Diabetes Day thoughts

November 14 was World Diabetes Day. Diabetes is overwhelming India. We have the largest number of diabetics in the world, and no one knows why.

Every year, on this day, doctors and pharma companies talk about diabetes in the newspapers, but sadly, their advice isn't really making a difference. You can make out it isn't because the numbers are increasing, and corporate hospitals are opening centres exclusively for diabetics. These centres are actually big hospitals, all set to cash in on the epidemic. Officially, India has 41 million diabetics, and the national prevalence is between 9 and 14 per cent.

As Diabetes Day approaches, marketers invariably find ways to give their products a diabetic spin. Take green tea. It's a good product, and is considered an anti-oxidant (said to put the brakes on ageing), but can it treat diabetes? Every season, we read articles about its benefits for both Type 1 and Type 2 diabetics. It is possible green tea has some peripheral benefits, but to promote it as a panacea for diabetics is surely an irresponsible bit of exaggeration? You will run into hundreds of such products, each claiming to magically help diabetics. Be warned that they all have an eye on the huge diabetic market, and may not help all that much in glucose control, even if they are good for non-diabetic consumers.

I do a bit of reading, mostly on the Net, to keep abreast of what is happening in diabetes research. Over the past year, I have stumbled across some startling reports. Doctors have found, for instance, that diabetes is a neurological problem, and that inflamed nerves in the pancreas could be the cause of diabetes. Just last week, an Australian research student found how insulin helps fat and muscle cells absorb sugar, and his peers say he may have found a missing piece of the diabetes jig-saw puzzle. A gastric procedure is ridding many Type 2 diabetics of their problem, but it isn't yet considered standard treatment. Many of these developments go against what our doctors routinely tell us, but you can't place all the blame at the doctors' doors because they have probably seen hundreds of promising discoveries just fizzling out.

Some researchers now believe doctors should aggressively start controlling blood sugars and prescribe insulin the moment a patient is diagnosed with diabetes. Is insulin better than the pills? A school of thought believes it is, but even doctors who subscribe to this school are prompted by patient reluctance to go with the pills.

The most surprising book I have read in recent years is Dr Bernstein's The Diabetes Solution, which postulates that the only way to deal with diabetes is to go low-carb and combine it with some exercise. This American doctor has his share of critics, most of whom believe that eating too much protein puts pressure on the kidneys. But he has a staunch following, and is a living example of what diabetics can achieve if they follow his methods. (He began his career as an engineer. When he realised his diabetes was killing him, he started experimenting on himself. He finally did an MBBS, and developed a dissident protocol for treating diabetes. He practises in New York).

Diabetes is a boon to the medical trade -- diabetics live for years and years after they are diagnosed, and spend heavily on doctors and medication -- but a nightmare to sufferers. Every now and then, we hear a cure is around the corner, but cynical diabetics believe the vested interests won't let it arrive.

Play review: Sadarame is boisterous

Karnataka's Telugu-speaking Vaisyas came in for unbelievably devastating satire in Sadarame, the play that brought the curtains down on the Vodaphone Ranga Shankara theatre festival on Sunday.

The Kannada play, done in the company drama style of Gubbi Veeranna (1890-1953), tells the story of the charming Sadarame, daughter of greedy trader Bangaru Setty, and her adventures through a marriage and two subsequent suitors.

Spandana was perhaps best equipped to revive the play as its moving spirit B Jayashree is Veeranna's granddaughter and inheritor on his legacy. Trained at the National School of Drama, Jayashree had moved away from the costume drama of her grandfather's time to fashion a folk-inspired theatre idiom of her own. She must have been happy the theme of this year's Ranga Shankara festival company musicals gave her an opportunity to return to her roots.

The costumes (mid-20th century, Ravi Varma-inspired), the sets (painted backdrops, doorways with plastic flowers and creepers), choreography (black and white movie-inspired) and music (raga-based) harked back to a style of drama that had ended, at least in Bangalore, with the advent of modernist NSD-trained directors.

