Musings of a Medical Teacher in the Modern Era

For Kiddu, for reminding me why I need to teach.

After nearly two years on my path as a lecturer in a medical college, I sense it’s the moment to pause and ponder. Have the past two years been fulfilling? Undoubtedly. Will the future hold the same? I’m a tad bit skeptical. Comparing my current position as a lecturer in a medical college to my previous roles at a research institute and an NGO, it’s the least lucrative financially. Yet, even if I’m not directly involved, the sense of fulfillment derived from witnessing someone’s growth in the medical field keeps me motivated. If we examine the principles of Ikigai, the Japanese concept of ‘Reason to live,’ I find myself squarely in the intersecting realm of ‘What you love’ and ‘What you are good at,’ leaning strongly towards Passion. However, there’s a downside to this approach. Ikigai focuses solely on the individual’s fulfillment without considering how society perceives one’s pursuit of passion. While purists may urge boldness and single-minded dedication, the reality, especially in teaching, is quite different. Navigating today’s students’ intricacies and inner thoughts is a constant battle. I’m still grappling with what truly motivates them. Sometimes, engaging in conversations about academics or life feels like drifting without direction, leaving me feeling more lost than the students themselves. Moreover, at times I encounter a group of students who seem to lack strong opinions, adding another challenging layer. It’s like being in a maze of complexity when people withhold their thoughts and feelings.

Then what keeps me going? To understand what is my role as a teacher I remind myself of Kahlil Gibrans famous verses on teaching

No man can reveal to you aught but that
which already lies half asleep in the dawn-
ing of your knowledge.
    The teacher who walks in the shadow of
the temple, among his followers, gives not
of his wisdom but rather of his faith and
his lovingness.
    If he is indeed wise he does not bid you
enter the house of his wisdom, but rather
leads you to the threshold of your own
mind.
- Kahlil Gibran

This is what maintains my sanity during teaching sessions. My understanding stems from interactions with people and extensive reading. Now, my responsibility lies in conveying this knowledge rather than internalizing it. My sole focus is on passing the beacon of enlightenment. I understand that not everyone will resonate with my perspective; rather their outlook on life will largely be shaped by their family and social circles. In this journey, I walk alongside them, carrying the torch yet never positioning myself ahead of them.

Teaching, particularly at the undergraduate level, has its drawbacks. The repetition of topics can feel mundane, prompting questions about the purpose of such endeavors. However, each student represents a unique individual, a fresh opportunity to impart knowledge and inspire growth. Personally, I struggle with remembering names, especially with a batch of 150 students. Yet, I can boast of possessing a talent for recalling their achievements and aspirations, which enriches my teaching experience.

Reflecting on my journey, I realize that the essence of effective teaching lies not solely in the subject matter but in the way it is conveyed. While I may not boast exceptional academic prowess, I take pride in cherishing the intricacies of my students’ lives. Whether it’s acknowledging Ms. X’s beloved dog, Shero, or recognizing Mr. Y’s visit to Pondicherry, these details matter. Ms. A’s prowess in the long jump, Ms. B’s fondness for cheesecakes, and Mr. Z’s remarkable artistic talent—all contribute to the tapestry of human connection within the classroom.

Some may perceive these anecdotes as mere distractions, but I disagree. They are reminders to our shared humanity, changing the landscape of the educational environment and disrupting monotony. Ultimately, it’s these personal connections and emotions which breathe life into our teaching endeavors, fostering a sense of belonging and rapport among us all.

I also had a short stint teaching online. During this time, I struggled with a fundamental issue: the inability to gauge my students’ reactions. How does one engage with a screen for long periods, completely unaware of the expressions on their students’ faces? I yearn for and thrive on those telltale signs – the expressions of awe, delight, and laughter. These cues fuel my passion and drive, empowering me to deliver my best in the present moment.

I must also acknowledge the profound moments when a student becomes a teacher. Such instances have been gratifying beyond measure. Last year, one of our students made a remarkable painting during a camp that we conducted in rural parts of Bangalore.

What made it even more special was when our department chose it as the cover page for our planner. As a result, I started each day with this painting, and its impact was beyond words. It served as a poignant reminder of my purpose.

The power of imagery to convey profound messages comes to light with this canvas. It captures the essence of a trait that I truly believe in; the importance of listening. As depicted, the student leans attentively toward the elderly woman, patiently waiting to know what matters most to her. Thank you Aditi for this remarkable piece of art, which continues to inspire and resonate with all of us. Indeed, I often utilize this unique painting to introduce the field of Humanities and its significance within the medical stream.

