Silvery stillness in my room
Uninvited it gently creeped in
Knowing it would be welcome still
Had I not wakened it would
Have left unseen, unnoticed…

It lingers awhile
A beautiful sheen on my feet
A sudden brightness in my room
I look at it in wonder
Curl my toes under it’s touch
But only for a little while

For Slowly, yet surely It slips away
Gently bidding farewell
As it’s edge kisses each toe
The moon rises away from my window
To sprinkle gentle kisses – at another door

It is cold, the sky is a dull grey and the air is wet with the memory of a faint drizzle. There is a small crowd passing by with banners of a ‘Mubarak Out’, ‘Yes We Can’, ‘Peace’, ‘Stop the Violence’ … I ignore it once, I ignore it twice as my friend and I find our way to my favorite haunt in DC to savor a warm cup of tea. Part of me is miffed at the tiny fraction of DC’s citizenry that is out on the street in support of Egypt and part of me is acutely aware of my hypocrisy as I let them pass me by, focused on my own comforts of daily life – such as warm tea on a cold day.

Unfortunately, the tea shop is nowhere to be seen, and we find ourselves in front of the White House a few meters away from the protestors. We walk gingerly towards the crowd – a 100 people at the most, would be my estimate – not more. We stand a few feet away from the main crowd – slightly unsure, finding ourselves in a place we’ve never been before. A few minutes late we step closer, into the main circle of people who are calling out chants on microphones which the crowd is repeating. We are still silent… absorbing. I want to speak, I want to join their voices – but part of me feels that even adding my voice to the crowd is such an insignificant thing, what difference would it make.

There was a call from Alexandria they announced, and they held up the phone as the voices became louder as the crowd revved up to let the caller from Egypt know that people in another continent support their efforts. There was a brief moment of silence as candles were lit in memory of those who had died ‘not only in the last 13 days but also in the last 30 years’.

I finally managed to open my mouth and join into ‘we want democracy, we want peace’ – it is a strange feeling, I realize for all my occasional impassioned outbursts about the state of the world – I am no activist. It struck us how it must be to be for those in Tahrir square – for ordinary men and women who had never before raised their voices in protest in the streets, each of whom had overcome the restraints of daily life and personal concerns for safety and security to stand and protest like this in a much more hostile environment.

I also realized my disconnect, no matter how much I feel for the people in Egypt, and for what they are undergoing – it is not my country, it is not my home that is under threat – It is not as real for me as it is for them. I was cold – we walked away after an hour or so – or was it less? They were announcing that they had received a permit to camp overnight in front of the white house in protest of the oppression in Egypt.

I did not plan to be there, I did not even shout enough, I left so soon. I did not even think of camping overnight in front of White House on a freezing DC night. I am no activist. I had perhaps even started off as a skeptic – what could just standing and shouting achieve? – but I left as a believer – there is courage in each person who decides to brave the cold, the heat, the oppression – who decides to stand in solidarity. We are human, not everyone can do everything but we can all do a little bit. It may not be our own house, but we can stand with our neighbors, even if it’s only for a few minutes.

I did not plan to be there, we were lost due to my terrible navigation skills. But sometimes it is good to be lost, and to let the signs lead you – and perhaps to end up finding something you didn’t even know you were looking for.

Life takes on shape and meaning when a person is able to transcend the barriers of personal survival and become a unique conduit for its vital energy.
– Rosamund Zander

But now they have
Red dust over them
From lush African lands
From an unplanned adventure
A chance encounter

I don’t wish to clean them
I want that tangible reminder
Of laughter and excitement
I want the blush to linger

Others may see dirty shoes
But I see memories of advanture
I walk around town
With a blush on my shoes

In medicine not all that we practice is based on an explanation of mechanism – not all that we take to be ‘true’ is based on knowledge of how and why it works. A lot of it is based on ‘observation of effect’, in fact today ‘observation of effect’ has become the most regarded ‘scientific proof’ in the medical community. Whereas a lot of understanding of mechanisms of disease and the action of drugs is based on an underlying reasoning and understanding of the physiology, anatomy and biochemistry of the body, and a doctor prescribing a drug can explain how and why that drug will work based on ‘explanation of mechanism’. But when you have 10 painkillers which have the same mechanism of action – how do you decide which one to prescribe given that you cannot differentiate between their mechanisms to help you decide one drugs superiority over the others – for your current knowledge is not developed enough to enable you to distinguish between the minute differences that may exist between the actions of the drugs.

So then we resort to ‘observation of effect’ – what we have come to call ‘evidence based medicine’ – we essentially take 100 people and give 50 drug A and give another 50 Drug B and see which group reports greater pain relief (this is a simplistic model, the actual study designs are much more complicated). And when we are convinced of our observations – we declare that Drug A is better, feed that information into our guidelines and start prescribing Drug A over drug B.

