On a sultry May afternoon, I was talking to a bunch of babus, and had just pulled up their spines, literally, and had made solid arguments (or so I thought) about the ills of sitting. About how spinelessly we sit on our chairs, rounding our delicate lower backs and straining our necks, and refuse to sit up or stand even while the spine groans in pain. About the human physiological needs to stand, run, twist, move, and reasoned that sitting was the new smoking.