Malevolent Marauder

The cancer surge among millennials and Gen Z is a major health crisis nobody wants to talk about

- By TOUFIQ RASHID

It starts quietly—something tiny, hidden, and harmless at first. A small change deep inside the body begins to grow wild, breaking the rules of nature. It spreads without warning, taking over the spaces where life once moved freely. By the time it shows itself, it's already rooted deep, stealing energy, sleep, and peace of mind. Doctors chase it with scans and medicines, but it's clever—it hides, returns, fights back. When it finally takes hold, everything changes. The body feels like a stranger's, and fear becomes a constant companion. Days are marked by hospital visits and test results, not by sunshine or laughter. Families hold on to hope, even when strength fades. It is a quiet terror, powerful and unfair—a reminder of how fragile life can be, and how much courage it takes just to keep going.

At 31, Rohan should have been planning his next trek in Himachal, not learning how to pronounce adenocarcinoma. Fit, cheerful, and the office's go-to for wellness advice, he brushed off months of stomach cramps as "bad biryani and too much stress." When his doctor finally said "colon cancer," he laughed in disbelief. "I don't even smoke!" he said. The oncologist replied softly, "You don't have to. The air you breathe, the water you drink, and your pace of life are enough." That grim observation sums up a growing tragedy: cancer is creeping into the lives of India's young, once thought immune to it. Oncologists across the country report a startling surge in cases among those aged 20 to 40. "When I began practising, a cancer patient in their 20s was an exception," says Dr Pakhee Aggarwal, a gynaecological oncologist in Delhi. "Now, I meet one every week."