..of Cells, Biology and Cloning. Or Not.

Name - The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks

Author - Rebecca Skloot

Publisher - Pan Macmillian

Price - 325 INR

Pages - 377

If you think, biology is "not your type", this one is a must read!

"The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, is the story of a woman who revamped the course of medical history. Except that she didn't know it. Neither did her family or children or husband or friends. 

Medical science progressed, and companies continued to make millions off Henrietta's cells, while her family continued to struggle in abject poverty, little education, occasional crime and a lot of injustice. 

The epic "hands-on-her-hips"
file photo of Henrietta Lacks 

Henrietta was a 31 year old, poor African-American tobacco farmer - native of South Virginia, mother of five, caregiver of many more - when she she died, quite suddenly, of cervical cancer, just eight months after her first hospital visit. This was waaayyy back, in 1951.

She was treated at the John Hopkins Hospital in Maryland, and waaay back then, treatment (both medical and otherwise) for the 'colored' wasn't exactly in black and white. 

The doctors did some. And then they didn't do some. As a part of what they did do, a small coin-sized sample of her tissue (cancerous and normal) was taken to the lab for culturing. 

Crazy balls!

Cancerous cells, put simply, grow like 'crazy balls' (remember those?) pounce. On and On and On. Just as the balls don't lose momentum for a long, long, time, cancerous cells never grow old. So they continue to divide like crazy throughout their extended youth! And this of course messes with our system and causes waay too many aberrant cells in our body (cancer).

Picture this: An India-Pakistan final cricket match, and a nail-biting close. We need five runs off the last ball of the last over when Sachin T smashes living daylights of the shot! Woohoo, and we clinch the title!

Those were somewhat the feelings of George Gey - the researcher in whose lab Henrietta's cells were first grown. Scientists all over the world had been trying to grow human cells in the laboratory since long and Henrietta's cells were nothing short of miracle. They clinched a win for his lab, his love for science, and an never-to-be-forgotten landmark in the history of medical science.

Slowly after that, Henrietta Lacks (HeLa) cells became the standard in medical practice. They were used for everything from drug-testing to cell-cloning, from vacuum subjection (they were sent up in space!) to radiation treatment. They have been reproduced, reused, standardized, treated, tested, twisted, tackled, even tampered with.. in every imaginable and unimaginable way. In fact, it is estimated that there is no person on earth who has not benefited either directly or indirectly from her cells.. Talk about impact.

Ironically though, it was her own family which was left, ortracized and oblivious, to all of these developments for over 20 years. 

Deborah Lacks, Henrietta's youngest daughter,
was just six, when
she lost her mother to cervical cancer

In Henrietta's youngest daughter, Deborah Lacks words: "If our mother cells done so much for medicine, how come her family can't afford to see no doctors?"

I don't think anyone - from the doctors at John Hopkins to the writer of this book had an answer.

And so, this is a harrowing tale of racism and injustice, science and progress, the world and its ways, scientific discovery and emotional depth, biology and ethics, and yes, the crazy cells that changed our world for good.

The writer's decade long research, with writers, scientists, her family, friends, neighbors, and lawyers deserves all the praise that it can possibly get. Rebecca Skloot managed to weave entire scenes, sequences and series from Henrietta's life - she helped us re-live her joys, weep quietly in her travails, pray silently for soul and most importantly, know the person behind the marvel called HeLa.

Deborah Lacks, and her brother Zakariyya, as they saw their mother's cells under a microscope
for the first time. She pressed a cold vial of the cells to her lips and whispered "You're famous [mother]. Just that nobody knows it."

PS. I am totally in awe of the writer, her writing style and her persistence to bring alive this story to every reader! Science Journalism is so totally awesome. Here is the link to a small interview that she gave shortly after the release of her book.. :) 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=endscreen&v=4AuOWSOzdcA&NR=1

Happy Reading - also, if anyone is in Delhi/Gurgaon/Chandigarh and would like to read this book, I will be happy to pass on my copy.. Let me know! 