Bellave Narahari Sastry's (1881-1961) script is full of the most improbable situations (a king giving up his empire without a second thought, a prince being cheerfully married off a second time by a wife who has just risked her life to save him...). Its leaps of fantasy and defiance of logic leave you in a Chandamama-like thrall. The play owes much of its success to its rambunctious lampooning of the trader community. It's the old Chaplin formula strip, the rich of their gravitas, and you've got a hit on your hands! And just when you think Sadarame is taking the stingy Setty stereotype a bit too around and offers a feminist twist by portraying the community's women as smart, beautiful, and courageous, in contrast to the men, apparently crafty and rapacious, but daft actually. (Adimurthy is so dumb he says 'chatriya' for 'kshatriya' and 'vesya' for 'vysya'!).

B Jayashree usually steals the show in most of her productions, and here she played the thief and Sadarame's second suitor. Her rustic philosophizing, English-style singing and Chaplinesque dancing won her applause, but she had stiff competition from Dingri Nagaraj, who played the mean Adimurthy, the trader who bargains for and gets a kingdom in exchange for his sister's hand. With Srinivas Meshtru as his father Bangaru Setty, he brought the house down with some inspired clowning. Rohini Raghunandan as Sadarame and Amit Bhargav as prince Jayaveera handled the challenge of their singing roles with confident ease.

My one complaint was that the play got bogged down by slapstick excess, nd the situations became repetitive after the interval. Sadarame could definitely do with some sharp editing.

Much of the credit for the musical appeal of the play goes to Paramashivanna, who taught the troupe their songs, got them to rehearse for three months, and played the almost extinct leg-harmonium for the show.

It was heartening to see a star from the company drama era performing at a festival that had lots of young people in the audience.

Sadarame was made into a hit film in 1956, was recast as Miss Sadarame after the Gandhian theatre activist K V Subbanna rewrote it some five decades later. Going by the enthusiasm that greeted it at Ranga Sankara, this is one play that won't fade away in a hurry.

Tech review: iPod Nano 8 GB

The new generation iPod Nano, which Apple has just released in the Indian market, has many things to commend it. If you are, like me, familiar with the iPod classic, you will be pleased with the many new features that the Nano offers.

I was particularly impressed with its battery life. I listened to music off and on for a total of about nine hours over three days, and it remained at the half full mark.

The battery on my older 30 GB iPod would show low in three hours, and wouldn't last beyond four hours. As an enthusiastic early adopter of the iPod, I had found that very disappointing. I once took it on a train journey to Delhi, and was out of music even before the train left Karnataka! You can be sure the Nano won't leave you friendless on a long journey.

The Nano claims music playback time of 24 hours when fully charged. The 8 GB Nano can hold up to 2,000 songs or eight hours of video.

The Nano's scratch-resistant aluminum and glass build is another big plus. My classic had a beat-up look within days of purchase, but the Nano has stood up to some rough use. I carried it around in my pocket with the usual keys and coins. Remarkably, the screen still looks new.

The first iPods had no video and colour, but the Nano has both. You can also store pictures, which display nicely. Overall, the quality of graphics can stun you the first time you set eyes on the screen, and the album covers look crisp and stylish in miniature. But many users complain the battery drains out quickly if you play video. And 8 GB isn't really enough if you're planning to store a lot of video. The video playback claim on a full charge is four hours. If you're buying the Nano, buy it for the music, and consider the video just a little something thrown in to sweeten the deal.

The Nano excels, as all iPods do, in the sound department. I listened to some of my favourites, and found the acoustics satisfying. The Bhimsen Joshi thumri Piya milan ki aas has a vintage spooltape feel, which means the middle frequencies are prominent. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the Nano did not highlight the highs, as digital music players tend to.

I also heard the Kannada song Minchaagi neenu baralu (from the movie Gaalipata), which has a lovely string section of violins, violas and cellos. The Nano handled the dynamic range superbly, and the sound was full-bodied.

The Nano comes in nine colours, and the one I tested was gold, but I personally found the colours a bit toyish.

The bright colours could be Apple's way of reaching out to customers who'd like to match their accessories with their clothes, but I guess even rich brats will not be tempted to buy the entire chromatic range.

