams, and has now moved to the third standard. To help with her third standard Marathi lessons, my mom enrolled for Marathi language classes nearby. I am amazed at my mother's dedication. "I promised Pranali's mother", my mom said. "So I'm going to do the best I can."

When I compare this with the thousands of other children subject to the tyranny of indifferent balwadi and municipal teachers, I'm telling you, it's enough to make me cry.

There are some small glimmers of hope. The B.Ed curriculum just got modified to include lessons on learning disabilities (finally!). At Sion Hospital, Dr. Kulkarni is doing some outstanding work in testing, diagnosis and remedial therapy (that's her in the photo below, a small grey haired lady with an iron will). Parents in Bombay are increasingly driving change at schools. Some schools already have counsellors and special needs educators, and more schools are waking up to the need. Last month, the school I went to, SIES, appointed a counsellor and is going to have a Special Needs Teacher from the next academic year.

There is progress, yes, but it is frustratingly slow. Several questions remain unanswered - for example, is there lower dyslexia in studying Indian languages than in English? Are Devnagri graphemes easier for those with dysgraphia? Does living in joint families, where there are different speech cadences, make a difference to infants? Does losing traditional lullabies result in increased LD? Do Indian girls have more LD, given the potentially lower attention in childhood? How early can we diagnose LD in India, and through what mechanism? Does improving balwadi nutrition programmes offer high rewards in improving performance of children LD?

Many questions come rushing at me when I think of the social and cultural issues involved in something as complex and widespread as LD. Every one of these could make a significant research topic, if only the funds (and the academic will) were there! I am deeply grateful Tata Interactive is putting not just money, but also thoughtful and invovled effort behind this. More power to them.

When Is It The Right Time To Die?

Deepti Lamba — Thu, 20 Nov 2008 11:51:19 EST

An acquaintance of the family died at the age of 70 a few years back and my uncle said over the phone - So sad. He went young.

Young?!

I blinked and bit my tongue.

My uncle was three years shy of turning 70 himself. For him the death was early but for me the departed was closer to Santa Claus's age group.

On my recent post two commentators also talked about their grandparents leading active lives well into their eighties but I cannot comprehend vying with a Banyan tree. Good for them but I want to pop it when I am in my mid sixties.

Come to think of it my ma just turned sixty this year and she is a very active lady. And the only one in the family who still drives on her own to work while all others have drivers. I don't want my ma to go nor my uncle to leave us but if I was given a choice I'd like to depart at 70.

There, I increased my lifespan by another five years. After all, if I get to be a rich lady with my health and teeth intact a saggy butt and few wrinkles wouldn't hold me back.

Yet the idea of being a dotty old person doesn't particularly fill me with joy either. Frankly, those who turn that old also aren't quite happy about their bodies wearing out.

They are still young people trapped in old bodies. While reading Jane Juska's book - A Round Heeled Woman where she shared old aged dating scene (or in less polite terms- her sex escapades amongst other things ) I realized that even till one's dying breath one can remain young.

Jane Juska, in my mind, became an epitome of old age. She broke away from the norms set for old people by society. She decided she wasn't going to die a lonely old woman. Obviously, she went through heartbreak (when it comes to love who doesn't?) but she forged ahead through the senior years with optimism, she saw different parts of America, fell in love with New York and most of all found strength within herself to stand by her conviction.

Self-evolution for Juska didn't come with age but through the experiences she went through. She bumbled, lost her dignity and then found herself again.

Jane Juska despite her advanced age became young in my mind. Someone I could identify with.

Frankly putting old people on pedestal is an old Indian tradition that should be done away with. Many of my friends are way older than me and it isn't as if we have to search for subjects to talk about.

Conversation flows naturally. Its the meeting of the hearts that is important and that's exactly what Jane and her young lover realized.

But sadly in India we venerate the old and sometimes this veneration leads to isolation and loneliness. They become gods with clay feet, breathing in some corner of the house, absentmindedly revered and conveniently forgotten.

Some grow to be wise, generous old souls with gentle hearts and some merely sugar coat their meanness with great expertise.

We continue to be ourselves despite the advancing years. Its like the maturing of the wine. Only the good grapes make great wine centuries past. So why venerate the passing years that not all individuals use to become wise hermits the young could turn to?

