*A Letter from an Orthopedic Doctor to All Senior Citizens (Aged 50-100 and Above)*

*A Letter from an Orthopedic Doctor to All Senior Citizens (Aged 50-100 and Above)* I no longer recommend bone density tests because senior citizens are bound to experience osteoporosis. As age increases, osteoporosis inevitably worsens, and the risk of fractures naturally rises. Here’s a formula: Risk of fractures = External impact force / Bone density Seniors are more prone to fractures because the denominator (bone density) decreases, thus increasing the risk. The most critical step for seniors to prevent fractures is to do everything possible to avoid accidental injuries. *How to Reduce Accidental Injuries?* I have summarized it into seven secret words: “Be careful, be cautious, be vigilant!” *Specific precautions include:-* 1. *Never stand on chairs or stools to reach for something* , even low stools. 2. *Avoid going out on rainy days if possible* . 3. *Be cautious while bathing or using the restroom* to prevent slips. 5. *When using the restroom* , ensure the floor is dry and not slippery. Use a seated toilet and install handrails to support yourself when getting up. Use a bath stool if showering while seated. 6. *Clear the floor of clutter before bedtime* and be extra careful when the floor is wet. 7. *If waking up in the middle of the night* , sit on the bed for 3–4 minutes before standing up, turn on the light first, and then get up. 8. *Do not lock the bathroom door from the inside* , especially at night or even during the day. If possible, install an emergency bell in the bathroom to call for help if needed. 9. *Always sit on a chair or bed to wear pants* , etc. 10. *If you fall,* use your hands to support yourself. It is better to suffer a wrist or forearm fracture than to break the neck of the femur at the hip joint. 11. *Exercise regularly,* at least walking as much as you can. 12. *For women* , maintaining body weight within permissible limits is critical. Diet control is key. Avoid eating leftovers. Instead, give them to stray animals. Keeping your weight in check should always be a priority. “It’s better to stop eating when half full than to eat until completely full.” 13. To improve bone mass, I recommend *dietary supplements* like *dairy products, soy-based foods, and high-calcium fruits like bananas*, rather than medical supplements. 14. *Spend time outdoors* to expose yourself to sunlight (under UV rays), which converts cholesterol in the skin to Vitamin D. This promotes calcium absorption and slows down osteoporosis. Pay close attention to keeping bathroom floors slip-resistant. Use handrails when climbing stairs, and avoid falling. Take care of yourself. *Therefore, seniors must focus on anti-slip and anti-fall measures* . A single fall can cost ten years of life, as all bones and muscles may get damaged. So, be cautious. *Avoid standing for long periods.* This message might seem lengthy, but it is worth reading, especially for seniors and caregivers of senior citizens.

Three Robbers

Three Robbers entered a house. They said to the lady, we don't want to spoil the order of your house and we don't want to harm you, so we are sitting here on the sofa, bring whatever cash and jewelry you have here. The lady brought cash and jewellery. The leader of the robbers said, "Where is the diamond ring that your husband gave as a gift on your wedding anniversary?" She kept silent and brought the ring and gave it to them. Bring the watch that your sister sent from Dubai. She had tears in her eyes while handing over the gift given by her sister. Now we will drink instant coffee of "Nescafé" with your permission. After drinking coffee, the head of the Robbers said, "Now bring the leftover pineapple cake from yesterday." When all the goods had been taken by the Robbers, the woman hesitated and said, *"You guys are very professional and ethical robbers. How did you know about the things inside our house?"* *The leader of the Robbers fixed the mask on his face and said, Madam, we are your "Facebook friends".* We regularly read your posts. We also check your status.

In the spring of 1955, a 67-year-old grandmother from Ohio told her children she was going for a walk.

