IHM wrote a post on how life was for women in India , who lived in the 1920's, 30's, 40's after reading a book about Women in Kerala during the same time period. There were so many interesting comments on her post with people recalling the lives of their own mothers and grandmothers. I wrote a comment too, which actually became as big as a post. :-)
Just reproducing it here....
I realize, that although the society I live in is patriarchal, matriarchs in the family have really lived amazing lives.
Like what do you say about someone born in 1919, the second child and only daughter, amongst 3 children. Her memories of her own mother were a bit hazy, as she passed away in her early childhood, after her younger brother was born. Her father, never married again, wanting to spare his children from "step-ness" . He himself had had a hard childhood, had literally studied under lamps, with great effort and dedication, and consequently risen to a good job with the government in those days. They lived in Indore then, and all his children went to school. The daughter did particularly well, and there is a gold medal in maths from some Ajmer Board, that is greatly prized in the house today. For its non commercial value.
And what do you say about someone who was sent to Pune's Fergusson College by her father to study for her degree ? Lived in what was called the Ladies Residency then. Started missing her father so much, that she once ran away back to Indore, only to have her father bring her right back. And she went on to make some lifelong friends in college, from different parts of the country.
Don't know if it was the opportunity to travel across the country, or what , but she got more than an education when she finished college. By then her father had shifted to Pune and stayed with his married son. Her marriage was fixed in 1941 with the son of a family friend. The background and attitudes towards ladies in that family were much different. Children followed.
And what do you say about what happened when she had a chance to travel abroad ? When her eldest was one year old, her husband had an opportunity to attend a university in Brooklyn. With no suggestions forthcoming from her in laws, her father agreed to take care of her year old son, and encouraged her to accompany her husband , and do a degree there herself. She travelled alone by a plane making several stops (there are photos of her with the pilot next to the plane !) en route to the US to join her husband who was already there, and a few years later returned with an MA in Child development from Columbia University. That was 1948.Another daughter and son were born, and the family with 3 children lived in Pune.
And what do you say about someone who dedicated all her energies to her childrens' education and bringing up, even maintaining a separate household in Pune for the children , when her husband was transferred to places with questionable educational facilities. Everyone was together in the holidays, allowing the children to see many different parts of India, due to their father's job. Once the kids started college, the household reverted to a single household at whichever place her father's posting took them, the last being Mumbai.
And then what do you say about how she brought up her own ? Her daughter was , like her, one of 3 children. She was given almost all the opportunities the sons got, sometimes even more. The daughter played sports, both for her school and college, in the appropriate garb , greatly encouraged by her. She herself always wore sarees, but realized her daughter's life was to be different. And it helped that they lived in a colony, where weekend mornings, someone would string a tennis net across a tennis court marked out in a large gap between two houses, and one could be treated to a sight of middle aged women women in tucked-in sarees, whacking shots across the net. (Eat your heart out, Sharapova).
And what do you say about her, who was so different , in a gutsy way. But was always involved with the extended family in various ways. She was great friends with all her husband's maternal cousins, and there was a constant flow of folks coming to stay, and various traditional functions being held to celebrate something or the other. Someone was always asking her to come along for some medical stuff happening in the family. Her mother-in-law had several sisters, and so many of them came to stay with her , much older to her , just because they liked to visit her. They liked that she drove a car in the crowded roads of Pune, and took them to visit many places.
And so what do you say of someone to whom age was just a physical count, and minds were more important. All her children decided on their own, what they were looking for in prospective partners in life, and she and the father never forced their opinion on any one in this regard, but were always available to listen and give opinions.
And finally, what do you say about someone, who although getting on in age at 83, and afflicted with typical old age maladies, still braved a 23 hour plane trip, all alone, to be present at a grandson's graduation in the US ? As avidly as she attended her her daughter's daughter's swimming races back in India, where she and grandpa loudly cheered. ?
To her education was not a label. You had to show the benefits of it. One of the biggest gifts she gave her daughter was that of strength of mind, the ability to say NO, based on your own convictions, however unpopular they may be, and to handle failure and treat it as a stepping stone, rather than something to make you collapse....
She was ahead of her times , and her life almost spanned the previous century. She passed away suddenly at the turn of the century, after a brief hospitalization, with only her daughter by her bedside.
Her daughter's family had adopted a little girl, and many years later , (when the little girl had grown up), while traveling once in a rickshaw with her own daughter, she said " You know, in your future, if you ever get the feeling that you are alone, there is no one , and so on, this little girl of yours will always be there for you. She is so young now, but she has something special. I see it in her."...
Mothers have a way of being right. I know. She was my mother.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Thursday, September 08, 2011
Watching Big Brother
Time has come, to do something about this.
In city after metro city, folks go off to work, watched by their family members. And it has reached a point where no one breathes easy till the person returns home.
Somewhere, sometime, suddenly, there is a blast, and you keep dialing numbers, and panic when no one picks up.For some unfortunate families, it means finding out that their loved one is injured and in hospital. And families and friends rush there , to help in whatever way they can. It is often not clear who is where, in which hospital, but there are huge boards put up with lists (has happened in Mumbai) , and some helpful souls also help put these online, so people can get information.
While one has nothing to say about the investigation part of these calamities, there is one uniquely Indian habit, or should I say Indian politician habit, that we need to do something about.
Some ministers, opposition leaders, not to mention even those who hold no position in the cabinet or anything, all make a beeline for the hospitals. Spiffy white clothes, suitable expressions, surrounded by "officials" and security, they make the rounds of wards, ensuring that TV cameras capture them as they pat the shoulder of a chap who has 3 tubes attached to his face and a bandage around his chest. The chap's desperately worried family has been asked to step out, way outside the hospital premises and wait. And never mind if they still do not know the prognosis, never mind if it is a child asking for a parent. The doctors who could have attended to the huge amount of patients waiting in the Out Patients Department, walk sedately with the VIP visitors.
For what ? Do these politicians even know anything about medicine and/or anatomy? Can they contribute anything anywhere ? Do they ask about specific injuries and possible healing ? Can a hand that tightly fists up when a new machine needs to be approved for a hospital, actually empathize with the man in trauma, waiting for all of it to get over ? The higher the post of the visitor, the more complicated the visit.
Suddenly all resources are diverted towards the visitor. Roads are blocked, traffic is halted, and that probably includes, patients in ambulances. Todays television news showed people who waited for 2 hours outside a hospital ,barred from coming in even to enquire, completely ignorant about their patient's condition, all because some minister with his posse of security was visiting. Relatives of the seriously injured are fobbed off and asked to stay out. Then the politicians go back and announce compensations. There too, with an eye on votes.
I have a suggestion. Which will allow doctors and hospital to get on with their jobs.
We are now so technologically abled, that people give job interviews on Skype, use I-phones, and web cams to see family events in real time across continents. So many functions which earlier involved standing in queues, fighting with rule breakers, and shuffling from toe to toe while the service window is closed for lunch, are now done online by us.
Give all these ministers and MP's (including the PM), huge screens in their offices. Have some kind of cameras, massive web cam type things set up in all public hospital wards and the VIP offices. The ministers etc can talk to everyone in the hospital , ward by ward, the superintendent , doctors and so on. Sick people in wards, who are able, can ask the minister things and hopefully get a meaningful answer. The camera in the ward can always zoom in on someone who the minister wants to know more about. All you need is one dedicated fellow who can walk around and zoom with the camera. Television companies who advertise screen-in-screen facilities can be asked to offer expertise. And there can be set times during the day when these VIP interactions take place.
All these worthies in new Delhi and elsewhere, who wish to do this, can schedule their hospital interaction sessions amongst themselves. So you can have the home minister checking with folks in the orthopaedic ward, while the PM talks to the injured children in their ward, or the ladies ward. Several minister types can simultaneously e-visit. In the meanwhile patient admissions can continue unhindered in the OPD. You will not need posses of policemen trailing and going around with the dignitaries, dragging all the outside dirt into the wards; worried sisters, brothers, parents can comfort those in trauma, and those hurt badly, at their bedside.
This system can even be used where the destination is changeable. Like the PM , and any assorted minister type, need not waste aviation fuel and fly down to visit patients , like, after, say, the Mumbai Monsoon deluge, or floods elsewhere. Today's news mentions the Comptroller and Auditor General of India remarking adversely about VIP flights not being reimbursed to the exchequer.
All this will involve creation of some IT type jobs in places like hospitals, and some hardware experts. With the increasing digitisation of scans, and tests, we already have a huge bank of qualified people, suited to a hospital environment. We have so much expertise in this, we even have a ministry for information technology.
Just think. No sirens and cars cruising in with red beacons. No blocking of traffic, No sudden flurry of changing dirty bedsheets in wards. No sudden issuing of blankets, hitherto declared unavailable. No shoving of family members to stand outside the hospital braving the sun and rain, till the so called VIP leaves. No automatic functional shutdowns in hospitals for the duration of the visit.
Some side benefits would be that during peaceful ordinary times too, the big worthies could check up on what is going on.
I wonder why such a thing is not being thought of. We have had it up to there with CCTV cameras that don't work, or films that are corrupted. Blast after blast, one has seen these VIP visits, which are a complete waste of time, money and knowledge.
Of course , one anticipates huge objections to this, from the anti-big-brother-is-watching-you type folks . Privacy issues. Rights issues.
But it is now time for Big Brother himself to be watched, by the public, that pays taxes, believes in him,gives him an occasional benefit of doubt, and sometimes, even votes for him.
Keep all ministers out of the equipment ordering and installing process. Tihar Jail is anyway full. Have this system proliferate across the country. And name someone like Mr Narayan Murthy to head the thing.
Just a suggestion , from someone, almost as old as the country, and not liking the direction in which things are going.
In city after metro city, folks go off to work, watched by their family members. And it has reached a point where no one breathes easy till the person returns home.
Somewhere, sometime, suddenly, there is a blast, and you keep dialing numbers, and panic when no one picks up.For some unfortunate families, it means finding out that their loved one is injured and in hospital. And families and friends rush there , to help in whatever way they can. It is often not clear who is where, in which hospital, but there are huge boards put up with lists (has happened in Mumbai) , and some helpful souls also help put these online, so people can get information.
While one has nothing to say about the investigation part of these calamities, there is one uniquely Indian habit, or should I say Indian politician habit, that we need to do something about.
