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| Bilash Rai |
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| Bilash Rai |
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| The rampant, often-frivolous use of antibiotics over the past half-century has made us dramatically more vulnerable today. |
| Satya sivaraman & kp sasi |
| Bacteria control, Kerala-style |
| Ask for plain drinking water in any roadside eatery in Kerala and you will get a steaming hot, golden-brown liquid that not only slakes your thirst but adds a spring to your step. Even more significantly, for the past two decades or so this simple practice of serving boiled water with medicinal herbs, or dahashamani (see pic) has helped Kerala to drastically cut down incidence of diarrhoeal diseases and a variety of other water-borne infections. The efficacy of this concoction, based on both modern and traditional wisdom, rests in the fact that it comes almost free of charge, and has long been voluntarily adopted by the population. Though the benefits and impact of this practice, used in homes, hotels and other public food-distribution points, are still being studied, the preliminary results are impressive. According to official statistics on communicable diseases, in the 14 districts of Kerala, from 2000-07 deaths due to acute watery diarrhoea (a major hazard in much of India) were less than 15 a year. This is extremely low, compared to the national average of 1600 deaths per day. The World Bank estimates that 21 percent of all communicable diseases in India are due to poor quality water alone. The choice of boiled over plain water is common sense, of course; the trick lies in ensuring that people actually implement this precaution. Not only has this been achieved in Kerala, but in a manner that does not require either regulatory measures or subsidies. Serving hot herbal water has become the norm, to the extent that today it has become a cultural practice. Among other benefits, the addition of herbs – cumin seeds, basil, caringali and ramachham, all commonly found in Kerala – makes the hot water palatable, and gives it a flavour that ensures that people actually use it. Perhaps still more impressive is that hotels and restaurants charge no money for dahashamani, despite having to spend on fuel for heating and procuring herbs. “I spend 250 rupees every day on fuel wood to prepare the boiled water for my customers,” says Ravi Menon, the owner of a small roadside restaurant on the outskirts of Trivandrum. Asked why he is willing to spend his money on dahashamani rather than selling bottled mineral water, Menon says that doing so “would not be acceptable to our customers”. Perhaps it should not be acceptable for those outside of Kerala, too. – Ajith Lawrence and Satya Sivaraman |
| ‘Micro-organisms are the good guys' | |
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