So, what ultimately motivates me? This profession is marked by joy and sorrow, but I believe such experiences are universal, regardless of one’s profession. Then, what sets this profession apart? The torch of wisdom is undeniably fierce. Passing it on can be a heavy responsibility for the teacher, but it yields a lasting impact when embraced correctly. Recently, I came across the book “Tuesdays with Morrie,” and I wholeheartedly recommend it to anyone in the teaching profession. There’s a quote from the book that particularly resonates with me, shedding light on the essence of why we do what we do.

“A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influence stops”

– Henry Adams

Lost in Translation – A Bittersweet Blend of Sweetness and Sardonic Humor

Ah, as this marks my inaugural delve into writing about cinema, I’ve opted for the cautious route. Choosing to analyze such a profoundly lauded film is simple, as it encompasses myriad themes—midlife crises, desolation, and more. However, rather than adopt the conventional tone of a film critic, I prefer to delve into the experiential journey of watching the movie.

My first encounter with Lost in Translation occurred during my undergraduate days, when the influence of social media was minimal, and life unfolded leisurely. I found myself captivated by the themes it explored. Back then, my personal lens colored my perceptions. Rather than seeing myself in Bob Harris, the waning movie star, I was preoccupied with navigating my journey of belonging. For instance, when he recalls the birth of his child as an extremely daunting experience, I couldn’t relate to him.

On the other hand, I could connect more with Charlotte’s character, a woman in her early twenties, newlywed, grappling with life’s complexities. The movie’s tagline, ‘Everyone wants to be found’ mirrored my sentiments at that age. I yearned for recognition, yet I felt invisible. Despite my deep love for books and movies, melancholy lingered throughout my teenage years just like the central characters. Reflecting now, I ponder whether Charlotte and Bob would ever cross paths in today’s world. Perhaps she would have become lost in the whirlwind of social media, gradually fading into obscurity. She belonged to an era where social connection was more prevalent and yet she couldn’t contemplate it.

Over time, memories of this masterpiece faded away from my mind. But then, fate intervenes as I come across an Instagram reel featuring Lost in Translation. There, I stumbled upon the unforgettable karaoke scene where Charlotte, belts out, “I’m special, so special, I gotta have some of your attention, give it to me,” exuding her quirky charm with a pink hairdo.
It’s remarkable how a college graduate, having completed all her studies, yearns for this specific kind of attention, a type that cannot be found elsewhere.

Revisiting this classic, I found myself drawn closer to Bob this time. His portrayal as a middle-aged man with the quintessential family setup, grappling with a disconnection from his wife made me rethink. Despite feeling entitled to his children’s support, they failed to reciprocate. It’s a poignant reminder that in our digitally connected world, the profound human touch often eludes us amidst the flurry of phone calls and messages, highlighting the paradox of isolation in an age of constant communication.

Where do I find myself after all these years? After dedicating countless hours to reading books and striving to make sense of my desires in my youth, I realize that I don’t long for attention now. Instead, a feeling of not belonging slowly seeps into my mind whenever I contemplate my place in this world. Reading Sartres’ Nausea has been a relief. At a major point in the novel, Sartre writes ‘I hadn’t any right to exist. I had appeared by chance, I existed like a stone, a plant, a microbe. My life grew in a haphazard way and in all directions.’ I find it amusing that even when I type out quotes directly from the book, autocorrect tries to intervene. It’s a reflection of our daily reality, I suppose. We often overlook the fact that while order isn’t a necessity in our lives, purpose certainly is. I require a platform for expression, but that doesn’t imply I should be under external control, not even from AI. And nowadays that expression is waning due to the pressure of external norms.

In every movie, there’s a pivotal moment—a revelation of truth. I see it as indispensable; without it, the movie would cease to exist. For me, it’s when Charlotte witnesses a traditional Japanese marriage procession. As she watches the couple holding hands, it encapsulates her deepest desires. Throughout the film, her sense of being lost and disconnected in a foreign land is palpable, but what exacerbates it further is her disconnect with her newlywed husband. She yearns for the simple affection she witnesses in that newly married couple—a longing shared by us all, isn’t it?

