Shailaja Chandra's Blog

ARE YOU WORTH KNOWING?

THESE DAYS I AM INCREASINGLY WITNESS TO A retirement phenomenon. Meeting an old acquaintance most men tend to ask, “aajkal kahan ho” (where are you nowadays?) Far ftom seeking information about the well-being of the person, the question seeks to ascertain whether (a) the poor fellow has a job, (b) whether the job is worthwhile and (c) whether it has any ‘future potential’.

My erstwhile colleagues who have joined the superannuated club often describe how they spend six months of the year with their cherubic grandchildren in foreign lands, a pastime which they find immensely rewarding. For the rest of the six months, they enjoy life in Delhi and all that goes with it. That makes a statement of one kind — namely that they have the means to travel, their children still want them around and they have something interesting to return to back in ‘desh’.

And then there are others who feel the need to tell everyone, “I am involved with an NGO, which keeps me fully occupied” or “I am busy growing wheat on my farm”, or “I’m busy with arbitration cases” or “I am a Director of Companies”. Last but not least, “I am writing a book”. There are some truthful ones who do not mind announcing, “I run the house and cook breakfast for the family”.

There are a few fortunate ones who are probably busier nowadays than ever before. Their days are filled with assignments and consultancies, some honorary, some not so honorary. Having found a cushy niche for themselves, they are perhaps the happiest of all. To the inevitable “kahan lvii aajkal” comes the crisp response, “Aap ke samane khada hun janaab”. (I am in front of you, Sir).

Surprisingly women react quite differently to an evaluation of their spouse’s post-retirement worth. While most men want to probe and place the victim before they decide whether serious conversation is worthwhile, women react in quite the opposite way. Unfairly criticized (by the opposite sex) for being inquisitive, indiscreet and envious, women never ask other women questions like, “kahan ho aajkal?’ They hug their acquaintance with warmth and pay lavish compliments to brighten up the moment and set the tone. Conversation automatically veers around running the household, children, marriages, illnesses and the joys and sorrows of moving into a new house with or without vao..stu or feng shui. Women also love to describe their husbands post-retirement foibles — bossing the Mali without knowing the first thing about gardens and flowers, offering unsolicited advice on how to run the house more efficiently and worst of all getting into silent mode behind newspapers for hours on end. Women have a natural ability to describe their husband’s shortcomings laced with humour, something that most husbands appear incapable of doing, with equal panache.

I doubt if any research has been done on the subject but on the basis of empirical evidence I can say with authority that women do not feel the need to establish themselves the way men do — they have trained themselves to live life as it comes and believe it or not, being admired by other women is for them the biggest highpoint, anytime. Next time someone asks the inevitable “kahan ho aajkal”, I suggest those who have nothing spectacular to report simply say, “mere bibi se puch lijiye”.

ELECTION TIME IN DELHI CLUBS

SOME OF US HAVE A NATUL URGE TO BE REGARDED AS leaders. Politicians are not the only ones affected by this craving. Witness the enormous efforts that are made by civil servants, policeman, the armed forces, even former judges, cabinet secretaries, governors and ambassadors to get elected as the presidents of three prestigious clubs in Delhi. I asked several colleague members what it meant to them in terms of achievement. The usual response was: ‘you are recognised as a mover and shaker’, ‘you count’, ‘you are popular’, ‘you wield enormous authority’. And so it is that the elections to the Delhi Gymkhana, the Delhi Golf Club and the India International Centre become a whole-time occupation not just for the contestants, their wives, progeny and friends but entire constituencies who perceive the election as an intense caste war among the professions.

Electioneering for club positions requires tremendous vision, foresight and organisation. Not only do the aspirants have to access the names of anything between 2,000 to 5,000 members in each club, they have to eliminate octogenarians and migrants to other parts of the world or the country who are unlikely to come and vote. So why waste time on them? Constituencies are marked not just by professions (lAS, IPS, armed forces) but also by the Alma Mater, the wives circuit, the sports circuit, the card circuit, the culture circuit. It is therefore necessary to identify such groups within groups with initiative and resourcefulness. Just as in normal political elections, lobbying has to be done through promises, home visits, a charismatic handshake, when it comes to clubs, it is important to cultivate voters with cocktails, dinners, telephone calls, and letters, recalling past camaraderie, howsoever remote.

