On “Scientific Research”

I don’t claim to be a “health nut”, but I like to eat healthy barring the occasional indulgence. Whether it’s reducing the consumption of refined grains or adding more fruits and vegetables to my diet, nutrition is a priority. This means reading up on the health section of the news to keep abreast of the latest developments.

I suppose I inherited this quality from my father who obsessively follows research in the health and medical fields. But, lately, I find myself very confused. The following will illustrate why. My family hails from the coast. Coconut is an integral part of our diet primarily because it is natively grown and abundantly available. Whether it’s grated coconut, coconut paste or coconut milk, almost every dish, savoury or sweet incorporates it. Coconut oil has traditionally, also, been the preferred choice for deep frying, sautéing or, even, as a dressing. In other words, the way Mediterranean cuisine uses olive oil is how we used coconut oil. I say “used” because this is no longer true. The reason was some research about thirty years ago which stated that coconut oil is very high in cholesterol and terrible for heart health. When my father picked up on this, the consumption of coconut oil in our home dropped drastically. We switched to alternatives for a lot of preparations. Now, almost three decades later, coconut has become the new superfood with ringing endorsements of coconut oil. The jury is still out, however, with some touting it as a panacea and others calling it “poison”.

It doesn’t stop there. Breakfast is a topic that invites contradictory opinions from the scientific community. Some call it vital while others say it’s dangerous. All of these people are scientists with exemplary credentials holding positions of importance in regulatory bodies and academia. For the consumer though, whom or what to believe, that is the question.

I am no scientist, but I wonder how such contradictory results are possible on the same topic. This resulted in my own bit of research. Here are some findings. To begin with, independent studies are few and far in between. A lot of these studies are funded by big industries to malign a rival product so that its consumption drops and, then, promote their own as a “healthier” option. The results are biased in favour of the industry or lobby that sponsors it. Sometimes, the purpose is to hide the ill-effects of their product by exaggerating the so-called “hazards” of another. A case in point is how the sugar industry funded a study in the 1960s to highlight the contribution of fats to heart disease and downplay the role of sugar. This was only discovered as recently as 2016. The fact that this was hidden from the general public for about half a century is a cause of concern. And, when reputed organisations claim that something is dangerous, it is natural for people to think twice about what they eat.

Sometimes, the number of participants in a study is in single digits. How, then, can the results be applied to the general population? No wonder terms like “may” or “could” are frequently used in the title so that if the findings are debunked tomorrow, they are covered and can shirk all responsibility.

In my opinion, there is another factor to be considered – genetics. Studies are often carried out on a specific section of the populace in a particular region. Olive oil, for instance, is healthy and highly recommended. I don’t dispute this. Food habits, at least the traditional kind by which I don’t mean McDonalds or KFC, are cultivated based on crops favoured by the soil and climate. Olive oil is a product of the Mediterranean. People who reside there have consumed it for centuries, and their digestive systems have adapted to it. When it is promoted in Asian countries where other oils are more common, will the results be the same? The same applies to coconut oil which has, only recently, been adopted by the west.

Superfood is the new buzzword in the health industry. The minute something is categorised as such, people rush to buy it. Sometimes, in the quest for health, the consumption of these products gets out of hand. People don’t realise that sometimes too much of a good thing can be counterproductive. Another thing that skyrockets is the price. If you don’t believe me, check the cost of a product when a study declares that it is the best thing for you. Everyday items become unaffordable when they are branded “healthy”. When prices shoot up, you wonder whether it is because of the demand, or sellers trying to make a quick buck out of the next “superfood”.

As health conscious individuals, we are always seeking ways to make our lives better by adopting good eating practices. However, we unwittingly end up playing into the hands of lobbies whose only objective is financial gain. We, all, need to be careful about what we decide to consume based on what is termed as “scientific research”. In a world where business often takes precedence over public health, there are reasons to be wary. Beyond headlines, there are a lot of things that need to be considered with studies about health and nutrition. Sources, researchers, industries, sample sets and target populations are just a few. Because I am not sure what to believe, I have stopped taking these headlines seriously. Consume everything in moderation is one piece of advice that has persisted over time. And, for now, it seems like the sensible thing.