Garam Masala – In the Quest for the Spice Queen

Certain joys in life can remain unmatched. Ages ago, meeting the Queen (I imagined Mario to wed her, hence the deviation from ‘princess’) at the end of a Super Mario game was the ultimate thrill. A few years later, it was the chessboard that brought me joy. The moment my pawns yielded to the mighty forces, I rejoiced at the fiery attacks unleashed by my black queen on the board. However, my understanding of a queen took a hit after reading Hilary Mantel’s ‘Wolf Hall’. Little did I know that I would encounter a greater challenge – someone much closer to home, right in my own culinary kitchen, searching for the perfect Garam Masala – the Queen of the Indian cuisine. If her mood isn’t right, she can be fierce, tormenting your taste buds. But if handled correctly, she can be sweet. She holds the power to work magic, yet if she fails, all fail. In my never-ending quest for my beloved, I penned a poem dedicated to her.

Are you going to KR Market Fair?
Cinnamon, clove, bay leaf, and cumin,
Recall the secret once shared,
If not, seek out someone who holds it dear.

Urge her to calm her restless spirit,
(I yearn for your presence by my side).
A pinch of ginger can transform everything,
(Infusing biryani with fiery zest).
How can I reach you?
(Come back and let me reign).
All you do is mix and grind,
(Yet your mood remains elusive).

Will you be at the KR Market Fair?
Cinnamon, clove, bay leaf, and cumin,
Reflect on your granny who confided the secret,
Once shared, never to be revealed again...

The reason behind selecting Scarborough Fair as a parody is not to be irreverent, but rather to draw a reference illustrating that crafting the perfect Garam masala is seemingly more daunting than the tasks outlined in the song. If you’re willing, I implore you, if you possess the knowledge, please share the secret to this nearly insurmountable feat. I’ll be forever grateful to you, even until the end of time. Feel free to offer suggestions in the comments below.

P.S. – This poem was penned in the aftermath of the frustration of once again failing to achieve the perfect Biryani, with my queen bearing the brunt of the blame.

As you can see the colour and texture of the Biryani played it’s part but yet without the perfect queen it was a disaster in flavour town

Tuberculosis beyond the numbers

It was truly heartening to see yesterday’s The Hindu newspaper feature an article authored by Dr. Sowmya Swaminthan, former WHO Chief Scientist, and Mr. Chapal Mehra, Convener of Survivors Against TB. The article, titled ‘TB Control in India calls for person-centered solutions’ adeptly addresses the underlying factors contributing to TB. While my expertise in TB is limited, my journey has been enriched by patient interactions, which have significantly contributed to my understanding of this complex disease. I believe sharing these experiences is crucial, echoing the sentiment expressed in the article.

As India grapples with the complexities of controlling TB we need a paradigm shift urgently – one that places those affected and their lived experiences at the centre of tackling this ancient disease.

– The Hindu Editorial (March 25,2024)

On a global scale, in 2022, Tuberculosis claimed the lives of an estimated 1.3 million individuals, predominantly in low- and middle-income countries (LMICs). Simultaneously, approximately 10.6 million people worldwide were diagnosed with TB during the same period. To put this into perspective, the total number of TB cases is comparable to the entire population of Portugal. However, does tuberculosis boil down solely to numerical statistics?

As mentioned earlier, besides the inherent complexity of the disease itself, the societal context surrounding tuberculosis introduces additional layers of intricacy. I would like to share three incidents from my postgraduate days to further shed light on this aspect.

The Significance of Empathy in Communicating a Tuberculosis Diagnosis

During my second year of postgraduation, I encountered a timid teenage girl accompanied by her mother in the outpatient department. While her symptoms initially suggested a typical upper respiratory tract infection (URI), her physical appearance raised concerns. Upon further inquiry, the mother mentioned an episode of fever that had subsided with antipyretics, followed by loss of appetite. During a routine general examination, I noticed a solitary, firm node around her cervical collar, indicating a possibility of infection or something even worse such as Malignancy or Tuberculosis.

After consulting with my senior, we proceeded with a lymph node biopsy. A few days later, the biopsy results confirmed caseous necrosis, a characteristic feature of TB. I was elated at my early diagnosis, considering its significance for effective treatment. However, my joy turned to shock when, upon delivering the news to the mother with a smile, she began to sob. It dawned on me that my approach had been insensitive, overshadowing the gravity of the situation with my own pride.

I realized that for the mother, the diagnosis of TB brought forth concerns beyond mere medical treatment. It encompassed the challenges her child would encounter in school, during playtime, etc. The stigma associated with TB made it more than just a medical diagnosis—it affected every aspect of the child’s life. My arrogance had blinded me to these critical considerations, highlighting the importance of sensitivity in conveying such diagnoses.

