Sky’s the limit after India’s space success, says Lesley Ann Jones

Beautiful sights at Kerala’s Varkala beach There are contradictions everywhere. To watch the sun rise pink over the Taj Mahal is to forget the pollution of Agra. A sunset on Kerala’s Varkala beach compensates for the stinking trash mountains on the cliffs behind. On the beaches below the Gateway of India, Mumbai’s majestic arch overlooking the Arabian Sea, I witnessed the homeless huddle in their hundreds for their daily ritual of communal ablution. Just yards away, outside our five-star hotel, a limbless baby was thrust into my arms. En route to a party hosted by the British Deputy High Commissioner during Mumbai’s international literature festival, I passed a gleaming steel and glass showroom. A naked old woman stumbled by, herding a solitary skin-and-bone cow. Her silhouette was framed in the window against a navy Porsche 911 Carrera. What a photo opportunity. Slum tourism in India is all the rage. How can India call themselves a global player but can’t feed or educate their poor? When the country’s multi-million-pound Chandrayaan-3 space mission landed on the lunar south pole to great fanfare, celebration was muted by outrage. What planet is India on, roared the indignant. Why are we still sending aid to India? How come they even have a space programme when they can’t feed or educate their own poor? How can they call themselves a rising global player when their society is beset by murderous gang rapes, mass suicides of poverty-stricken farmers and people selling their organs to survive? How can they justify the billions spent exploring outer space when there is so much to fix back home? The Department for International Development stopped direct financial aid to India eight years ago. The funding now is primarily investment in climate, infrastructure and economic development, not basics like health and education. Trending SUBSCRIBE Invalid email We use your sign-up to provide content in ways you’ve consented to and to improve our understanding of you. This may include adverts from us and 3rd parties based on our understanding. You can unsubscribe at any time. More info Long term, much of this benefits us as much as them. British firms engaged in India’s chemical, drugs and pharmaceuticals and food processing industries, for example, employ 788,000 Indians. Profits reaped by these companies swell the UK’s coffers. India, in 2023, is the world’s fifth largest economy, behind the US, China, Japan and Germany (the UK is sixth). Its population, which exceeds 1.4 billion, is neck-and-neck with China’s. Because of skill shortages, pollution, climate change impact and other factors, 150 million Indians live below the international poverty line. Not everyone will agree but that doesn’t rule out space travel. The study of cosmic radiation, upper atmosphere, meteorology and the Earth’s magnetic field, as well as detecting water and minerals, are vital to our survival. What planet is India on? We should be championing its cause to reach as many as possible. Op prevents Parkinson’s My appendix burst when I was 11 years old. Peritonitis followed. The Last Rites were read. Harry Houdini, Rudolph Valentino and Tara Palmer-Tomkinson, below, all died of peritonitis. Ringo Starr developed it at age six and spent a year in hospital. Now a study finds that those who had their appendix out in early life are less likely to develop Parkinson’s disease. The brain disorder that causes stiffness, shaking and disrupts balance, coordination and ability to walk has been attributed to toxic protein build-up in the pointless appendage. Three friends of mine, one of them, former DJ David ‘Kid’ Jensen, are currently suffering from Parkinson’s. There is no cure. Preventative routine appendectomy seems extreme at this point. But before long, for those who can afford it, it could become the norm. My gut tells me the super surgeons are on it as we speak. Davina and I are both mothers Davina’s dealt reality a blow I like Davina McCall on Long Lost Family. I admire her compassion and common touch. I identify with her too. We’re both mothers of three with two daughters and a son each; survivors of collapsed marriages, both disinclined to drink, though I may have the edge there as I was always a lightweight date. Davina did therapy. I swerved it. She sought love again, finding it with her long-serving hairdresser. Davina blamed her drug addiction on abandonment by her mother, losing her sister to cancer, dad to Alzheimer’s, and losing her grandma five years ago. As my grandmother said, it’s not what happens, it’s how you deal with it. Drugs and booze are never the answer as Davina found out – we have to face reality. The Concordes back like it never left Big boom for improvement I flew Concorde three times. It frightened the living daylights out of me. The cabin was minuscule and cramped. The incessant drone was barely tolerable. The boom when we broke the sound barrier gave me such a jolt, I thought I was having a heart attack. I went back twice for more. Commercially unviable, they retired it from service 20 years ago this November. Now it’s back with a bang. A variation on the theme, at least. Plane manufacturer Boom Supersonic aims to have its Concorde-style Overture jets in the air within four years. New York to London in three-and-a-half hours? LA to Sydney in eight? Time flies, but it needn’t bother – I’m in no hurry these days. It’s all a question of degrees but exam success helps you make the grade T’is the season to console underperforming children that exam grades ‘don’t matter’. But do consider the disrespect this argument shows towards students who have worked their elbows off to achieve excellent results. Until you complete your education, grades matter. Poor GCSEs scupper A-level choices and prevents acceptance to one’s preferred university. Failure to graduate reduces professional opportunities. Countless professions, from the law to medicine, teaching, banking, journalism and nursing, demand degrees. Which is not to say those who fall short should be written off. But my office wall has photos of my proudest achievement: my three children. Capped, robed and clutching graduation scrolls. Was it worth years of aggro, anguish, endless revision and sleepless nights? No-brainer. The world is their lobster now. Refuse collectors in my neighbourhood have vowed to continue striking into September.