Chronicles of an Ob-Gyn

It all began a month and a half ago, during one of my daily phone conversations with my Mom. "I'm starting the Jagannath Dixit diet," she announced, "I think you should too... You've become huge!" Snide comments on my weight are a routine in our conversations, which I have learnt to happily ignore and continue eating what I want! My mother, a strict disciplinarian, has always been a fitness enthusiast, very conscious about her health and the preventive aspects pertaining to lifestyle- based diseases. Even at 55, she manages to squeeze in an hour of workout at her gym, in her schedule lined with household and office work, along with her social commitments. "I suddenly realized I can't keep up with this pace for too long", she said. "I'm getting older, and I don't know how long my body can keep up with the exercise it is used to. I don't want to suddenly stop and end up with a debilitating senescence. This diet seems quite easy....

The time has come, I believe, to ask uncomfortable questions... To raise issues nobody wants to talk about... To bring up conversations at the dinner table that leave the traditional Indian family squirming uncomfortably in their seats, toying with the food in their plates, unwilling to meet each others' eyes... To ask 'why', to introspect, and come to conclusions, find solutions... A series of events in the recent past have been highly unnerving. It all started when I read in the news about a colleague from medical school, caught filming a neighbor in the nude. Then came a series of 'confessions' from several girls who had been emotionally and sexually abused by someone I had known since he was a child, and had, hitherto, looked up to. And now, there's #meToo that has been creating waves over social media, with the trolls having a gala time over incidents that are of the most serious nature, and definitely not laugh-worthy! Open the newspaper every m...

The television screen in the OPD reception played a black and white song, as she shifted anxiously in her seat. She heaved the large plastic bag with one broken handle onto the empty chair on her right. It carried eleven files with all her previous reports. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her husband, seated in the chair next to her, placed a reassuring hand over her clenched fist. She could feel the callosities and blisters on his palm. A welder by profession, he had taken the day off to accompany her to the clinic. She looked into his weary eyes. Behind the façade of strength and poise, she knew he hid despair and helplessness. It had been long enough… Thirteen long years of childlessness! In these thirteen years, they had seen it all- the carefree coyness of newlyweds gradually transforming into concern, anxiety, frenzy… numerous visits to several doctors… prayers at various temples… a lot of unsolicited advice from family, friends, colleagues, random strangers… finge...