Will you take care of my goats?

Towards the end of my postgraduation, an incident left a deep impression on me. There was a farmer who stubbornly refused to adhere to his tuberculosis (TB) treatment regimen. Despite completing one month of medication each time, he would abruptly stop, earning him the label of a TB treatment defaulter in the eyes of public health specialists. Such patients are deemed a significant concern as they can contribute to the development of Multi-drug resistant TB, a nightmare scenario for public health experts.

Feeling a sense of personal responsibility, I resolved to confront this challenge with all my professional expertise, adopting a somewhat paternalistic approach. With a serious demeanor, I entered his home and insisted on inspecting his medication. Despite his coughing, which showed a lack of consideration for cough etiquette, he extended his hand in greeting. Choosing to prioritize hand hygiene, I politely declined the handshake and greeted him with a respectful “Vanakkam”. Without wasting much time I opened my conversation. I told him that it is a crime to stop medications and he was even putting his near ones at risk of developing Tuberculosis after which he replied,

“Will you take care of my goats?”

This experience struck a chord with me. Up until now, I had firmly held the belief that Tuberculosis posed a significant threat, primarily due to non-compliance with medication. However, I found myself confronted with a different reality. Each dose of the medication took a toll on the patient, rendering him too fatigued to work in the fields or care for his goats. Consequently, despite diligently taking the drugs, he suffered a loss of income. What became apparent was that his immediate concern lay not in completing his treatment but in maintaining his livelihood. It forced me to reconsider my perspective through this new lens.

A funeral that foiled our efforts

Situated in Vellore, Tamil Nadu, India, the Jawadhi Hills is a hill station nestled within the Eastern Ghats. During my postgraduation, our healthcare services reached out to this remote hamlet, where residents had limited access to primary healthcare. Every week, we used to receive statistical updates from a group of villages, gathered by our healthcare workers. One of these villages reported a surge in tuberculosis cases, prompting us to take action. As part of our intensified case-finding efforts, we decided to test individuals exhibiting TB symptoms. We had to take a nearly three-hour uphill journey to reach the village, only to find it deserted upon arrival. When we arrived at the house of a known TB patient, we found it was locked. Fortunately, a neighboring resident informed us that a death had occurred in a neighbouring village, and almost everyone had left for the same. Despite this setback, we inquired whether she experienced any symptoms of TB. She admitted to experiencing a prolonged cough to our relief and her dismay. However, when we attempted to collect sputum for testing, a very minimal amount was produced, hindering our ability to conduct the CBNAAT test, which is a rapid molecular test for TB diagnosis. Disappointingly, no other cases were found. Reflecting on our approach, I now wonder if establishing communication with village leaders beforehand would have been more productive so that we could have got more people for testing.

As seen above, there are numerous challenges that need to be addressed before we can attain Tuberculosis elimination. Presently, our country is grappling with a shortage of TB drugs due to programmatic issues. It is concerning to observe situations where doctors are forced to prescribe pediatric anti-TB medications for adults in specific regions. Failing to promptly resolve such incidents puts patients who are drug-sensitive at risk of developing drug resistance.

The fundamental aspects of tuberculosis elimination revolve around stigma, community involvement, drug availability, managing adverse effects, and ensuring adequate nutrition. These elements serve as the foundation for addressing tuberculosis effectively. While the government has implemented measures, the critical question is whether these initiatives remain confined to paper or are actively practiced. For example, initiatives like TB Mukth Panchayath aim to promote community engagement, DOTS 99 ensures drug compliance, and Nikshay Poshan Yojana addresses the nutritional requirements of a TB patient. While these policies appear commendable, the true measure of success lies in placing individuals suffering from tuberculosis at the forefront of policy formulation and implementation. Therefore, the essential inquiry to pose is: How are you addressing the needs of those affected by tuberculosis at the grass-root level?

Ramadhan, the sacred month, has arrived!

“Why must you fast this year? You’re fully aware of your cancer,” my mother exclaimed, her anxiety exacerbated by my father’s decision to fast in his final years. To me, it was routine that my father observed fasting during the sacred month of Ramadhan, despite being a devoted Hindu who ensured our family visited the Lord Shiva temple every Saturday. Our ritual involved lighting a lamp beneath a sacred peepal tree and circumambulating it, the purpose of which remained a mystery. However, we carried out these practices naturally, without hesitation. During my childhood, I once asked him why he did fasting each year despite not being a Muslim. In his serene demeanor, he would calmly respond that it was his modest contribution to a nation that facilitated his prosperity. I believe it was also his way of demonstrating to his children that spirituality transcends boundaries, whether within a temple, mosque, or church.

