'Paaniwala dena'

The first monsoon rains quenched the thirst of a dry city after a terrible summer. The pre-monsoon rains caused the peacocks to display a colourful dance amid the jungle of concrete glass structures.

The summer passed away and I survived it with the help of coconut water every day. Coconut water is one thing which I rarely used to drink in Mumbai became the source of my life here. I realized that you take things like coconut water granted in your life when they are available bountiful around you. You realize their value when you stay away from them.

The ‘Nariyalwallah’ in this dry city hardly knows any Hindi but I formed a good rapport with him. He heard the word ‘malai’ from my mouth for the first time in his life. His name is ‘Venkat’. The most common name here in South India. He has put up his cart bellow a small ‘Gulmohar’ tree. Being a regular customer, Venkat offers me one rupee discount on every coconut.

He stays away from his family some 350 kms near Andhra coast line. Early morning a truck comes from his hometown, unloads 800 INR worth coconut and drives away. He then stacks them up on his cart and the remaining ones on the ground.  His life revolves around coconuts and his hand cart.  The handcart has been partioned into three parts. The bottom most has been kept for storing his food materials. He cooks near the cart itself on a kerosene stove. The middle one stacks his coconuts while the upper one stacks up his personal items. Venkat sleeps on the cart sometimes with mosquito net. The cart is the hardest place to sleep and he manages to sleep on it besides a road that has cars plying 24 by 7 ferrying IT employees. The tree branches houses the mirror, glass and other cutlery items.

Venkat used to keep two coconuts daily for me from the huge stack of coconut in summers in case the coconuts finish by the end of a hot summer day. His life depends on the coconut truck arrives early morning. No truck, no business and he used to kill his time for the whole day by sharpening his knife. He is loyal to only one supplier and doesn’t trust others even if it means loss of business. He takes water from my building for which he has to give the caretaker of my building some free coconuts. He knows my preferences very well.

The adversities which I face daily are nothing compared to what Venkat faces day to day. The small cart in front my building humbles me about millions of Indians that live this daily life. The infinite labourers who have constructed the building in which I work, the ‘chaiwallah’, all survive on their fate. A small calamity like a medical illness strikes them very hard than a bolt of lightning struck down on earth. They don’t live a dignified life. Life in India is cheap. If few people die due to starvation every day in our country, we don’t care as we have become insensitive to human life. We don’t appreciate dignity of labour here. The labourer who cleans manholes and risks his life by inhaling poisonous gases never gets a pat on his back for preventing the sewer water from flooding our clogged streets.

Indians never clean the street in front of their home but we want our homes to be sparkling clean. We never have taken a broom in our hand and cleaned the filthy and dusty streets. We have never thanked the garbage collector who collects hazardous waste thrown by us because we Indians don’t take pain to segregate our waste or we don’t have the willingness to start it. We lack a social initiative to start it but this initiative exists in every science text book of a school going kid. The rag pickers do the job of segregating our waste. What would happen if those rag pickers don’t separate the metal and plastic out of waste? The role of rag pickers is looked down upon in India. In fact, they are acting as a substitute for a failed system that promises them nothing!

Insensitiveness has crept in our heart that we prefer to keep things as it is and never try to change it. Community feeling is absent in India. We first try to look after ourselves and the community comes at last. The community feeling never existed in India even though we have such a diverse culture.

‘Anna, paaniwala dena aur phir malai wala’……………

Half ticket

Yesterday, I was traveling in a state transport bus.

I was enjoying the cold morning wind and a pleasant ride.

A couple along with a child was sitting behind me. The child was on the lap of her mother.

The state transport bus was commanded by a fiery woman conductor for a good 400 kilometres run.

After taking a ticket from me, she suddenly went to the next seat and asked the innocent child- In which standard (grade) are you studying?

The child seated comfortably in the lap of his mother said-First Standard (1^st Std.)

Lady conductor- Two full and a half ticket will be issued since his age is greater than five years.

Mother- Madam, he goes in kindergarten. His age is less than 5 years, so no ticket.

Lady conductor- Don’t try to argue with me. Your child said his correct age and you will be issued a half ticket.

Hence, a long argument started between the mother and lady conductor. The lady conductor argued that if the flying squad comes for checking in the bus, you will be fined double the amount of the ticket. It’s a better option that you buy a half ticket or else it will prove a costly affair to your family. The mother was adamant that he goes to kindergarten. The fiery lady conductor pulled out two and a half ticket from the vending machine and the family had to pay for two and a half ticket.

In the whole situation, her husband was a mute spectator. Typical thinking of men-why to leap in a fight going on between two ladies? Better keep quiet. May be he knew that his son was indeed in first standard.

Imagine the boy beaten black and blue by his mother on reaching home for causing loss to their family and straining the finances of the home that the mother manages in today’s era of high inflation. After a bad beating, he would have finally understood what to say when the next time a bus conductor asks his age?

The fact is that we are being taught from childhood that being dishonest is indeed beneficial to the family. There goes in drain the moral of a story that you were taught in childhood- Honesty is the best policy. A family looks at the narrower picture that the money saved by not buying the half ticket and imbibes dishonesty in their own child. The bigger picture lies here is that they are spoiling their own child by imbibing wrong values in his mind. By saving a half ticket, they are causing loss to already cheap public transport that benefits them daily and saves lot of money for the whole family. A private bus operator charges double the amount for the same distance compared to state transport operator. A family first looks into their own need before looking into needs of the whole nation. The child dishonesty in early years of life will ultimately harm him in future even if he escapes next time without ticket traveling in the bus.

The problems with Indians are that we are dishonest. That leads to all vices in our society including corruption. A wallet dropped in the middle of road will never reach you and you will spend many days trying to get duplicate license and blocking your credit/debit card. This leads to loss of productivity which in general caused loss to the whole nation if you look at the bigger picture.

We Indians act like greedy people in general because sometimes the whole system causes us to behave in that way. The system will change if we start to think about our nation first. Someone has rightly said that passing Jan-Lokpal bill will not completely stem out corruption in our country. Changing our mind set will help root out corruption more than passing the Jan-Lokpal bill.

Remember what John Kennedy said to his countrymen-‘ask not what your country can do for you - ask what you can do for your country’

I wish some of our dumb politicians make some sensible statements in public.

A funny way of protesting in India

I find this type of protest in India particularly funny and I always have a small laugh at the protestors doing such a kind of protest.

This kind of protest of burning effigies (dummy statues) of person or the organization against whom you are protesting leaves me wondering, what kind of satisfaction do these people get by burning these effigies.

I really don’t know whether these types of protests take place in other countries other than India. It really amuses me seeing the television footage of people taking out their anger on a dumb statue. The scene of people garlanding the statue with ‘chappals’ or pouring kerosene on it and burning it provides a good opportunity for the protesters to showcase themselves on the ever increasing twenty four hour airing news channels in India and also a good chance for news channel to provide a good breaking news.

Poor Effigy……how much it must be suffering the brutal force of the angry public I thought…………