In India, the burden of cancer has been rising steadily. According to reports by the Indian Council of Medical Research, over
14 lakh new cancer cases are detected every year, and countless others remain undiagnosed due to lack of awareness or access to healthcare
– Heramba Nath (herambanath2222@gmail.com)
Every year, the 7th of November is observed as National Cancer Awareness Day in India — a solemn reminder of one of the gravest health challenges confronting humanity today. The day, first initiated by the Union Ministry of Health and Family Welfare in 2014, coincides with the birth anniversary of the eminent scientist Marie Curie, whose pioneering research on radioactivity paved the path for modern cancer treatment. But beyond the scientific remembrance, this day bears a moral and social resonance. It is not merely about hospitals, research laboratories, or medical technologies — it is about human lives, awareness, and the urgent need for preventive consciousness in a society where the shadow of cancer is lengthening alarmingly.
In India, the burden of cancer has been rising steadily. According to reports by the Indian Council of Medical Research, over 14 lakh new cancer cases are detected every year, and countless others remain undiagnosed due to lack of awareness or access to healthcare. The numbers are not just statistics — they represent broken families, disrupted lives, and the silent grief of millions. Cancer, in its many forms, has become a silent invader of the Indian household. Behind every figure lies a face, a name, and a story of courage, despair, and resilience.
The observation of National Cancer Awareness Day is intended to awaken this collective consciousness. It encourages early diagnosis, regular screenings, and timely medical intervention, which can drastically improve survival rates. But awareness cannot be limited to posters, slogans, or a single day of observance. It must evolve into a way of living — an attitude of care towards our body, our environment, and our choices. The roots of cancer lie not only in genetics but also in our modern lifestyle, polluted surroundings, and food habits. And among the many states of India, Assam has, in recent years, witnessed an especially worrying rise in cancer cases.
Why are the people of Assam so easily prone to cancer? The answer is complex yet deeply connected to our soil, our food, and our environment. When we cultivate our fields today, chemical fertilisers and pesticides have become inseparable companions. There was a time when agriculture was in harmony with nature, but that phase now seems to have vanished into history. In almost every field, farmers use chemical fertilisers and pesticides indiscriminately, driven by the pursuit of higher yields and marketable appearance. The soil, once living and rich with natural nutrients, has been silently poisoned. We hardly pause to think about the health of the soil, the quality of the crops, or the long-term consequences of what we are growing and consuming. Our concern begins and ends with production — not with purity, not with posterity.
The people of Assam today are increasingly falling prey to life-threatening diseases like cancer, and one of the major reasons behind this alarming trend is the extensive use of chemical pesticides. It is a misconception to believe that cancer arises only from smoking or consumption of intoxicants. Modern scientific understanding reveals that the toxins entering our bodies through the food we eat every day are equally dangerous, if not more so. The hybrid varieties of vegetables and fruits produced with the help of chemical fertilisers and hormones may look fresh and appealing, but their nutritional value is shockingly low. These artificially raised crops carry with them traces of toxic chemicals that slowly accumulate in the human body, damaging cells and tissues over time. Thus, while we think we are eating for nourishment, we are, in truth, swallowing poison in small daily doses. Our bodies are turning into dustbins of modern agriculture’s synthetic excesses.
This frightening reality has quietly taken hold of our subconscious minds. The glossy brinjal, the long slender varieties of spinach, the bright green coriander, and the immaculate cauliflowers and cabbages that flood the markets seem irresistible to the eye. Yet rarely do we question what makes them so flawless. We rush to buy them without a second thought, unaware that the very perfection that attracts us is often the result of dangerous chemical manipulation. The vegetables that look less perfect — the brinjals with wormholes, the greens slightly nibbled by insects — are ironically the safer ones, naturally grown without toxic pesticides. But our perception of beauty in food has been reversed; we have come to associate unnatural sheen with health and natural imperfection with impurity.
What is even more distressing is the fact that, in pursuit of commercial profit, many cultivators add artificial vitamins and hormones to vegetables to enhance size and colour. This not only eliminates the real nutritional content of the crops but also introduces hazardous residues into the food chain. The outcome is tragic — food that fills our stomachs but fails to nourish, food that glitters but kills slowly. Indeed, we are living in an age of nourishment without nutrition, abundance without authenticity.
The poisoning begins from the ground itself. Excessive use of fertilisers and pesticides has made the soil toxic and lifeless. The natural fertility of the land is dying, replaced by dependency on synthetic stimulants. Chemical inputs destroy the essential microorganisms that maintain soil health. Earthworms, once known as the farmers’ best friends, perish under the effect of pesticides. Their disappearance is a silent tragedy, for it signals the loss of natural soil rejuvenation. When the earthworms die, the soil loses its breath, and so does the entire agricultural ecosystem. The cycle of life that binds soil, plant, bird, and man breaks down quietly.