I wouldn't mind living on well into my seventies if I get to have the iron will of Jane Juska; to have that inquisitive, courageous heart and continue to believe that love can still be found no matter how old or young.

Maybe this is why my uncle seemed shocked on hearing of the acquaintance's death. Maybe he felt that old gentleman could still have achieved much more in his life. Maybe my uncle still feels there are new experiences awaiting him.

I can only speculate like I did when I was ten and wondered what I would be like when I get to be in my thirties. Now I speculate what I will be in my twilight years.

But one thing is for sure if health betrays me during my advancing years I would happily want to kick the bucket.

Fitness, A Way Of Life

Deepti Lamba — Tue, 18 Nov 2008 00:21:48 EST

"Two minutes, please? I cannot take it anymore!"

Six days a week I sound like a petulant child when I visit the gym. The trainer gives a patient smile and replies "Ma'am, two more minutes."

My two minutes are about taking a breather from the rigorous machine and his two minutes are to egg me on. I sweat, cuss, swelter and look my worst. The mirrors show me people of all sizes - some like me, some bigger than me and some so fit that I want to make cardboard cuts of them and peg them to my bedroom door to remind myself that this is what I want to be like.

But would I have the same body structure like them? Probably not. Most of the bodies I admire belong to men. The admiration isn't lecherous (rolling my eyes) but its about the seemingly unending stamina, the perfect abs and most of all the discipline that gives a perfect body.

There is a gentleman about 74 year old who comes to the gym regularly. He runs on the treadmill, works on the elliptical machine and does heavy weights. He calls me 'Ma'am' and I call him 'Sir'. We smile at each other but conversation between us tends to be abrupt since my instructor keeps me more or less breathless and shaking the muscles that ache and demand less workouts.

Initially I used to work out in the evening but past two days I moved to the morning shift. The music at the gym during the mornings is better and the place more crowded.

The addiction is setting in. I am quite possessive about my workout and my diet. No chocolates, no pizzas, no sugar and definitely no potatoes.

Most people at the gym watch their diet. Talking to them makes my resolution firmer and easier to carry forward. Exercising may soon become a way of life for me. Clothes fit better, inches and weight are falling off, my skin has become better and most of all I am in a much better mood.

It took me a while to realize that taking care of myself didn't merely mean having time to feed my brain but also ensure I took care of my body the right way.

Swami and His Foes

Suresh Naig — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 13:32:52 EST

It was one winter evening at Coimbatore, in the year 1984. Even till date I couldn't recollect the reasons, which made me to visit Bharatiya Vidhya Bhavan, to listen to a lecture of a Swamiji.

It was a moderate crowd of less than 100 persons, most of them having attained superannuation, found the lecture an inexpensive entertainment. The Swamiji, whose name I forgot, was no different from any other Swamijis. Like many of the Swamijis he was also 60 plus, but beyond which his proper age was not discernible. He had also sported a long beard, like any other person of his clan, which had turned grey, had long unkempt hair and he worn a long piece of cotton jubbah, which had obviated the need for a dhoti, though he was wearing one.

At a much younger age, I had a problem of differentiating one cine actress from the other, since I felt all of them looked alike with heavily made-up face and all the cine heroines of yester years appeared to me as padded horses! of a different kind.

As I grew up, I developed the skills in identifying a female cine personalities, but my problem of identification shifted to Swamijis, who not only looked alike, but also behaved alike, with their monotonous uninspiring lectures. This swamiji was no different.

He opened his lecture praising the U.S. from where he had returned, after a long and fruitful visit. He said, 'I was discussing with few young Americans about Indian culture and our ancient practices aimed at healthy living. This discussion happened in the house of my host, an Indian settled in U.S.A. The American youth were casual in their approach, some with cigarettes dangling from their lips, exhaling a cloud of smoke, some with coke bottles in their hand, some casually lying on the sofa and yet showed seriousness in learning about our culture. I was astonished by their questions and eagerness to learn new things.'

When the swamiji continued his monotonous lecture, praising the new found land of his opportunities, a person who was sitting in the front row was infuriated. He burst out at the Swamiji, 'I have not come here to listen to your praises for America, I had expected that you would deliver a lecture on Geeta or Mahabharat.' Sitting four rows behind, I was curiously enjoying all these things.

