Fat content IS priority

Fitness has never been a priority in India. Why should it be now?

3 out of 4 people are overweight in this country. India follows USA and China on the obesity scale. 

“Fat content” is merely a parameter to evaluate body composition. But, the word “fat” is connotative, and many are sensitive to it. They minimize excess weight, or high blood pressure, or blood sugar as minor health issues that will not send them to hospital. They are fit and fine. 

Fact is Covid19 is a novel phenomenon, for which there are no vaccines. It is highly contagious and attacks underlying health conditions. That will send them to hospital. Nearly 6 million people around the world are infected; about four hundred thousand dead. 

Personal wellbeing must be a priority, medical experts reiterate in every country. Obese people are more vulnerable to the infection. Fat shaming is not the point here. Staying alive is. 

Rush to survive

In our country, we are conditioned to rush - to rush to work. to rush for provisions, to rush the queue, to rush onto oncoming traffic crossing the street...Essentially, to rush, rush, and rush. The frenetic pace has become second nature.

At the airport, you can spot the Indians a mile away. On any flight, they rush to be first onboard, and then, to be the first off the plane, pushing and shoving, jostling to occupy the exact same space. On the road, traffic hoots, honks, overtakes - stopped only by the signal lights turning red. Pedestrians play chicken with the traffic. When the lights turn green, they step off the sidewalk. A hand held aloft is expected to accord them right of way through onrushing traffic. 

It is inexplicable how contagious the conditioning is. Rationally, we may be shocked by the behaviour pattern. In a group, mindlessly, we all do precisely the same thing. Essentially, rush, rush and rush, without any sense of why or what for. Perhaps, we have learned through the ages, that we need to rush to survive. Else, oblivion may consume us!

The better option?

Culturally, we are afraid of stepping outside of comfort zones in Kolkata. We have become conditioned to it. Our trusting, welcoming attitude has led us to misery, grief, colonization and even slavery through generations. So we pendulum swing to the opposite direction. We mistrust everything. 

Fitness may be trending around the world. Not so in Kolkata. Despite the rise of lifestyle diseases like high blood pressure, obesity, diabetes around us, few wish to listen to reason. "No time, no time, very, very busy", many tell me, as they rush to get away. Ignorance, it seems, is bliss. Knowing means worrying, several say. Many, well aware of their unfit condition, hide their embarrassment behind ire. 

Ensconced in comfortable lifestyles, most people don't want their boat rocked. So what if they are a little bit overweight, a little bit diabetic and have a little bit of high blood pressure? Nothing has broken yet, so what is there to fix? A middle-aged man with a prominent midline spread claims he's very fit. The young mother piling on the pounds post-pregnancy, claims she already has too much to do. Thus, lifestyle diseases are left to fester as they will. Until medical assistance is unavoidable.

Generally, it is frustrating to campaign for social awareness of health and fitness in this scenario. Nevertheless, I notice a slight movement away from the stonewalling mindset - among the ageing population. They are tired, they say, of having to reach for meds to keep going. They like the idea of being healthy and active, medicine-free. Fitness fits their happy requirement!

Wellness only in the mind?

Nutritional advice has always seemed like blah, blah to me. I mean, we eat pretty well, right? That’s more than enough to meet nutritional requirements, surely. Besides, in common knowledge, India is No.1 in the underweight population.

We need to rethink our premises. India, reportedly, is now in the top five bracket in obesity. Visceral fat afflicts the young and the old. 

I took a nutritional health check to investigate. It was a rude shock to discover that my body fat content  now exceeds the muscle mass! I joined the wellness industry immediately to restore equilibrium!

Elder sister was incensed when I offered her a free nutritional health assessment. Aren’t you a physiologist, she demanded, how do you get duped by such skulduggery? Don’t you know that wellness is only in the mind? I tell you, you’re in for a terrible let-down!

I do have a few academic degrees, so perhaps, I can think for myself. Fact is our habits have become sedentary. Culturally popular foods stimulate our taste-buds, but their regular intake doesn’t help our waistline. Their nutritional values may be compromised.

The assessment is a good indicator of our current state of health. The knowledge helps us make informed decisions. What we do about our lifestyles thereafter is entirely our own choice.

I continued my explorations of this micro-nutrition business. I did feel a difference in a few weeks. There was 1% decrease in my body fat and, concomitantly, 0.3% increase in my muscle content. 

Elder sister would need to perceive pretty obvious results to calm down. Hopefully, we shall get there - to wellness in body and mind.

Generational break

Brexit has sent shockwaves around the world! In this vote to embrace change, the outpouring of angst is from the young people. After four decades of same old, same old, one might have expected them to welcome change. But no, the older age groups dream of new reality outside of the EU!

