Survival amid stench
We
need to clear the clutter at the basic level before moving into higher
realms
By
Meha Mathur
How does a person maintain himself?
To make a judgment don’t look at his face but at his feet. How
does a lady maintain her house? Don’t make an assessment looking
just at the drawing room. Toilet and kitchen upkeep are better pointers.
Similarly, how hygienic and aesthetic a society are we? Don’t
go by our manicured parks and swanky
shopping areas. Look at the garbage piles.
For all the progress we claim
to have made as a country as a society, garbage disposal and drain clearance
gives the game away. We have invested billions in making our presence
felt in the Space, but refrain from taking any initiative for an organised,
cohesive garbage management system that could improve the sight and
smell of our cities. We now boast of plush Penthouses in Belvedere Park,
Pent Houses in Great Lakes Apartments. But even though we have borrowed
these modern names from the West, we stop when it comes to garbage disposal
rules followed in every American and West European home since many decades
— that of keeping two dustbins at home, discarding degradable
waste like peels in one bin and nondegradable waste like bottles in
another bins, thus making easier the task of segregation of waste. And
to use the old example, we insist on keeping our home and front lane
swanky clean, but look the other way if the back lane is emitting foul
smell or if the drainage in the next lane is clogged thanks to polypacks
our household help has dumped there.
This perhaps has to do with the
quintessentially Indian hatred of filth, and our inhibition in cleaning
it. To say that public sanitation is a non-issue, that Indians are used
to living with it, is being off the mark. Our emphasis on the daily
sweeping-mopping testifies to our finickiness about cleanliness. Why
would we not demand cleanliness in public spaces and on roads when we
appreciate it at home? It’s more a result of some very strange
notions of cleanliness, purity and pollution. It’s something like:
‘My hands need to remain pollution-free, the flush button could
be polluted, so I will not flush before leaving the toilet.’
It’s also a result of our
‘I-me-myself’ mindframe, coupled with ‘chalta hai’
attitude. Once the garbage has left my home, it’s none of my concerns.
Such is the height of apathy that we don’t even want to admit,
for simple laziness, that stench-free atmosphere is our right. For the
bijli-paani problems, we take to streets, block traffic and beat up
government staff. But I have never heard of a demonstration over garbage
issue.
Appalling and unbearable as the
condition of Indian cities is becoming, garbage management is one taboo
area among Indians. Indians are fanning out in every possible area,
coming out with new ideas and encashing them, but only a handful have
dared to enter this beat. Interestingly, it’s a mountain of opportunity
waiting out there. Clubbing your scientific understanding with a business
idea could turn out to be a winning proposition, and could usher in
a new wave altogether. You could think of a new way to recycle batteries,
which leak out into soil and underground water and cause immense harm.
You could think of producing special material for dustbins, which, while
being leak resistant, is biodegradable. Or you could think of faster
decomposition of waste matter. Or you could think of a revenue model,
tie up with various companies and send them back their empty packs.
IT sector might become saturated
in a few years’ time, but the management of software refuse is
an unexplored territory, not yet opened up in India.