The Anti-Bro


The Anti-Bro

The very famous Tamil actor and equally famous Tamil politician Captain Visaiyakanth is credited with speaking one of Tamil filmdom’s most iconic dialogues ever (in a movie called ramanna) which goes something like this “the only word I don’t like in tamil is sorry”. Sorry, what? Anyways Copy/Paste to 2017 and I would have to borrow from him and say (hand on my heart) that MY most hated phrase in English (in recent times) is “bro”. (disclaimer: my hated words keep changing with time- previously they used to be exams/marks/ its morning get up your ass, don’t you have to go to work/ but I don’t think of you that way, ours is a platonic friendship….etc…etc).

I don’t know why but every other pseudo hearty guy I meet nowadays greets me with a very hearty and instantaneous “bro” in a loud pitched voice. And truth to say, that grates on my system, makes me nervous and look back over my shoulder to see if anyone’s creeping up behind me to mug me while I am distracted by the false heartiness of my suddenly found “bro”. Bad enough that the girls used to call me bro/brother/bhai/bhayya as soon as they espy me anywhere within 500meters of them (early warning sign, I guess) but in my worst case scenario now even guys are calling me “bro”. Bro this, Bro that, bro everything.

Just last year it was Dude (pronounced dood) in a very fake American drawl which stank to Yankee Doodle Dandy. And the year before that, it was “mate” like every other guy halloo’ing at me was a stinking Australian crocodile Dundee. I get it, I get it, I get that sometimes guys have to use informal but respectful forms of address to each other but what’s wrong with good old “meester”? Or “sir?” or even “your worshipful excellency?” if it isn’t quite a mouthful to pronounce.

Digging back in time paleontologically, I can try and trace all this “bro’ing” to a very execrable television sitcom called “how I met your mother (who was passed between me and my best friend like a piece o’candy)”. The characters in that sitcom (who I might add in real life are gay, not that I am homo-phobic or anything for I even had a rainbow coloured facebook dp once for a few hours before I learnt what it really meant and changed back pronto) called each other “bro’s” and that’s where the famous “bro’s before hoe’s” phrase first came up I guess, the line which encapsulated the modern millennial man’s motto perfectly- “ first screw up your bro/friends life before you go home to screw your girlfriend’s”.

In our native culture we have certain perfectly acceptable form of greetings called “machi”, “machan”, “dei porambokku” “ngotha deiii veena ponavaney” etc. and having such a diverse form of addresses to suit every occasion (and person we meet) I fail to understand what prompts the youth of today (mee too youthu only bba, ok?) to call each other’s as “yo nigga” “damn homie” or “bro”. That stuff doesn’t express the varied emotions like a heartfelt “deii paradesi naaaye” when meeting a friend after an absence (or even daily).

So to make a long story short (as I am running out of words), let me repeat my original premise – I am no one’s bro (least of all, of random girls I run into suddenly, caveat added- only good looking one’s mind you, for the ugly ones can bro me to their hearts content). Anyway, I digress from the topic. To come back to it, call me anything, but just don’t call me “bro”. Howazzat Buddy?

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And Thus It Begins.


All for the love of Biriyani.


Disclaimer- This is a work of fiction (science fiction) and no characters resemble living or ruling persons. That said, it’s the unpleasant task of a writer to highlight things before it happens, as it happens and after it happens. Before it happens- as a warning. As it happens- as a chronicle. After it happens- as a memory. Some of the best writers perished in the fascist concentration camps and the communist gulags, because they did not write before it happened or even as it happened- all around them, to others and themselves. A few survivors wrote after the events- by then it was too late to save the millions who perished because of the pusillanimity of the intellectuals who should have been at the forefront of the resistance. Or that’s what history teaches us as it judges events (and persons) dispassionately.