Some ministers, opposition leaders, not to mention even those who hold no position in the cabinet or anything, all make a beeline for the hospitals. Spiffy white clothes, suitable expressions, surrounded by "officials" and security, they make the rounds of wards, ensuring that TV cameras capture them as they pat the shoulder of a chap who has 3 tubes attached to his face and a bandage around his chest. The chap's desperately worried family has been asked to step out, way outside the hospital premises and wait. And never mind if they still do not know the prognosis, never mind if it is a child asking for a parent. The doctors who could have attended to the huge amount of patients waiting in the Out Patients Department, walk sedately with the VIP visitors.
For what ? Do these politicians even know anything about medicine and/or anatomy? Can they contribute anything anywhere ? Do they ask about specific injuries and possible healing ? Can a hand that tightly fists up when a new machine needs to be approved for a hospital, actually empathize with the man in trauma, waiting for all of it to get over ? The higher the post of the visitor, the more complicated the visit.
Suddenly all resources are diverted towards the visitor. Roads are blocked, traffic is halted, and that probably includes, patients in ambulances. Todays television news showed people who waited for 2 hours outside a hospital ,barred from coming in even to enquire, completely ignorant about their patient's condition, all because some minister with his posse of security was visiting. Relatives of the seriously injured are fobbed off and asked to stay out. Then the politicians go back and announce compensations. There too, with an eye on votes.
I have a suggestion. Which will allow doctors and hospital to get on with their jobs.
We are now so technologically abled, that people give job interviews on Skype, use I-phones, and web cams to see family events in real time across continents. So many functions which earlier involved standing in queues, fighting with rule breakers, and shuffling from toe to toe while the service window is closed for lunch, are now done online by us.
Give all these ministers and MP's (including the PM), huge screens in their offices. Have some kind of cameras, massive web cam type things set up in all public hospital wards and the VIP offices. The ministers etc can talk to everyone in the hospital , ward by ward, the superintendent , doctors and so on. Sick people in wards, who are able, can ask the minister things and hopefully get a meaningful answer. The camera in the ward can always zoom in on someone who the minister wants to know more about. All you need is one dedicated fellow who can walk around and zoom with the camera. Television companies who advertise screen-in-screen facilities can be asked to offer expertise. And there can be set times during the day when these VIP interactions take place.
All these worthies in new Delhi and elsewhere, who wish to do this, can schedule their hospital interaction sessions amongst themselves. So you can have the home minister checking with folks in the orthopaedic ward, while the PM talks to the injured children in their ward, or the ladies ward. Several minister types can simultaneously e-visit. In the meanwhile patient admissions can continue unhindered in the OPD. You will not need posses of policemen trailing and going around with the dignitaries, dragging all the outside dirt into the wards; worried sisters, brothers, parents can comfort those in trauma, and those hurt badly, at their bedside.
This system can even be used where the destination is changeable. Like the PM , and any assorted minister type, need not waste aviation fuel and fly down to visit patients , like, after, say, the Mumbai Monsoon deluge, or floods elsewhere. Today's news mentions the Comptroller and Auditor General of India remarking adversely about VIP flights not being reimbursed to the exchequer.
All this will involve creation of some IT type jobs in places like hospitals, and some hardware experts. With the increasing digitisation of scans, and tests, we already have a huge bank of qualified people, suited to a hospital environment. We have so much expertise in this, we even have a ministry for information technology.
Just think. No sirens and cars cruising in with red beacons. No blocking of traffic, No sudden flurry of changing dirty bedsheets in wards. No sudden issuing of blankets, hitherto declared unavailable. No shoving of family members to stand outside the hospital braving the sun and rain, till the so called VIP leaves. No automatic functional shutdowns in hospitals for the duration of the visit.
Some side benefits would be that during peaceful ordinary times too, the big worthies could check up on what is going on.
They will then see what we all see, and not just what is shown to them.
I wonder why such a thing is not being thought of. We have had it up to there with CCTV cameras that don't work, or films that are corrupted. Blast after blast, one has seen these VIP visits, which are a complete waste of time, money and knowledge.
Of course , one anticipates huge objections to this, from the anti-big-brother-is-watching-you type folks . Privacy issues. Rights issues.
But it is now time for Big Brother himself to be watched, by the public, that pays taxes, believes in him,gives him an occasional benefit of doubt, and sometimes, even votes for him.
Keep all ministers out of the equipment ordering and installing process. Tihar Jail is anyway full. Have this system proliferate across the country. And name someone like Mr Narayan Murthy to head the thing.
Just a suggestion , from someone, almost as old as the country, and not liking the direction in which things are going.
Friday, September 02, 2011
Repost : Virtually Real Ganpati Bappa.....बाप्पा मोरया रे .......
Reposting something, I wrote 3 years ago. It still holds.
Ganpati Bappa had decided on it , long before Dr Douglas Engelbart , invented the keyboard mouse, while working for the Stanford Research Institute. Not one for flying chariots, eagles, and the like ,he decided that the mouse was His vehicle of choice, in his endeavours to preside as the wise and problem solving God.
It's interesting to realize that in today's world, mouse clicking and pointing leads us to huge stores of information, much of which we use for problem solving and research. I can just visualize Ganpati Bappa, popping a delicious 'modak' into the mouth, chuckling and smiling , and patting his mouse on the back, and enjoying his current festival season, as he sees countless devotees rush back to their laptops and pc's after the pujas.....
She was a great admirer and worshipper of Ganpati. Every personal, educational and other milestone that the children achieved in their life, was celebrated, with a thanksgiving puja (service) to Ganpati Bappa. She followed the thanksgiving rituals, more out of a sense of gratitude, and instilling an awareness, than fear or some kind of rigid adherence to rituals. For many years, the short 2 day Ganpati celebration at their house would have a special event of some scholars reciting the Vedas, in unison,and the sound reverberated and percolated in all the nooks and corners of the house. Followed by a delicious repast of traditional seasonal and festival delicacies for everyone.
By and by , her children grew up and had their own celebrations of Ganpati Bappa across the world. After a lifetime of organizing her own Ganpati worship and festivities, she began visiting her daughter, whose children wanted to experience the whole excitement of welcoming, worshipping, celebrating, and then bidding a watery goodbye to Ganpati Bappa on immersion day.
They were relaxing one afternoon after lunch,, admiring the Ganpati decorations done by the children , and talk veered around to the daughter of a family friend, who had had a very complicated limb surgery and was learning to walk again. This was being done in the face of a lot of questions as it was a sort of surgery that was actually not mandatory, but important to the girl. The girl was very gutsy, and they decided to invite that family over for an evening with their Ganpati Bappa, to coincide, with the girl's maiden outing after her surgery.
By the time the friends arrived, with the girl pushing her self up the ramp with her walker, wincing with pain, albeit happily, the children and grandchildren of the house, had rushed out and organized a cake with the girls name ,with "well done" inscribed on it, and there was much hiding and smiling when she arrived.
Everyone crowded around the girl, and she was completely surprised by the excitement, as they implored her to cut the cake. '
She did so, eyes full, her parents watching indulgently, the younger kids planning on which piece to aim for, and grandma landed up with a silver plate.
"Wait. Lets dedicate this as "naivedyam" (blessed food) and then you can have it. "
Cake ? Naivedyam? Eh ? (Things like cakes,with egg in them are a no-no, and almost amount to blasphemy. The naivedyam is a very traditionally defined thing).
They looked at her, perplexed; she, of the rigorous pujas and yearly Veda recitations, who always insisted on her daily interactions with Him, in a freshly washed cotton saree, just pulled from drying on the clothesline; whose pujas were never highly audible to us, but were heard by Those in Whose honor they were done.
"You are celebrating some one's success and progress. While your own effort is very praiseworthy, remember someone Up There, who looks out for you, and remember Him in all your good times. It doesn't matter what the food item is, and what it is made of. It is the thought and faith behind it that makes things sweeter..... Just pray, virtually offer a piece to Ganpati Bappa, and then distribute the stuff."
It simplified a lot of things for her daughter, who was often confused between being religiously correct, correctly religious, following certain prevailing norms, and often reasoning out certain things by herself, in an effort to make religion and spirituality interesting and convincing .
One hears folks doing research on virtual reality today. Virtual has taken on a new meaning in this age of IT.
But thanks to Ganpati Bappa, and his virtual enjoyment of cake , many years ago, that family learned what virtual reality could be. And was. And is.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Legislative benefits in the time of Ipads.
Highlighted on Sept 1, 2011 by 
Our esteemed MP's in Parliament will soon be flaunting free Ipads and Samsung Galaxy tabs.The whole exercise is to enable them to see less of papers and more of screens, pertaining to their work in Parliament .
While I hope that we end up saving millions of trees this way, I can think of several uses of these Ipads.
My heart bleeds for the health problems of so many MP's and MLA's. Which is not to say that I have cardiac problems; but those highlighted in the News, often have to take recourse to chest pains, dizziness, breathlessness, and so on, and the poor fellows have to rush to some ICU in some fancy hospital.
Lately, the variety of ailments has increased, and one hears about certain scam accused folks in jail, claiming attacks of dementia , and then spending inordinate time getting all kinds of checkups and MRI's and scans done. One of the heavily tainted chief ministers of a southern state even had more intriguing symptoms, the morning his bail application was to be heard. He got up in the morning and forgot who he was, and where he was. So he says.
This simply is, what might be called a Transient Random Ischaemic Creative Kick (TRICK) in the Brain...... (Don't Google. I just made this name up :-)....).
And so I think, that the aforementioned Ipads can be put to good use.
Along with the Ipads, I propose that the MPs and Legislators of individual states, be asked to have a whole body profile done , in the form of pathological tests, targeted according to age, and suitable for their life stage. That is, a young MP/MLA in the 30's may have different tests and followups done, than say, someone who in 56 or 79. Suitable corrective action will be taken by the government to normalise abnormal values. All in the interests of their health.
Each MP/MLA would then be asked to carry that information on his IPad, as a mandatory thing. While we ordinary mortals cringe under the costs of medical care and tests, the nation will offer free tests every year to the folks in Legislatures and Parliament. And the information on the IPad will be suitable updated as required. The National Informatics Centre can be asked to have this information password protected, to avoid creative updates and accidental deletions.
And as is clear, this will go a long way towards ensuring a healthy legislature, where sudden trips to the ICCU etc, will be a thing of the past. Hopefully.
However , it is quite possible that certain unrooted maladies as I call them, (which cannot be blamed on medical and pathological history), may simply, at some point, manifest themselves, at the convenience of the MP/Legislator:
- Currency Syndrome : Similar to Stendahl syndrome, (where people surrounded by huge amount of artwork suddenly develop a rapid heartbeat, confusion, dizziness, and hallucinations). This might simply happen, if someone has, in view of several disappointing zeros of performance levels in the family, visions of sudden prosperity, thanks to their position of power.