Millennials have taken to the streets in protest. Bucketfuls of ketchup underscore the verdict as a "bloody joke"! This generation thrives in Diversity, and on foreign soil. Now they face uncertainties. They perceive the country turning inwards culturally. The outrage is at its becoming isolationist. They fear their world shrinking down to one small island. 

Baby Boomers spearheaded the concept of globalization some decades ago. Then they advocated open borders - but for business purposes. The migration of other nationalities into their world was perhaps never considered. Now they fear cultural invasions, and Brexit presents opportunity to reclaim their distinct national identity.

The two generations, once close because of globalization, now plant in opposing camps. The bonhomie is lost. Bitter political rhetoric stokes differing views of the concept to ignite the fears for the future.

In a tv discussion after the referendum, the hostility was apparent. While a young millennial guest spoke her piece, an older fellow guest repeatedly interrupted her flow to question her stand. Clearly incensed, she vented that, as the privileged white male whose generation had already taken away their future, he now wanted to also take away her airtime! 

From across the world, it appears as if the advocates of the change did not themselves believe in Brexit actually coming to pass. Now that they have it, there is backpedaling on claims. Most importantly, they seem at a loss for plans to consolidate and take forward the change.

Consequences to the verdict, however, were immediate. Many that had voted swayed by emotions, regret the outcome.The markets fell. The currency value reached its lowest in three decades. Investors grew jittery. Some trading had to be suspended. Scotland wants independence. EU leaders adopt a hard line. And then at Euro 2016, England falls to shock defeat against tiny Iceland...

My internal seahorse

My idea of direction is like zero! Most embarrassingly, I have got lost getting home! My mother is similar, maybe even worse, so for years I blamed it on the genetic inheritance from her side.  

 

 

Now, research may be saying that the “problem” is in the development of the hippocampus. This organ, buried inside the brain, is responsible for memory, learning and emotion.

The hippocampus also houses our internal GPS. Inputs from the intelligence areas in the front side of the brain, helps to create the destination point, the “future goal”. Other areas then chime in to enable us to visualize it and to work out our route from point A to point B.

I realize that I fail in chartering course. I probably adapt poorly to space. I have the end points, but memory of the routes in between soon evaporate. I end up going around in circles until suddenly something clicks!

Because of its shape, the hippocampus, meaning “seahorse”, is named after a tiny oceanic animal. The male seahorse is the homemaker, a truly empathetic parent. He has a little pouch, like a kangaroo, where baby seahorses take refuge until they grow up.  

Well, I was always daddy’s girl. Through my formative years, my father would assume responsibility of getting me from point A to point B. That must have led to the underdevelopment. My baby GPS never needed to venture beyond daddy’s pouch! So, do I now blame my dysfunction on his nurturing?

Ice-creamwala

The ice-creamwala parks his cart at the entrance to the building, positioning strategically between cars. He wipes his brow, unloads belongings and perches on the step, like a scrawny little doorman. Day after day, morning to night, he is thus open for business.

The bright red cart is a fixture at the busy crossing. He doesn’t need to hawk his wares; customers naturally gravitate towards the colourful display. Brokers and salespersons pump him for information about the flats and the people living there. Postal peons and couriers sometimes leave with him correspondence for the building’s residents, saving further trips. He can be relied on to conscientiously deliver to the addressees when they return. He helps the local drivers occupy regular parking spots, and holds open car-doors to enable the elderly alight. He calls these his “neighbourly” duties.

He gets his ice-cream supplies from the company factory at least 5 Km away and turns in his cart there at night.  His abode is as far in the opposite direction. He walks a half marathon each day, summer or winter, just to be there. I tell him he should upgrade to a bicycle-cart. He is a little man, his vehicle has no lights, and late at night, it could be dangerous. He shrugs and points to the sky. His will, he says philosophically, whatever happens.

The street vendors have built their own social network at the crossing. The police appear sometimes, to chase them all away. They pack up and leave – and are back in business soon enough at the very same place! They look out for one another, sharing food and work responsibilities. If another vendor has his hands full, the ice-creamwala may well stand over the small coal furnace to dry roast corn on the cob for a customer.

I often see him with a book, a newspaper or fiddling with a smartphone. I once ask him to read the name printed on a letter. English, he first identifies. Try the alphabets, I encourage. He stares at it for a moment, and then to my surprise, reads it out correctly. I ask how far he went in school. He shakes his head. Never even went through the gates, he says, turning up his hands to demonstrate lack of funds. His is social learning; achieved with the help of the people he meets.