Moreover, these toxins do not remain confined to the soil. They seep into the groundwater, contaminating the very source of life — the water we drink. What once flowed pure beneath the land is now laced with invisible poison. The day is not far when we may find ourselves drinking water that nourishes death instead of life. If we continue on this path, the health of future generations will be at stake. Even the birds and small creatures that once fluttered joyfully around our fields are disappearing, victims of the poisoned ecosystem. The pesticides that claim to protect crops are, in truth, weapons of ecological destruction. In the name of agriculture, we have unleashed a slow, silent massacre of nature.
The frightening rise of cancer cases in Assam cannot be seen in isolation. It is the culmination of decades of environmental neglect, chemical misuse, and blind faith in artificial progress. From the lush tea gardens to the fertile paddy fields, the toxic imprint of modern agriculture runs deep. Rural and urban populations alike consume vegetables grown under chemical saturation, and with time, these toxins manifest as cancer, kidney disorders, liver ailments, and metabolic diseases like diabetes. Every cell of our body becomes a witness to this betrayal by the food we trust. The Assamese diet, once known for its simplicity and organic essence, is now infiltrated by industrial toxicity. The tragedy is not merely medical but moral — a civilisation poisoning itself in pursuit of convenience.
The path to redemption lies in returning to nature — to organic, sustainable, and mindful cultivation. The soil must be treated as a living entity, not as a production machine. Just as we care for our bodies, the soil too needs care, rest, and nourishment. Organic manure—such as cow dung, compost, goat droppings, and plant residues—can revive soil fertility without harming its life-supporting capacity. Cow dung, which our ancient agrarian wisdom revered as a divine gift, remains one of the most balanced natural fertilisers known to humankind. Modern agriculture has ignored this truth under the illusion of speed and yield, but the time has come to rediscover it.
Organic alternatives to pesticides are not only possible but practical. Neem leaf extract, for instance, is a powerful natural pest repellent. Spraying neem solution on crops protects them without damaging the soil or the environment. Similarly, mustard cake can be used as a soil conditioner, enriching the earth with natural nutrients. Vermicompost, prepared through the activity of earthworms, is another eco-friendly solution now available in the market. It restores both the fertility and the vitality of the soil, helping farmers achieve healthy yields without the burden of chemical costs. These traditional methods, rooted in the rhythm of nature, offer a sustainable solution to the crisis of contamination.
Assam’s climate, rich biodiversity, and agrarian tradition provide a perfect foundation for organic farming. The state could become a model for eco-agriculture in the Northeastif awareness and policy support align with grassroots action. Schools, universities, and local governments can play a crucial role in spreading the message of soil and food safety. Public campaigns should educate citizens to choose organically grown vegetables, even if they look less attractive, for true beauty lies not in appearance but in purity. If demand grows for natural produce, farmers too will shift towards safer methods of cultivation. The transformation must begin from both ends — from the field and from the plate.
The moral question remains: will we continue to poison ourselves and our children for the sake of temporary profit and visual appeal? The answer must emerge from our conscience. Cancer is not merely a disease of the body; it is a symptom of our collective disconnection from nature. When we violate the balance of creation, the punishment comes silently — through sickness, through despair, through irreversible loss. The rising cancer statistics of Assam are not just medical data; they are the cries of the earth itself, reminding us that we have strayed too far from our roots.
To rebuild a healthy Assam, we must reclaim our soil, our seeds, and our sensibility. Agricultural universities should emphasise research on organic inputs and indigenous crop varieties. Government subsidies should favour natural farming rather than chemical dependency. Farmers must be trained and motivated to return to traditional practices that respect the soil. Citizens, on their part, must learn to value naturally grown food and resist the lure of artificial perfection. It is a collective movement — of farmers, consumers, scientists, and policymakers — united by the vision of a cleaner, healthier future.
The truth remains timeless and simple — nature is always better than artificial. Every drop of chemical that we add to the soil distances us from health, and every handful of organic manure brings us closer to life. The journey towards a cancer-free Assam begins not in hospitals but in the humble fields where food is born. If we nourish the soil, the soil will nourish us in return. The bond between man and earth is sacred, and when respected, it heals both body and spirit. The survival of our people depends on our willingness to protect that sacred bond. We must remember that in the quiet heart of nature lies the eternal cure — purity, simplicity, and balance.