-Not Mine Syndrome : Similar to the Dr Strangelove or Alien hand syndrome. This is a neurological affliction where one hand behaves independently, and defiantly, regardless of the rest of the body. Like one hand may be righteously saying "no-no" to an attractive deal, and the other hand, on its own, either slips under the table or jingles loudly in the pockets.
-Judgement Day Epilepsy : Similar to something called Mary Hart Epilepsy, where in 1991, a lady called Neale experienced epileptic seizures everytime she heard the voice of a TV host Mary Hart, and had an extremely upset stomach, pressure in the head, and total confusion, making folks brand her as crazy. Situations where a judge might make you feel like that cannot be denied, and simply may be exploited .
Indigestible Truth Syndrome. : This is a flatulence related malady. "Gas related," to those terminologically-disabled. Throughout an actively imbibing political life, many things may be consumed, swallowed and eaten, way out of balance. That results in considerable indigestible stuff inside the bodies, which then suffer from , what we ordinary types, call, "Gas". There are various types of pains that may occur. Pains on the left side of the colon might mimic heart problems, while those on the right side might mimic gallstones or appendicitis. This is something widely used , sometimes to rush into cardiac care units. When all you need is some de-gassing, by medicine or minor procedure.
Just saying.
Aiyyo, Samjha Nahi Syndrome : This is also called the Foreign Accent Syndrome. You don't need to travel anywhere , but this is a known mental malady, where people emerge from brain injuries and comas suddenly speaking differently. Between 1941 and 2009 , 61 such cases have been recorded. Croation people have got up from comas suddenly speaking German. It is possible that in a multi linguistic society such as ours, it may be possible for folks to emerge from bad situations, and even a good night's sleep, suddenly unable to understand a language in which they are being interrogated.
As you can see, between the latest medical history on the Ipads, and a complete briefing of sudden medical conditions indicated above, we may be able to deal fairly effectively, with those that exhibit symptoms at will and claim to be sick.
Building up a database of sick possibilities unrelated to medical histories, but totally related to extracurricular activities , is also a side benefit here.
The nation stands to benefit hugely.
Bring on the Ipads.
Just a cautionary note. When the next round of goodies for MPs and MLAs are announced, make sure the new operating systems can recognize this data.
I mean Apples and Windows are involved. Something called Android (I mistook that for Aandar Aao, stupid me ) it seems is also there.
Whatever comes next, the doctors must know the patients history details , na ?
Our esteemed MP's in Parliament will soon be flaunting free Ipads and Samsung Galaxy tabs.The whole exercise is to enable them to see less of papers and more of screens, pertaining to their work in Parliament .
While I hope that we end up saving millions of trees this way, I can think of several uses of these Ipads.
My heart bleeds for the health problems of so many MP's and MLA's. Which is not to say that I have cardiac problems; but those highlighted in the News, often have to take recourse to chest pains, dizziness, breathlessness, and so on, and the poor fellows have to rush to some ICU in some fancy hospital.
Lately, the variety of ailments has increased, and one hears about certain scam accused folks in jail, claiming attacks of dementia , and then spending inordinate time getting all kinds of checkups and MRI's and scans done. One of the heavily tainted chief ministers of a southern state even had more intriguing symptoms, the morning his bail application was to be heard. He got up in the morning and forgot who he was, and where he was. So he says.
This simply is, what might be called a Transient Random Ischaemic Creative Kick (TRICK) in the Brain...... (Don't Google. I just made this name up :-)....).
And so I think, that the aforementioned Ipads can be put to good use.
Along with the Ipads, I propose that the MPs and Legislators of individual states, be asked to have a whole body profile done , in the form of pathological tests, targeted according to age, and suitable for their life stage. That is, a young MP/MLA in the 30's may have different tests and followups done, than say, someone who in 56 or 79. Suitable corrective action will be taken by the government to normalise abnormal values. All in the interests of their health.
Each MP/MLA would then be asked to carry that information on his IPad, as a mandatory thing. While we ordinary mortals cringe under the costs of medical care and tests, the nation will offer free tests every year to the folks in Legislatures and Parliament. And the information on the IPad will be suitable updated as required. The National Informatics Centre can be asked to have this information password protected, to avoid creative updates and accidental deletions.
And as is clear, this will go a long way towards ensuring a healthy legislature, where sudden trips to the ICCU etc, will be a thing of the past. Hopefully.
However , it is quite possible that certain unrooted maladies as I call them, (which cannot be blamed on medical and pathological history), may simply, at some point, manifest themselves, at the convenience of the MP/Legislator:
- Currency Syndrome : Similar to Stendahl syndrome, (where people surrounded by huge amount of artwork suddenly develop a rapid heartbeat, confusion, dizziness, and hallucinations). This might simply happen, if someone has, in view of several disappointing zeros of performance levels in the family, visions of sudden prosperity, thanks to their position of power.
-Not Mine Syndrome : Similar to the Dr Strangelove or Alien hand syndrome. This is a neurological affliction where one hand behaves independently, and defiantly, regardless of the rest of the body. Like one hand may be righteously saying "no-no" to an attractive deal, and the other hand, on its own, either slips under the table or jingles loudly in the pockets.
-Judgement Day Epilepsy : Similar to something called Mary Hart Epilepsy, where in 1991, a lady called Neale experienced epileptic seizures everytime she heard the voice of a TV host Mary Hart, and had an extremely upset stomach, pressure in the head, and total confusion, making folks brand her as crazy. Situations where a judge might make you feel like that cannot be denied, and simply may be exploited .
Indigestible Truth Syndrome. : This is a flatulence related malady. "Gas related," to those terminologically-disabled. Throughout an actively imbibing political life, many things may be consumed, swallowed and eaten, way out of balance. That results in considerable indigestible stuff inside the bodies, which then suffer from , what we ordinary types, call, "Gas". There are various types of pains that may occur. Pains on the left side of the colon might mimic heart problems, while those on the right side might mimic gallstones or appendicitis. This is something widely used , sometimes to rush into cardiac care units. When all you need is some de-gassing, by medicine or minor procedure.
Just saying.
Aiyyo, Samjha Nahi Syndrome : This is also called the Foreign Accent Syndrome. You don't need to travel anywhere , but this is a known mental malady, where people emerge from brain injuries and comas suddenly speaking differently. Between 1941 and 2009 , 61 such cases have been recorded. Croation people have got up from comas suddenly speaking German. It is possible that in a multi linguistic society such as ours, it may be possible for folks to emerge from bad situations, and even a good night's sleep, suddenly unable to understand a language in which they are being interrogated.
As you can see, between the latest medical history on the Ipads, and a complete briefing of sudden medical conditions indicated above, we may be able to deal fairly effectively, with those that exhibit symptoms at will and claim to be sick.
Building up a database of sick possibilities unrelated to medical histories, but totally related to extracurricular activities , is also a side benefit here.
The nation stands to benefit hugely.
Bring on the Ipads.
Just a cautionary note. When the next round of goodies for MPs and MLAs are announced, make sure the new operating systems can recognize this data.
I mean Apples and Windows are involved. Something called Android (I mistook that for Aandar Aao, stupid me ) it seems is also there.
Whatever comes next, the doctors must know the patients history details , na ?
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Irene and I
I am sitting here , dry at home, at the desktop, the curtain billowing into my face, and sky is getting more and more ominous. This weekend in Mumbai, has been of nonstop lashings of rain, combined with winds.
Naturally, despite low pressures and depressions or whatever, that build over the Arabian Sea, there was no agency telling us to expect this onslaught over the weekend, and still continuing. Without fail, every time, someone appears in the papers, after the stuff has begun, to say how this is due to some low pressure bands, or winds or whatever. Which doesnt help anyone planning to travel and so on. I know at least one family which was travelling to Goa this weekend, and must be in the thick of this right now.
And those of us in Mumbai, simply continue to go to work, get totally wet standing at bus-stops trying to ensure the umbrellas do not suddenly turn turtle. Some cars, with fellows sitting inside agonizing about the stock market in the newspaper, careen by, splashing the potholed water on school uniforms, sarees,
and wash-and-wear trousers.
And you stand in a bus, and don't say a word, as your neighbor transfers his umbrella to the other hand, thereby dripping water on you; he needs to access his wallet in his pocket, buy a ticket, and it will be his turn next to enjoy a dripping umbrella , when you buy yours.
Our trains continue to trundle , overloaded with those that make Mumbai what it is , till it looks like a river flows ahead in its path. Then they stop. Between stations. Ever resourceful, the folks inside jump out, helping women out of their compartment, and start trudging along the tracks, umbrellas open, hands chained to the next person, so as to not be surprised by sudden gaps in the ground beneath the swirling waters on the rails..
Mumbai's buses, those hardy bulwarks , sneeze their exhaust, and chug around, chock a block with passengers, giving a new meaning to the word "space"; there is always room for a few more... Once in a while, it all becomes too much while traversing a misjudged pothole , and the bus stops, at an angle, unable to continue. Traffic swirls around it, passengers rush to other buses, stand out in the rain, and life continues.
Papers are now full of how "repaired and filled potholes", are once again remaining true to their original name; how pedestrians walkways are flooded, how we must be careful of flooded areas, because of the city's trash floating in it, and like every year, hospitals give statistics on the latest likely epidemics, based on the patients they are seeing.
And then I read all about "Irene", the hurricane calamity befalling the eastern seaboard of the US. Days before it is supposed to appear, it is all over the papers and on TV, the citizenry residing in the likely towns in its path, rushes out to hoard water, provisions, batteries, groceries, and whatever else. Television weather folks continuously track the advent of Irene, every twist, turn, and deviation in the path; not to mention sudden losses of strength. Timelines, indicate when to expect Irene where, as if she is Barack Obama on an official trip.
People are ordered to evacuate, kept away from beaches, signs on highways and freeways in Irene's path, flash messages about the approaching hurricane, urging folks to reach somewhere safe.
I just heard about New York's Grand Central Station being emptied, as trains are cancelled and stopped. Flights are cancelled .
And there are minute to minute updates , the most amazing one I read , that says, Irene is supposed to arrive someplace in 20 minutes. I mean, for someone who is actually subject to what is called Indian Stretchable Time (instead of the official Indian Standard Time), scheduling Irene right down to the minute is a bit too much. Such a prediction here in Mumbai would be impossible and infeasible. The most they would have said here , is that the landfall would happen tomorrow. And even then nobody would have believed them .