That morning he woke up at his usual early morning hour without the assistance of the electro-assist alarm thus saving a few volts of electricity and more importantly avoiding the painful early morning electric shock which usually woke him up daily. Once up, he wasted no time in heading to the bathroom to have the regulated two minute shower and then dressed quickly in a white dhoti and long sleeved white shirt, his usual office attire, before heading to the insta-coffee maker to grab his early morning cuppa of fresh chicory brew, his only breakfast on working mornings. As he gulped down the hot and bitter brew he waxed nostalgic on the genuine coffee, from fresh roasted beans, he had enjoyed in his younger days. But those days of luxurious life on earth were long past, the unsustainable population explosion had put paid to luxuries like coffee long ago and only the uber rich were thought to be able to sample such genuine luxuries nowadays. He sighed and put down the mud pot in the recycler and picking up his jute bag, plastics having been banned ages ago, he went off to the station to catch his pod to work.

From his suburban house in the foothills off the chamundi hills to the pod station at Mysore central was a 20 minute commute by uber and a vehicle was automatically re-routed to pick him up by the action of locking his door electronically using his Aadhar key-card. As he hung the card back on his neck using the lanyard he reflected how his apartment was all safe now from unauthorized access as the only two who could open the door without that key were him and the government both with access to his fingerprints and iris prints. In locking his door behind securely he was often considered an anachronism and was made much fun of in the beginning but old habits die hard and despite the government propaganda labelling those who locked their doors as anti-national and paper money hoarders and colleagues questioning his patriotism as “if you have nothing to hide in there then why do you lock the door when you leave the house?” he still preferred to lock the doors in his absence.

This was due to, thought he wouldn’t admit it, a fear that his ex-wife would move back into the empty house in his absence if he left it unlocked. If she, god forbid did that, he would have no recourse legally except to share the apartment again with that treacherous woman who had made him the laughing stock of the Hyderabad office by co-habiting with her supervisor openly and who he could not divorce like in the old/bad times because according to the new constitution, circa 2019, a man and his wife were supposed to stay married for seven lifetimes with no option of divorce even after death and anyone who complained his wife was cheating on him was labelled an anti-national and told to follow the example of the soldiers on the border who lived a life of celibacy. That was the prime reason he had shifted work to Chennai even though he hated to visit the new Chennai, what was left over of the city post the 2020 mega-tsunami.

When he finally reached the pod station at Mysore junction, he was lucky to find a pod just ready to leave for Chennai and so he crawled into it and strapped himself in tightly for the twenty minute commute to Chennai sriperumbudur hyper loop station. The pod whizzed away on its breakneck speed and he felt a slight tinge of nostalgia for all the sights he was missing outside the vacuum tube on which the hyper loop train ran. But then again he remembered that it was all mostly an ugly industrial sprawl – a continuous slum, right from Bangalore to Chennai and that’s why he had moved to live near the chamundi hills rather than stay in some urban coop inside Bangalore city. The extra twenty minutes of commute was worth it in his view. After he got out of his pod at Chennai sriperumbudar station, he hopped into the company van which was waiting to transport a few others like him who commuted daily form Bangalore and soon he was working at his desk in his office.

Hunched over his computer console he checked again the work which had accumulated in his absence- but thankfully it had been a quiet night and the overnight alerts were few. Not many people had made fun of or criticized the government last night so he didn’t need to alert the special riot squad of the cbi to raid their homes and taser them with a 1000 volts charge – to fry their brains and memories- before transporting such anti-national culprits to the Andaman jail for life. He felt dirty doing such work and remembered a time long back when he had done work as a cyber-security consultant who hunted people for releasing torrents of new film releases. But that was before the new constitution which made watching unsanctioned films a crime worthy of being sent to jail for ten years without bail. As most films, make that 90% of the films, didn’t get censor sanction for one reason or the other and no one in their right mind wanted to risk watching a film, any film and then go to jail for ten years the once thriving film industry had gradually died down and been replaced by documentaries on nature which easily passed the censors. Now all cyber security experts worked on government contracts trying to trace anti-nationals who criticized the legitimate government and the supreme leader.

As he was sitting there mulling over the changes in society over the past decade, his co-worker from the next terminal leant over and  said “happy birthday sirji, just now saw the alert for your birthday on social media platforms, how come you kept it so quiet?”. He smiled outwards at that greeting but inwardly cringing he said “aww, shucks, we are not kids are we? to be celebrating birthdays?”. His colleague was persistent if anything and said “but sirji you can’t escape so easily, you have to give us all a party next pay day” before turning back to his terminal to continue working. He was suddenly captivated by the word party and started reminiscing on past birthdays, how they had been filled with friends, booze and biryani. Ever since the supreme leader and the party of the pure had come to power he had forgotten the pleasures of both, like all the rest of the citizens and had turned into model subjects- vegetarian and teetotalers.