Modern medicine – a scientific discipline is now placing great emphasis on ‘observation of effect’ (aka evidence-based medicine) to guide its work. So here I draw a parallel between the practice of medicine and the practice of believing in the existence of a God. I do not know his mechanism, I do not know how he works or what he is – but I do think he manifests himself in our lives – I do think we can show that he ‘works’ if we but observe the effects of his presence in the world around us. Believing in him/her gives me strength and makes me strive towards being a better person. Everyone is built differently, perhaps some people don’t need that and are comfortable being atheists – I am not comfortable being an atheist – I do believe in the existence, benevolence and greatness of God – it keeps me humble, grateful and grounded.

I simmer and rise
even to myself
all this
is a surprise
I am but a conduit
for something more
unleash me

I cannot let
the land shape
my path anymore
for it is rocky
and I cant
nurture it
and I am wasted

let me open
leave me free
the fallow lands
I seek
unleash me
let me be
I ask for nothing more
and nothin less

Sitting at a bar along 18th street in Adams Morgan, in welcoming company. I dreamily drink in the lightness of a Saturday summer evening. With shiny people milling by… a happy buzz in the air.

I am here, it is me, sitting here – taking in these sights and sounds – living this life.

Nine months back in the HSPH countway library I had looked out of the window and looked in awe at Harvard Medical School’s grand building. And one month into my studies at Harvard, it finally sunk in that I was really there. Nainital, Delhi, Bulgaria, Italy, Vatican, London, Houston, Chicago, Boston, Washington DC – one by one cities and streets cease being words on a map –  they take on life and become real and gradually turn into memories. New people are met, friendships are forged, the kindness of strangers is found in the unlikliest of places – life is lived and the journey goes on.

I hope this sense of wonder follows me everywhere, that I don’t take for granted that which is given to me. I never aimed/hoped/planned or dreamed for any of this. Interviewers ask you ‘where do you see yourself 5-10 years down the lane’ … they say ‘if you don’t know where you are going any road will get you there’. But I think life is an ‘evolutionary’ process, you never know where you are going even if you profess too. Your experiences and your choices shape the direction it will take. And if you are truly following your heart – then there are no choices to be made – you just do what you must. And you don’t know where you are headed, you don’t know how and when the pieces will fit together – you just follow with child-like faith and pray that it will all make sense one day.

We sit at dinner and we talk of health systems, poverty, global governance – we are indeed so priviliged (despite not being able to afford DC rents on an interns salary :p ) – to be clinking glasses, to be enjoying great company and intellectually satisfying conversations – and most of all to be able to feel that we are contributing. I remember a dear professor once mentioning how she felt so uncomfortable that so much money would go into her stay at expensive hotels in developing countries and for her to travel there. There is definitely a place for that conciousness, but there is also a place for throwing back your hair, for clinking glasses and for enjoying yourself. A place for sacrifice and a place for indulgence but above all a permanent place for a touch of gratitude and a sprinkle of wonder.

http://www.teamhope.com/seuss.htm

I was having dinner with a couple of friends – some new, some old and enjoying one of my loveliest evenings in a long time. As I was gulping down the last few fries from my plate, somebody casually remarked “You don’t really practice what you know you should be doing”. Implying that being a public health person I should be eating healthy and by stuffing myself with fries I was somehow wrong. The statement irked me slightly but I was too busy enjoying a high calorie cheese filled burger to give it much thought.

A few days later, after the Boston water leak I am once again guilty of ignoring the public health warnings and not having boiled my drinking water (I am from India for God’s sake, I’ll survive the bugs from your tiny leak), and another friend who is not a public health person said that if I am preaching something I am not doing myself it makes me a hypocrite. This time not having high calorie food to distract me, I could give full vent to my annoyance with the judgment being meted out to me. If I am a physician who advises people to eat less, quit drinking and smoking, exercise more, sleep just the right amount – and I don’t myself practice this entire gamut of healthy behaviors – am I then to be labeled as a hyprocrite? By that definition perhaps all physicians are hypocrites.

I was having trouble getting my friend to see my point, I asked two other people who compounded my frustration by concurring with my friend – that if I am a smoker and I am telling others to quit it makes me a hypocrite. I was almost beginning to pull my hair out in exasperation when Wikipedia came to my rescue –

“Nothing is more unjust, however common, than to charge with hypocrisy him that expresses zeal for those virtues which he neglects to practice; since he may be sincerely convinced of the advantages of conquering his passions, without having yet obtained the victory, as a man may be confident of the advantages of a voyage, or a journey, without having courage or industry to undertake it, and may honestly recommend to others, those attempts which he neglects himself.”

Words written by Samuel Johnson a great English author of the 17^th century who among other things authored a “Dictionary of the English Language” which remained the main dictionary in use for about 150 years before the Qxford Dictionary was published.  He too said that it is ok to preach what you do not yourself practice and that does not make you a hypocrite.

The question arises – what then is hypocrisy?