I can actually picture some mother in Queens, Long Island, rushing home from somewhere with her kids, turning into her garage with the click of the wireless garage door opener, clicking it shut, and then hearing the whoosh and bang of the rain outside, as Irene arrives, on schedule.
There are folks on Facebook giving brief entries about the Irene happenings in their areas.
In amazing Mumbai style, there is a picture of water cascading down the steps leading down to some New York area subway station. Then there are photos of people in boats on what were formerly roads in New York. There has been a huge amount of hype about the coming of Hurricane Irene, and everyone is mobilized, with offices shut, schools closed, semester openings postponed, people getting updates on Twitter, and President Obama sitting in at the Hurricane Headquarters . ( I actually saw a photo on the Net, and even wondered how he would get back to the White House, in case the hurricane struck while he was there. But I guess he follows and believes the weather folks there; I guess , he will reach back before Irene reaches the capital).
Someone in the weather bureau announces, that Irene is now being downgraded to a tropical storm , because it is, presumably behaving less angry.
I am just amazed Irene listens and behaves exactly as they are saying.
I don't know why they name hurricanes as they do in the US. First Katrina. Now Irene.
If this was India, I guess Kareena would be jealous.
If they do name storms and stuff in India, only the weather folks here know about it. I don't think they get time to prepare a name. Its like a baby arriving way before it is scheduled. Or maybe they prepare a name and it's a false alarm.
But if they did, it would possibly named after a politician. Seemingly powerful, with a one track ambition of running roughshod over everything, to advance in its own path; misleading folks; causing a lot of damage to everyday ordinary folks, who actually voted for him.
Somewhere, Irene has finished her walk on the eastern carpet.
We carry on. Depressions, storms, cyclones, hurricanes and what have you. Nothing stops us.
And so , this morning, on a Sunday, a young girl, cycling in the rain and howling wind, to teach swimming to kids at dawn, at a neighboring facility, returns home, drenched in pouring rain, dripping , and doesn't think it's anything special.
She changes into dry clothes, zooms in on a hot breakfast, clutches her comfortably hot coffee cup, and says, "You know that blogger friend of yours who runs marathons ? I saw him running in the rain this morning as I was cycling by......."
( I am sure my blogger friend doesn't think he is doing anything special too.)
As Irene takes a deep breath and quietens down, somewhere else, nothing has changed.
The world goes on.
Friday, August 26, 2011
The arrogance of abundance..
The area where I live, has to be the most wooded area in Mumbai, (if you leave out the Sanjay Gandhi National Park to the north part of the city, which is a reserved area). No one owns houses here, because they belong to those we work for, and are rented out to us for the duration of our working life. To the delight of many folks who visit us, there is a noticeable drop in temperature, as you turn into the gate at the entrance, a straight road with majestic trees on both sides, sometimes bursting forth in orange blooms in the summer.
My late parents would visit us, and my father would often sit in an armchair, with the newspaper and his cup of milk, in the balcony, looking over a thick canopy of trees as far as you could see, shake his head and say ," I hope you guys realize what a wonderful thing you enjoy; and value this ....".
Maybe he knew how things would be.
This is the road that leads to our building. The photograph has been taken at the height of summer, when the foliage isn't so dense , but still affords immense shade to those walking to work.
The monsoon, makes these trees lush green . Some of these trees go back to the days that predate our Institute, and are more than a hundred years old. Some of these are taller than our building which is 6 floors high.
The last few years has seen the advent of cutting crews, presumably to organize tree cutting, that starts with offending branches. Chain saws appear. Trucks appear. And by and by, one sees a vehicle loaded with logs making its way out, officially.
Two days ago, the branch shown (encircled ) and its neighbors, were pulled down with an almighty noise. Mind you , the tree borders a huge school ground (huge by Mumbai standards) , and is at the periphery, not bending on to this road.
As the rain started in earnest by the evening, I saw two guys, with phones, umbrellas and worried looks, standing on the pavement eyeing the fallen wood, and telling someone on the phone, that something was yet to reach there, and they would wait till it came. (Don't ask how I heard. I was out for the regular walk with a friend, saw all this destruction, then noticed these guys, and deliberately slowed my speed. I have seen this happen once too often. )
The next morning, huge tree stumps, cut , were deposited in our building compound. For something cut, that was 6 stories tall, it was clear that other large quantities of wood were cut up and transported away by the aforementioned chaps in the aforementioned trucks. This isn't the first time such events have happened.
Cut to an event a month ago. There is some
construction happening at the end of the road in the first photo.
Plumbing requirements necessitated the digging up of an area across the road . Once the job was done, there was haphazard filling up of gaps, and a few deep oblong holes, right in the middle of the sidewalk. I was returning from a daily walk in the evening, when I noticed two youths, with some cautionary flags in their hands, just leaving them there on the ground and vamoosing away on a two wheeler.
When I walked into the construction site to insist on some safeguards being put around the hole, and the flags used properly along with some decent barrier ropes and stuff, everyone shook their heads, looked at me like I was trespassing and wasting their time and said someone else was looking after this. So.
This road is frequented by school children , lots of old grandparent types out for walks, as well as folks rushing to the gates to catch public transport. Monsoon evenings being dull and dark, there was a good chance someone would have fallen into this thing.
There was no supervision by staff, no performance of responsible work, attention to safety , signs saying "Danger" or anything. Because no one was getting anything out of this. No deals, no nothing. A major pipe had to be connected to the construction site plumbing, that was done, and the rest was immaterial.
Experience indicated that something would happen if a complaint was made to a totally different entity like Security. Which I did, describing terrible scenarios about little children and old people, and two wheelers falling into the thing. Twenty four hours later when I went the same way, the thing was surrounded by some stakes on which some "danger" ribbon was wound; I just hoped some kid on a tricycle didn't manage to pass by there.
And it now occurred to me that we are simply blinded by the concept of abundance.
Abundance of power, abundance of money, abundance of lies. Abundance of resources.
There is a sense of ownership, and complete ignorance of the fact that we are trustees of these resources and not blind consumers.
And so there is an arrogance of abundance. Which is why we wallow in corruption. Which is why something is happening today in new Delhi, which has never happened earlier.
There has been an abundance of money and power, and the emulation of powerful types, at lower levels is complete.
It doesn't matter if the ordinary folks fall into a troubled ditch, so long as those that manage things, get their dues. Wood is precious in a city starved of trees. Powerless people , who stupidly follow rules are disposable.
And this has led to an arrogance. That manifests itself, in the smirk I get when I ask about putting some protection around the ditch, in the casualness with which tree stumps are thrown in our compound, all the useful stuff having been carted away for revenue earning, and also in the way, some folks in New Delhi, , possibly steeped in the syrup of corruption themselves, drag some other people into it, simply because they talk about it.
The arrogance of abundance. We never learn. Those that try , are shouted down.
Sometimes there are things around us trying to say something .
And sometimes it is ancient Greek philosophers , who had a habit of getting things right.
Which is probably why, centuries and millennia later, what they said, still appears to hold.
Like this guy , Epicurus (Greek philosopher, BC 341-270) who said , "Nothing is enough for the man to whom enough is too little."
My late parents would visit us, and my father would often sit in an armchair, with the newspaper and his cup of milk, in the balcony, looking over a thick canopy of trees as far as you could see, shake his head and say ," I hope you guys realize what a wonderful thing you enjoy; and value this ....".
Maybe he knew how things would be.
This is the road that leads to our building. The photograph has been taken at the height of summer, when the foliage isn't so dense , but still affords immense shade to those walking to work.
The monsoon, makes these trees lush green . Some of these trees go back to the days that predate our Institute, and are more than a hundred years old. Some of these are taller than our building which is 6 floors high.
The last few years has seen the advent of cutting crews, presumably to organize tree cutting, that starts with offending branches. Chain saws appear. Trucks appear. And by and by, one sees a vehicle loaded with logs making its way out, officially.
Two days ago, the branch shown (encircled ) and its neighbors, were pulled down with an almighty noise. Mind you , the tree borders a huge school ground (huge by Mumbai standards) , and is at the periphery, not bending on to this road.
As the rain started in earnest by the evening, I saw two guys, with phones, umbrellas and worried looks, standing on the pavement eyeing the fallen wood, and telling someone on the phone, that something was yet to reach there, and they would wait till it came. (Don't ask how I heard. I was out for the regular walk with a friend, saw all this destruction, then noticed these guys, and deliberately slowed my speed. I have seen this happen once too often. )
The next morning, huge tree stumps, cut , were deposited in our building compound. For something cut, that was 6 stories tall, it was clear that other large quantities of wood were cut up and transported away by the aforementioned chaps in the aforementioned trucks. This isn't the first time such events have happened.
Cut to an event a month ago. There is some
construction happening at the end of the road in the first photo.
Plumbing requirements necessitated the digging up of an area across the road . Once the job was done, there was haphazard filling up of gaps, and a few deep oblong holes, right in the middle of the sidewalk. I was returning from a daily walk in the evening, when I noticed two youths, with some cautionary flags in their hands, just leaving them there on the ground and vamoosing away on a two wheeler.
When I walked into the construction site to insist on some safeguards being put around the hole, and the flags used properly along with some decent barrier ropes and stuff, everyone shook their heads, looked at me like I was trespassing and wasting their time and said someone else was looking after this. So.
This road is frequented by school children , lots of old grandparent types out for walks, as well as folks rushing to the gates to catch public transport. Monsoon evenings being dull and dark, there was a good chance someone would have fallen into this thing.
There was no supervision by staff, no performance of responsible work, attention to safety , signs saying "Danger" or anything. Because no one was getting anything out of this. No deals, no nothing. A major pipe had to be connected to the construction site plumbing, that was done, and the rest was immaterial.
Experience indicated that something would happen if a complaint was made to a totally different entity like Security. Which I did, describing terrible scenarios about little children and old people, and two wheelers falling into the thing. Twenty four hours later when I went the same way, the thing was surrounded by some stakes on which some "danger" ribbon was wound; I just hoped some kid on a tricycle didn't manage to pass by there.
And it now occurred to me that we are simply blinded by the concept of abundance.
Abundance of power, abundance of money, abundance of lies. Abundance of resources.
There is a sense of ownership, and complete ignorance of the fact that we are trustees of these resources and not blind consumers.
And so there is an arrogance of abundance. Which is why we wallow in corruption. Which is why something is happening today in new Delhi, which has never happened earlier.