Some imagine that ‘greatness has been thrust upon them’ in the style Shakespeare’s Malvolio in Twelfth Night. Such pretenders to the throne habitually cut into the vote banks of winnable candidates, despite receiving ample advice that they are now a spent force. Polling at club elections is overseen with great expectation. Exit polls continue all evening with a slew of predictions from Delhi’s ubiquitous all-knowers. The announcement of the result usually takes place late at night as celiphones resonate with who has won and who has lost, breaking news into dinner parties and bedrooms. The exit polls and final outcomes are then analysed through incisive post-mortems, with hair raising stories of who manipulated how much and how. In the absence of an Election Commission to oversee the whole election process and minus the K.J. Rao counterparts itching to pounce on unfair practices, club elections have alas, to be left to post mortems and commiseration. The thrill of a countermanded election, an ‘off with his head’ fiat from Ashoka Road are certainly lacking — a gap that needs to be filled at least for the fun of it!

The funny thing about voting in clubs is how people perceive the importance of winning. One of my colleagues told me, “But you have not seen the salute you get from the darwan at the club foyer when you are the president”. And this when the aspirants may well be flying the flag or brandishing crowns, swords, stars and three lions on their shoulders while zooming around with sirens that wax and wane even as huge cherries flash atop their cars. Ultimately, for all the salutes one may garner elsewhere, the salute of the club darwan matters the most.

Uninformed harassment

Security staff can be and are often wooden-headed and stubborn. That is why they are there. There is no need to cry foul over the Shah Rukh Khan episode

What is it about security delays and frisking that makes us mad? Two things which are quite separate but are confused every time a fresh incident takes place. The first is delaying or frisking a VIP like Shah Rukh Khan or a former President of India which is immediately projected as a deliberate affront to the country, verging on apartheid. This makes us go ballistic. The second is our personal litany of experiences of harassment ‘suffered’ at the hands of security staff. Here is why we need to become less prickly.

First, the SRK imbroglio. At the outset we have enough examples to show that the all-powerful uniformed US personnel do not spare their own VIPs who accept that. Senator Edward Kennedy was denied an internet airplane ticket to Boston simply because his name had been used as an alias by a suspected terrorist. The ticket was refused not just once but several times in a span of a few weeks.

On the same night as SRK’s hold up, Olympic swimmer Michael Phelps was involved in a road accident, and though he was found within the prescribed drinking limits, he was all the same hauled up for driving with an expired out-of-state licence. Such incidents are routine in a country where there is no VIP culture; if anything, VIPs such as they are in fact singled out for special attention to see if they are in the breach.

Let’s return to the case of the former President of India where the security staff was simply following internal orders which permitted no discretion to be exercised. In India just because we are very used to receiving, if not insisting, that discretion be shown as a matter of right, we think everyone operates in the same way. But different countries, cultures and organisations issue instructions intended to be followed in letter and spirit, leaving absolutely no scope for pick-and-choose. In the case of Dr APJ Abdul Kalam what should also have been checked was whether the airline and security staff had been frisking former Presidents and Prime Ministers too.

How many people are aware, for instance, that New Zealand’s former Prime Minister Helen Clark was frisked at Sydney Airport when she was Prime Minister, for carrying explosives? Despite having a security officer with her, Ms Clark was pulled out of a queue and given a body scan with a new explosive detection device to make sure she was not a terrorist. The Australian Government admitted that the incident was a wrong way to treat the leader of a country, particularly after the officials were told who she was. The security staff had reportedly gone on to send the results to a laboratory for testing!

The New Zealand Prime Minister’s staff simply said, “She knows that security checks are a fact of life in air travel. We’re all equals when it comes to security; no one is exempt.” As for Sydney airport’s security staff their response was characteristic: “It doesn’t matter who you are — if your number comes up, you’re screened.”