Nobody knows or asks for his real name; he responds just as well to “Oye!”, "Ice-creamwala!" or beckoning fingers. His cheery Jai Shri Ram greeting to the world announces him each day - the enterprising outsider, arriving to claim his niche. On the days he fails to be there to keep an eye on things, he is actually missed.

Tat’s empowerment

The meaning of empowerment changes over generations. People naturally react to circumstances; these shape their outlook, and their actions change accordingly. The sense of being and becoming, for young people especially, depends on their environment.

About four generations ago, India was a colony, struggling to throw off the yoke of servitude. The environment was uncertain, the people powerless. However, the the charismatic leaders they followed, united the young and the old as one in the independence movement. Many were child foot soldiers imbued with the fervour of patriotic freedom, unafraid to be arrested, tortured and imprisoned for their social activism. 

Innumerable numbers of these young people martyred themselves during the freedom struggle. Empowered by ideals, they sacrificed their all for the cause deemed greater than the self. Their selfless dedication to the motherland brought independence to the region against the odds. 

 

The environment appears so much more controllable today, only a few generations later. Advancement of technology moulds the youthful outlook. Young people attune to the technology rather than to the collective around them. Virtual reality trumps the immediate external environment. Technology unites young men and women of global diversity through social networking.  

Online trends that go viral attract huge following, and thence is the attraction to body art. The word tattoo has Polynesian origins – tatau, tatu, or tattaw. Among tribal cultures, of this region, those in Africa and elsewhere, the tattoo symbolises a rite of passage. It proclaims to the world that the individual has stepped into adulthood, and is ready to assume the requisite responsibilities. 

It is doubtful that most young people in India have adult reasoning behind their choices of design. Although some may be in homage to the charismatic leaders of yesteryear, social activism also is far from their minds. In reality, they say, the pain is empowering. It is a rite of passage of sorts, to do as their celebrity idols do in promoting their self online. In virtual reality, the intricacies of designing are important. It enables them to stand out from the crowd on the global platform.

There-and-then, freedom of the collectivist nation was cause. In today’s individualistic world here-and-now, the cause is freedom of self-expression.
The previous generations may perceive the youth isolated, inward looking. Not introspective, but rather self-interested, with shrunken horizons and alienation from traditions. But, the question is should they blame the present generation for the outcomes of the technological developments they themselves initiated? 

Game changer

This young man I know looks disheveled with unshaven face and bloodshot eyes. Sleepless nights? I inquire. He confesses to feeling the toll of nightly wakes these days. But no honeymoon here! Blessed with a beautiful baby, all is well, yet now he’s losing track of whether he’s on his head or his heels!

I’m a tad gleefully at the travails of brand new fatherhood. He now walks in the careworn shoes of generations past – parents, grandparents, and feels the lows they had with him that must never have occurred before. A rude shock, though, for him to realize he no longer is the centre of that universe.

Change in the new mother is dramatic. Overnight she transforms from wifey into somebody strange - the new mother transfixed with child. Awash with the maternity hormones, her system resets, restructuring her universe to be so. That then on, the needs of that wailing “bundle of joy” shall take precedence. Thus, Nature ensures infant survival.

Suddenly, from alpha to ordinary! The young man nods. That I experience every day, he rues. It is important for the young couple to rediscover romance in their partnership. But to put others first, is an invaluable lesson of maturity, many men need to learn. I’m sure that this new father secretly resents the carpet being yanked away from beneath his feet. Still he’s lucky to be human; male insects have it far worse. Were he a praying mantis, his head might have been yanked right off when usefulness was done!

Blurred lines

History has always been the bulwark of our culture. Through the ages, we reference a then-and-there we never really experienced to explain actions or rationalize happenings.

That we descend from the gods… that our civilization is the oldest… that in ancient times democracy existed … that over centuries, we withstood the onslaught of other cultures… that monarchies, colonies, and dictatorships passed on… that on the strength of our traditions, we faced diversity but never lost nationhood.

From it we draw meaning for our existence. We do our best to live up to the grandeur and the superhuman heroics. The lines blur between real and fantasy in the stuff of legends we know as traditional heritage.

Then virtual reality happened. Generation Next took to the change like duck to water. History creates at the fingertips as the online transcends all else.

Descend from the gods… assume civilizations of any age… withstand the onslaught of other cultures… raise and demolish democracies, monarchies, colonies, dictatorships instantly in the here-and-now experience. 

The Internet fulfills networking needs and gives meaning to existence. They live through it the images of grandeur, of superhuman heroics, the stuff of legends. 

The interface enables 3d worlds so more real than reality that the lines between blur. In the virtual world of continually streaming information, diversity flows into the living room. It is the new culture the generation connects to, to explain actions or rationalize happenings. The old moulds are broken...Is this evolution?