There has been an abundance of money and power, and the emulation of powerful types, at lower levels is complete.
It doesn't matter if the ordinary folks fall into a troubled ditch, so long as those that manage things, get their dues. Wood is precious in a city starved of trees. Powerless people , who stupidly follow rules are disposable.
And this has led to an arrogance. That manifests itself, in the smirk I get when I ask about putting some protection around the ditch, in the casualness with which tree stumps are thrown in our compound, all the useful stuff having been carted away for revenue earning, and also in the way, some folks in New Delhi, , possibly steeped in the syrup of corruption themselves, drag some other people into it, simply because they talk about it.
The arrogance of abundance. We never learn. Those that try , are shouted down.
Sometimes there are things around us trying to say something .
And sometimes it is ancient Greek philosophers , who had a habit of getting things right.
Which is probably why, centuries and millennia later, what they said, still appears to hold.
Like this guy , Epicurus (Greek philosopher, BC 341-270) who said , "Nothing is enough for the man to whom enough is too little."
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Dangers from the sea ?
For someone who has lived for more than a quarter of a century in Mumbai, I have had very little to do with boats and ships, and a lot to do with water. A childhood in the plains of the Deccan plateau meant lots of surface transport, and by the time one got done with academics , travel was all about flying.
My earliest memories of ships, must be from almost 53 years ago. There are vignettes of crowded ship decks as night set in, and sitting with one's luggage amidst the crowds, hearing older people talk about how the ship rolled, and how so and so spent the entire time throwing up, wailing kids, and so on. Sunrise saw us anchoring out at sea, and disembarking on to some kind of rowing boats which had a raft-like look, and these boats took us inward to some jetty, from where we took a bullock cart to our ancestral place in the Kokan coastal region.
By and by , in college, one got to hear about ships sailing from Mumbai to Goa, and one actually saw these shipped berthed at the quay in Panjim. For some reason, ship transport on the west coast appeared to fizzle out, and from then on ships were all about admiring them at a distance from the Gateway of India, wondering about their origin, as we took a launch to the Elephanta Island on a day trip, and so on.
India has had a great Naval history, right from the time of Shivaji. The Navy has played a stellar role in the various wars fought by India in my lifetime. And even in the preindependence times, when the East India Company ships ruled the seas off and on the Indian coast. Mumbai has an excellent harbor , and a long history of maritime transport .
So one is baffled by the sudden episodes of assorted foreign ships, malfunctioning in Indian waters, drifting all over the seas, managing to bypass all ports on the eastern seaboard , rounding the southern tip, and managing to wash ashore, specifically in Mumbai, that too on one of the most crowded beaches. Juhu.
These are not Indian ships by registration. Owners could be anybody. But what is clear is that these are commercial tankers and ships transporting goods and not passengers.
According to Coast Guard statistics, more than 60,000 tonnes of crude oil has been spilt into the Arabian Sea in the last 29 years. There have been 23 ship accidents in the Arabian Sea since 1982, contributing majorly to the total spills along the entire West coast. In the same period, almost 1,13,000 tonnes of oil has been spilled along India's entire coastline due to 74 ship accidents.
Since January 2011, 4 ships have managed to malfunction,collide ,stray,sink,or leak oil off the Mumbai coast.
On Januray 30, 2011, a Cyprus merchant ship, MV Nordlake, collided with a Navy ship INS Vindhagiri at the entrance to Mumbai Harbor.
On June 11, 2011, Singapore ship MV Wisdom, lost her tow, and suddenly managed to drift aimlessly and landed up at Juhu Beach, close enough for people to wade in and touch.
Then MV Pavit, a ship abandoned off the Oman Coast on June 29, 2011, managed to float here and there, and surprise, surprise, managed to land up, yes, again at Juhu Beach on July 31, 2011.
As if this was not enough , on August 4, 2011, MV Rak, carrying 60,000 tonnes of coal and at least 300 tonnes of fuel oil, sank in the Arabian Sea off Mumbai, and 2 tonnes of oil is supposed to be leaking every hour into the sea since August 6, 2011. There are oil slicks across the beaches in Mumbai, and the leakage has adversely affected the marine life, the monsoon being the spawning and breeding season. Sea food consumers now prefer to buy stuff sourced from places , way up north of Mumbai.
As if this was not bad enough, on August 18, 2011, panic set in as the authorities detected a stray unmanned boat drifting off the Bhabha Atomic Reserach Centre, on the city's eastern seaboard. The Security forces and police took immediate action, investigated, and found it belonged to a fisherman who had anchored it at a jetty , and somehow it got de-anchored and floated by.
This bothers me. And I have some questions.
How come, ships are automatically floating on to Juhu Beach, one of the most crowded beaches in Mumbai. Close to all the highly successful commercial, and tourist areas ? How come one never hears, of ships drifting away, say to the harbor in Goa, some distance south of Mumbai ? Or one of the several jetties and older historical harbors and ports on the Kokan Coastline ?
How come one isn't hearing about ships getting grounded ashore on India's eastern coast, say at Vishakhapatnam, Chennai, or even around Cochin, and Mangalore, southwards on the Western coast ?
Is it significant, that ships drifting ashore right at the beach, might make it easy for someone , who resembles an Indian , to quietly be a part of the excited inquisitive masses, and step ashore, to a preferred destination like Mumbai ? No one really knows what is being carried on these ships, and in the brouhaha over the sinking, and folks getting away in small boats, is it possible that some things find an easy entry along with stuff into Mumbai ? In all these years of oil tankers sailing all across the Arabian Sea off Mumbai, how many oil spills have you seen ? Very few. Is this something to divert the attention and change the priorities of the authorities ? How old is Bhabha Atomic Research Centre, and how is it that unmanned boats can suddenly drift in very close to it, although anchored earlier at well used jetties further away ?
Is there something like Naval Radar ? Where suspicious boats and ships can be detected, and the Navy forces and Coast Guard can rush in, similar to jet fighters mobilizing to ward of intruders in our airspace ? If it exists, why isn't it working ? If it doesn't, what stops the authorities from installing something that does ? Do we have sufficient resources ? What do other countries do ?
There are some explanations being put forth about non availability of trained seafarer types, as the rise to the level of Captain of a ship is over a period of time that does not allow sufficient experience. Human error of those commanding the ships , is being blamed.
Why does this (perceived lack of security resources ) remind me of the once proud and acclaimed Mumbai Police, reduced to a force that doesn't even have decent bullet proof jackets , simply because every purchase is looked at by someone unscrupulous , as a profitable opportunity ?
Is it significant that countries who have earlier initiated terror attacks on us, via the sea off Mumbai , are situated with coastal cities on the Arabian sea ? Is this approach via the sea the preferred method now ?
And just when I thought I was being unduly imaginative about coastal and maritime things, comes the news of this years biggest infiltration bid in North Kashmir by the Lashkar-e-Toiba, the same fellows responsible for 26/11.
On August 20, 2011, yesterday , militants tried to infiltrate across the line of control (between India and Pakistan) that is formed by the KishenGanga river in North Kashmir, by sailing in , and were engaged in combat by the Indian army. Several militants were killed, and a hunt is on for the others.
In the meanwhile, our Ministers continue to hobnob at talks with ministers from Pakistan, and the press goes ballistic over the glamour aspect of the new external affairs minister from Pakistan. Terrorist Ajmal Kasab remains in jail, at a huge cost to our government , despite being filmed killing people on 26/11. Pakistan refuses to move ahead on "prosecuting" what it calls non-state actors who participated in 26/11, despite proofs.
And we recently had one more terror attack in Mumbai. About which there seems to be no news , about those responsible, arrests, for that , anything .
Mid-day reports that there is another vessel reported to be drifting towards Mumbai .
Is someone doing something ? Can we hear about it ?
My earliest memories of ships, must be from almost 53 years ago. There are vignettes of crowded ship decks as night set in, and sitting with one's luggage amidst the crowds, hearing older people talk about how the ship rolled, and how so and so spent the entire time throwing up, wailing kids, and so on. Sunrise saw us anchoring out at sea, and disembarking on to some kind of rowing boats which had a raft-like look, and these boats took us inward to some jetty, from where we took a bullock cart to our ancestral place in the Kokan coastal region.
By and by , in college, one got to hear about ships sailing from Mumbai to Goa, and one actually saw these shipped berthed at the quay in Panjim. For some reason, ship transport on the west coast appeared to fizzle out, and from then on ships were all about admiring them at a distance from the Gateway of India, wondering about their origin, as we took a launch to the Elephanta Island on a day trip, and so on.
India has had a great Naval history, right from the time of Shivaji. The Navy has played a stellar role in the various wars fought by India in my lifetime. And even in the preindependence times, when the East India Company ships ruled the seas off and on the Indian coast. Mumbai has an excellent harbor , and a long history of maritime transport .
So one is baffled by the sudden episodes of assorted foreign ships, malfunctioning in Indian waters, drifting all over the seas, managing to bypass all ports on the eastern seaboard , rounding the southern tip, and managing to wash ashore, specifically in Mumbai, that too on one of the most crowded beaches. Juhu.
These are not Indian ships by registration. Owners could be anybody. But what is clear is that these are commercial tankers and ships transporting goods and not passengers.
According to Coast Guard statistics, more than 60,000 tonnes of crude oil has been spilt into the Arabian Sea in the last 29 years. There have been 23 ship accidents in the Arabian Sea since 1982, contributing majorly to the total spills along the entire West coast. In the same period, almost 1,13,000 tonnes of oil has been spilled along India's entire coastline due to 74 ship accidents.
Since January 2011, 4 ships have managed to malfunction,collide ,stray,sink,or leak oil off the Mumbai coast.
On Januray 30, 2011, a Cyprus merchant ship, MV Nordlake, collided with a Navy ship INS Vindhagiri at the entrance to Mumbai Harbor.
On June 11, 2011, Singapore ship MV Wisdom, lost her tow, and suddenly managed to drift aimlessly and landed up at Juhu Beach, close enough for people to wade in and touch.
Then MV Pavit, a ship abandoned off the Oman Coast on June 29, 2011, managed to float here and there, and surprise, surprise, managed to land up, yes, again at Juhu Beach on July 31, 2011.
As if this was not enough , on August 4, 2011, MV Rak, carrying 60,000 tonnes of coal and at least 300 tonnes of fuel oil, sank in the Arabian Sea off Mumbai, and 2 tonnes of oil is supposed to be leaking every hour into the sea since August 6, 2011. There are oil slicks across the beaches in Mumbai, and the leakage has adversely affected the marine life, the monsoon being the spawning and breeding season. Sea food consumers now prefer to buy stuff sourced from places , way up north of Mumbai.