Another feature introduced with an eye on the young is what Apple calls the Accelerometer, which randomly shuffles your songs when you shake the Nano. The unpredictability of its choice is the fun part. Your photos and album cover art change from vertical to horizontal and back depending on how you hold the Nano. That's another of those nifty little things that add little to the iPod experience. But again, it could be something to boast about when one is with friends who own mp3 players from lesser companies!

I can talk about mp3 players with some authority as I have bought and used a Creative, a Transcend, and a Sony, besides a couple of nameless Chinese players. I would vouch for the Nano experience and rate it the best, but remember, it incorporates all the somewhat irritating anti-piracy features that Apple is known for. You can't transfer a song from the Nano onto another player or computer. This can be a bother if you'd like to move your music from your home to office, and perhaps share it around. Remember also that the Nano has no FM radio.

Another tip if you decide to go in for the Nano: the Apple stores won't budge on the list price (which is Rs 9,700 for an 8 GB), but you may be able to get a significant discount if you buy it from an electronics retailer.

Thumbs up
>>Full-bodied sound
>>Good battery life
>>Scratch-resistant aluminum and glass build
>>Accelerometer, which randomly shuffles your songs when you shake the Nano

Thumbs down
>>No FM radio
>>Toyish colours
>>No file sharing
>>Somewhat pricey

The classicism dilemma

Kannada is now a classical language. It's time to rejoice, but perhaps we should also give some thought to what classicism means to those of us who have no connection with the scholarly life.

The Kannada we speak in Bangalore is full of English, and the Kannada we read in official documents is full of Sanskrit. Sadly, every time a new word needs to be created in Kannada, our official translators go for inspiration not to Kannada (or its Dravidian roots) but to Sanskrit and Hindi. If that's how we understand classicism, we are heading towards disaster!

Sankritised words mostly fail to make it to our spoken language because they are difficult to pronounce. Kannadigas in the more Westernised southern districts reach out for English when they encounter awkward Sanskritised Kannada. (Policemen trying to catch drunk drivers Anglicise their question and ask, 'Drinks maadideera?'. Please note that they never use the Sanskritised 'Madyapaana maadiddeera?' But why do they feel the simple Kannada 'Kudididdeera?' isn't good enough? Is it because such easy expressions are scorned by official circles and our morningers?)

Like English, which they say is torn between Anglo Saxon and Latin, Kannada is torn between its Dravidian roots and Sanskrit. Again like English, Kannada borrows generously from several other languages. Hindi words (but again quite a few Sanskritised) coined by the central government find an easy entry into Kannada, or at least into Kannada officialese, thanks to our officials' linguistic laziness.

Independence Day is swaatantrya dinaacharane. An eye hospital becomes netra chikitsaalaya. Why can't we say bidugadeya habba and kannaaspatre instead? To a Kannada mind, a word like saalnadige can conjure up a parade better than the heavily Sanskritised pathasanchalana. Why do we say dhwajaarohana when we can say baavuta haarisuvudu? Many people think there is no Kannada word for 'colony'. Have they forgotten keri?

The Kannada tabloids prefer the familiar Kannada word to the weighty Sanskrit one. They do not shy away from street language, often more picturesque and expressive than the bookish terms that officials think up.

The morningers paraphrase police hand-outs and talk of "miscreants" which in Kannada officialese becomes dushkarmi. Strangely, the newspapers have forgotten that wonderful Kannada word for trouble-maker: punda.

The Sanskrit obsession is very strong in government offices, but it is not just an establishment malaise. Even Udupi restaurants struggle for new names for dishes with familiar Kannada names. So the common uppittu becomes an erroneously named khaara bhaat. (Khara means spicy-hot, and bhaat in Marathi means rice, but no rice is ever used in khaara bhaat!) Similarly, what is called sajjige in Kannada is given the name of kesari bhaat. But why?

Kannada, like other Indian languages, owes a lot to Sanskrit. Cultural historians tell us how it has held its own against that mighty language.

Purandaradasa (16th century) knew more Sanskrit and classicism than anyone else (he is considered the father of south Indian classical music), but he wrote in a Kannada that remains delightfully accessible to this day. If there's one scholar who could balance the classical with the popular, it's him. He ought to be the contemporary Kannadiga's style guru!

(Parts of this article are borrowed from another I wrote in 2002).