When the Swamiji tried to reply to the infuriated man from the first row, with an innocuous smile, the agitated person in his early forties fumed and left the hall in a huff. It appeared to me that the person left the hall out of envy, on the Swamiji's foreign jaunt.

Unfazed, the Swamiji continued his lecture. His lecture was centred on the need to live in tandem with nature, with abundant examples from his day to day observations. He was narrating, 'the other day I saw some people eating cucumber bought from a road side vendor, peeled, cut and after applying salt and pepper powder on it. If God wanted us to eat cucumber with salt and pepper, he would have put the same in cucumber.' His lectures continued on the same line with many more examples, which all of us would have commonly encountered on a daily basis.

His concluding punch was, 'we have stopped eating to satiate our hunger since long, we have stopped drinking to quench our thirst since long. Since our acts no longer reflect the purpose, we are facing certain peculiar problems. If all our acts are purposeful, intended for the specific and natural purpose, we no longer would need to worry about our physical and mental health.' The Swamiji concluded his lecture and the forum was open for questions from the assembled audience.

My question was specific. 'Swamiji I agree with you on many of the points, which are parallel to the views expressed by Van Dyer in his book Sky is not the limit. However there is one act in India which is very purposeful, and we are witnessing the population explosion. Is it not right to indulge in it, relegating the purpose, for the benefit of the society?'

Before the Swamiji could respond, many in the audience, tried to show their disapproval for my question. Swamiji, after some thoughtful silence for maximum effect, opened his mouth fondling his grey beard. 'it is easier said than done, but regular practice of Yoga is the answer for your question.' And he left it at that.

After so many years I felt otherwise. In 1984, when I was young I felt, "It was easier done than said" and now at my 50+ age I realise it is easier said than done".

Poem: Questions & Answers

Kashkin — Sat, 8 Nov 2008 05:19:27 EST

Questions are asked for change,
Opinions that raise doubt and more
As the evening withdraws itself
From the shadows
Of the day and its carnage
Are we nearer to those moments?
Drawn and fabricated for progression

So where is that change
How long we are to remain
In hope for others to come
It's us, who need to change,
It's for us to become nation's history
To bring voices from all quarters
To be heard, to be acted

We all know of the problems
We have all tried the old fruits
It's time to say NO, and move
Protection we need from ourselves
The problem not others, we are

And in us, lies, the answer for all
We must change, we must change
But hear you not your own voice,
Only the noise from distant lands
Sweet and tempting, as you fall!

Medical Ignorance and Patient's Bliss

Suresh Naig — Wed, 29 Oct 2008 14:55:03 EDT

The young boy of 14 years was lying on the hospital bed, concealing his amusement. He was amused seeing the anxious face of his father, whose second nature was anxiety. His father exhibited the same anxiety as he would every time, before signing the school report card. Between now and the report card, it was his helplessness which caused the anxiety. While signing the school report card of his son, he was helpless to understand his consistency in scoring just above average grades. In the hospital he was at a loss to piece anything from the conversation of the doctors.

With all the sudden attention, the boy was feeling elated, but he never had reason to know that it was the virus inside his body, which had created all this. He was afflicted by Dengue fever, a viral fever causing no pain, no swelling, no vomiting for the afflicted person, but only anxiety for the parents and the doctors alike.

On the third day in the hospital, fever was erratic rising on and off without warning, rashes appearing all over the body, yet without any pain. His parents wanted to do something, but having no clues on what to be done; they constantly beckoned the duty nurses, who compounded their problems. Instead of one paediatrician who visited the boy regularly, a gang of doctors descended on the bed, where the young boy was lying, appearing pink and smiling. He appeared pink due to skin rashes all over the body, yet complained of no itches, which was a hitch for the doctors.

The doctors were confused; the boy never exhibited allergic reaction for he never had itches, neither his blood pressure was lowered to conclude anaphylactic shock, yet the rashes were a cause for concern. They were discussing the case in English, yet it was difficult for the father to catch up with, as their conversation had liberal dabbling of jargons. The physician was telling the paediatrician it is "idiopathic", which the father clung to, and conveyed the same to me, when I visited the hospital during visiting hours, a courtesy demanded by the society. The father narrated the whole episode of doctors' visit, and concluded his son's condition as "idiopathic", to my amusement.