As if this was not bad enough, on August 18, 2011, panic set in as the authorities detected a stray unmanned boat drifting off the Bhabha Atomic Reserach Centre, on the city's eastern seaboard. The Security forces and police took immediate action, investigated, and found it belonged to a fisherman who had anchored it at a jetty , and somehow it got de-anchored and floated by.
This bothers me. And I have some questions.
How come, ships are automatically floating on to Juhu Beach, one of the most crowded beaches in Mumbai. Close to all the highly successful commercial, and tourist areas ? How come one never hears, of ships drifting away, say to the harbor in Goa, some distance south of Mumbai ? Or one of the several jetties and older historical harbors and ports on the Kokan Coastline ?
How come one isn't hearing about ships getting grounded ashore on India's eastern coast, say at Vishakhapatnam, Chennai, or even around Cochin, and Mangalore, southwards on the Western coast ?
Is it significant, that ships drifting ashore right at the beach, might make it easy for someone , who resembles an Indian , to quietly be a part of the excited inquisitive masses, and step ashore, to a preferred destination like Mumbai ? No one really knows what is being carried on these ships, and in the brouhaha over the sinking, and folks getting away in small boats, is it possible that some things find an easy entry along with stuff into Mumbai ? In all these years of oil tankers sailing all across the Arabian Sea off Mumbai, how many oil spills have you seen ? Very few. Is this something to divert the attention and change the priorities of the authorities ? How old is Bhabha Atomic Research Centre, and how is it that unmanned boats can suddenly drift in very close to it, although anchored earlier at well used jetties further away ?
Is there something like Naval Radar ? Where suspicious boats and ships can be detected, and the Navy forces and Coast Guard can rush in, similar to jet fighters mobilizing to ward of intruders in our airspace ? If it exists, why isn't it working ? If it doesn't, what stops the authorities from installing something that does ? Do we have sufficient resources ? What do other countries do ?
There are some explanations being put forth about non availability of trained seafarer types, as the rise to the level of Captain of a ship is over a period of time that does not allow sufficient experience. Human error of those commanding the ships , is being blamed.
Why does this (perceived lack of security resources ) remind me of the once proud and acclaimed Mumbai Police, reduced to a force that doesn't even have decent bullet proof jackets , simply because every purchase is looked at by someone unscrupulous , as a profitable opportunity ?
Is it significant that countries who have earlier initiated terror attacks on us, via the sea off Mumbai , are situated with coastal cities on the Arabian sea ? Is this approach via the sea the preferred method now ?
And just when I thought I was being unduly imaginative about coastal and maritime things, comes the news of this years biggest infiltration bid in North Kashmir by the Lashkar-e-Toiba, the same fellows responsible for 26/11.
On August 20, 2011, yesterday , militants tried to infiltrate across the line of control (between India and Pakistan) that is formed by the KishenGanga river in North Kashmir, by sailing in , and were engaged in combat by the Indian army. Several militants were killed, and a hunt is on for the others.
In the meanwhile, our Ministers continue to hobnob at talks with ministers from Pakistan, and the press goes ballistic over the glamour aspect of the new external affairs minister from Pakistan. Terrorist Ajmal Kasab remains in jail, at a huge cost to our government , despite being filmed killing people on 26/11. Pakistan refuses to move ahead on "prosecuting" what it calls non-state actors who participated in 26/11, despite proofs.
And we recently had one more terror attack in Mumbai. About which there seems to be no news , about those responsible, arrests, for that , anything .
Mid-day reports that there is another vessel reported to be drifting towards Mumbai .
Is someone doing something ? Can we hear about it ?
Thursday, August 18, 2011
A learning Sunday
There is a saying in Marathi , my mother tongue, that actually defines terribly "savvy" folks , as those who can do a sort of "auto-completion of words" in life; if you say "ta-" they know you mean " taakbhat". As a corollary, I wonder if such folks develop the amazing ability to glean "meanings" from certain actions and words , that stupid folks like me take literally.
This comes to mind, as the newspapers are full of stuff on "corruption" stories, what with the stuff happening in the capital, shouting in Parliament, and the media going into fifth gear, in a frenzy of repetitive reporting.
I have always wondered, as an academic exercise, how a person says or indicates, that he needs a bribe. (watch this ad for Tata Tea Premium)
One hears stories of X, taking Y from some office, for a cup of tea somewhere, and offering or agreeing to a bribe; and I have always wondered how X and Y understand that this is not an honest "expression of interest in each other " but an invitation for a surreptitious transaction, where you now have an anonymous table to transact under.
There is a complicated cross roads system close to where I live. There is a badly planned traffic signal, where you sing the Lord's praises every time you make it successfully across in a vehicle. There is a police "presence", but not at the crossroads. Further down the road, one sees them exchanging papers and checking things with folks on two wheelers and truck drivers who are waved away to their side. Those crossing red signals , in the meanwhile, get away. I once asked a cop there why he didn't catch all these folks who run through a red light. This was on the arterial road outside which is always crowded. He told me that if he caught everyone who skipped a red, there would be a traffic jam till a kilometre away, and there would be a mess . So they stand beyond the signal and catch folks.
The other thing I noticed is no one is traumatised by being caught. I've been told that when the licence is asked for, the smarter types, add some stuff in the plastic licence holder jacket. In fact the licence is always kept ready like this . There is something happening like filling of forms , next to the cop's motorcycle, the licence is returned , perhaps minus the extra something, and everyone is happy.
Vehicle owners , particularly those on motorbikes, think they own the road, even overtaking the buses on the side where people are getting in and getting out of the bus. Several of my friends have been injured by this rash driving, and I once saw a motorcycle driver being stopped by a cop for that.
I was walking next to them, had seen what had happened, and so I asked the cop, why he doesn't let the air out of the guy's vehicle, to teach him a lesson. (in my childhood , the police used this to punish errant cyclists). The motorcycle guy, removed his helmet, gave me a look and said he paid his taxes; I told him I paid mine too; an argument ensued, which the cop stopped (because he had other people to catch), and I moved away, quite sure that papers would have exchanged hands.
A few days ago, on a Sunday , we were returning from the western suburbs, and were debating which road would have less traffic. We thought we would take a right turn at a major junction, and noticed , that when the light turned green, there was only a straight arrow pointing ahead. Since we interpret only what we see and not hidden meanings, we continued straight, while tons of folks were merrily taking a right turn.
What looked like a rookie cop, waved us to one side.
Two senior citizen types, who have been driving for the last 43 years, without getting a"ticket", paying taxes on time, never breaking rules , never treating driving like a sport even in their younger days, naturally got upset, when the cop knocked on the glass .
We asked him what the problem was. He asked us if we didn't see that we were in a "right turn lane". We said the signal indicated a straight path and no right turn, so we followed the signal. Then he said we should have "presumed" that we were in a turning lane ! Asked for the licence, and we innocently gave it , naturally without any accompanying stuff. He then asks us to come out and accompany him to where the motorcycle was parked. There were several other cops , some with walkie-talkies, spread around there.
What he didn't know was that he had just met an honest senior citizen, and that hell hath no fury than an honest citizen fooled, cheated and scorned. An argument ensued. We asked him to accompany us to the signal to show him how it didn't show a right arrow at any time. (he probably thought this was a new way of going someplace to get a bribe).
I asked him to return the licence as we had not committed a crime. He refused. Voices rose. I tried to collect my licence from his hand. He held on. I too didn't let go. (I knew he wouldn't dare use his other hand. To push. I read and learn). In the meanwhile , the person with me lost his temper and started shouting at them in disgust. Loud and clear.
We asked what this business of "presuming" signals was. Was it OK if I presumed a red signal was green , and if I presumed that I could double park everywhere ?
The sight of a white haired senior citizen shouting at the cops, and a oldish lady gesturing and glaring at the cop, drew the attention of one of the senior cops walking around with a walkie talkie. He came around to check. Heard us out.
And he asked the younger cop to hand back the driver's licence to us.
And said, "Now , go " !
A fellow from another car passing by , leaned out of the window, shaking his head, to tell us we should have paid up !
We left, this having spoiled a day that had been fairly good so far. We were still angry and fuming when we reached home.
And I wonder , if some infrastructure stuff is deliberately messed up, so people like us can be caught and fined. We have signals which don't work and nothing is done. We install CCTV's all over the place , every time there is some kind of violent attack, and do not check if they are working. You go to Malls, and people in fancy uniforms do cursory checks of your purse, apologetically. They make you walk through fancy doorways and no one pays attention to beeps, or maybe it beeps wrongly. I have even asked a lady security officer if that was all she was going to check, and what about pockets and stuff. At which she just smiled. I didn't.
Just like our roads, where the contractors are hand in glove with municipal folks, all merrily making money, and who cares if people fall off two wheelers going into potholes and get run over (as happened recently on the arterial road outside). Sadly, that was a cop travelling to work, and going to leave his wife at her workplace on the way. She died.
Just read this post by Neha, about the bribe-taking merrily happening here while the big anti corruption Hazare event takes place in New Delhi.
I just hope we learn to take this seriously, and not restrict it to slogans, catchy writeups on tees, candle light marches, and singing songs , and standing in chains holding hands.
Anna Hazare and his group are doing something and highlighting stuff where no one else was doing anything. There is some discussion happening on whether his methods are right or wrong. But what must be understood is that he is the first one to vocalize and formally define it as a national curse and problem. When most of us take the easy way out. His method may be right or wrong. Once started, and followed up, the correct way of handling will automatically become clear, through dialogue and interaction. There is a lot to learn by observing the approaches, the words, the responses, of both sides in this, and the response of the common man.
It is also eminently clear, that unless each of us, avoids the quick and fast solution related to money, where solving a problem is concerned, this will remain, what can only be described as a 'scam'my life.
This comes to mind, as the newspapers are full of stuff on "corruption" stories, what with the stuff happening in the capital, shouting in Parliament, and the media going into fifth gear, in a frenzy of repetitive reporting.
I have always wondered, as an academic exercise, how a person says or indicates, that he needs a bribe. (watch this ad for Tata Tea Premium)
One hears stories of X, taking Y from some office, for a cup of tea somewhere, and offering or agreeing to a bribe; and I have always wondered how X and Y understand that this is not an honest "expression of interest in each other " but an invitation for a surreptitious transaction, where you now have an anonymous table to transact under.
