The new urban symphony is an incessant cough in Bangalore, where coding meets Carnatic music.
Cough. It echoes through Bangalore’s streets, a symphony of hacks and wheezes that has been the city’s soundtrack for over a year.
Patients come in, eyes watery, throats raw, seeking answers. “Why won’t it stop, doctor?” they ask, voices raspy from weeks of coughing.
Bangalore, our beloved garden city, is changing. The pollution creeps in, a silent invader. Pollen dances in the air, once a harbinger of spring, now a year-round irritant. Our climate, once predictable, now plays tricks on us. One day it’s pouring, the next, the sun blazes mercilessly. The Bay of Bengal churns, the Arabian Sea roils, and somehow, we feel it here, in the heart of the Deccan Plateau. Our lungs witness these changes, reacting with persistent coughs that speak of our changing environment.
It’s not just the weather. Allergies run rampant—to petrol fumes, dust, pollen, and the air we breathe. Bronchitis has become a familiar foe, visiting more frequently than old friends. And let’s not forget the lingering spectre of the pandemic, leaving behind a trail of sensitive airways and anxious minds.
I’ve seen the gamut of coughs and their causes. Allergies tickle noses and throats, triggering endless sneezes and coughs. Asthma tightens chests, turning every breath into a struggle. Postnasal drip, that annoying trickle down the back of the throat, keeps my patients clearing their throats through essential meetings and romantic dinners.
Let me paint you a picture of a typical day in my practice. It’s 6 PM, and I’ve already seen three patients with the same complaint: a cough hanging around longer than an overstaying house guest. There’s Raveesh, a software engineer who’s been clearing his throat more often than debugging code. Then there’s Garima, a college student whose lectures are punctuated by coughing fits, much to her professors’ chagrin. And who can forget Mr. Krishnamurthy, the retired banker who jokes that his cough is more reliable than his old alarm clock?
But what’s causing this coughing cacophony in our beloved Bengaluru? As a doctor who’s spent the better part of three decades in this city, I’ve seen the landscape change – and not just in terms of skylines and traffic. The causes behind these persistent coughs are as varied as the city’s famous dosa varieties.
Let’s start with the particulate matter in the air. Bangalore’s rapid urbanization has come at a cost. The city, once known for its salubrious climate, now frequently finds itself on the wrong end of air quality indexes. The fine dust from endless construction, the exhaust fumes from bumper-to-bumper traffic, and the garbage burning in some areas have all conspired to turn our air into a respiratory obstacle course.
I remember a patient, let’s call her Anjali, who moved to Bangalore from a small town in coastal Karnataka. Within months, her morning walks in Cubbon Park were accompanied by a nagging cough. “Doctor,” she said, “I came to Bangalore for fresh air, but I think I left it behind in my hometown!” A sentiment echoed by many newcomers to the city.
But before we blame pollution, let’s not forget that Bangalore’s weather, as pleasant as it is, can be a double-edged sword. The fluctuating temperatures, especially during the change of seasons, can be a breeding ground for viruses. Post-viral coughs are incredibly common, often lingering long after the other symptoms have bid adieu.
Take the case of Arjun, a techie who proudly boasted about his immunity until a viral infection left him with a cough that lasted longer than his project deadlines. “I’ve tried everything, doctor,” he gasped, “from kadha to Kashmiri kahwa!” It’s evidence of the Indian spirit – we’ll try every home remedy in the book before finally consulting a doctor!
Speaking of books, let’s discuss an often-overlooked factor: allergies. Bangalore, with its beautiful Gulmohar trees and aromatic flowers, can be a nightmare for allergy sufferers. I’ve lost count of the number of patients who come in thinking they’ve caught the latest viral infection, only to discover they’re allergic to the trees that make our city so green.
This delightful couple, both avid gardeners, came in with matching coughs. They were convinced it was something contagious they’d picked up. After a thorough examination and some tests, they were allergic to the new flowering plants they’d added to their balcony garden!
But outdoor allergies are not the only ones to worry about. The rise of air-conditioned offices and homes has led to an increase in indoor allergens. Dust mites, mould spores, and even pet dander can turn a cosy home into a coughing haven. I often joke with my patients that their fancy air purifiers might be fighting a losing battle against their beloved Pomeranian fur.
Now, let’s address the microbe in the air. The COVID-19 pandemic has changed how we view persistent coughs. What was once an annoyance is now cause for concern and, in some cases, panic. The post-COVID cough has become a common complaint in my clinic, often lasting weeks or even months after recovery.
I recall a patient, a young startup founder, who recovered from a mild case of COVID but was left with a cough that wouldn’t budge. “Doctor,” he said with a wry smile, “my cough has outlasted my company’s funding!” Humour aside, the psychological impact of these lingering symptoms can’t be underestimated.
But let’s not forget that sometimes, a cough is more than just a cough. As a doctor, it’s crucial to look beyond the obvious. Gastroesophageal reflux disease (GERD) is an often-overlooked cause of chronic cough, especially in a city that loves spicy biryanis, street foods and paneer butter masalas. I’ve had patients swear off their favourite foods to quell their cough, only to discover that their late-night coding sessions and erratic eating habits were the real culprits.
Then there’s the silent threat of tuberculosis, a disease that continues to be a significant health concern in India. In a city as cosmopolitan as Bangalore, with people from all walks of life living in close quarters, vigilance is key. I’ve diagnosed TB in many patients, from college students to CEOs, a stark reminder that disease knows no socioeconomic boundaries.
But it’s not all doom and gloom in the garden city. The silver lining to this coughing cloud is the increasing awareness about respiratory health. I’ve seen a surge in people adopting healthier lifestyles – from embracing running, walking, yoga and pranayama to investing in indoor plants that purify the air. There’s even a running joke among my colleagues that air purifier sales in Bangalore are outpacing those of our beloved filter coffee!
Another exciting development is using AI and machine learning to diagnose respiratory conditions. A startup in the city has developed an app that can analyze cough sounds to predict the likelihood of various respiratory ailments. As a doctor who still relies heavily on my trusty stethoscope, I’m intrigued and slightly unnerved by these advancements. Will the doctors of tomorrow be diagnosing patients through their smartphones?
But amidst all this technology and research, I’m reminded daily of the importance of the human touch in medicine. No algorithm can replace the reassurance of a doctor’s words or the comfort of a well-explained diagnosis.
I remember a young mother who brought in her toddler, worried sick about his persistent cough. After a thorough examination and some gentle questioning, I discovered that the little one had gotten into the habit of fake coughing to get his mother’s attention. We laughed about it, and I prescribed some extra cuddles and the usual remedies.
Bangalore’s battle against the persistent cough is a symphony of old and new. Air purifiers hum in homes while the aroma of kadha wafts from kitchens. On streets, masks rival smartphones in popularity, and parks echo the controlled breathing of yoga practitioners. Hospitals buzz with activity as doctors tackle root causes like allergies and GERD.
Meanwhile, the city wages its war, planting trees in concrete jungles. But the front line is your clean hands, smoke-free spaces, and mindful diet. A three-week cough isn’t just irritating; it’s a red flag demanding medical attention.
Bangalore’s cough is more than a symptom – it’s the city’s desperate attempt to clear its throat and speak its truth. Every breath we take is a dialogue with our environment, a chance to inhale awareness and exhale change.
In the binary of breath, you’re either part of the problem or the solution – there’s no idle mode in the operating system of urban health.