But the reminder of biryani suddenly triggered long dormant memories and cravings inside him. He thought over his life in those days and compared it with now- a meaningless, routine existence where the government ruled over everything you did, including what you ate and suddenly felt within himself a small spark of defiance. It had been ages since he had eaten biryani, so why not try today? His work as a cyber-security consultant had its advantages, occasionally he came across online posts on contraband availability. He had recently seen one such post on biryani being available at a nearby city called Ambur, clandestinely. The thought of tasting biryani after ten years made him light headed reckless and strangely rebellious. He decided to head out to Ambur in his lunch break and see if it was authentic biriyani made of non-vegetarian mutton.

Once he had made up his mind, he surreptitiously opened up the old post he had flagged with the number of the biryani shop and noting it down walked down to the rest room and made the call. A voice on the other end gave him his instructions to take a cab and be in ambur central by 30 mins. So he went back to his cubicle to wind down his work and filled out the form for his lunch break and forwarded it to his superior who Okayed it and allowed him to go out and eat. Once outside his workplace he flagged down a cab for the ten minute ride to ambur. Once there he stood looking around for five minutes till a shady looking character sidled up to him and said “are you the one who called for the biryani?” when he affirmed that it was indeed him, the shady guy asked “do you have any identification to show you are not from the anti-non veg squad ”? when he had shown the man his aadhar card and had assured him that he was indeed a legitimate customer if a bit kinky who just craved meat suddenly, the tout invited him into a vehicle and said “we will go in this vehicle to the actual place, it’s just a few minutes away in vaniyambadi nearby, we don’t advertise the actual locations for obvious reasons”. Fine, he said and went along with him till they reached what looked like a prosperous little eatery advertising “pure-veg food prepared exclusively by Brahmin hands” as he hesitated on the steps, his contact smiled and said “don’t worry saar, we have a special section upstairs” and hustled him into the eatery and up a small flight of stairs to a dingy little hall upstairs where a small group of people were looking around furtively as they ate the banned biriyani.

As the smell of well-made ambur mutton biryani wafted through his nostrils he leant back his head and sniffed it to his heart’s content. And then a plate of it was placed before him and he rolled up a morsel and popped it into his mouth. It was just the right taste, hot, spicy and a little bit tangy as a proper biryani should be. The accompanying side dish- again a banned item- chicken 65 – was crispy and fresh and he took the time to savour a piece chewing it softly. It was while he was in the midst of satisfying his long suppressed desires and on the way to achieving food-nirvana that the police raided the small hotel and burst into the hitherto secret room upstairs serving non veg food. A few patrons tried to escape but they found that an entire platoon from the anti-non veg squad had surrounded the place with orders to shoot on sight those trying to escape after committing this heinous crime of eating non-vegetarian food in swaach bharat country. The next day all those arrested for the crime of eating meat, a hundred or so daily, were produced before a fast track court especially set up to deal with such capital crimes and were summarily sentenced to death.

As he was strapped to the latest model koodankulam mark-4 type electric chair and the electrodes placed on his chest to transmit the 10, 000 plus volts needed to fry his heart to death instantaneously , he looked up and out at the cameras live telecasting his death to the cowed millions watching the daily death show of anti-nationals who defy the dictates of the supreme leader (and his storm troopers) and smilingly said “tyranny comes in many forms and it’s not easy to recognize it in its initial avatar. I should have protested when they banned rupee notes, I should have protested when they made identity card carrying compulsory, I should have protested when they banned my local language, I should have protested when they made me, an individual, responsible for everything the government should do. But I didn’t, not even when they told me what to do, what to speak, how to live and even what to think. Well, it ends today, one way or the other for me. For, it’s a far far better place I go to, a place where no one will dictate what we should eat and as I go there with the still lingering taste of biryani in my memory, i think my death is worth it” as the lever was pulled and he was fried to death for desiring a biryani.