Growing up in Oman, located in the Arabian Peninsula, opened my eyes to the challenges faced by minority groups in predominantly Muslim societies. The tolerance exhibited by the majority played a crucial role in determining the well-being of the minority. Although there were some restrictions, they were comparatively lenient in contrast to other Gulf nations. It was evident that the authorities aimed for the Indian communities to flourish, recognizing their potential as a workforce for the country’s development. Certain things were peculiar to Oman, making it unique compared to other Gulf countries. One notable aspect is its significant Hindu population, comprising nearly 5.5% of the total population. This presence is rooted in Muscat’s historical attraction for Hindu merchants, engaged in diverse trades such as pearls and grains, dating back centuries. The geographical location of Oman on the peninsula likely played a significant role in their migration from India. The introduction of Hinduism to Oman can be traced to 1507 when Kutchi-speaking Hindus from the Kutch region in India settled in Muscat, the country’s capital.

A map delineating Oman, showcasing its capital, Muscat, along with its national borders, showing that a major portion of its terrain is uninhabitable, dominated by expansive deserts.

How did this diverse population benefit me during childhood? There were two occasions each year when my father would bring sweets home from his colleagues: Eid and Diwali. This ensured that my childhood cravings were fulfilled, fostering a sense of religious harmony even as it indulged my sweet tooth. Other experiences also shaped my understanding of religion, mostly thanks to my father. One memory stands out: encountering an elderly man who greeted us at the entrance of the Shiva temple. He stood guard at the temple and always greeted us with his customary ‘As-salamu alaykum’ to which we joyfully responded. Each time we visited, my father encouraged me to offer some money to the man. I often questioned why my father didn’t directly give him, but I realized this was his way of reinforcing in me the idea that we are all connected and should support each other.

Once again, Ramadan has arrived, and this time I find myself in India. The pervasive religious tensions within the country frustrate me to no end. I yearn to witness my homeland as a place where people of all faiths, castes, and creeds can coexist peacefully. As a Malayali, I’ve been fortunate to experience a predominantly secular environment thus far. Whether it’s a bus, auto-rickshaw, or any other form of public transportation, it has been customary to witness scenes akin to the one depicted below throughout the state.

What impact does this have on a 10-year-old boarding the bus? Much like the image portrays, it emphasizes that one is to embrace each other.

At this moment, I’d like to reference Carl Sagan’s poignant reflection from his celebrated work “Pale Blue Dot,” where he eloquently portrays Earth as a Pale Blue Dot and states: “But for us, the dot is different. Consider again that dot.The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “superstar,” every “supreme leader,” every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there – on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

Today, my longing isn’t for the sweets that I received during the Holy month, but rather to witness my fellow human beings living in harmony. I realize it may seem like a childish dream, but isn’t that the essence of life in the end? To seek paradise in the world we inhabit.

رمضان كريم

What Matters Most!

“It’s been 10 years but it still feels like yesterday.” The other day, while I was conversing with my brother, we found ourselves reflecting on our father’s passing. Recalling the time when we were adrift in a sea of despair, our worlds turned topsy-turvy in the blink of an eye, we couldn’t help but acknowledge how far we had come. Time, a relentless force, had undoubtedly played its part in easing our pain, yet it was our resilience, our steadfast refusal to yield to the overwhelming adversity, that I consider our most commendable feat. However, I wish to recount here the sequence of events that inflicted the deepest wounds upon us during the tumultuous early years of our arduous journey.