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Being a Social Pariah

The inspiration for this article is a blog post in which the writer describes how limiting time online has had a positive impact on her life.

The Internet has transformed the way we gather and assimilate information. Social networking has made it possible for people across the globe to connect seamlessly. But, somehow, the trend of being online hasn’t found favour with me. People find it strange when I say that I’m not on WhatsApp, Facebook, Instagram or Twitter. Truth is, very often, I don’t even know where my cell phone is. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a recluse by any means. I enjoy conversation and good company. I, just, avoid social media like the plague. Call me old-fashioned, but I find it intrusive and impersonal. And, though it may not always be possible, I prefer to call or meet in person with friends and family. There are times when months pass by before I talk to a friend, which is not ideal. But on the flip side, there is so much to catch up on.

Many people share every part of their life online. But if people know about everything that is happening in your life, what do you discuss when you meet them? When I attend social gatherings, I end up feeling like a social pariah. To begin with, I get the overwhelming sense of being a dinosaur because while I am seated there wondering where to start, everyone else is glued to their phones. I’m not sure whether people want a conversation. Also, everyone else seems to know what the other is doing except me. I don’t know whether the lack of interaction is a result of being on social media or the other way around. But, the art of conversation seems to be heading towards an early demise. What irritates me most is when I am mid-sentence, and people pick up their phone to find out what’s changed since they put it down a couple of minutes ago. I don’t know whether this is because of a constant need to be updated or the fear of missing out. There is nothing more cringeworthy than asking a question only to hear, “Oh, you don’t know? I had shared that on WhatsApp/Facebook?” Forgive me for expecting information from conversations rather than a bulletin board.

Even when people are travelling, they are so engrossed in their devices, they wouldn’t know if their own parent was standing next to them. For some people, the need to be connected is so strong that they carry their phones to the toilet. I fail to recognise the urgency. Will someone not understand if they’ve taken a break to answer nature’s call? Social media aims to satisfy the innate curiosity that most individuals have about what’s going on in others’ lives. It is also an outlet for those who like to shout from the rooftops about every little thing. Whether the desire is to be appreciated or envied is open for debate. But, in my opinion, living so much of your life in the public eye is not just invasive. It’s outright exhausting. It’s human tendency to turn things into a contest which makes it easy for one-upmanship to creep in. And, in an intensely competitive world where so much value is placed on professional accomplishments, the last thing you want is for that to extend to your personal life.

I prefer to live by simple rules. If there is an event in my life that I wouldn’t call and tell someone about, then it is not worth sharing. Period. Just because there’s a medium that allows you to put this information out doesn’t mean you should. Every piece of information you share is being used by someone to target you – for better or for worse. If that doesn’t scare you, I don’t know what will. I understand that it is cheaper and convenient to use social media than to call someone. You can use apps to make calls on the internet. But when was the last time you did that?

Children, nowadays, learn to use the cell phone before they start talking. They are handed electronic devices at an age where they should be learning to play and bond. Will this not affect their ability to communicate? Social media prevents the cultivation of deep-rooted relationships by reducing our interaction with colleagues, friends and loved ones. The more time we spend online, the less time we spend talking to them. Our bond with those around us is dependent not only on shared thoughts but also on shared experiences. Then, there are people from the previous generation who are not tech-savvy and rely on conversations for exchanging ideas and emotions. Their inability to use social media results in them being ignored, isolated and lonely. Ask them what they prefer – messaging, Skype call or a visit.

Social media was created to make it easier for people to communicate. But if we use it as a substitute for personal interactions, the purpose is defeated. If a medium makes you contented with messaging or broadcasting a part of your life rather than making a call, where is our future headed? A conversation is about more than what is said. The spoken word has a tone, an expression, an emotion that a message cannot capture. For me, there is no substitute for the sound of a person’s voice. But it is second best to sitting across from them as you spend hours in conversation because nonverbal cues add another dimension to dialogue.