P.S. if you think this is a bit far-fetched, wait till the election results of the 2019 general elections. A fair warning to all of you- please voluntarily convert yourselves to pure vegetarians by then.

Validating Love And Other Misconceptions.


Validating Love And Other Misconceptions.

Ever since the concept of Valentine’s Day, a day dedicated solely to love, started gaining prominence in our conservative society there has been a lot of hue and cry made over love. There have been anti-love groups, the so called Romeo squads roaming around the cities trying to catch people who are making love to each other in public spaces and in quid pro quo, the mushrooming  pro-love groups who have been trying to reclaim the public spaces for private acts, in this case kissing in public to cock-a-snook at the guardians of public morality who feel threatened by these lewd acts in public to which children might get accidentally exposed and heaven forbid, grow up believing that snogging in public is not anathema in our day to day life. Much as I sympathize with those who have no immediate access to a private space to conduct private business (I wouldn’t call the marina beach entirely private, although it does offer some space) I am forced to agree with the guardians of our morality and say “get a room guys” for some things are just too icky to be done in public- wet slobbering kisses hidden under dupattas for instance.

Which brings me to the primary point of this post- who was the bright spark who decided that love has to be celebrated with kissing? I would understand if valentine’s day was a day declared as a kissing day and then people celebrated it by kissing each other (and random strangers, if permitted) in public like they supposedly do in Central Park, New York (disclaimer: the farthest I have been to is Nanganallur, so I don’t actually have any evidence they do this in New York, just hearsay from click bait news sites). But for a day dedicated to celebrating love, why do you have to validate love by making kissing as a proof of concept? This and other misconceptions on love are what I am going to discuss in my next few thousand words, so if you are already feeling bored, go take a nap and come back for the climax.

In my humble opinion (there- I said it, even though I believe that my opinion is anything but humble) the crux of this entire problem lies in equating love with marriage.  With marriage and its attendant burdens like chastity, fidelity, honesty etc. Love, independent love, is fettered with chains by insisting on it being directed solely with the purpose of gaining or retaining a mate. No longer does our society permit us to love inanimate things (say a Bugatti Veyron) or cross-species love (your favorite pet dog) or even love for nature- when you are captivated by a beautiful sunset and just can’t turn away from the glorious sight of the sun sinking slowly into the sea. But no, those are not claimed as love nowadays, love means solely between man and woman geared towards marriage or sex.

So let me reiterate my point again –love is different, marriage is different and sex is different. There is absolutely no natural link between these three- each can exist quite well independently. Unfortunately our brains have been so brain washed by society that pure love should end in a wedding that the very definition of love has been split into “pure love” and “impure love”. The one which ends up in shackling two people together in lifelong matrimony is exclusively called pure love while others are termed illegal love. You are supposed to fall in love only once in your lifetime. You are supposed to end up marrying the person you fell in love with. And once when you are in love with someone, you are forbidden to fall in or out of love with anyone else, even accidentally. All these restrictions and rules have been framed to make sure that “love stays pure”. Any deviation from these set rules is immediately classified as crime against society.

All this constant moral harassment by society has made large swathes of our population believe that this is indeed love. Love means writing love letters, sending smiley’s on instant messengers, talking nonsense for hours together, hugging each other, kissing each other, having sex with each other and finally marrying each other. That’s the be-all and end-all of love. And this design includes a happy ending- a love marriage.  All the above related activities- hugging, kissing, sex are considered the perks of love and hence more and more people believe that this is what love is all about. And that’s why they frown on any deviation from the set template –like loving more than one person at the same time or loving one person while having sex with another person etc. all of which are labeled as not pure love. Those who believe in such drivel -that kissing or sex is equal to love will never ever realize what love is all about.

True love, false love, pure love, impure love, legal love, illegal love- so many labels for what is just a simple emotion- an expression of happiness that someone else brings into our lives. In fact, you don’t even need the presence of anyone else to experience love- just your thoughts and memories will suffice- a smile on your face when you can recall that beautiful stranger you bumped into yesterday at the supermarket is also love if you broaden the definition of love. Its love when your dog rushes up to lick your face when you come home at the end of the day. Its love even when you express your love to someone else and they turn you down flat- that single second of suspense when your heart soars high in anticipation- that too is love.  Love is just that- an emotion. Don’t make it into something it is not. Don’t hang too many things on it. Don’t make it mandatory to end up in a wedding for it to be love. Just let it be as it is and leave it to two people to decide how they want it to be.