A year preceding my father’s passing, he received the agonizing diagnosis of cancer. This particular malignancy targeted his platelets, crucial for clotting in the event of injury. It was a cruel twist of fate that led to his suspicion. One evening, as he returned from his jog, a sudden, agonizing pain gripped his toe. Initially dismissed as a trivial injury, we hoped it would subside on its own. However, as the pain persisted, a routine blood test revealed extremely elevated platelet levels, shattering our illusions of normalcy. Moreover, a mutation known as JAK2 mutation turned out positive which was commonly associated with Myeloproliferative Neoplasms such as Polycythemia Vera, Essential Thrombocythemia, and Myelofibrosis, further complicating matters. However, amidst the overwhelming medical jargon, as a medical student at the time, my primary concern was grasping the severity of the condition and understanding the prospects of survival. Despite consulting numerous doctors, clarity remained elusive. Some communicated in abstract terms, others merely stated that time alone would reveal the outcome, while the devout among them cloaked their responses in religious rhetoric. Yet, none provided the solace or guidance we so desperately sought. What we yearned for most were words imbued with tranquility, empathy, and solace. We simply wanted a certain acknowledgment of our plight. Yet, patience seemed a scarce virtue among those we encountered. What cut deepest were the pitying glances from the doctors, their expressions a dagger to our hearts. We didn’t seek their sympathy; all we desired was their unwavering support. If my father was to confront cancer, then let him face it with dignity and serenity. That, at least, was my fervent wish. Furthermore, we found ourselves bereft of opportunities to make informed decisions about his disease. The prevailing approach seemed paternalistic, with many clinicians prescribing treatments based solely on their assumptions. For instance, despite the necessity for my father to undergo multiple bone marrow biopsies, not a single doctor possessed the capacity to elucidate the procedure to him beyond reciting procedural instructions and potential side effects, all while seeking his compliance without genuinely understanding him or his family members. Would it have changed the course of his death? Maybe not. But we would have been more at peace if not for the partially apathetic nature of the medical fraternity.

I do not attribute blame to everyone, as some extended genuine kindness to us, particularly during my father’s passing. Among them were doctors who were our own family and friends, whose support we gratefully embraced, alongside strangers whose empathy transcended the boundaries of familiarity. What set them apart was their ability to comprehend our inner turmoil and simply listen. Their willingness to lend an ear made an immeasurable difference. After almost a decade immersed in the medical field, I find dismayingly minimal progress in the approach adopted by the majority of doctors when it comes to delivering difficult news. Hence, I am compelled to delve into the intricacies, highlighting the foremost shortcomings and merits that have persisted over time.

Exercise vigilance and sensitivity when addressing the deceased or the afflicted individual

To a doctor, it may seem like just another person lying in a hospital bed, but to the family members, it’s a beloved individual who provided both sustenance and affection. In an instant, these two fundamental pillars of their lives are mercilessly snatched away. The moment a doctor broaches the subject of death, they come under intense scrutiny. I can still vividly recall the expression on the face of the doctor who broached the topic of my father’s demise, as clear as if it were a distinct picture etched in my memory. The most heart-wrenching moment was hearing my father referred to as a “body,” whether by family or friends. Just moments ago, he had a name. Why couldn’t they address him as such? He remains vivid in our memories even to this day.

Be patient with bystanders. It only takes a moment.

Reaching the crossroads of breaking bad news often brings uncertainty. The most valuable course of action is to stand alongside those affected, offering a listening ear. If speaking proves fruitless or fails to provide comfort, it’s best to remain silent. Sometimes, words simply cannot convey solace. I recall a poignant moment when a doctor summoned his junior to attend to another case, allowing him to dedicate additional time to us. These may appear trivial to most, but they serve as poignant reminders of his compassion.

Step into their shoes. This can provide valuable perspective.

This is definitly a skill you learn over time and can be influenced by multiple factors including your upbringing, readings, influences. Being in their shoes is difficult if you belong to a different social strata. In such situations, it’s crucial not to rely on imagination alone. Instead, it’s better to inquire and gain insight into their family dynamics. This approach helps break down barriers and prevents false assumptions. For example, in a hospital setting, the person who appears the least emotionally attached may actually be the closest, as they’re able to maintain composure during a crisis. I vividly recall informing one of my father’s colleagues about his passing. He was visibly stunned and unable to react, prompting the doctor to relay further information to distant relatives with whom we were not comfortable. Unfortunately, this led to significant miscommunication between the doctor and our family.

Hospitals need to be homes

It may sound irrational, but when I learned that my father had been hospitalized, the first thing I did was urge my brother to order a sandwich. In the midst of the chaos, I felt a sudden urge to indulge, thinking that once my father passed away, I wouldn’t have the appetite to eat. It was a frantic, almost surreal moment where I felt disconnected from my body, and logic seemed to elude me. Looking back, it seems absurd—I even tossed away my sandwich, momentarily forgetting that I was in a hospital, not at home. Yet, strangely, the hospital cafeteria provided a sense of comfort and familiarity. Had it felt otherwise, I doubt I would have been able to express myself in quite the same manner.