There is a complicated cross roads system close to where I live. There is a badly planned traffic signal, where you sing the Lord's praises every time you make it successfully across in a vehicle. There is a police "presence", but not at the crossroads. Further down the road, one sees them exchanging papers and checking things with folks on two wheelers and truck drivers who are waved away to their side. Those crossing red signals , in the meanwhile, get away. I once asked a cop there why he didn't catch all these folks who run through a red light. This was on the arterial road outside which is always crowded. He told me that if he caught everyone who skipped a red, there would be a traffic jam till a kilometre away, and there would be a mess . So they stand beyond the signal and catch folks.
The other thing I noticed is no one is traumatised by being caught. I've been told that when the licence is asked for, the smarter types, add some stuff in the plastic licence holder jacket. In fact the licence is always kept ready like this . There is something happening like filling of forms , next to the cop's motorcycle, the licence is returned , perhaps minus the extra something, and everyone is happy.
Vehicle owners , particularly those on motorbikes, think they own the road, even overtaking the buses on the side where people are getting in and getting out of the bus. Several of my friends have been injured by this rash driving, and I once saw a motorcycle driver being stopped by a cop for that.
I was walking next to them, had seen what had happened, and so I asked the cop, why he doesn't let the air out of the guy's vehicle, to teach him a lesson. (in my childhood , the police used this to punish errant cyclists). The motorcycle guy, removed his helmet, gave me a look and said he paid his taxes; I told him I paid mine too; an argument ensued, which the cop stopped (because he had other people to catch), and I moved away, quite sure that papers would have exchanged hands.
A few days ago, on a Sunday , we were returning from the western suburbs, and were debating which road would have less traffic. We thought we would take a right turn at a major junction, and noticed , that when the light turned green, there was only a straight arrow pointing ahead. Since we interpret only what we see and not hidden meanings, we continued straight, while tons of folks were merrily taking a right turn.
What looked like a rookie cop, waved us to one side.
Two senior citizen types, who have been driving for the last 43 years, without getting a"ticket", paying taxes on time, never breaking rules , never treating driving like a sport even in their younger days, naturally got upset, when the cop knocked on the glass .
We asked him what the problem was. He asked us if we didn't see that we were in a "right turn lane". We said the signal indicated a straight path and no right turn, so we followed the signal. Then he said we should have "presumed" that we were in a turning lane ! Asked for the licence, and we innocently gave it , naturally without any accompanying stuff. He then asks us to come out and accompany him to where the motorcycle was parked. There were several other cops , some with walkie-talkies, spread around there.
What he didn't know was that he had just met an honest senior citizen, and that hell hath no fury than an honest citizen fooled, cheated and scorned. An argument ensued. We asked him to accompany us to the signal to show him how it didn't show a right arrow at any time. (he probably thought this was a new way of going someplace to get a bribe).
I asked him to return the licence as we had not committed a crime. He refused. Voices rose. I tried to collect my licence from his hand. He held on. I too didn't let go. (I knew he wouldn't dare use his other hand. To push. I read and learn). In the meanwhile , the person with me lost his temper and started shouting at them in disgust. Loud and clear.
We asked what this business of "presuming" signals was. Was it OK if I presumed a red signal was green , and if I presumed that I could double park everywhere ?
The sight of a white haired senior citizen shouting at the cops, and a oldish lady gesturing and glaring at the cop, drew the attention of one of the senior cops walking around with a walkie talkie. He came around to check. Heard us out.
And he asked the younger cop to hand back the driver's licence to us.
And said, "Now , go " !
A fellow from another car passing by , leaned out of the window, shaking his head, to tell us we should have paid up !
We left, this having spoiled a day that had been fairly good so far. We were still angry and fuming when we reached home.
And I wonder , if some infrastructure stuff is deliberately messed up, so people like us can be caught and fined. We have signals which don't work and nothing is done. We install CCTV's all over the place , every time there is some kind of violent attack, and do not check if they are working. You go to Malls, and people in fancy uniforms do cursory checks of your purse, apologetically. They make you walk through fancy doorways and no one pays attention to beeps, or maybe it beeps wrongly. I have even asked a lady security officer if that was all she was going to check, and what about pockets and stuff. At which she just smiled. I didn't.
Just like our roads, where the contractors are hand in glove with municipal folks, all merrily making money, and who cares if people fall off two wheelers going into potholes and get run over (as happened recently on the arterial road outside). Sadly, that was a cop travelling to work, and going to leave his wife at her workplace on the way. She died.
Just read this post by Neha, about the bribe-taking merrily happening here while the big anti corruption Hazare event takes place in New Delhi.
I just hope we learn to take this seriously, and not restrict it to slogans, catchy writeups on tees, candle light marches, and singing songs , and standing in chains holding hands.
Anna Hazare and his group are doing something and highlighting stuff where no one else was doing anything. There is some discussion happening on whether his methods are right or wrong. But what must be understood is that he is the first one to vocalize and formally define it as a national curse and problem. When most of us take the easy way out. His method may be right or wrong. Once started, and followed up, the correct way of handling will automatically become clear, through dialogue and interaction. There is a lot to learn by observing the approaches, the words, the responses, of both sides in this, and the response of the common man.
It is also eminently clear, that unless each of us, avoids the quick and fast solution related to money, where solving a problem is concerned, this will remain, what can only be described as a 'scam'my life.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
"S." in the time of Globalization !
I've just heard from " S." :-) ; she is just back from her maiden trip to a modern supermarket.
"S." as many readers of this blog know, is my daily household help for the last 25 years and running. Lives in a joint family with 3 sons, 1 daughter , 3 daughters-in-law, 3 grandkids, all this in 1.5 rooms. I've seen her through many stages, like, as a new arrival, back at her parents after a bad marriage with a drunk, good-for-nothing husband, her struggle to send her kids to school, acquiring loans for buying a tenement, dealing with officialdom, and avaricious donation takers at educational and other institutions, her efforts at ensuring good medical care for her daughters-in-law (when in doubt) , and most important, her urge to always ask questions and learn more, and educate herself in the School of Life.
In the area where I live, ladies often form some kind of groups of 12 , and work at some kind of whole sale grocery shopping , by being members of a consumer federation thing, that looks at demand, sources the foodstuff at the source, and passes on the benefit to the consumer in lieu of the middle man. Members of these groups take turns to total the requirement of stuff by looking at everyone's orders , receive the stuff and preside over its distribution. Many ladies in whose houses "S." worked, participated in this. However, S couldn't participate , because she wouldn't have known how to write or read the stuff. She had never been to school.
Then she heard of the Agricultural Produce Wholesale market managed by the government , an hour away from our area. Someone said the prices of grains were much cheaper, and so she tried to get a bunch of ladies from her neighborhood together, and went there. They would buy sacks of stuff at very competitive prices, and share it. Hiring a vehicle to go there would negate the price advantage, and so she and her group would go by bus, and while returning, stand about with the huge sacks on their heads, running here and there to catch buses in the crowd. By and by, the rest of the ladies fizzled out , and the scheme didn't remain economical for her after that.
Then someone told her about Big Bazaar ( like an indigenous better version of , say, Target/Walmart). They keep having advertisements in the papers, special combo deals, and so on.
She and her eldest daughter in law and one grand kid went yesterday , to one that has opened quite close to where we stay. This is a three day festival weekend in India, the daughters-in-law would have visitors from parental homes, as well as some would travel, and it was a good idea to check this place, she thought.
They walked , a kilometre down the hill, to the place. Someone had told them that a purchase above a certain amount, entitled them to a free home delivery. So her daughter-in-law brought the big cart, the grandson sat in it , legs dangling, pointing out to all kinds of stuff he had seen on television, as "S" walked alongside, her head covered with her saree palloo, something she always does , when she feels she is in a strange place.
She will probably flunk any given arithmetic written test, but she can always calculate a good deal when she sees one. She purchased a months supply of all kinds of essential staple groceries , for a very good price. She thought the difference was not too much compared to the whole sale place, now that the transport costs had hit the roof due to gas prices. The daughter-in-law also purchased stuff like biscuits, some school wear stuff, and some storage items which were advertised for an amazing price.
" Do you know, the AC was just too much. My back, and legs really started going numb. But there wasn't any place without the AC, so I was kind of happy to reach the billing place..." . She told me this 10 minutes ago, while sharing a nice cup of tea with me.
The bill did exceed some given amount so "S" asked for the home delivery service.
"Fill this form, Ma'am. You will get the delivery in the next 2-3 days" The check out guy says .
"What nonsense is this ? I buy because I want it today. I buy in this quantity because you advertise free home delivery. And now you cheat ? " an angry empowered "S.".
" Sorry Ma'am. That's the rule . " a complacent counter guy.
"Take me to your Sahib " . S. rising to her full 5 ft 1" height.
The counter guy is taken aback. This is getting serious . He never thought "S" would demand to see his boss (Sahib) and crib about this. There was some glitch in the communication within their organization, and home delivery was not going to happen yet .
"How do you think I am going to carry all this stuff home ? Say, even from here to the rickshaw outside ? And who do you think will look after the material and the little boy simultaneously on a busy road, as my daughter-in-law runs hither and thither to stop and get a rickshaw to agree to take us this short distance ? Take me to your Sahib ad I will ask. an angry "S", with a "thought-as-much-all-these-posh-shops-are-all-the-same" look.
"Else" . The counter guy looks up in anticipation.
"Come outside with us with the cart . Stop a rickshaw and help us load it up. Otherwise I talk to your sahib. " .
And so the fellow, escorted them out, spent some time getting them a rickshaw . (None come in a queue, you have to sort of dart here and there on the road, with eyes at the back of your head too, to get a rickshaw here. ). Helped the ladies in, loaded their stuff in, and passed the young child in to sit on top of the stuff, supported by his Mom.
S returned , mightily pleased with the shopping expedition . You needed to keep track of the various deals, she told me. Then this place was worth it. The next time she would go was a couple of months away. And she was sure to try and meet the Sahib then and question him about the assurance of free home delivery , before she would buy stuff.
She shook her head.
" These children ! My little grandson can name every chocolate and biscuit brand , because he sees it in TV. Even that egg shaped thing with a little game and chocolate piece inside ."
She shook her head further. Bent a bit towards me. Not that anyone else was listening. But she had something shocking to tell.
" Three egg-shaped chocolates for 90 rupees. So outrageous. But our first time here. And the kids have been wanting it ever since they saw it in television. So their mother decided to buy it. Just this once. ....."
