By Warimeki Lyngwa
We don’t always admit it, but there’s something oddly satisfying about unwinding with a game of Ludo, after a long day (where luck decides if you win or lose, much like life itself). When suddenly, BAM—I saw an ad. Three big-shot celebrities, smiling away while promoting a tobacco-related product – Vimal. I sat there, stunned. “Seriously? What are they even doing?” It felt like a punch straight to the gut. Just like the probability of rolling a six rises the more times you throw the dice, the more these ads appear, the higher the chances of cancer creeping into more lives. Except this isn’t a game where you can reset and try again. The stakes are real.
I had to take a second to process it. These aren’t just any people—these are celebrities with millions of followers, most of them young and impressionable. These are people the youth look up to, and they’re endorsing something linked to cancer?! We already know how social media works. I joined social media a year ago, and if there’s one thing I’ve realized, it’s that ‘influencer culture’ is ridiculously powerful. So now, if their favourite celebs are casually promoting something harmful, what message are we sending?
Who are they going to listen to? The government, with its boring anti-tobacco ads that nobody watches, or the slick, well-produced ad that pops up every five seconds?
Here’s the paradox: the government campaigns against tobacco with anti-smoking drives, yet celebrities promote it in glamorous advertisements. Let’s be practical. Corporate brands know what they’re doing—they use science, algorithms and psychology to make sure you don’t just see the ad but feel like you need the product. The government? Eh, they do their best but content is unrelatable, often lacklustre and disconnected …So, who’s winning here?
The hypocrisy extends to the larger system. Let’s not forget those dramatic speeches at conferences where someone declares, “We must ban tobacco sales completely!”. I’ve seen it firsthand. Can we actually ban tobacco? Realistically, no. It’s a billion-dollar industry. The practical reality is that it’s nearly impossible to shut down such an entrenched industry. We are up against a mountain of money and influence, making it a daunting battle.
So, if we can’t stop it outright, WHAT CAN WE DO?
This is where I keep saying—we need awareness. I don’t mean the kind where someone gives a speech in a hall and everyone nods half-heartedly before forgetting about it. I mean real, on-the-ground awareness. If people are going to have two choices in front of them, they need to know enough to make the right one.
And no, we can’t sit around waiting for the government to step in. Let’s be honest—their campaigns often feel outdated. What we need is education at the grassroots level. Teach kids in schools. Talk about it in villages and communities. Make it something people discuss naturally, like they do about traffic or politics.
Every time I talk about this, someone always pipes up with, “We’re all going to die anyway! Could be cancer, could be an accident, so who cares?”
Okay. By that logic, let’s all start walking in the middle of the road! But we don’t. We use the footpath. (Well, if we can find one. Here, some footpaths disappear halfway, and others are so narrow you might as well walk on the road. But we try!)
The point is, we naturally avoid unnecessary risks. We wear seat belts. We look both ways before crossing. We hold the railing when climbing down slippery stairs (unless you enjoy living dangerously). So why not do the same with our health? Why knowingly take a risk when you can take the safer path?
A doctor once said that if we eliminated tobacco, cancer rates would drop by 70%. Let that sink in. SEVENTY PERCENT. As someone who has been through cancer, that number shook me. I wouldn’t wish this experience on anyone, and if avoiding tobacco could save that many lives, why aren’t we pushing harder for awareness?
But here’s where it gets even messier. If big celebrities are endorsing harmful products today, you know that in a few years, they’ll pass the torch to local or national influencers. I’ve already seen a reel (a short form video) where a local influencer casually takes out a gutkha saying, “Nga bam Shekhar bha te!” (I eat Shekhar often!). And guess what? The comments are full of people saying, “Me too!” It seems like this is cool! I didn’t even see one comment condemning it. Which means hardly anyone is aware of its dangers. It will be so dangerous if this becomes a trend, and if we let this slide, we’ll reach a point where it’s NORMALIZED.
A woman recently sued Shah Rukh Khan for endorsing an education app, and guess what? A law just passed that says celebrities can now be held accountable if the product they promote harms people. So here’s my wild idea—if these celebs are promoting products linked to cancer, make them pay! Cancer treatment is insanely expensive, so why not redirect their fat endorsement checks toward patient care? Maybe then, they’ll think twice before selling death to their fans.
But of course, here comes the loophole—they’ll say, “Oh, but it’s just an elaichi (cardamom) product!”
Ah, the classic defence. Let’s call it what it really is: a joke. We all know what they’re actually selling. If it were just elaichi, why does it come with the same branding, the same colours, and the same hidden messages as gutkha and pan masala? Why is the packaging so eerily similar to known tobacco products?
It’s strategic. It’s intentional. And it’s deceptive marketing at its finest.
We’re not fools. Nobody’s running to a shop at 9 PM for cravings for elaichi. The whole “it’s just a mouth freshener” excuse is a legal loophole designed to escape accountability while keeping the business alive. And the worst part? It works—because laws are still too weak to tackle these shady tactics.
So yeah, hold celebrities accountable. But also close the loopholes. Call out these tricks for what they are. Because at the end of the day, whether they label it elaichi, mouth freshener, or anything else—it’s still funding the same deadly industry.
At the end of the day, we can’t fight cancer by staying silent. We can’t sit around waiting for only the government to fix the problem. We’ve seen it happen time and again—awareness campaigns that come and go, big speeches that sound good but lead to nothing, and messages that only pop up once or twice a year. And then? Nothing.
But cancer doesn’t wait for special days. It doesn’t care about campaigns or government policies. It shows up uninvited, and by the time you realize it, your whole life has changed. If we sit back and expect others to fix things, we’re just fooling ourselves.
That’s why we, as individuals, have to take responsibility. I know we can’t stop cancer completely—that’s not in our hands. But here’s something to think about:
If you knew something had even a 1% chance of harming your child, would you let them have it? Would you hand them something dangerous and just hope for the ‘chance’?
Of course not.
We do everything we can to protect the people we love. We warn them about the dangers. We teach them how to stay safe. We don’t let them take risks.
So why should this be any different?
We can’t control everything, we can’t change things for ourselves perhaps, but we can educate. We can talk. We can create awareness before it’s too late. It starts at home. It starts with us.
Let’s teach our kids to take care of their health before they learn the hard way. Let’s talk about the risks, about the importance of early detection, about prevention—not in a way that scares them, but in a way that prepares them.
And beyond our homes, let’s take it to our communities. Let’s stop making awareness something that only happens on “official” days. Every day matters. Every conversation matters.
If there’s even a 1% chance that we can prevent it, shouldn’t we take it?
If we refuse to question, if we refuse to speak up, we let the cycle continue. But if we dare to challenge, dare to educate, dare to care, we can turn that 1% into something bigger. Because the strongest weapon against cancer isn’t just medicine—it’s awareness —not because of some campaign, but because you care.
That’s how we move forward.