So, take a break from social media. Pick up a phone and call someone who you haven’t spoken to in a while. Better yet, have a face-to-face conversation and forget about your cell phone while you’re at it. You’ll be surprised at how much you enjoy yourself. More importantly, you’ll realise what you’ve been missing all this time.


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Living with OCD

There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.
– Ernest Hemingway

I read this quote recently and decided to put my vulnerabilities out there for others to see, and possibly judge. If you are obsessive-compulsive, it won’t be difficult to understand what I’m talking about. The rest of you will question my sanity after reading this post.

I knew I had a problem. What I didn’t know was, it had a name – Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. I know I wasn’t born with it. But I’m not sure what triggered it or when the first tendencies showed.

It doesn’t keep me from doing things in my life. I was not clinically diagnosed. That’s impossible in a country where visiting a psychiatrist is equated with having a severe mental defect. Mental disorders that do not pose a threat to others are not considered grave. The definition of threat, however, is open to interpretation. Most ailments are swept under the carpet or considered self-manageable. As a result, sometimes things get significantly worse before they can get better.

When it first reared its ugly head, I didn’t think there was anything unusual about my behaviour. It felt natural to check everything multiple times. So, work emails had to be read repeatedly before being sent out. I had to ensure that the electric switches were off and the door was locked, at least three times before I left home for the day, among other things. Blog posts and comments had to be read and reread to death before they were posted. I thought I was being thorough. But, with time, I realised that it was the result of my inability to trust myself. I was paranoid about making mistakes. A voice at the back of my mind kept insisting that I do these things. If I didn’t, I could have no peace. The only way to get that voice out of my head, albeit temporarily, was to follow its command.

It didn’t stop there. Next, came the fear of contamination. The constant feeling of uncleanliness and the need to wash hands on contact with any surface perceived to be tainted. Very often, this resulted in the skin peeling off my hands. But, that didn’t stop me.

The last straw was when, in my effort to be clean, I started imposing my ideas of “cleanliness” on the people around me. The lucky winners – my immediate family. Noncompliance with my dictates, knowingly or otherwise, would result in me flying off the handle. I say dictates because I behaved like a dictator in this regard. If the person at the other end rebelled, which was understandable, it resulted in a full-blown meltdown. It is not difficult to comprehend the stress this can put on relationships.

But the worst part is having to deal with it outside the confines of your home. You have no control over your compulsions. But you suppress the part of yourself that expects others to comply because you risk being isolated or laughed at for your behaviour. Let alone losing friends, you might have trouble making any in the first place. People who don’t suffer from this condition can not understand it. I don’t blame them because I know my behaviour is irrational.

Years have passed, but I know I am still a long way away from overcoming my problems. I struggle with my condition every day. I continue to make my life difficult and others around me miserable. “Freak”, “Paranoid”, “Mental” and “Crackhead” are terms my husband uses to define my neurosis. My mother keeps reminding me that it’s not healthy for everyone involved if I continue down this road. The sad part is, I know I’m driving people up the wall. But I find it very difficult to control myself. I’m, just, lucky that people around me have put up with my unreasonable ways and not run for the hills.

For people who don’t suffer from this condition, I don’t expect you to understand why I do what I do. In fact, I pray that you never have to. I just hope that if there is such a person in your life, you will understand that their actions come not from anger or spite but from an underlying mental state. It’s an understatement to say that living with a person who has OCD is difficult. I know because I have to live with myself every day.

Just so you know, I proofread this post eight times before publishing it.


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An Open Letter

To the people I love,

You know who you are because you’re reading this letter right now. Some of you have known me for a long time, others not as much. But no matter how long we’ve walked together in this journey called life, please know that you are important to me. I don’t know whether it was fate that made our paths cross or coincidence. Either way, I am grateful.

The ties of the heart go deeper than blood. All the ups and downs that we have been through have, only, made that bond stronger. When I was happy, you rejoiced with me. When I was in pain, you shared my suffering. When I had doubts, you believed in me. When I was afraid, you allayed my fears. When I was weak, you were my strength. I could share my thoughts with you knowing you would speak your mind. You could always make me laugh. Even if, at times, you didn’t intend to. I know there were times when I caused you pain. But you never held it against me. Somehow, you were always able to see the good in me. And, I will not forget that.