Coming to personal harassment, I was surprised to read a recent article written by a senior woman member of the Government. She says while travelling on a non-diplomatic passport and in her ordinary status she sensed that race, gender and religion had singled her out for special humiliation at a Canadian airport. Example No 1: That she had to remove her jewellery. That happens to be a routine at most international airports. No 2: She was asked what language she spoke. Is one’s education supposed to be written on one’s forehead? No 3: That her sister’s manicure set was dumped by the security staff. Security instructions the world over disallow non-folding scissors, even a nail file, or an innocuous female necessity — eyebrow tweezers. No 4: Her bottle of liquid lotion was tossed out. Liquids were banned as a standard requirement after a plot to blow up aircraft was discovered in Britain in August 2006. I’m on her side if she says all this causes acute inconvenience. It does and practical solutions should have been found by now. But it is not discrimination.

Reverting to the VIP syndrome, Indians are very used to demanding and submissively receiving discretionary treatment. Also for being recognised as an important public figure. Thankfully, most countries do not leave scope with the security staff to show discretion and that is why they have successfully prevented terrorism.

Moral of the story: Security staff can be and are often wooden-headed and stubborn. Perhaps that is why they are there and not doing something more glamorous. But once a system exists there is no need to start a cacophony as a display of national solidarity. At a time when passengers are getting increasingly sensitive about airport checks and security frisking, the fact that the Prime Minister of New Zealand was randomly selected for explosives security screening, delayed while on duty as Prime Minister and yet she accepted it gracefully, should remain a lesson for all passengers. Including Shah Rukh Khan who now says “it was no big deal”.

Technology can be the cure

Informative Websites, payment of bills over the Internet and token systems in banks and at airports are now commonplace. But a progressive society should continually look for more ways to modernise age-old systems to respect people’s time and convenience

Last Saturday I returned home impressed. My driving licence had been renewed in 15 minutes flat — capturing my biometric identity, photograph and fingerprint; all generated in less time than one spends on a friendly chitchat.

A closed circuit camera displayed every nook and cranny of the Vasant Vihar transport office including cars lining up on the road outside, people filling different forms and the time taken at each counter. Touts that habitually orbit public dealing offices were invisible, banished by the prospect of being seen on camera.

In no time I was the proud owner of a smartcard displaying my address, phone number and blood group giving me a new sense of belonging in a city that had been my home for a lifetime.

CCTV is by no means a new technology. Nowadays even tiny shops have installed these gadgets to keep an eye on salesmen, waiters, customers and signs of trouble. Temples display ongoing pujas at vantage points for devotees who cannot enter in time. One wonders why this simple technology cannot be used to bring efficiency into so many other areas where a citizen’s time is at stake.

Take the Passport Office. For three years I have watched a snake-like queue outside the Regional Passport Office at Bhikaji Cama Place. Sweating in the sun, inching forward at a snail’s pace, passport-seekers stand glued to each other for fear of losing place in the queue. The oppressive heat and the absence of sun-shelters, and public conveniences make the wait agonising, more so for the elderly and small children. The RPO badly needs to acquire a closed-circuit camera which displays the chain of applicants as they meander on the footpaths behind Hyatt Regency hotel, diesel fumes aggravating the heat and dust. Fixed time appointments and number tokens do not need much imagination and need to be introduced at least now (Outside the gate.)

The lower courts are another place where people congregate in thousands. Although judicial independence is zealously guarded, the entire legal system primarily exists for dispensing justice to the public, a fact that should surmount all other considerations. I was dismayed to see that despite summons having been issued to the Tees Hazari court witnesses to appear at 10 AM many a Presiding Officer was absent even 30 minutes later. Undeniably with very good reasons, but it is exasperating to find the accused, the complainants and witnesses all having to just hang around. Numerous lawyers also waste their time awaiting the judicial officer’s ascension on to the dais, when court work actually commences.

It would be a good idea to install CCTVs to display the progress of cases so that lawyers and their clients can plan their movements and are not required to hurtle from floor to floor or join the melee outside the court rooms in the nick of time. If CCTVs could be programmed to display which case is in progress and the next cases on the list, it would reduce the mental agony of thousands of people.

A computerised display will have another advantage. It would eliminate the archaic and undignified practice of hollering names down the corridor — a practice which has been in vogue for 100 years. Even a rudimentary ticker can perform the job perfectly well and can eliminate the demeaning practice of bellowing names.

