@mazdaturel bites the bullet to take time out from surgery and rehab to discover the captivating but dystopian world of social media

Representational image. Pic/iStock

You have to join Instagram, ya, Maaz!” my friends have been urging me for years. And I’ve been avoiding it like the bullet that Trump dodged. “I’m too old for these things,” I’ve been retorting. “Arre, Zeenat Aman recently got onto it and she’s killing it,” one of them said, comparing me to someone from that generation.

“What do you mean by killing it? What do you do there?” I asked like an unattractive fossil.

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“People need to know more about you. They need to know the amazing work you are doing. Until I knew you, I thought neurosurgeons only operate on the brain and that the spine is the domain of orthopaedics.”

Being an ardent subscriber to the ideology that your work must speak for itself, I asked a little bit appalled, “So, I’m supposed to tell people on Insta what I do?”
“You need to put yourself out there. Show the world all the brain tumours you remove from the eye, nose, and ear!”

“Don’t think of any other orifices!” I cautioned, simultaneously realising that while we’re busy pushing the envelope of science through technology, we must not jeopardise the lives and privacy of patients just to be on Insta. “Show people all these cases you keep talking to us about, where........

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