In the spring of 1955, a 67-year-old grandmother from Ohio told her children she was going for a walk. She didn’t say how far. She didn’t say why. She simply kissed them goodbye, packed a cloth bag with the barest essentials, and vanished into the Georgia wilderness. Her name was Emma Rowena Gatewood — and she was about to do something no woman had ever done before. For three decades, Emma had endured unspeakable violence in her Ohio farmhouse. Beatings that broke her ribs, blackened her eyes, and nearly broke her spirit. She had raised eleven children on that farm. She had finally escaped her husband in 1941, but the invisible scars ran deeper than any wound. Then one quiet afternoon, she read an article in National Geographic about the Appalachian Trail — more than 2,000 miles of rugged paths stretching from Georgia to Maine. The writer made it sound peaceful. Achievable. Beautiful. Emma thought: If men can walk it, so can I. But she knew what would happen if she told anyone. Her children would worry. Friends would call her foolish. A grandmother, alone in the wilderness? Impossible. Dangerous. So she kept her plan silent as a prayer. She sewed a simple denim bag and filled it with the absolute basics: a blanket, a plastic shower curtain, a first-aid kit, bouillon cubes. No tent. No sleeping bag. No proper hiking boots — just a pair of Keds sneakers and a cotton dress. On May 3, 1955, she boarded a bus to Georgia and began walking north from Mount Oglethorpe. Alone. The trail was nothing like the magazine promised. It was merciless. Roots caught her feet. Rocks sliced through her thin shoes. Rain turned the path to mud. Insects swarmed relentlessly. At night, she slept on bare ground in abandoned shelters, sometimes shivering too violently to rest. She got lost. She fell, twisting her ankle so severely she could barely stand. Sitting on that rock, pain shooting through her leg, she wondered if this was where her journey would end. But after catching her breath, she wrapped her ankle tight and kept moving. Always moving. Hikers who passed her didn’t know what to make of the small, gray-haired woman in a dress and sneakers, carrying a homemade sack. Some thought she was lost. Others assumed she was crazy. A few offered food or shelter. She thanked them graciously, then continued on. When strangers asked why she was walking, she’d smile softly and say she wanted to see the country. But anyone who looked into her eyes could see something deeper burning there. This wasn’t recreation. This was reclamation. Every mile was a mile farther from the life that had tried to destroy her. Every step was proof she was still here, still strong, still capable of extraordinary things. Weeks became months. Her feet bled. Her back ached. The sun burned her skin raw. But she never stopped. On September 25, 1955, Emma Gatewood stood on the summit of Mount Katahdin in Maine. She had walked 2,168 miles in 146 days. She was the first woman to hike the entire Appalachian Trail alone in a single season. When word spread, reporters flooded in. Newspapers nationwide ran her story. Overnight, she became “Grandma Gatewood,” a household name. Everyone wanted to know how a 67-year-old woman with no training and minimal gear had accomplished what seasoned hikers failed to do. Emma smiled and said it wasn’t that complicated. She mentioned the trail needed better maintenance — too many rocks, not enough signs. She spoke as casually as if discussing her garden, not surviving one of America’s most grueling challenges. But she wasn’t finished. In 1957, she walked the trail again. Then in 1964, at 76 years old, she became the first person ever — man or woman — to complete the Appalachian Trail three times. Each journey with almost nothing. Each journey proving that true strength doesn’t come from equipment or training. It comes from refusing to surrender. Her accomplishment transformed the trail itself. Before Emma, it was considered territory for young men and hardcore outdoorsmen. After her, families, seniors, and everyday people realized: if Grandma Gatewood could do it, maybe they could too. Emma kept hiking well into her seventies — the Oregon Trail, mountains across the country, always moving, never settling too long. When asked why, she said simply: “I like feeling free.” She passed away in 1973 at 85, but her legacy lives on every day. Thousands now hike the Appalachian Trail annually, many carrying light packs inspired by the woman who walked it in canvas sneakers and a handmade bag. For anyone who’s ever felt trapped, who’s carried pain too heavy to name, who’s needed to walk away from something just to survive — Emma’s story isn’t just history. It’s permission. She didn’t hike for fame or recognition. She hiked because moving forward was the only path to healing. Sometimes the longest journey is the one that finally brings us home to ourselves. @informatify