I refrained from saying anything to my friend, as the hospital and doctors were my best of clients, contributing huge sales for my company's products. On the 5th day the boy was discharged from the hospital, without any apparent damage. He was his usual, bubbly and peppy. The credit for his discharge without any damage was due to his condition "idiopathic". The boy was rendered only palliative treatment and not therapeutic.

"Idiopathic" literally means not comprehensible, because it never fitted into any known parameters, since it was a new affliction, less documented. Had it not been for the physician's pronouncement as "idiopathic", they would have started treating the patient, which would have triggered chain reactions.

Had they known that it was a haemolytic fever, reducing the platelets significantly, prompting them to infuse platelets from another donor, which would have increased platelets subsequently, threatening internal clots mostly in veins, leading to a condition of premature DVT- deep vein thrombosis, triggering the hospital to prescribe an anti-coagulant, which would have caused epistaxis- nasal bleeding and capillary bleeding resulting in urticaria- skin rashes, demanding platelets infusion from a donor. The perpetual cycle was broken by the ignorance, euphemised as "Idiopathy". Ignorance could be bliss, at times in medicine too.

A Wave To The Microwave

Ritu Chandra — Tue, 14 Oct 2008 09:47:28 EDT

"Do you want to go out for lunch?" Sharon came walking briskly to my desk yesterday and stopped giving me an edgy glance.

"Sure", I said locking my screen, "I was going to pick up a salad anyway. Did not have any leftovers to get in."

"So what happened? No lunch from home today?" I asked as we strolled towards the elevator.

Sharon and I have a ritual of going out for lunch every Monday. The Japanese restaurant Tsushima(which sounds delightfully like Tushima) round the block serves it's Sashimi special on Mondays. We both love Sashimi. Since we eat out on Mondays, we usually give Tuesday a rest and get food from home. At least Sharon does. Hence the mild curiosity from my end.

She gave me a sheepish smile.

"I had leftovers but somehow I don't feel like heating it in the microwave any more"

"Aha!... Now it falls into place - The microwave and the email"

Yes the email. Nothing earth-shattering in essence. Just another forward warning against the dangers of microwave cooking. The stuff that normal folks read and forget about or put aside as a reserve topic for the times when a drawing conversation dips into awkward silences. But then our team here at work is not normal from any angle. To put it very mildly, we are a health conscious bunch.

How? Let me give you a brief idea.

We don't consume any snack until we dissect it's contents to the last molecule. How much trans fat, any partially hydrogenated oils, whole grain or refined grain, how many grams of fat, of carbs, etc., etc. Unlike any other desi/chinese/russian dominated teams, we don't discuss deals on deal2buy.com and we don't compare prices between Wal-Mart and BJs and we don't talk about trips to Niagara falls, instead we compare calories and nutrition value between various cookie brands, talk about trips to ayurvedic dieticians, Chinese health food shops and discuss natural food therapies. When we eat out we order brown-rice and whole wheat pasta and birthday ice-cream parties have slowly been replaced with organic yogurt parties at Yorganic a chain that preys on people of our ilk. The earlier emails of 'Cake at my desk, please drop by' have been taken over by 'Blueberries at my desk, please drop by' In the short we are a case of collective health related OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder).

Honestly we are not that bad, at least at an individual level. We all have enough bad eating stints. But together, we just lose it somehow.

The few stragglers who come to our team with normal eating habits are transformed eventually. Poor Santosh valiantly fought for his right to drink soda so much so that he left a collection of empty soda bottles neatly lined on his desk when he quit the company. We think it was his form of protest against the health mafia. After all we constantly dragged him to healthy Chinese eating instead of oily sambhar-dosa that he craved and it was his farewell where we first discovered the pleasures of Yorganic over Ben N Jerry.

So when a group like this receives a forward that speaks of the molecule altering effects of microwave cooking, what happens? Before we describe that here is a short synopsis of the mail

- A high school experiment conducted on a set of plants that were watered using microwaved water and normal water showed that microwaved water eventually killed the plant.