Finally I would ask you to look up into the sky and tell me what you see- some will see the long dark night sky with its infinite darkness. Some will see the stars twinkling bright- scattered here and there. And some will see the full moon – dominating the dark. Love is like that- for some it’s the darkness, for someone else it’s the stars and for the lucky few it’s the bright silvery moon. Judge not what each person sees- it’s their space so just leave them be. Thanks for a patient reading- that’s if you got up to this point.

When Opinions Are Like________ And Everyone Has One


When Opinions Are Like________ And Everyone Has One

A few years ago, when social media was not yet as ripe as it is today, whenever I finished a book or a movie I liked I couldn’t wait to head to school/college the next day and discuss it with my friends. Sometimes the discussion would be with my area friends and I would head out to their house, call them out, mostly by ringing their door bell and informing their dad/mom whoever happened to open the door that a gang of us friends were waiting in the street for their son and rushing back out to the street before they could stop us and ask us about our marks in the latest exam. And after such hectic efforts to collect a minimum quorum necessary to argue incessantly we would all adjourn to the nearby tea shop or potti kadai (pavement shop) or even the street corner- preferably a brightly lighted on underneath a street lamp –to make out facial expressions when arguing and then finally I would lay out my opinions regarding that book or movie which made me walk all the way up to their homes and then my friends would proceed to offer their candid comments on my taste of movies or books and lay threadbare my other foibles just to pass their time. After such a refreshing talk with alternate viewpoint’s we would all disperse to our respective streets/homes after promising to meet again soon under the same street lamp. And those were simpler times and not that long ago too- and definitely not from the Jurassic or Triassic era if that’s what you are thinking.

Now switch over to the current scenario. Suppose I read a book or saw a movie I liked- say a new author I have recently discovered or a classic film I just happened to download and watch on a boring day. I just have to post that information online on my Facebook and Twitter feed (or instagram a picture while actually doing it) and voila, the opinions fly in even without asking, even before I have finished posting. Friends, strangers, friends turned strangers and strangers turned friends are all actively commenting on my choice of the book/movie, offering me critical analysis of the novelist/director, recommending other unheard works from his/her oeuvre and generally being too helpful in educating me. And that’s just on facebook.

On twitter the situation is even more drastic. Critics and trolls will crawl out of the woodwork where they would have been long in hiding (just following my tweets silently) and treat my posting my opinion on the book/movie as an open invitation to offer their opinion of me, my behavior in my personal life, my opinon of narendra modi and my lifestyle choices. The open forum of twitter where you don’t have the option of “accepting friends” aka facebook makes it even easier to get trolled by anonymous (and some not so anonymous) trolls. The only option would be to either block them (and miss out on all the fun of being called an imperialist/british loving/macaulayputra running dog for preferring English over Hindi as a national language for united India) or in shifting to a protected tweets only mode which is simply like hollering alone in a locked room while the dogs bark outside. Neither of which appeals to my sense of humour. But sadly despite all that vim and vitriol real opinion on real issues never seem to happen on twitter. Everyone seems desperate to show off and impress others with their felicity over the 140-character format. Brevity in words is unfortunately taken to mean paucity of thoughts, original thoughts I mean.

And when all this pseudo-intellectual shit gets heavy on me, I post my opinions on Insta, where people (from world-over) instantly grant me likes and heart me- even if their ‘net connections are so poor that they can’t even see my post which has not yet loaded on their mobile apps and still take the time to comment “good”, “great”, “wonderful”, “fill in any other generic compliment you can think of” just so I would remember and repeat the compliments the next time they post something. An intellectual conversation is never on the cards on insta- unless it’s a post on feminists when you are sure to get more comments than likes as everyone and their aunt have an opinion on feminism.