Life may have taken us away from each other. We may have chosen to embark on different adventures. But, even now, when I hear your voice at the end of the call, it is as if we spoke yesterday. There are no awkward silences. Seconds become minutes and minutes stretch to hours. The conversation flows, and we lose track of time. That, my dear, is a testament to our bond.

Thank you for being there for me. My life is better because you are a part of it. I have lost count of the number of times you have brought me back from the brink of insanity. All the times that I have been hopeless and lost, you have been my guiding light. You have fought for me when no one would. You have seen the best and the worst of me. You have embraced all of me – the good, the bad and the ugly. I am who I am because of you. You mean a lot to me.

You are my family.


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The Blogger’s Curse

I read a post today which made me realise that, in my struggle with blogging, I was not alone. As I wrote a comment on the post, the idea for this article took shape in my head.

When I first started a blog, I knew nothing about blogging. I thought it was all about putting your thoughts out there for people to find and read, like or dislike. The most important thing was to create quality content. But my understanding couldn’t be further from the truth.

I have been actively blogging for a couple of months now. Yes, I know I shouldn’t be complaining after such a short time. I still don’t know much about blogging. But I’ve learnt some lessons.

The hardest thing about blogging isn’t the content. At least, this is true for me.

The first challenge is getting people to your blog. I began by searching for blogs with like-minded content. I invited their authors to look at my blog and share their opinion. I realised, albeit a little late, that tags make a big difference. I have not mastered the art by any means. But, I am making steady progress.

The second is to get people to read it. My blog hardly gets visitors. I used to rejoice when people liked my post. But when a post has fewer views than likes, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that something’s not quite right. Spotting discrepancies like these are some of the perks of getting pitiful traffic to your site, I guess. When you like a post, it means that it resonates with you. How is that possible if you haven’t read it? For the record, I’d rather not have people liking my post if they’d rather not read it. Unfortunately, the person this is meant for won’t be reading this post either.

The biggest test, however, is getting people to engage in a dialogue. I understand the challenges of modern life. We don’t have time to stop and smell the roses let alone comment on every post we read. I don’t comment on every article I read either. But comments do make a lot of difference. Comments aren’t just words. They are pieces of you that are scattered across the blogging universe. With comments, you know the reader’s thoughts. With likes, it’s hard to say.

I searched online to figure out why I couldn’t draw my readers into the conversation. Fellow bloggers were, also, kind enough to offer their words of advice. These are some suggestions I came across. Ask questions at the end of your post. Check. Ask people to comment on your post. Check. Blog on topics that you would like to read. I’ll be honest and say that I can’t write anything else. Visit other blogs, read their posts and comment on their work. I enjoy doing this for my own reasons. Use social media to promote your blog. No can do. Why? Because I avoid social media like the plague. You won’t find me on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and a million other sites whose names I don’t care to remember.

Maybe, I don’t create good content. That’s fine. I just wish someone would tell me that. I don’t claim to be Shakespeare. I don’t, even, have a degree in English. I started blogging because writing is something I’ve always enjoyed. For a lot of reasons, I didn’t pursue it as a career. But that’s water under the bridge. And I don’t have any regrets. I just thought that if I couldn’t write professionally, at least, I’d do it to make myself happy. It would be an outlet for my thoughts. I would know whether I was good at it. Other bloggers would help me understand what I was doing right and where I was going wrong. It would make me a better writer.

Words of support and encouragement from the blogging community kept me going. But a part of me was frustrated by the lack of success. It dawned on me that I was spending more time on finding out how to get people to read my blog rather than writing.

When did writing become so complicated? Creating content isn’t enough. You, also, have to be a marketing professional and an SEO expert.