Upon receiving the news of my father’s passing, my initial reaction was to take a stroll in the hospital premises. Standing beneath the sky, I screamed at the top of my lungs. Why? Because at that moment, all I could hear echoing in my mind was the regret of never having the chance to tell him one last time that I loved him. In fact, I couldn’t even recall the last time I uttered those words to him. The hospital garden became my sanctuary, offering a place of solace where I could sit in quiet contemplation. As I observed each passerby, I found myself immersed in memories of the love and affection my father had bestowed upon me.

Your Loving Son

A moment in life when my father thrived in health and vitality.

The Youth Predicament: Navigating Ageism During Adolescence

Ageism is a commonly neglected phenomenon among the ‘-isms’ that afflict
society. It refers to the stereotypes, prejudice, and discrimination against
ourselves or other people based on age. Ageism is one of the most
prevalent forms of prejudice experienced by adolescents with inadvertent
consequences both to their physical and mental states. When one calls it
out, the knee-jerk reaction to it is mostly – “Those are the rules. Kindly
follow…”. There is never an appreciation of the adolescent’s feelings or
capacities; finally, they are obliged to conform to the custom (according to
the so-called ‘adults’). These constant condescending remarks put
unnecessary pressure on the growing intellectual mind, particularly during
the adolescent stage.

In India, Ageism manifests at an early stage. The Annual Status of Education
Report 2021, portrays a grim picture. Our age-old norm with a focus on age
rather than on ability forces a nine-year-old with the intellectual capacity
of a six-year-old pressurized to follow an age-appropriate curriculum. This
has dire outcomes in the form of school drop-outs, notably during the
adolescent stage where age and class have a direct mismatch with the
learning levels of the student.

The UN report on Ageism released in 2021, warrants the need for urgent
action towards an unbiased society. It conveys a message that the younger
generation is discriminated against at the workplace for being supposedly
‘narcissistic’, ‘lazy’ or ‘easily distracted’, the study whose prevalence was
based on a survey of over 83,000 individuals in 57 countries between 2010
and 2014. A similar scenario can be seen among those aged 15-24 years in
the European Social Survey (2008-2009) who reported experiencing the
most unfair treatment due to age than discrimination based on gender,
race, or ethnic background.

Very little is known about the scale, determinants, and impact of ageism on
younger people especially in the Indian subcontinent. Future priorities for
improving our understanding of ageism, especially among adolescents
should be implemented by monitoring it in institutions so that actions can be
taken in the right direction.

Gadibadi at Udupi

Entering a temple city is a whole other experience. You half expect the entire place to be saffronized, and as you walk along the streets, it’s evident that it’s had an effect on the locals.

Being on the seaside, you might worry that the scent of fish could send vegetarians running for the hills. However, that was not the situation! The city is so cleverly designed that the temple and its neighboring communities are strategically placed several kilometers away from the shores. It’s as if the planners knew they had to keep the peace between the fish lovers and the veggie enthusiasts!

People at Udupi on Makara Sankranti

My visit to this coastal Karnataka town was totally unplanned. I had just a few hours to spare before my bus to Bangalore arrived, so I thought I’d take a walk down memory lane. This place has always been surrounded by stories, but my own memories of it have started to fade. It’s been almost two decades since I last tagged along on my mom’s temple-hopping trips. This time, though, I was determined to soak in the essence of Udupi, a place known for its unique flavors.

As I strolled through the winding streets, I couldn’t help but notice the old-school vibes all around. The houses had that weathered look, with a touch of moss here and there, keeping things nice and cool. And then I spotted this quaint little sweet shop called Udupi Mithai. I decided to try out their Banana Halwa. And let me tell you, it was perfect! It was just the right amount of sweetness, and the banana flavor was relishing. Oh, and they did put up a signboard that all their ice cream was made from A2 milk. It was a tad bit weird because if they wanted to prove authenticity, it’s scientifically proven that A2 milk has no added benefits apart from making consumers pay a higher price. But it’s all part of the charm, I guess!

As I promised Amma, my first stop had to be the Udupi Sree Krishna Temple. Legend has it that a low-caste devotee named Kanakadasa was denied entry into the mutt because of his social status. In protest, he began singing, and the idol, which faced east, turned itself westward, broke the wall, and revealed itself to him. The pontiff at the time, Vadiraja Swamy, decided to build a window at the spot where the wall had broken, and to this day, all devotees can catch a glimpse of the Lord through it.

