The Ethics of Euthanasia

                   The word "euthanasia" translates from Greek as a "good death" ,a pleasant way to depart well from life. The recent Bollywood movie Guzarish deals with this sensitive topic,albeit through rose-tinted glasses. Euthanasia is a matter of continuing debate, with opinions ranging from vociferous advocacy, careful approval to outright rejection. Indeed, some would go so far as to call euthanasia murder. But who decides when the quality of a person's life is too poor to continue living? Physicians? Relatives? Or the law? Is it only the terminally ill who can be administered merciful death or even the mentally ill who merit euthanasia?

                      The arguments for mercy-killing are indeed pertinent and valid. It is the only relief available to people suffering from incurable, painful and end-stage diseases like cancer. A once proud individual reduced to a vegetable-like existence is justified in demanding alleviation from pain. In a free world, each and everyone of us should have the freedom of choice. And purely from a practical point of view, it  frees up medical resources and funds to help other patients who will benefit from it.

                        On the other hand, euthanasia is a form of killing, both from the legal as well as moral point of view. In a country like India, it may well be used as a license for criminal and intentional murder. It is possible mercy killing may cause a decline in medical standards as well.For a physician who has taken the Hippocratic Oath, killing patients is the primary taboo. With the advancement of medical science, palliative care is a better way to help terminal patients live a pain free and dignified existence. Euthanasia would nip in the bud so many miraculous death bed recoveries one hears of. Depressed individuals might take recourse to it as the easy way out.

                         One wonders what opinion Aruna Shanbagh would hold on this issue,if she were capable of rational thought. Raped in 1973 and in a vegetative state since then, with no relatives to look after her, Aruna has been cared for by nurses at the KEM hospital for 36 years. A petition to allow Aruna to die has sparked a heated debate across India. The Supreme Court does not give permission to die and  Indian scriptures have for centuries upheld the values of life and its preservation.But these words are cold comfort to Aruna and others like her who lead an existence that can at best be called sub-human.  In the US,the case of Terry Schiavo was another distressing  example of a conflict between family members which led her to be sustained through artificial feeding for 15 years though she had been left in a vegetative state after a cardiac arrest. Ms Shiavo's feeding tube was removed in 2005  after protracted legal battle and she died some days later. She died in a natural,humane process,and dozens of other patients in her similar physical state deserve the same consideration. Or so would believe Dr Kevorkian, dubbed Dr Death for his passionate defense of choice for terminal patients. In 1998, he assisted a terminally ill patient with a lethal injection that was broadcast on television. Arrested soon after, Dr Kevorkian has been instrumental in winning terminally ill patients the right to decide on the time and method of their own death. Dr Death or Angel of Mercy, the debate rages on.

                         Popular opinion holds that the Final Departure should be a dignified one. A person with an incurable disease,or in terrible pain with no hope of recovery should be given the right to decide if he wants to die in peace. The central issue should not be what family members desire for themselves or for their loved one. The point to consider is what the patient would want. If there is no clear indication of what he would have preferred, and in the absence of  public policy or clear family consensus,medical aid should be continued. But enforcing life-prolonging treatment against the patient's desire is unethical.  At the same time, there should be stringent laws in place that ensure that no false play is possible. Every patient admitted to a hospital should fill out a "living will" indicating their wishes in the event that they lose their competence in future. Each human being is an individual and there can be no single rule that applies to each and everyone. It is up to the family,medical professionals and the law to decide which path to take. But every person has the right to a Death of Dignity and one hopes the law guarantees that for each of us.

The Many Hues of Pleasure

         On days when the blues threaten to beset me, I uncap my bottle of memories and like an exotic perfume, a whiff of the happy past lifts my spirits and my world seems brighter again.

          My first pleasant memory is of lying with my head on my mothers's lap when I was about three, lulled to sleep by the buzz of adult conversation. Oh, to be back in that warm cocoon of security and love, when it seemed nothing would ever go wrong in my little world. Happiness was a picnic in the zoo with my cousins from all across the world, a day of elephant rides, candy floss, blue skies and rolling in the green grass. The first hailstorm I experienced and the taste of the icy pellets melting in my warm mouth. A cup of my mother's famous hot chocolate, the warm smooth liquid slowly making its way down my throat.

           Happy school days, best friends, girlie-talk. Bicycle rides down empty roads with the wind in my face. Discovering the world of books, Enid Blytons, William, Raold Dahl. Making my acquaintance with the tall, dark stranger in the world of Mills and Boon. The first grown-up books I read, Gone With The Wind, Rebecca, The Thornbirds. The warm tingle whenever I thought of the neighbourhood Adonis. My crushes at various points of my life, when it seemed love was just around the corner. How soon we grow up, for soon I was in college. The heady feeling of independence when I realized how easy it was to bunk classes. The wonder of falling in love for the first time. Stolen glances, holding hands and slipping away from the crowd are the stuff of perfect memories.

          A thunderstorm I remember, a flock of white birds juxtaposed against the suddenly dark skies, the icy gusts of wind, the rippling waters of a pond and the smell of wet earth after a hot Indian summer.

          Swept along by the inexorable passage of time, I am now a young adult. The wondrous occasion of meeting my husband for the first time and knowing he was the one. The thrill of setting up house and the hilarious misadventures the pair of us had. Oh,the truimph of baking my first perfect cake, hosting a fabulous party. Some pages of life shine bright, untarnished by time. The first salary I received and buying a gift for the better half, And then the greatest gift of all, eight pounds of love with the brightest button eyes I have ever seen. So many milestones, the first word, the first step. The bittersweet memories of the first day of school.

          The small things in life remain etched in memory. A rare occasion when the husband served me breakfast in bed, sunny eggs, crisp slices of bacon and cool orange juice. The day I got my doggie home, all of six weeks old. Going on a long drive. A perfect cup of Darjeeling tea, savoured in solitude. An  A.R.Rahman melody that made me feel I could dance. Discovering the poetry of Sara Teasdale.

          My first glimpse of London and standing in the swirling snow in Switzerland. A cruise on the river Siene  when Paris seemed to be out of a fairytale.A 4-D show in Disneyland.

          And today, the pleasure of picking up the pen after such a long interlude and the thought that my words may bring a smile to your lips. What is unhappiness when we have this greatest gift of all, recollection of love, joy and triumph in this beautiful world.