We are a country of varied voices. All angry, yes, but varied. Our voices are divided by everything from gender to religion. From cast to the OTT platform we subscribe to. From our (lack of) pride in all things Indian to the IPL team we root for. But there is one thing we speak about in a united voice- Chubhti Jalti garmi.
Climate change is real, and we have our boiling blood, cold sweat and dried tears for proof. More importantly, we have running noses and itchy throats that concur. Confused?
Well, climate change did not just crop up because a certain jobless, meritless aspiring writer needed a topic beginning with the letter ‘C’ to harp upon. It was birthed with extreme efforts- of wiping out forests, plundering natural resources and blowing up clouds of noxious gases that made the sky weep acid tears. In the process, several ecosystems were disrupted. And here, we are not talking of monochromatic corporate-like ecosystems with cubicles and employees both appearing out of 3-D printers.
We are talking about a diverse group of living organisms- from a particular kind of grass, a particular herbivore dependent on it, and transforming it to manure (Eww, but also wow!) and that manure nurturing crops and trees that take all sort of growth modulators and temperature modulators to grow in all regions except this particular one. And bugs and bees and birds that do monthly, quarterly and annual appraisals, and are even involved in overseas travel in terms of migration. And then, carnivores who bag the highest package.
But no. We decided to dismantle their office, sprinkle pesticides over their dreams and chop off the pillars and beams of their buildings (read trees). And after we grazed their ecosystem to dust, we began complaining these animals were running away to other territories. That there are crocodiles in toilet commodes and cheetahs perched on top of wardrobes in villas of poor, unsuspecting humans.
What we forgot, was they also bring viruses that are exotic to the new office they want to join. And over lunch breaks and long-drawn board room meetings, these viruses have been stirred into coffees of folks who have no immunity to them- for example- an African virus inside a pig in the US. And a virus in a bat that takes a world tour, entering, exiting, and jumping species and countries.
And then this infected pig sneezes, coughs, calls for sick leave, is denied leave, keeps coming to the office, passes on the virus to other pigs and cows and fowls from the HR department and so on…..and before we know it, their entire office is coughing.
But somewhere, the virus decides it is a go-getter and over a PowerPoint presentation with its co-viruses, launches the latest version of altered gene gear that will let them penetrate humans- their premium target clientele.
And then we, the humans of the tropics, cough, and sneeze and have sore throats and then get reminded that Covid could still be around, so we put on masks intermittently, only to pull them down to lament- Kitni garmi hai! It is so hot, and summer has just begun!
To combat the sweat, we will switch on the air conditioners, sip on exotic coffees that have been shipped from the other end of the world and we will talk about carbon footprint, holes in the ozone and global warming. And we will share posts in solidarity of cancer patients, and how the incidence of cancer is on the rise in the young.
Speaking of cancer, my maid gave me gyaan, again. I noticed a huge burn on her forearm. It had turned into an ugly brown, fluid filled boil. She caught the question in my eyes, and gave a clarification when I asked for none- She had scalded herself while transferring a woke of steaming hot rice to the plate. I was still staring at the purple bruises -four clear lines encircling her delicate wrist. The tear on her chin from last week is yet to heal.
She sweeps in silence for a while, then says- “I will have to be careful, Didi.”
I nod.
She adds. “I must make sure this boil heals on its own. If this bubble bursts, I will get cancer. right here, where the bubble is.”
I opened my mouth to disagree, but then, shrugged alone. I did not want to burst her bubble. May she heal.
Also, cancer is a more likely diagnosis than domestic violence. And the biggest challenge in managing both is ignorance.
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