I had no clue about this folklore until I googled it. It was pretty weird for me to step into this temple because it didn’t have that grand temple vibe – it felt more like an old dilapidated house. Each step was into a room filled with paintings of the various storylines of Lord Krishna’s existence. It lacked the usual gateways and paths that were part of temples created in medieval times. Apart from that I was so glad I didn’t have to take my shirt off exposing my ‘maha’ belly; I’ve always hated being half-exposed around strangers. I was so confused about the whereabouts of the main Idol, but I figured following the frenzied crowd would lead me to it. Finally, I saw everyone peering through a window, and wow, what a sight! The idol was shining in all its glory, adorned with precious stones. It was sparkling even in the darkness. It was a truly magnificent sight.

Mitra Samaj – An eatery established in the 20th century

I couldn’t leave my next destination up to chance, so I let Google make the call. Not my preferred method, but hey, sometimes you’ve just got to deal with it(Especially when you are running out of time). I ended up at the famous Mithra Samaj, where I indulged in some delicious Goli Baje and Mangalore Buns. Let me tell you, those Goli Bajjis were absolute flavor bombs – spicy and spongy, hitting all the right notes. And don’t even get me started on the Mangalore Buns; they were like fluffy clouds of perfection. Usually, I’m not a fan of the Mangalore Buns in Bangalore – they’re often as fluffy as a brick. But Mithra Samaj? They’ve got it down to a science. And to cap it all off, I washed it down with some perfectly made Badam milk. It was a feast fit for the gods, and my taste buds were singing their praises.

Diana Hotel – The origin story for Gadbad will marvel you

Next, I decided to catch a spot that wouldn’t be packed – Diana hotel. I mean, who could not visit the renowned place for inventing Gadbad. So, as the story goes, Mohandas Pai, the owner of Diana Hotel, was in a fix when a bunch of students urgently needed ice cream and they were running out of stock. And guess what? He had this brilliant idea to mix whatever ice cream flavors were left with some nuts, syrup, and jelly. And since everything was done Gadibadi (meaning hurry in the local Kannada language) he decided to name his delicacy as Gadbad.Voila! With that, we have the famous Gadbad in all its glory.

The route to Diana Hotel is well-known to most rickshaw riders. Due to my uncertainty, I looked up a nearby landmark on Google Maps – Bhujanga Park and instructed the rickshaw driver to drop me there. The refreshing breeze and clean air were a delightful welcome after the long journey I had before arriving in Udupi. Apart from that, it was truly heartwarming to witness a group of senior citizens welcoming each other with warm smiles. It seemed like this was their cherished weekend tradition, judging by the heartfelt greetings exchanged. As the sun dipped below the horizon, I felt it was the perfect moment to savor my Gadbad.

I was greeted warmly by the waitstaff, and even before they handed me the menu, I knew I had to order the Gadbad. Along with the Gadbad, I chose a veg cutlet, and it was absolutely delightful. The perfect combination of crispy texture, infused with just the right amount of curry leaves, lentils, potato, and beetroot. It wasn’t spicy at all. When the Gadbad was served, it brought me sheer delight. With each spoonful, the layers revealed an explosion of flavors and the crunch of the nuts was simply knockout.

Thimmappa Fish Hotel – A feast for the seafood lover

A lot has been discussed online about this little shack that supposedly serves the most amazing seafood in Udupi. What began 50 years ago as a humble joint run by Thimmappa and his wife, dishing out a simple meal of fish fry and rice, has now turned into the talk of the town. I could tell the waiter was buttering me up, probably because he thought I was a fish out of water in his restaurant. He strongly recommended trying the Pomphret with the meal, and boy was he right! It was like the best fish fry I’ve ever had, second only to my mom’s recipe. The flavors exploded in my mouth, and I found myself savoring every single bite. I’d happily make a comeback to this place for that mouth-watering delight. Alas, it was time to bid farewell to my culinary escapades in Udupi and head back to Bangalore. But mark my words, I’d return to Udupi in a heartbeat for all the food the city promises!

Hello Friends!

Welcome to my ethereal space, where I embark on a wild journey delving into the musings of a public health researcher/community medicine professor in the vibrant land of India! 🚀 Brace yourselves for a rollercoaster of random thoughts, sprinkled with the occasional dash of fun as I navigate through the realms of reading, explore the terrains of travel, and proudly wear my self-proclaimed food enthusiast cape (plus, a secret identity as an occasional movie buff)!📚✈️🍜 So, fasten your seatbelts, fellow companions, and get ready for a fun-filled adventure through the whimsical wonders of my thoughts! 🌌✨

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