- A patient who was given blood warmed in a microwave died during the transfusion because the microwaving altered the structure of the blood.

- The nutrients in a food item get mutated and are rendered useless when you heat food in the microwave.

So that's the issue in a nutshell. You can read more about it here

The grand revelation has caused low key but visible reactions in our circuit. Sharon and I have been eating out since then. Shiv has been considering giving up heating his food and I noticed Ajay heading to the other side of the room to get hot water from the dispenser rather than heating it to prepare his tea. The low-key reaction is not surprising, even in a health-freaked group like ours. Given the ubiquitous nature of the microwave it is difficult to completely wave it off.

And therein lies the dilemma. A person is regularly is exposed to alarmist revelations about items in the everyday life. The growth hormones in dairy products, the pesticides, the radiation of the cell-phones, trace of plastics and now, the microwave. The problem is not so much with the initial information, but with the confusion it creates. For any given theory there are countless counter theories. The official health bulletins maintain that the effect of these substances is negligible (e.g in the case of organic food), but headlines scream otherwise. There is always the insinuation of the nexus between the industry and the powers that be. So where does this leave the average consumer? Completely confused!

These so called objects of harm are an intrinsic part of our daily lives. How much can one really avoid these items. For instance I can chose to not use the microwave at home and work, but how do I know the food I eat in the restaurant has not been nicked? Sharon and I are not gaining anything in eating out apart from peace of mind. The only way one can truly live a pollutant free life is to chuck it all and find a piece of land in the mountains and grow everything on a farm (let me confess I grew potted capsicum this summer in organic soil). Even there you cannot avoid pollution through the soil and air. There really is no practical solution. Yet we keep going in circles trying to find one like a dog trying to catch his tail.

We cannot really be blamed for it. With time and technology we have moved on to a way of life that is completely different from the way it was thirty years ago. While these advancements have bought physical comfort into our lives there has been a counter balance with many difficult to treat diseases becoming more common, many unanswerable ailments for which modern sciences are silent. Auto-immune diseases are a good example. We are obviously looking for answers and somewhere down the line we have connected all modern diseases to modern lifestyles. While such an approach could be partially correct, there is still a larger picture that escapes many of the doomsday soothsayers.

Let me give an example. Modern medicine is a favourite punching bag in current times. Alternate medicine is the buzz-word and people flock such practitioners (anyone who lives in India or visited it recently and witnessed the Swami Ramdev wave would agree with that). It is common to hear people talk about the healthy life-styles of their grandfather's generation. We assume that a generation before that would be even healthier since they primarily depended upon natural products and lived active lives. Yet trends show a different picture. Life expectancy is on a rise, despite the pesticides, despite the synthetic products, despite the hormones and yes, despite the microwave. So our complete health package then is definitely improving. We might have lost some, but apparently we have gained a lot more.

Yet, we have never been as paranoid about our health as we are now. The more junk we eat, the more we talk about healthy alternatives. It is like sinners making the most frequent trips to the temple. Speaking of myself, I regularly tankup on sinful desserts and unhealthy sweets, however my dairy is all organic, I eat only whole wheat bread and don't use plastics in the microwave and now..... the very existence of my microwave is in question.

Talking of microwaves, I have an interesting track record I would like to share with you. I have possessed four of them in the last couple of years. My first microwave a still-born. It passed away on on its first use in a party. I had my guests of that evening help me dispose it off. After a few blissful months of microwavelessness some friends in their infinite wisdom gifted me with another one. So there we were, a new microwave. This one had a better run. I used it a couple of times to cook rice and boil water. Everything was fine till one day I decided I wanted to boil an egg. That was the end of it! I resumed my cheerful microwaveless state till another friend passed me a tiny used one (I don't know what it is with my friends and their need to provide me with microwaves, with all the new evidence surfacing I am beginning to suspect a conspiracy theory here). That one had a dream run till I forgot it on the countertop when I moved apartments. My latest specimen is another hand-me-down and is working perfectly(helping me to conclude that I am worthy only of hand-me-downs). So as you can see the place of a stable microwave in my life has been achieved after many breakups(downs). Yet, it seems it is time to let go again.

Anyone interested in a third hand microwave oven?

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