Technology can also usher in a new sense of ownership to accept civic challenges. In Vijayawada, the municipal commissioner computerised the arrival, departure and the weight of garbage collected every day, by every truck. Displayed on a website in real time, it resulted in greater public participation in monitoring garbage collection — a good thing for the city and its neighbourhoods. At one point of time the Municipal Corporation of Delhi was very enthusiastic about the idea which now seems to have petered off. It should be revived and citizens should be encouraged to become watchdogs for their colony, just by viewing the website.

Perpetual traffic bottlenecks are another source of public fury. This daily torture is further compounded by a single downpour that automatically shuts off traffic lights and with it all movement on the roads. It generally takes up to 15 minutes for a traffic constable to show up, by which time all hell has let loose. An AVRS system which reports on the functioning of all major traffic lights should be set up. The nearest PCR vans — (whether the khaki-clad inmates belong to the traffic police department or not) — should be able to view the problem areas on a laptop and immediately intervene to better manage the traffic. If homeguard personnel and school children can manage road traffic, there is no reason why the PCR van staff cannot show up in minutes to handle this critical responsibility.

Informative websites, downloadable forms, payment of bills over the internet, token systems in banks and at airports are now commonplace. But really progressive organisations should continually look for more ways to modernise age-old systems

The test of cost-effectiveness should simply be whether the innovation respects people’s time and convenience and stops opportunities for pick-and-choose. ‘Worthwhileness’ should be gauged by new standards, not just money.

Punctiliously courteous

One could not believe that the hotel in Kyoto expected a foreign guest to go back to the station at 8 in the night for just two dollars, despite the proffered 99.9 per cent advance. But there was no racism or random unhelpfulness. It was a symbol of blind obedience to instructions. An Indian receptionist would have said, “Koi baat nahi… kal dena”

Last week I got an opportunity of visiting Kyoto in the cherry blossom season. An ancient city steeped in history and tradition, and the capital of Japan for 11 centuries, it was deliberately excluded from atomic bombings and air raids during World War II. From the moment I landed there I was struck by the Japanese people — polite and smiling but almost robotic in their reactions. What a contrast to the vibrant populace that constitutes India — so infuriating, so individualistic, yet so endearing.

The train journey from Osaka to Kyoto was an eye-opener. No one used cell phones as a courtesy to fellow passengers (without instruction). Whizzing past high-rise buildings and residential colonies, I was struck by the compactness of the homes — each with its tiny porch where one car fitted exactly into its allotted space. Within each colony large patches of greenery sprang up between houses displaying luxuriant flowers, vegetables or just green grass. Owners have the option to cultivate their plots (to save tax) and are not compelled to concretise. What an idea!

After my arrival at the futuristic Kyoto station, a virtual township was overwhelming. It is a tribute to everything design and engineering could conceive but lacking in English signages where needed most. Very soon I was reduced to “the man, the goat and the bundle of hay story”. As I climbed escalator after escalator in pursuit of my exit gate, I had perforce to leave behind one bag unattended and descend the five level escalators, leaving the first bag unattended, many times over. Anywhere else in the world this would have invited either robbery or confiscation of the luggage, but here in Kyoto neither passers-by nor closed-circuit cameras cared. When our super competent British conference manager also underwent the same travails, I felt greatly reassured.

Entering the hotel was a new challenge. Room charges had to be paid in advance and I found myself short by the princely sum of ¥200 — the equivalent of two dollars. I was advised to go to Kyoto station and return with more Japanese currency. I could not believe that the hotel expected a foreign guest, a grey-haired woman with an acknowledged group reservation, to go back to the station at 8 in the night, despite the proffered 99.9 per cent advance. But there was no racism or random unhelpfulness. It was a symbol of blind obedience to instructions. An Indian receptionist would have said, “Koi baat nahi… kal dena,” even if the amount would be hundred times more.

The next morning we were driven to an ultramodern conference centre in Kyoto University, another accolade to modern architecture and engineering. Each floor was dominated by a spectacular 300 degree view of thick forests that stretched as far as the eyes could see. Our conference hall was an extension of the glass globe, but my heart sank when I saw no screen, no projector and no curtains to shade the glare. How would I show my brilliant PowerPoint presentation? If this was the situation at 9:25 am, how anything could be managed in the next five minutes was upper-most in my mind.