Anyway the point of this post is that unlike the simpler older times when the discussion was instant (give or take 24 hours) and mostly on topic, the use of social media to solicit opinions on our recent reads/watches mostly leads us off to unexpected areas where we are forced to either update our knowledge after accepting our ignorance of the topic we first posted upon (say on the comparative acting talents of Humphrey Bogart/Grace Kelley/Sidney Poitier) or we are forced to defend our opinions incessantly (like why we like chetan bhagats books despite the man being a mountebank). This ceaseless arguing, for weeks on together (whenever any idiotic stalker goes and likes our old post’s to bring it back up on the TL for further comments and discussions again and again) saps all the thrill and excitement of discovering something new and trying to share it with everyone or at least with our own close circle of like-minded friends. So much so, that nowadays I desist from announcing my excitement at my discoveries online. I prefer to hoard the emotions, gloat over them in private and if filled to overflowing I try to turn down the excitement a notch by writing a blogpost on it, of course with comments disabled for my peace of mind. So, far from social media being a great tool to harness contrary opinions and diverse views, the reality is that it’s the same shit all over again. And this way you don’t even have the pleasure of punching someone in the face when they disagree with you.

So tell me dear readers, do you like to post your opinions on social media when something new excites you? Or do you just want to pick up a phone, call a friend and talk it out with them? Which is your choice of poison?

 

Healthcare 2017- Ditch Robots And Bring Back The Doctors


Healthcare 2017- Ditch Robots And Bring Back The Doctors

evidence

After yet another fruitful year of practicing what I preach, I thought it’s time to put up a post on my pet peeve, again. The said peeve being, the practice of medicine is slowly being changed into a robotic occupation, where a doctor is given a set of instructions and told to follow them to a “t”. But unfortunately the human body doesn’t not cooperate with this by the book approach as every individual is unique by himself and every disease affects a person differently. Given a set temple and asked to follow the protocols given is the surest way to prolong disease till the patient is deceased. And that’s the reason why I always take evidence based medicine with a pinch of salt.

Evidence based medicine to give its due, works in a fairly efficient way, in a limited spectrum. But given its limitations it is inefficient at best and dangerous at its worst. And why, I will explain now. For those not familiar with evidence based medicine- it’s a set of treatment protocols (usually developed in western countries) which says after checking these protocols this is the best treatment for this disease and hence, everyone worldwide needs to follow these protocols whenever/wherever they see this same disease.

The problems with this approach are manifold. Let me just discuss the top two. Firstly most if not all of these protocols were developed for simple diseases and straightforward diagnostics/treatment procedures. If you have any complicated disease requiring multiple procedures, you just cannot follow any protocol template, you have to diagnose and treat case by case using all your years of experience and intuition and hope for the best. Which in turn defeats the very purpose of evidence based medicine. You need best evidence protocols for the most difficult cases because these are the ones which test you to the limits and are prone to end up with the death of the patient and the doctor being blamed for inadequate/insufficient treatment. Where others who have the luxury of time, weeks and months to study the symptoms will second guess the decisions you make in seconds by the patient’s bedside as the patient lies gasping for air and fighting death minute by minute. What’s the evidence say? Did you follow the treatment protocol? These questions are very easy to ask in hindsight but doesn’t help at the moment when most required.

The second major disadvantage with this protocol based approach for treatment is that the template developed most often uses a particular procedure using a particular piece of equipment which study in turn is sponsored by that particular equipment manufacturer. You can’t blame them – for most of these studies are really expensive and require large scale funding which governments never do and hence the researchers raise money from private players who naturally have a vested interest in promoting their products. So even if there is a better or more simpler or more low cost way available to treat that particular disease it will never be accepted as mainstream – because no one does research on it and no one publishes it and no one by which I mean no respectable medical board or journal accepts it- which results in the low cost or simpler alternative having the status only of quack medicine. While the costlier company sponsored study gets accepted in prestigious journals and then becomes the accepted standard of care worldwide merely because there is no other alternative to it. This grant of legitimacy to costly treatments in the absence of alternatives is the primary reason that doctors from developing countries hate evidence based medicine. It’s all very well to recommend protocols followed in Boston or the Massachusetts general hospital but not everyone is lucky to be practicing in Boston or Massachusetts. What about somebody practicing in Nigeria? Or Nellore? With no access to the level of diagnostic or treatment machinery as given in the protocol as per evidence based medicine? Is it fair to punish that doctor for treating that patient but not following the best established practice protocol? Whose fault is that and how can you apportion the blame?