You may think that I am complaining without taking steps to fix my problem. You wouldn’t be wrong. But, from where I sit, I don’t see a problem. I see a choice. The choice to not market my blog. This is not to say that those who promote their work are wrong. I don’t envy them. The effort they have put in is remarkable. Their success is hard-earned and well-deserved. In the end, no matter how people get to your blog, they stay there only if they feel like it’s worth it. But, I don’t think it’s for me. This may mean that my blog will take years to generate the kind of following that many other bloggers enjoy. Maybe I won’t get there at all. The feedback I wish for may, also, not come. But that’s okay. For now, I’d rather enjoy the process of writing than worry about how many people read what I have to say.

I apologise for subjecting you to this rant for no fault of your own. But if you started out as a simple writer, like me, and not a marketing genius, I am sure you can identify. If you didn’t like this post, please let me know. But if you enjoyed it, please spare the like button. Instead, leave a comment. It doesn’t matter how long or short. What matters most is that it meant something to you.


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Growing Up

The idea for this piece came from a post that I recently read. Most people consider childhood to be the best time of their lives. I wish I could share that sentiment. While my childhood wasn’t particularly terrible, my feelings towards it can be best described as ambivalent.

When I started working, people asked me what I missed most about college. Without a thought, I’d say “vacations”. It’s the only thing that came to mind. I was a very lucky child. The first grandchild, a spoilt brat and the subject of undivided love till others came along. The first few years were spent without a care in the world. But that changed very soon with the burden of education. As a result, most of my years as a student were lost trying to meet high expectations. When school ended, there was college. Choosing to graduate in a field I wasn’t born for didn’t simplify matters. Exams were terrifying and the results even more so. I’ve lost count of the number of meltdowns over the years. So much so that my mother discouraged me from pursuing a master’s degree. So, yes, “vacations” was the most natural response.

That’s not saying that adulthood has been a walk in the park. Being “independent” isn’t all it’s made out to be. Career, money and relationships rule your life. The responsibilities don’t seem to end. Your words and actions are scrutinized and have serious repercussions. Sometimes, you just want to embrace asceticism and retire to the mountains. In these matters, childhood was not very taxing. Responsibilities were more personal than financial or social. People didn’t hold you accountable for what you said or did. The poor parents took the blame.

As a child, I was always riddled with insecurities and self-doubt. I never felt good enough. I was always conscious about what others thought about me. Following the crowd was the norm. Adulthood changed that. It provided a sense of freedom in making my own decisions. It made me financially self-reliant. It gave me an identity and self-confidence that was sorely lacking in my childhood. It enabled me to think for myself and form my own opinions. It brought me a seat at the table; it made sure that my viewpoint was heard and respected. I emerged out of the shadow of my parents.

However, there are some qualities in a child that I’ve lost and dearly miss. Innocence is the first. Unfortunately, I find it to be a casualty of our day and age. Children, today, grow up too fast. I will be the first to admit that I was a very stupid kid. But, looking back, that was not a bad thing. That is the only time of your life when no one is going to judge you for your stupidity. People will keep reminding you of it all your adult life. But the result will be more of a joke than a tragedy. The second is the wide-eyed curiosity. This is one that slowly fades over time. Things cease to amaze us. Maybe it’s the cynicism that comes with getting older. Maybe we just get jaded over time. Or, maybe, we are too worried about looking like fools when we ask too many questions. Third comes imagination. Maybe it’s just the engineer in me but I hold rationality responsible for its decline. When you try to find reason and logic in everything, it kills the imagination. Idealism is next. This one weathered quite a storm when the bubble of childhood burst. The harsh realities of life introduced practicality and the idealist in me decided to take off.

I will differ from popular opinion and say that childhood is overrated. When people rue their lost childhoods, it’s a case of the grass always being greener on the other side. When we’re children, we can’t wait to become adults. When we grow up, we cling to childhood. Maybe, it’s better to live in the moment and enjoy what the different phases of our life have to offer. The naivety that is part of childhood and the wisdom that comes with age and the understanding that life is not as simple as it once seemed are both worthwhile.

What are your thoughts?


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My Idea of Faith

My previous post on this subject dealt with the role of science and religion in our lives. This one is an attempt to share my thoughts on faith.

