Telemedicine- worth the experiment

A shrivelled Tulsabai Phuljale, 60, sitting in a remote village in Wardha district of Maharashtra, converses over the Internet with a city doctor who prescribes some pain killers and a blood test for persistent body aches. Vilas Urkule is a happier man with his numb hand restored after the Internet doctor advised him to apply a bandage and take some medicines. For Phuljale, Urkule and 10,000 other villagers, who earlier had to travel 40 km to reach the nearest hospital at Sawangi, the Gramdoot Telemedicine Centre at Hingni village has effected a silent revolution. Now a doctor is just a click away and consultation is available through video-conferencing. This way they save at least Rs 60, the cost of visiting a private doctor. Established barely two months ago, it is a testimony of the efficacy of public-private partnership.

The local administration and NSP Futuretech, a private it firm, had been operating a kiosk called Gramdoot to provide computerised land records to villagers for the past two years. When the company learnt about a telemedicine kit manufactured by a Bangalore-based company, it teamed up with the Datta Meghe Institute of Medical Sciences to set up the centre in a 10x12 m (is it metre or feet?) area provided by the administration. The centre is a cement and brick structure painted in green, displaying proudly every bit of the Rs 2.5 lakh Futuretech has spent on it.

Villagers in Hingni are poor. They either grow fruits or work in a nearby chemical factory. For the first two months the centre rendered free service, but now charges Rs 10 for consultation and Rs 30 for various tests. About 10 patients visit it with complaints of fever, cold, cough and body aches every day. Many villagers expect the machine to provide them instant relief, though. “What’s the point of coming to a doctor if he doesn’t give an injection?” says Kiran Shilke, a villager.

According to Abhyuday Meghe, the quacks in the village give an injection even for small complaints like common cold, which makes the villagers believe that they are being treated well. In order to explain the benefits and limitations of the centre, the administration is planning to hold orientation camps every week. The district administration is now planning to spread the benefits of this system to other villages as well. "We are planning to open two more centres at Hinganghat district and Arvi village by the end of this month," reveals Girish Joshi, District Supply Officer.

Conscience Keeper. Ha!

I have many friends. Some of them are journalists (like me,) professionals, businessmen, artists, writers, filmmakers, activists, fashion designers, doctors, engineers, bankers….and then there are politicians. I mention them separately, as they are a breed apart and some of my “normal” friends think they are just my professional friends (read ‘no friends’.) While I agree a few of these infamous politicians are strictly sources, there are also those who are truly those that have thought of me as a family.

One such person is Aatif (name changed for obvious reasons.) He is a corporator from a Mumbai suburb and I unashamedly announce that he is an extremely close friend of mine. I give his example because he is well that’s where the problem began.

A little backgrounder. I’ve known Aatif ever since I started my journalistic career. He is a politician and a corrupt one at that. Yes, that’s hardly a revelation. So I’ve seen him sitting with builders and making deals. He has discussed how many illegal structures he has constructed, how he was scheduled to make pots of money from the Slum rehabilitation project and how many BMC officials he has paid to fill up that nullah in his constituency. How much money he will make from those who have illegal bungalows around his area and how the new pot bellied hotel owner will pay him money to illegally extend his porch.

Aatif is a filthy corrupt politician and the term ‘corrupt politician’ is now so glamourised, that he doesn’t even feel the sting of it. So he even goes around announcing his corrupt status.

Aatif is also a nice man. Oh yes that difficult to believe after reading the above para. Before I met him, I didn’t think that niceness and corruption could co-exist. Either you are right or your are wrong. But when I sit with Aatif in office, I feel otherwise. While I see him finalise talks with corrupt builder, I also see him give away money to the woman whose husband has blown away all his salary in alcohol. While he talks to BMC officials about his illegal constructions, I also watch him order them to repair the damaged pipeline in the nearby slum. While he signs papers on slum rehabilitation I also see him send municipal doctors to the old man who is suffering from …well just old age. Aatif never stops his hands from digging into his pocket and taking out money to give to his poor voters (or non-voters.) And No….this is not a part of his job.