But precisely at 9:27 am, the Japanese Co-chair ascended the dais, literally lifted a finger signalling two students to sprint upstage, unfasten folding furniture and display name cards in a flash. Thirty seconds later a ceiling-to-floor screen descended from an unseen niche even as vertical blinds (invisible until then) pulled together to shade the giant glass panels. The Japanese professor bowed and said apologetically, “Here we do it ourselves.” At exactly 9:30 am, the Conference began. There were no backdrops, no flowers, no water bottles and no bulky conference bags. Also no platitudinous speeches.

I will always remember Kyoto’s landscaped gardens, the elaborate tea ceremony at the Nijoh castle, the cherry blossoms almost prearranged to open on time. I coveted the perfectly planned pedestrian and cyclist pathways set off by manicured shrubbery running parallel to every busy road. The extreme courtesy shown in shops and restaurants was another refreshing experience. But juxtapose that with the complete lack of knowledge of even basic English — (waiters did not know the meaning of either fish or water) — the Macdonaldisation of the younger generation and an indifference to the non-Japanese world outside and one had an odd combination.

Despite the dust, dirt and potholes that surround us in India I could not help remembering the vibrancy of Indians as they communicate with each other. Of course everything in India is haphazard. Courtesy, punctuality and quietude are unknown. Berating everything is a common pastime, even as civic sense is thrown to the winds. Indians are happiest when they succeed in short-circuiting procedures. Ingenuity or the art of jugaad is valued much more than dreary discipline. But every Indian possesses a natural flair for showing empathy and a spirit of helpfulness is inborn. The ability to share everything — even if it is half a samosa — is congenital. One simple ‘yaar’ can fetch co-operation from the most assertive and questioning antagonist.

For all the perfection and serenity of high-tech cities and courteous cultures, give me the hurly-burly of India any day.

Promises are not enough

Every party issues an election manifesto, promising to empower women, eliminate dowry and prevent female foeticide. But such promises rarely translate into action because once elections are over, manifestos are forgotten. To make them meaningful, manifestos should mention time-frames for promised action

It is election manifesto season again. This fortnight, at least half-a-dozen proclamations will issue, encompassing every facet of nation-building — from defence and foreign policy to public order, from agriculture and rural development to industrial policy, from employment generation to education and health, ending with programmes for women, minorities, Dalits and Adivasis.

In the wide gamut of ideas that go into the crafting of manifestos, the paragraph devoted to women and children perhaps has the maximum agreement among parties. Unlike Indo-Pak relations and US foreign policy where there is little harmony, there is universal accord on enforcement of the minimum age of marriage, registration of marriages, fulfilling the unmet demand for contraception, elimination of dowry and female foeticide. All these intentions are common features of every manifesto but it is ironical and unfortunate that despite this unison, progress has been frighteningly slow with each year’s delay fraught with irreversible consequences.

When every single survey shows how adolescents of both sexes continue to be married well before the legal age (for example, 59 per cent boys in rural Rajasthan and 69 per cent girls in rural Bihar-NFHS-3) it is no wonder that compulsory registration of marriage is disregarded by society. National party manifestos, therefore, need to spell out how the goals would be achieved. This is critical for two reasons: India can never hope to become a superpower until malnutrition, child mortality and the world’s worst record of stunted and wasted children continue to make headlines. Second, very early marriages and repeated pregnancies are the root cause of much of the problem, yet little is being done to alter that.

How can a country like India afford to overlook the circumstances that are responsible for the birth of generations of unwanted, undernourished and underweight children? Mothers in the lower wealth quintiles are even today producing five to seven children well into their forties, until nature, disability or death ends the unwanted cycle. A country, which does not bother to provide women with the tools to withstand unwanted fertility, is perpetrating inequality. A country that is comfortable with being overtaken by small, less endowed neighbours and least developed countries with not even a fraction of its resources cannot be respected. Becoming a world-class economy is unattainable with such social indices.