Persian Language

The news from Iran continues to be distressing. In Delhi, we are geographically removed from the war’s direct reach. Yet Iran is never far. Something of its cultural spirit lingers in this city, including in the work of Delhi’s great poet. To Mirza Ghalib, the Irani bhasha was the language of ambition. In the 19th century Delhi of his time, Persian commanded elite status, like the English in post-independent India or French in Tsarist Russia. Ghalib started by writing poems in both homegrown Urdu and Persian. Over time, he was drawn to the exactness and range of Persian—qualities he apparently didn’t find in Urdu. In all, Ghalib wrote about 2,000 couplets in Urdu, and a whopping 10,000 in Persian. These details are being told by poetry critic Aqil Ahmad as he walks through a Delhi museum devoted to Ghalib. At one point, the mild-mannered scholar quotes two lines by Ghalib: “Urdu shayari hai berang, Farsi shayari hai rangarang.” (Urdu poetry is without colour; Persian poetry is richly coloured.) The critic nevertheless emphasises that Ghalib acquired his lasting fame not for his “rangarang” Persian poetry, considered too difficult by most people, but for his “berang” Urdu poetry. Whatever, the following Ghalib couplet more explicitly reveals his partiality for Persian: “As long as rust remains, the mirror cannot shine. I am the polish of the mirror. My Persian poetry is the brilliance; my Urdu verses are the rust.” Indeed, the aficionados of Indo-Persian literature should forever be indebted to legendary Lucknow publisher Munshi Nawal Kishore, who first published Ghalib’s entire Persian poetry. See photo, in which critic Aqil Ahmad is holding the first volume of that book, Kulliyat-e-Ghalib Farsi. Ghalib attachment to Persian is also discerned in a letter he wrote to Urdu poet Maulvi Abdul Ghafoor Nassakh: “I am a lover of Persian poetry and prose, and though I live in Hindustan, I have been struck by the sword of Isfahan.” That Iranian city has lately been targeted in the ongoing U.S.-Israeli airstrikes. Persian is as intensely embedded in Ghalib’s prose books, one of which, Dastanboo, was on the 1857 uprising against the British. That said, our famously immodest poet was as cocky about his Urdu oeuvre. Consider this couplet: “Jo yih kahe ki ‘rekhta kyun ke ho rashk-e-farsi?’ Gufta-e-Ghalib ek bar parh ke use suna ki yun.” (If people say, “Can Urdu then put Persian verse to shame?” Recite a line of Ghalib’s verse and tell them, “Yes! Like this!”) As for us Hindi-speaking Delhiwale, we might not comprehend Persian, but many of us are familiar with an iconic Persian phrase first uttered by Delhi’s great mystic Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya—Hunuz Dilli dur ast, meaning Delhi is still far. For Ghalib, we may safely say: Hunuz Persian not dur ast.

The War

Two old men Netanyahu, born in 1949 (76 years old), and Trump, born in 1946 (79 years old) have enjoyed every privilege this world has to offer. They've lived long lives. They've eaten well. They've slept in warm beds. They've held power. They've been celebrated, protected, and enriched beyond imagination. And now, in the final chapter of their lives, they have decided to destroy everything. Not just Iran. Not just the Middle East. Everything. Global economy. World peace. The future of millions of children. All of it burned to ash because two bitter old men couldn't stand the thought of leaving quietly. And here's the part that should terrify every human being on this planet: Nobody is stopping them. Not Congress. Not the media. Not the UN. Not the "international community." Not a single world leader with the courage to stand up and say: "Enough." We are watching two senile warmongers drag humanity toward the cliff and the world is just... watching. Taking notes. Writing analyses. Publishing "sources say" articles while the bombs fall and the children die. This is not leadership. This is not geopolitics. This is a nursing home escapees' revenge fantasy playing out in real time. And it proves something absolutely terrifying: The world is not built on a solid foundation. If two elderly men one hiding in a bunker, one tweeting from a golf course can bring the entire planet to the edge of destruction... then what was all of it for? The UN? Useless. International law? A joke. Human rights? A memory. Global cooperation? Dead. We have allowed the future of humanity to be placed in the hands of two evil, desperate, narcissistic old men who will be dead in a decade while the rest of us live with the consequences forever. Netanyahu wants "regime change"? The man can barely change his own diaper without consulting Washington. Trump wants to "weaken Iran"? He can't even weaken his own craving for attention. And yet here we are on the brink of World War III because nobody had the spine to stop them. This is what doom looks like, people. Not fire. Not brimstone. Just two senile psychopaths with access to bombs and zero accountability. The world is not on a solid foundation. It's built on the egos of men who should have retired decades ago. And unless humanity wakes up unless someone, somewhere, stands up and says NO MORE we will all pay the price for their final, desperate tantrum. History will record this moment with shame. Two old men. One planet. And nobody stopped them. We are doomed not because of Iran, not because of missiles, not because of oil prices. We are doomed because we let them get away with it. Shame on them. Shame on us. Shame on everyone who watches this madness in silence.