Truth Love And A Little Malice

Truth Love And A Little Malice
Autobiography : Khushwant Singh
Edition 2002
Publisher: Viking
My Rating : 5 Stars and my best smiley :D


I started reading this book only to overcome an extreme bout of laziness that had struck me in the past few weeks. Not only was I on complete bed rest, I had begun to sleep 14 hours.. Without exaggeration my only activity in the day was perhaps, rolling my eyes (Btw, I'm pretty good at that!) I knew K.Singh primarily as a Sikh writer, and half expected this to be a long history of Sikhism and its teachings, but took it up anyway.

Am I thankful!
This book is
legen
wait for it
dary! (Yes, I have watched 4 seasons of HIMYM in around 4 days!)

Khushwant Singh might sound provocative or controversial to many but maybe thats because he's brutally honest. And face it, truth does bite.

Khushwant Singh was born in 1915 in Hadali, Punjab; educated in Government College, Lahore and Kings College in London. He worked as a lawyer in Lahore, with the Indian Ministry Of External Affairs, as a diplomat in Paris and Canada, and even with UNESCO in Paris.
In the first few chapters of the book, he comes across as a spoilt brat, who was, to put it simply, living off his fathers wealth (They owned more than half of Delhi around the time of Partition and after. Infact, their houses and buildings are the Bhavans and abodes for our politicians and diplomats.)He never really stood out academically, completed his three year law degree in five years, and took to scotch like a fish to water. But it was perhaps his love for traveling and reading, and the brazen confidence to say anything to anyone that unflinching financial and emotional security gives you that saw him through. Also, the courage to leave a conventional profession and take a chance as a writer. But then again, I think he was lucky because he always had something to fall back upon.

The best thing, about him as a writer is that, he spoke and wrote what he really thought, irrespective of the consequences. His take on everyone, from his school friends to the Prime Minister Of India is truly his own and thats what draws one towards his writing.
As an individual, I am still to come to terms with that.. I am not very sure of just how blunt one should be. I can safely say that I don't lie about what I like or don't like, just to make some else feel better; but nor can I say that I just blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind. I have tried that and I'm telling you, its dangerous (when you try and break the 'indomitable' male ego) and potentially explosive (when talking to the 'girl-in-distress'). Either case, you're in trouble before you even think you've begun. So I tend to understand what kind of person I am talking to before I speak too much.If I sense danger, instead of lying, I keep my views to myself. In any case, its better than back-biting or handling crying girls.
Though I still don't know if that's right or wrong.

'The problem with law is that it has very little to do with justice'
I really liked this one liner.

Also, I found it very surprising that despite writing so much on Sikhism and translating parts of the Guru Granth Sahib, he is unequivocally agnostic.
He dares to question the sanctity of blind faith, and the magical powers that we vest into our religious scriptures.

In the words of Iqbal:

Dhoondta phirta hoon main, ai Iqbal, apney aap ko
aap hee goya musaafir, aap hee manzil hoon main

(O Iqbal, I go about everywhere looking for myself
As if I was the wayfarer as well as the destination)

Though I do not quite discard the basis of all religions, and confess to being hopelessly God fearing, I quite agree with the fact, unless superhuman, one cannot be a true athiest. That would be like living in a vacuum, and appears to me, as quite a sterile concept, more like an I-am-educated fad.I am also in awe of his view of incorporating more contemporary 'rituals' in our life.. Like planting a tree,on occasions of birth,death and anniversaries, instead of sprouting scotch fountains; and inculcating a work ethic in the same.

I picked up this amusing saying ascribed to the Sikh trading community from the book:

Jhooth vee aseen bolney aan,
Ghut vee aseen tolney aan,
Par Sachhey Padshaah,
Tera naa vee aseen lainey aan

We admit we tell lies,
We also give short measures,
But O true King Of Kings,
We also take your name.

I recently came across a quote by Bejamin Franklin which said that 'Either write things worth reading or do things worth writing'. I think Khushwant Singh is one of the few people who managed both, in both letter and spirit.