The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines it as ‘feigning to be what one is not or to believe what one does not”. The American Heritage Dictionary states “The practice of professing beliefs, feelings, or virtues that onedoes not hold or possess; falseness.”

Hyprocrisy is about being what you are not; it is not about preaching what you don’t practice. If I profess to be a honest person in public but I take bribes – then I am a hypocrite. A hypocrite is someone who pretends to be your friend but then turns around and criticizes you to the next person. In all these cases the person is doing something different from what they profess to be.

A parent who smokes and tells her children not to, is NOT a hypocrite. He is just not going to be very effective at keeping his kid from smoking. You would agree that even smoking parents SHOULD tell their kid not to smoke, even if they can’t stop smoking. But according to my detractors – that would make him a hypocrite. So if he tells his kid not to smoke he is a hypocrite and if he doesn’t tell his not to smoke then also he is doing something wrong. There is an inherent logical fallacy here.

Who then is to blame for this misconstruction of this word? With due respect, I think Gandhi messed it up. There is this Gandhi story that all of read in school. A mother comes to Gandhiji and tells him that his son eats a lot of sweets what should she do. Gandhiji doesn’t say anything to her but tells her to return after a week. A week later Mom comes to Gandhiji and he helps her get her kid to quit eating sweets. She asks Gandhiji why he couldn’t do it earlier. Gandhiji says that since he himself was very fond of eating sweets, he needed to kick his own bad habit before he tried to preach to others. Gandhiji’s lesson about ‘practice what you preach’ has become equated with ‘hypocrisy’ in our minds. But there is a subtle yet very important difference between the two.

Yes it is good to practice what you preach. But it does not make you a bad person if you don’t. It does not mean that you have double standards. It does not make you a hypocrite.

Being a hypocrite is having double standards, it is about professing to be what you aren’t. It is not about practicing what you preach, it is about not being who you say you are.

Some might say ‘you take this too seriously’. But I think it is important to take these things seriously. Words are not just words and meanings; they come with connotations and with judgments. If I am not practicing what I preach I am just lazy or whatever, but if I you label me as a hypocrite, you are also labeling me as something ‘bad’.

A bigger problem arises here, since ‘not practicing what you preach’ has been labeled as ‘hypocrisy’ in the minds of a large number of people. The value judgments associated with ‘hypocrisy’ have somehow become associated with ‘not practicing what you preach’

If you google, you come across statements such as – A parent who smokes and advises his kid not to smoke is reekingof hypocrisy. An anti-smoker who can’t quit smoking is a hypocrite. Me telling women to stand for elected office when I don’t think I am going to do it myself. We are all of us then hypocrites.

To repeat Johnson

“Nothing is more unjust, however common, than to charge with hypocrisy him that expresses zeal for those virtues which he neglects to practice …a man may be confident of the advantages of a voyage, or a journey, without having courage or industry to undertake it, and may honestly recommend to others, those attempts which he neglects himself.”

– Martha Graham

Life takes on shape and meaning when a person is able to tanscend the barriers of personal survival and become a unique conduit for its vital energy.

– Rosamund Zander

I hug my maid. I don’t remember ever having hugged a maid before. Not that I was particularly fond of this one, in fact I hadn’t even met her before. I had said hello to her on skype, when I would be chatting to parents and she happened to be cleaning the room where they were. Perhaps I am beginning to ‘see’ people, to genuinely acknowledge them as equals. As long as the maid sits on the floor, and we sit at our tables, casteism will live on in disgused forms.

A little kid peeks into my auto, asking me to buy the two pencils in his hand for Rs. 10. I steel myself to ignore her, I am not even carrying change, the smallest I have is a Rs.50 note, so I can’t possibly buy the pencils. But the red light lasts longer than I’d like, and his pleas begin to chip away my resistance, and I ask the auto driver to give the boy 10 bucks and I ‘buy’ the pencils from him. But it doesn’t end there, at the next crossing there is another tiny kid waiting, with two pencils clutched in her outstretched hand…

I say sorry to strangers who bang into me. I feel strange when traffic refuses to stop when I’m crossing the road. The smoke and dust lingers in the air.

I wish I had a car to save me from it all, to keep me insulated. But I take the auto, I sit in the bus – and of all places, it is the DTC bus that feels most normal. I am glad I have to take the bus. For it leads to an interesting conversation with the boy who sits next to me … to whom I hand over the pencil I bought for Rs.10 from the street kid.

It was just a favorite quote once – Kahlil Gibrans words now speak of my life

“I would not exchange the sorrows of my heart
for the joys of the multitude.
And I would not have the tears that sadness makes
to flow from my every part turn into laughter.

I would that my life remain a tear and a smile.
A tear to unite me with those of broken heart;
a smile to be a sign of my joy in existence.”

A laptop in my bag, Harvard in my head – the availability of an easy escape – bring comfort and freedom.

The necessity of an auto, of a bus – keep me grounded, keep me connected.