I grew up in a home with contradictory views on religion. My mother is very religious and my father is the exact opposite. It’s strange how they adopted such different ideas on faith. Both my grandmothers were terribly religious and superstitious. While my mother continued in her mother’s footsteps, my father went the other way. Growing up, my father’s job kept him away from home and my mother was a major influence. Worship became a part of our lives from a very young age. But, as we grew older, my brother and I started questioning religious practices. While my mother never discouraged this, most of her responses were, “I don’t know. I never asked my mother.” My father couldn’t care less about these rituals. I never saw him pray and remember asking why. He responded with, “I do pray. When I wake up in the morning, I pray for the well-being of everybody in this world. I don’t ask for anything else.” One thing my father repeatedly says is, “I believe in God but I don’t believe in godmen. And, I hate religion and rituals.”

Despite or maybe because my parents have such differing opinions about religion, we were never forced to choose one over the other. My parents may not agree with each other. But they’ve made their peace with each other’s choices. We, also, have discussions on God and religion. When my parents agree on something, we can be sure it’s right. We are lucky to be able to listen to arguments from both sides and form our own opinions.

Over time, we realised that religion has its limitations. My father may not indulge in prayer but he has some principles that he lives by. He says, “It’s okay if you can’t do something good for somebody but don’t do anything to harm them.” He forgives quicker than most people. Once, I asked him why he trusts so easily when so many have taken advantage of him. He replied, “I don’t dwell too much on such things. If I trust ten people and even one of them justifies my faith, I have gained a lifelong friend.” I wanted to know how he felt when people cheated him monetarily. He said, “In life, both good and bad things happen. Some days you gain, some days you lose. I only ask myself one question. Am I better off than when I started? If the answer is yes, then it’s all good”. This made us realise that you didn’t need to be religious to be a good person. My mother may not be happy to see us move further away from religion. But she accepts it, nonetheless. She, probably, takes consolation in the fact that we haven’t turned out to be terrible human beings. She has, even, been open-minded enough to give up some of her superstitions in the face of rationality.

My idea of God and religion has changed over time. It would be more accurate to say that my dependence on them has reduced. I believe in God but I am open to the idea that there might not be one. If there is a God, I try not to bother Him with my mundane problems. When I suffer a setback, I try to accept it as part of life. It is only when I am distraught and trapped on all sides, that I look to the Almighty for guidance and comfort. It is foolish to expect your entire life to be smooth sailing. Even more foolish is to expect that having faith in a higher power will ensure such a life. When we let go of such ideas, we learn to accept the bad with the good. In my maternal grandmother’s words, “When you get knocked down a few times, it makes you smarter. You don’t make the same mistakes again.” Devout as she was, her life was nothing short of a struggle. Perhaps, the only thing that got her through was her faith and the hope that her trials would mean a better life for her children.

I am convinced that God helps those who help themselves. Thinking that God will ensure that things fall in your lap, just because you are devout, is delusional. If this was true, most people would take the easy way out.

Many people accumulate wealth by cheating others. They, then, donate to religious institutions in the hope that their sins will be forgiven. This doesn’t sit well with me. I believe in karma; in “as you sow, so shall you reap”. If you do harm, it comes back to you. Regretting your action cannot save you. Only repercussions serve as a deterrent for the future.

Faith, to me, is personal and each of us has a unique equation with God. I don’t feel the need to prove my faith to others. Everyone has a right to decide what to believe in and I don’t have a right to impose my idea of faith on them. If God is everywhere, it doesn’t make sense for me to go to a place of worship to find Him. I prefer to talk to God directly without an intermediary. I think of God more as a friend or confidant than a fearsome entity.

You should never have to choose between faith and humanity because they are not mutually exclusive. The sole purpose of faith is to spread humanity. If it doesn’t, it’s not faith, it’s propaganda.

Ultimately, I have realised that it doesn’t matter which path you choose to reach your “destination”. As long as the road is not built at someone else’s expense and brings out the best in you. Religion, rules, spirituality or principle; whatever the name. I don’t need to listen to what someone else says or follow what someone else does. I need to find what I believe in and make my own path.


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