(9 Aug ’09)
In my childhood,
knee-deep water in the monsoons meant you went home drenched to the skin,
uniform heavy and dripping, gumboots squelching, skin wrinkled and pink with
the wetness. Schools occasionally were shut because of the weather.
Occasionally, without a fuss. There were colds, coughs, measles. But the pharma
companies didn’t rule the roost. The media, limited though its reach was,
didn’t get hysterical over any of this.
Ever since Mumbai had a
very bad spell 3 years ago, in which many Mumbaikars died, everyone’s behaving
like the monsoons are a novel phenomenon to be wondered at and feared each time
a cloud pours. This year, right from March, even before the sweltering summer
set in, the first emails with warnings were forwarded: be careful of the
tsunami. Of course some were backed by facts: on such and such date, between x
and y hours, the tide will be high and if it rains, stay indoors, else you will
drown. Others scoffed the weather-men. These guys, what do they know, they’re
always wrong. Came the special dates and guess what, the tide really was high.
Highest in a 100 years said the papers. It was true. From my perch in the
office-building, I saw the froth reach upto three storeys high. The Arabian Sea
was very angry, it lashed the shores chucking out tons of horrid garbage. The
water was black, murky and dirty, filthy, menacing. Rocks, little boulders
weighing upto 50 kgs were tossed casually onto parked vehicles, causing serious
damage. One had to take those waves seriously.
Once the tide receded,
there were hills of plastic bags, dirt, rubble, decaying and decayed matter
lining Mumbai’s shore. Now that was
something missing from my childhood memories. The beach beside Hinduja Hospital
and the lane alongside it were full of garbage. In fact, all the gullis at
angles to the major artery Cadell Road (uh-oh, Veer Savarkar Marg now) were
blocked with dirt. The Municipal cleaners worked ceaselessly, filling up truck
after truck until, about three hours later, the place was clean again. We
cheered them, appreciated them, but the media didn’t write about them. Or show
them on tv. They never show any good work done by The Establishment. Positive
strokes don’t get ads? Maybe. That part of commerce I don’t understand. All
that garbage was thrown into the sea by…. who else… the undisciplined and dirty
citizens with the I-don’t-care attitude. The media didn’t show them up for what
they are. Never does.Wonder why? Truth hurts, that’s why. Media persons,
common-folk reps, wouldn’t want to say that common-folk are dirty people. We
all want our rights, sweep the responsibilities under the carpet. Easier to say
the BMC didn’t do its job.
Am waiting for someone to start a campaign: 5 lakh common men aught to
have parts of their anatomy cut off because they were peeing on neighbouring
walls… naaa, no one has the guts, not a single channel will even begin to think
about it… forget following up.
Then, ignoring the ever-present malaria, dengue, hepatitis, typhoid
(yawn, do people still die of them? Sadly, YES), we’ve gone gaga over the Swine
Flu. 15 people died of it. And how many of TB? Add several zeros to that
number. Yet, we aren’t hysterical about TB. What about Ulcerative Colitis?
Renal Failure? Any guesses anyone? Don’t bother, it’s enough for you to know
that it’s more per town, each, than an entire continent’s death toll by Swine
Flu.
I’m waiting for the media to create hysteria over drinking water, to
start a campaign that every society, each colony and neighbourhood must harvest
monsoon water for its needs. Oh yes, and sort and deal with its garbage, too.
These days, I actually prefer Doordarshan over most of the private
channels simply because it gives me some relevant facts about the country. It
lets me know that because the monsoons weren’t monstrous this year, I may have
to buy water in tankers through the coming year. Some channels give me a
feeling that these showers give me a choice between floods and/or drought.
Choose your end, they seem to imply. Lots of problems are pointed out, no
learned debates follow to provide reasonable and compulsory solutions. Indeed,
many people who have lived through decades of monsoons, have actually begun to
fear/hate the life-giving rain-clouds.
Pity.
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