"It's deep muscular strain," pronounced the doctor, looking at me rather strictly.

I felt like a child caught creating mischief. "Umm... is it uncommon?"

"Not really. But back problems should not really start at your age."

Well, I fully agreed with him. But my problem was not my conscious creation. I mean, here I was one day, a perfectly healthy individual, exercising, eating, commuting and working (everything that a normal human would do, I presume)... and before I knew it, I am pronounced out of action "with deep muscular back strain"!

As you can imagine, this threw me completely off balance and into very deep thought. Like my favourite detective, Hercule Poirot, I tried to retrace my movements of the last few months. When precisely did I cause so much stress to my back that it simply decided to pack up?

I asked a few friends what they thought. I didn't have to coax them too much. Give them a chance and people will have the answer to most of your problems before you even ask!

To cut a long story short, I am now quite now enlightened about the possible causes. I have decided to share some of these deep insights in the hope that it will help some of you out there who battle the same problem.

"Have you noticed, my dear," said my very close friend, "that all we do in this country is stand in queues? I mean beginning from train tickets, to movies. Queues to pay your phone bills and electricity bills. Bus queues to auto-rickshaw queues. Do you realise how much strain it causes a person's back?"

I think that has some truth to it. I remember on many occasions wondering why on earth this country has so many queues. I think I could perhaps write a thesis on this topic, but that would hardly solve the problem at hand.

"I think it's the high heels you wear," said the only person I can call a relative in this city, my cousin brother. I did not bother to explain that the "high heels" he was talking about were actually platforms, which, in any case, were only a month old. My back problem was much senior to my footwear.

"Have you tried ergonomic chairs?" asked my cousin's wife.

"Ergo... what?"

She explained. Sitting on ill-designed chairs at work really rapes your back, you see.

"It is important that the chair supports the spine," she said, drawing a diagram to explain her point. Though she did make a lot of sense, she failed to mention where I could go looking for these "ergo" chairs.

My brother-in-law was convinced that the root cause of my problem was the weights I lifted in the gym. I tried to explain to him that a five-kilo dumbbell is but a very miniscule part of my total weight, so how on earth could that affect my spine?

Trying to convince someone who is already convinced -- and also a doctor -- is a futile exercise, I realised.

"How do you travel?" asked another friend, who has the good fortune of living just 10 minutes away from his workplace.

"The way the other 10 million people do. By train," I replied.

"Do you sit or stand," he wanted to know.

I guess he has never ventured into a train in Bombay at peak hours. Sit indeed! How could I explain him that let alone sit, I barely manage to stand sometimes.

I remembered not so fondly the occasions when I hung out of the train, one hand barely clutching the post in the middle of the door (or someone else, depending on which was closer), wondering whether I would die a very painful anonymous death somewhere between Jogeshwari and Andheri.

It's usually a question of "will I make it to work today?" rather than how my back was coping with all such acrobatics. But the question immediately brought things into perspective for me -- it has to be the trains!

And then I thought of all those instances that I have travelled in auto-rickhaws and emerged battered and bruised, thanking all the gods who we Indians are so lucky to have, that I was still in one piece. Not that it has much to do with the mode of transport, but more the state of roads this city is blessed with.

My position in the rickshaw is always planned for the least impact. I usually hold on to the sides firmly, legs braced on the barrier in front, letting out loud grunts as we bounce over amazingly large potholes.

It's a wonder that the spinal cord hasn't actually broken into pieces... come to think of it, I have heard cracking sounds once too often.

"And what about the speed-breakers?" contributed my friend's mom. Having gone through a similar problem, she was eager to help. "Have you realised that the speed-breakers in this country have been designed to break much more than speed?"

Interesting thought, that. On numerous occasions, I have found myself in front of these wondrously high backbreaking speed-breakers (and in the oddest places), realising why those long pending flyovers are never getting built.

My theory is that those very ambitious and bitter engineers are venting their frustration on us (and our backs) by simply building these silly contraptions all over the place, at heights even Gail Devers would find trouble clearing.

Just when I thought I had got down to the back, er, bottom of the matter, my well-meaning friend at work came up with this gem of an explanation:

"You know, Anita, a friend of mine said that even excess weight in the stomach area sometimes causes the back muscles to weaken."

Hmm, weight. Rather, overweight. That is a longstanding problem by itself. I haven't spoken about it since I was not getting anywhere with it -- but there it pops its ugly head again! It had worked its way around to my back too! Now there was no escape -- lose it or suffer was the bottom line.

But to lose all those kilos I need to exercise, which means gym, longer periods on the treadmill, longer laps at the pool. Well, I am game for it, but my doctor isn't. No exercise till your back is healed, is his order.

"This weight thing is just not happening. What should I do?" I complained to my not-very-amused hubby, whose patience I had already tried to the limit. My latest adventure, which entailed chasing a rat around the house, had further strained my back, adding to his extreme disgust at my supposedly irresponsible behaviour.

So here I am, still resting on my stomach (on doctor's orders, may I add), having come to the following conclusions:

If you avoid queues (especially in high heels), not take auto-rickshaws (walk if you have to) and absolutely never venture into a train, watch your weight but don't lift weights (you have no reason to), don't sit for long hours (and if you do, use "ergo" chairs) -- well, you just about have a chance of owning a healthy back.

And remember, absolutely no chasing rats. Even if they eat holes in your clothes, breed faster than even Indians and leave droppings all over your kitchen... Just turn your back on them.