I say it all in contrast because I’m trying to weigh them. Aatif has never extracted money from a poor slumdweller to repair his municipal water line. It’s a strange Robin Hood phenomenon. Taking money from the rich and also helping the poor.

There is no disputing the fact that all his actions have certain negative bearings and even he knows it. But that’s how he has been brought up and that’s how he will always be. But I have also seen him daddying his young son and telling him not to lie (something that he has no right to do.) And above all this, he has been such a great friend to me. From trying to flirt with me in the beginning, to actually respecting me. I’ve found nothing but reverence from this corrupt man.

So if this friend of mine (and not just a professional friend) is in danger…..am I really so wrong in wanting to protect him?

I don’t even have words to pen down what I feel, but writing nevertheless, since it’s known to be cathartic. Conscience has been a sensitive issue for me, as I thought I guarded mine with utmost sincerity. I may have even gone a little further and tried guarding someone else’s conscience. I’ve never accepted even the smallest of gifts (whether a pen or a perfume) in return for my journalistic abilities and will continue to do so.

But what do I do if my friend, my corrupt friend is in danger of being arrested? Do tell him or keep shut and watch him go behind bars? It’s a dilemma I had never thought about, until yesterday. So in a spurt I blurted out to the boyrfriend that I would be a tell tale if I knew of anything bad that were to happen to Aatif. He now thinks I’m not worthy of being told any of his secrets or his office talks. I don’t blame him either. He is right in what he thinks.

But on second thoughts, and now that I have really thought about it….maybe and just maybe (it's hypothetical) I may not have been the tell tale in this story. I would have burned myself out, but may not have told him. But my instant reaction has caused the friction that may never ever render me worthy of absolute trust- and rightly so.

It's strange that just yesterday, I announced to all my colleagues at work that I have to do something landmark so I always remember my dream age of 25 years (That how old I’ve always wanted to be.) Little did I know that the same i.e March 21 would indeed be a landmark day in the 25th year of my life- The day I questioned my conscience and returned terribly disturbed.

Whatever happened to columnists?

Just yesterday Mr Ram Punyani, secretary of All India Secular Forum was droning (in op-ed in HT) about the Sachar committee recommendations. His column talked about how the needs of minorities were being neglected by the proponents of Hindutva for their own menial causes.

Then there was another one a few weeks ago by Harsh Mander (Actionaid India chief and a great human being) who wrote something similar on how the film Parzania should not be banned. But why? That’s because Parzania depicts the lives of Muslims in the state sponsored pogrom and how they have not been able to recover from the trauma.

Both are perfectly sound arguments and need credit. But did it make any difference to your life? It certainly didn’t affect mine. So what am I reading your column for? Is it to prune my literary skills or is to achieve some insight into issues that are way too big for a few thousand words to encapsulate their essence?

Is it that in a bid to be more interactive, newspapers are opening up sacred column space for anybody who wishes to write? Or is it that they have indeed exhausted lateral ways writing about an issue? Columns now sound like political speeches, which sound politically correct or then there are those of like that of the opposition leaders, which are politically incorrect- obviously since they intend to bash the establishment.

In the past few years, I don’t remember reading a single column that has a recall value. There has been none that has stirred my thoughts or incited an argument from within me. What I can’t understand is why is that columnists resort to the same old way of writing and writing and writing more about an issues and not feeling it?

But giving the devil its due, Barkha Dutt (even though I’m not any big fan of hers) more recently has been one of the only few columnists that has been able to help me think and analyse my thoughts.

Yet, there are no columns that emanate from personal experiences of the riots, the Hindu-Muslim divide or anything else that hits the conscience. While they go on and on about how we are morally wrong in doing a particular thing, they don’t mention names of people who have lives through agony. They don’t narrate their stories in a way that moistens the heart. And they don’t even for a second shake a believer’s faith.

Columns now seem like a space filling exercise with every newspaper competing to get a better known name to write for it-immaterial whether he she is merited to do so.
I am a small (read very small) journalist and maybe I have no right to comment on columnists that are visibly more experienced than I am.

But as a reader, columns don’t move me. And if my thoughts are not moving any inch further, the dossier I read needn’t be read.