Welcome to a globalized "S" !
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Things we always knew......
There was a time when we were so smitten by "research" publishing per se, particularly in the medical field, that we regarded it, as words from some clever oracle. With the Internet came instant announcements of findings, mailing lists, and so on, and people like me signed up.
I have now come to the conclusion that all these guys are announcing stuff that we actually knew and practiced ages ago.
Take Gold . That, used in trace amount scientifically, it has curative properties was well known in the Indian Medicine Systems. The paper today suddenly highlights its use vis-a-vis cancer, as discovered by folks at Griffith University and University of Western Australia.
Then there is this amazing announcement that says, that walking around the hospital reduces hospital stays for the elderly, ( Archives of Internal Medicine. Drs Shadmi and Zisberg of the University of Haifa, Israel)
I've known about the first for years, and my late father was an avid practitioner of the second.
When my son was born, all the native traditions kind of kicked in , where his well being was concerned. Daily pre-bath massages with special oil, with attention to the fontanel area, massaged just so. A post bath nap in a room earlier subject to cleansing fumes from some vegetable seeds thrown on burning embers, warm water with honey, fed silver spoon by silver spoon.
But what was interesting was the water. Tradition and old native medicinal systems recommended that water with traces of certain plants and gold was beneficial. And so the water , that was boiled and cooled for drinking, enjoyed boiling with a small pliable ring of gold along with some colic reducing seeds , all this for say 15-20 minutes. It was important that the gold was pure, and the pliability ensured that. Making gold ornaments involved adding other metals to toughen and firm up the final product, and that reduced purity. And various social traditions ensured, that you always had a gram of pure gold stores away somewhere in a box in your cupboard. Of course age, increased activity, and a working mother ensured that by and by gold faded away from the scene, but the memories remain.
This business about walking to reduce hospital stays , actually happened by instinct.
Well into his eighties, my father had one parameter that decided how healthy he was. He had these daily walks, which were also incorporated into social visits when he had to take a rickshaw to go somewhere; he stopped the rickshaw, say, a kilometre away and walked from there. You can say walking was an obsession. It gave him a feeling of strength.
By and by , age started catching up, and he was scheduled for some Prostatic(BPH) surgery. He was asked to check in the previous evening, now that his pain and discomfort had subsided .
We went in the next morning, early enough, to find his bed empty, his stuff lying around, and he soon returned shaking his head disapprovingly. He had gone for a stroll around the entire wing, managed to see some newspapers which he brought back with him. Since this was a major surgery, we were worried about how he was doing, and he confounded all of us by commenting on how disgusted he was now with some political party he had supported earlier , because he read in the newspapers, that they had issued extra licences for beer bars in the city . He was still shaking his head in anger when the nurse landed up for the pre-op stuff.
24 hours after the surgery , he had 4-5 different tubes coming out of /going into his body, and was getting restless. A day later , only a urine catheter remained attached, and he was encouraged to sit up, stand , and had proper meals and stuff. I spent most of my days and nights at the hospital, because he was hard of hearing, people didn't realize that, and he used that to his advantage to do pretty much what he wished. I would interact with the doctors and nurses and other staff and listen to their instructions. The doctor visited twice a day and was quite happy with the progress.
The third day dawned, and I could see him getting restless. He declared he was just fine, and wanted to move around. Not just in the room, but outside too. I could see that he was doing OK, but the catheter bag would be a problem. He couldn't have cared less.
The bag was then attached to something on the side of the bed. He stood up, we removed the urine bag from the bed attachment, and I put it in a beautiful embroidered shoulder bag that I was using for some of my stuff. He put his hand on my shoulder for some support (just in case, you know :-)...), and the two of us set out into the corridor, a six foot father in hospital clothes, with a tube emanating from the side, leading to a beautiful bag on his daughter's shoulder.
We walked down the corridor, took a turn past the general wards, where my father smiled and waved at the people, and the people gave me confused looks. We soon reached a staircase. I insisted he take it one step at a time. Something made him listen, and a bit slowly, but confidently, he held my shoulder and elbow and managed that.
We were finally out on the ground floor, having descended two floors. We wandered by the entrance, the statues in the garden honoring the founder of the place, and the lobby people simply stared at us in awe when we sauntered in. I thought we had done enough, and cajoled my father into taking the elevator back up. He agreed. We slowly trudged back to his room, beautiful bag, urine bag and all, the tube linking us both.
We ran into his doctor who had come by only to see the patient had disappeared.
People in their eighties can get away with lots of things. The doctor checked him, declared he was doing fine, actually applauded the walk, patted him on the shoulder. He called me outside and told me to anticipate going home in a couple of days.
The whole idea of the catheter and urine bag seemed to be that you needed to ensure that the urine was normal in color,quantity and constituents (earlier it was reddish), before you could remove the stuff. My father seemed to think, that all this activity would actually sort of shake up things inside, and clear the stuff. Much like shaking your head to remove water drops after coming in from some rain.
Maybe its true, maybe it is a simplistic assumption. But we were a popular sight for the next two days, as we took our walks with my artistic bag. Now even the nurses in wards waved to us, the other doctors and juniors smiled, and the folks in the lobby started to ignore us.
Soon it was time to go home. The bag was removed. The feeling of being unshackled was exhilarating .
The urine bag went to the incinerator. My embroidered bag went to the cleaners.
We went home. My father had just proved, so many years ago , what the fellows at the University in Haifa have now published.
I told you .
I have now come to the conclusion that all these guys are announcing stuff that we actually knew and practiced ages ago.
Take Gold . That, used in trace amount scientifically, it has curative properties was well known in the Indian Medicine Systems. The paper today suddenly highlights its use vis-a-vis cancer, as discovered by folks at Griffith University and University of Western Australia.
Then there is this amazing announcement that says, that walking around the hospital reduces hospital stays for the elderly, ( Archives of Internal Medicine. Drs Shadmi and Zisberg of the University of Haifa, Israel)
I've known about the first for years, and my late father was an avid practitioner of the second.
When my son was born, all the native traditions kind of kicked in , where his well being was concerned. Daily pre-bath massages with special oil, with attention to the fontanel area, massaged just so. A post bath nap in a room earlier subject to cleansing fumes from some vegetable seeds thrown on burning embers, warm water with honey, fed silver spoon by silver spoon.
But what was interesting was the water. Tradition and old native medicinal systems recommended that water with traces of certain plants and gold was beneficial. And so the water , that was boiled and cooled for drinking, enjoyed boiling with a small pliable ring of gold along with some colic reducing seeds , all this for say 15-20 minutes. It was important that the gold was pure, and the pliability ensured that. Making gold ornaments involved adding other metals to toughen and firm up the final product, and that reduced purity. And various social traditions ensured, that you always had a gram of pure gold stores away somewhere in a box in your cupboard. Of course age, increased activity, and a working mother ensured that by and by gold faded away from the scene, but the memories remain.
This business about walking to reduce hospital stays , actually happened by instinct.
Well into his eighties, my father had one parameter that decided how healthy he was. He had these daily walks, which were also incorporated into social visits when he had to take a rickshaw to go somewhere; he stopped the rickshaw, say, a kilometre away and walked from there. You can say walking was an obsession. It gave him a feeling of strength.
By and by , age started catching up, and he was scheduled for some Prostatic(BPH) surgery. He was asked to check in the previous evening, now that his pain and discomfort had subsided .
We went in the next morning, early enough, to find his bed empty, his stuff lying around, and he soon returned shaking his head disapprovingly. He had gone for a stroll around the entire wing, managed to see some newspapers which he brought back with him. Since this was a major surgery, we were worried about how he was doing, and he confounded all of us by commenting on how disgusted he was now with some political party he had supported earlier , because he read in the newspapers, that they had issued extra licences for beer bars in the city . He was still shaking his head in anger when the nurse landed up for the pre-op stuff.
24 hours after the surgery , he had 4-5 different tubes coming out of /going into his body, and was getting restless. A day later , only a urine catheter remained attached, and he was encouraged to sit up, stand , and had proper meals and stuff. I spent most of my days and nights at the hospital, because he was hard of hearing, people didn't realize that, and he used that to his advantage to do pretty much what he wished. I would interact with the doctors and nurses and other staff and listen to their instructions. The doctor visited twice a day and was quite happy with the progress.
The third day dawned, and I could see him getting restless. He declared he was just fine, and wanted to move around. Not just in the room, but outside too. I could see that he was doing OK, but the catheter bag would be a problem. He couldn't have cared less.
The bag was then attached to something on the side of the bed. He stood up, we removed the urine bag from the bed attachment, and I put it in a beautiful embroidered shoulder bag that I was using for some of my stuff. He put his hand on my shoulder for some support (just in case, you know :-)...), and the two of us set out into the corridor, a six foot father in hospital clothes, with a tube emanating from the side, leading to a beautiful bag on his daughter's shoulder.
We walked down the corridor, took a turn past the general wards, where my father smiled and waved at the people, and the people gave me confused looks. We soon reached a staircase. I insisted he take it one step at a time. Something made him listen, and a bit slowly, but confidently, he held my shoulder and elbow and managed that.
We were finally out on the ground floor, having descended two floors. We wandered by the entrance, the statues in the garden honoring the founder of the place, and the lobby people simply stared at us in awe when we sauntered in. I thought we had done enough, and cajoled my father into taking the elevator back up. He agreed. We slowly trudged back to his room, beautiful bag, urine bag and all, the tube linking us both.
We ran into his doctor who had come by only to see the patient had disappeared.
People in their eighties can get away with lots of things. The doctor checked him, declared he was doing fine, actually applauded the walk, patted him on the shoulder. He called me outside and told me to anticipate going home in a couple of days.
The whole idea of the catheter and urine bag seemed to be that you needed to ensure that the urine was normal in color,quantity and constituents (earlier it was reddish), before you could remove the stuff. My father seemed to think, that all this activity would actually sort of shake up things inside, and clear the stuff. Much like shaking your head to remove water drops after coming in from some rain.
Maybe its true, maybe it is a simplistic assumption. But we were a popular sight for the next two days, as we took our walks with my artistic bag. Now even the nurses in wards waved to us, the other doctors and juniors smiled, and the folks in the lobby started to ignore us.
Soon it was time to go home. The bag was removed. The feeling of being unshackled was exhilarating .
The urine bag went to the incinerator. My embroidered bag went to the cleaners.
We went home. My father had just proved, so many years ago , what the fellows at the University in Haifa have now published.
I told you .
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