This craze of getting more and more evidence based protocols also has the side effect of developing and insisting on more and more tests, more than 90% of which are unnecessary- like treadmill test, stress test, angiogram, CT slice- 64/128/216 machines – all of them being developed just to rule out any cardiac disease and your doctor has to prescribe these unnecessary tests every time you go for a simple muscle sprain or gastric distress and indigestion or any other condition which does not involve the heart. But because the best evidence based medicine protocol says you have to rule out heart disease in all cases, everyone gets to do a CT scan at the highest possible resolution beyond 64, beyond 128 beyond 216 slices- even if you are a healthy person with absolutely no evidence of any heart disease. But because the protocol formed in San Francisco or New York or London says so- you have to get that CT scan, every time you over eat samosas and have gas. If this wasn’t a waste of resources and such a tragedy it would be such an inside joke, but I can’t laugh at it now. And neither should the poor unfortunate patients who end up paying for all that waste of time.

So the best thing that you and I can hope for is that the government gets into the act and funds medical research in a big way so that individual researchers do not have to go begging bowl in hand to equipment companies who in turn dictate the treatments to be researched and published. And secondly the realization that data mining and rigid protocol’s don’t work for human beings. There is ample space in medicine for hard won experience and intuition based on it. Or otherwise we will continue to take angiograms for every patient who comes to the hospital with an acidity problem and advocate cardiac by-pass surgeries based on minuscule blockages seen in every minor blood vessel, whether they want to or not get a major heart surgery done. Why? Because the evidence says so, and you want to get the best possible treatment at international level don’t you?

I hope national governments realize the immense damage being caused to local healthcare managements by these artificially imposed from abroad protocols and either help in developing local protocols for local people or at least stop penalizing doctors for using years and years of experience to treat patients instead of following Boston rules. Support doctors not robots.

Part 2 of The 20/80 Principle- Sex In The City


Part 2 of The 20/80 Principle- Sex In The City

sex

As I said in my last post, the vocal minority of 20% drowns out the rest of the silent majority and in turn the ever sniffing dogs of the yellow media pick up these so called social media influencers rabid and contrarian views and highlight them as the views of the common man everywhere. Case in point- sex. Now I agree that sex sells and the more you write about sex the more eyeball catching it is. But why not write the truth about sex? Won’t that sell too? Why just the sensational stuff which makes a mockery of the real thing is the question on my mind when it comes to the biased media reporting on sex which strives to make us all look like sex crazy maniacs with nothing else on our minds 24/7. This kind of crap reporting on sex has the side effect of making many gullible people to believe in these lies and half truths which the media propagates and disperse them to others as gospel truth and worse to practice it in their everyday life. Case in point- a friend of mine who ogles at every passing female and her body parts- legs, buttocks cleavage it matters not. When I questioned him whether he really felt a necessity to lust after every single random female who passes us, he gave me a honest to god explanation on how it was necessary to keep in touch with your sexual side by craving for sex all the time otherwise, and I am quoting directly here, if you are too good a person and don’t lust after sex, how will you satisfy your wife after marriage?. And this is precisely the point I am trying to make here.

This insistence by the mainstream yellow media for the past several years that Indian wives (leave alone house wives) are not satisfied in sex by their husbands but are indeed looking to have affairs and orgasms with other men is the very raison d’être of this post.  Indian women or just women in general are not such sex starved persons as depicted by the media. Women don’t choose to have affairs just to orgasm- there are lots of other factors involved when a woman chooses to cheat on her lawfully wedded spouse.  And this constant sniping at male’s confidence in the guise of how will you satisfy your wife after marriage, leads to more questions than answers in the average male mind and is directly responsible for licentiousness behaviors like ogling, catcalling or even rape just so a man learns how to satisfy a woman, any woman, even if she is a total stranger and is not willing to indulge in intercourse with him. This constant sniping at fragile male ego’s, this undermining of male confidence has only resulted in longer queues in divorce courts. It has not taught the male that women need more than multiple orgasms and night long intercourse to be satisfied with marriage.

Satisfying a woman via sex is just an urban myth, something like buying your wife or girlfriend diamonds to apologize or whisking away to bali islands if your forgot her birthday. All these are the works of marketing gurus and creative minds at ad agencies who are trying to hard sell sex to the more mundane minded average Indian male or female partner. Collateral damage to these “profit alone” minded marketing geniuses are the irreversible damage to society and marriages caused by the gullible believing that their wives are indeed sex craved and need to be satisfied constantly and so let’s start learning on the streets with other women- any random woman in a vulnerable place to be exploited .

So to come back to my original premise, the title of this post- just as all men are not rapists, likewise all women are not sex crazy nymphos  as made out in posts by prominent social media experts and picked and highlighted by mainstream media as indicative of women’s mindset. If you talk to a regular average woman, as I have done repeatedly, they are more worried about more mundane things like work, peer pressure, office politics, compensation packages, misunderstanding with family members etc. They seek more supportive spouses who would help them achieve more at work than look for husbands who can “satisfy” them in intercourse. Sex is secondary to everyday life concerns in total contrast to what the vocal minority bleat about on media.

So let’s totally disregard these keyboard warriors who constantly seem to set the agenda for everyone else and give due credence to the real aam admi or aurat who may not air their views on sex in public but know what they want and know what’s important and what’s not for a happy married life in the real world. Sexual deprivation is overrated and is only media overkill. Everyone is getting enough sex even if they don’t talk about it or even think about it. The only ones deprived are the depraved and there is no solution for them except to snatch away their keyboards and smart phones and ask them to look at the real world all around them. And to shut the hell up and not speak for everyone else.

The 20-80 Principle – When Trolls Bray Loudly To Drown Out the Rest…


The 20-80 Principle – When Trolls Bray Loudly To Drown Out the Rest…

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Recently I had a resounding argument with a couple of friends on internet trolls and social media warriors. One of the most intriguing points we discussed was on the vocal 20% idiots who monopolize social media space 24/7 and drown out the rest of the voices and thereby get the undeserved tag of social media influencers. These morons with their disproportionate reach on social media due to their shrill volubility and idiotic arguments are often mistaken for representing the silent majority who prefer to keep their opinions to themselves, partly to avoid being trolled by these idiots and partly because they are too busy with their real lives to spend much time arguing on social media platforms. The first issue we debated in depth was the almost unanimous support to the demonetization debacle by social media warriors and specifically the software groupies.

One of the most oft repeated clichés of these keyboard warriors is that demonetization is a disruptive event and disruptions are good in general. Well as a common man let me tell you that I agree with you that disruptions are good in shaking up moribund societies, but those disruptions are meant to happen over decades and centuries, not in 50 days. Disruption, whole scale disruption in the short scale, happens when a foreign invader, say Timur the Turk, invades our country and builds a pyramid of skulls of our people, or a large scale tsunami wipes out entire coastal communities and changes our very shorelines. Those are the ones which classify as disruptive events in the short term which bring change willy-nilly to society. And they are always called as disasters when viewed with the long term focus of history.

Human lives and human society is not a software product which exceeds its lifetime and needs to be disrupted with a new product. These are lives we are talking about not lines on a computer. The biggest example to me of how our society has failed in regulating engineering colleges mushrooming everywhere resulting in substandard graduates with hollow degrees and no independent thinking capacity is the level of support software engineers have shown to demonetization merely because of the word “digital” added to it. So as I said in the beginning the braying of the idiotic 20% is drowning out the voices of the sane rest. This post too, I anticipate will attract the ire and venom of the vocal minority and time on their hands trolls.

But as history repeatedly shows when the good cease to speak the evil runs rampant. And hence I decided to raise my voice against all these online trolls, to stand up and be counted when it matters. And just to clarify who a troll is? If you speak against me, you are a troll, if you disagree with this post, you are a troll, if you criticize or comment against this post, you are a troll, if you debate any of my contentions or conclusions, you are a troll, if you think I am wasting your time writing this post and making you read this, just think for a moment about our troops standing on the ice cold borders of Pakistan facing terrorists and then tell me whether your time is more important that theirs and whether just reading this post is a bigger sacrifice than our suffering troops on the border. I rest my case.