Here are my prescriptions of what should go into the health, women and children’s part of a right-thinking manifesto:

Compulsory registration of marriages, although decreed by the Supreme Court, does not have a parent (Ministry). The Registrar General of India counts births and deaths but not marriages. The Ministry of Women and Child Development enacted a new law on prevention of child marriage, but thereafter has treated outcomes as “a State responsibility”. Data on registration of marriages is not being collected under that enactment and nor is there any enforcement at the district level. For this very reason a sensible manifesto should announce that the modalities to be implemented will follow within six months of holding elections. This alone can address the blight of adolescent pregnancies that perpetrate the cycle of malnutrition and the birth of underweight infants. Enforcing the legal age of marriage is the most important link in the chain but short-sighted political aspirants refuse to get involved. That is precisely why responsible parties need to show the way.

The contents of medical and nursing education should be revamped to make it of direct relevance to people in rural areas. Take one example: Skilled surgery offers sterilisation to a woman within a minute, without any preparation for an operation, without disrobing herself or undergoing the trauma of hospitalisation. But doctors passing out of medical colleges are not taught this technique. Because family planning is a low priority for MCI and population growth is not a concern. A thinking manifesto can alter that and multiply access to what women really need.

In China, 48 per cent of people’s contraception need is met by IUCD. India produces this 10-year ‘no pregnancy’ miracle device indigenously, but it is not used by the private sector which provides 80 per cent of medical care. Overall, the use of this device is less than two per cent in India. China thought this through and made this highly effective, reversible device readily available.

India needs a manifesto that promises to make reproductive rights a reality; without that women’s empowerment will never become a reality.

A Health Manpower Commission should be set up to forecast the next twenty years’ needs of technical staff and paramedics like nurses, physiotherapists, medical technicians and public health workers. Already an appalling shortage exists. The need will explode as life expectancy goes up. Thinking on this has not even begun. A declaration in the manifesto can make it a reality.

A national party’s manifesto is expected to espouse causes that affect millions of Indians. A party (or parties) that wishes to steer the ship of state should be passionate about improving social and health indices. Ultimately a country’s progress is judged by those indicators and not how many Indians drive cars or use mobile phones.

How not to ban polythene bags

Instead of hectoring people in the name of court orders to ban the use of ‘poly bags’, a great opportunity has perhaps been lost if the ongoing infringements are anything to go by

By tradition the Chief Minister of Delhi sets out on June 5 — World Environment Day, to clean the Jamuna. The Chief Secretary accompanies her on this early morning crackdown, as the entourage of MLAs, NGOs and pro-green CEOs delve into the river’s filth. Plastic bags emerge as the biggest catch of the day followed by the plaintive refrain, ‘Why can’t the Government just ban plastic bags?’

And presto this January plastic bags were banned. The Confederation of All India Traders then petitioned the High Court even as my dry cleaned saris came home in a brown paper bag with a protest listing 15 ‘facts’ on Plastic vs Paper. The data criticised the paper option on grounds of weight, processing cost, emission levels, adding that recycling plastic bags needed 91 per cent less energy than paper of the same weight. Meanwhile, upmarket groceries stocked wafer-thin paper bags that lacked the tenacity to hold heavier groceries. On February 27 came another ban banning plastic imitations of cloth bags.

My erstwhile colleague JK Dadoo, Delhi Government’s IAS Secretary for environment and anti-pollution when queried on how house-hold garbage should be disposed, responded “use bio-degradable black bags that conform to IS: BIS: 17088 of 2008.” Try telling that to your wife I heard myself say. “What about fish and meat?” I asked the vegetarian Dadoo. “Use silver foil or tetra-packs,” pat came his reply.

Was Mr Dadoo too hasty in advising the Chief Minister to introduce a complete ban? It is one thing to hate the stuff but it is another to clamp a ban without a well-thought-out strategy for expanding access to dependable, inexpensive alternatives. In the absence of that people have begun defying the ban despite Rs 25, 000 fine and three month jail term announced for bad baggers. That goes for Lok Nayak Bhavan’s electrical fittings shops, Khan Market’s meat and fish shops, and all neighbourhood groceries and veggie sellers. That’s pretty much a cross-section of Delhi.

Several countries and at least 20 that my research showed had imposed restrictions on plastic bags — for very good reason. That plastic bags are an environmental hazard (whether dumped in the landfill or retrieved by rag pickers and recycled) is not in any doubt. The way plastic bags choked Mumbai’s drainage systems assuming tragic proportions is live in public memory. Plastic bags piled up on railway tracks, at bus stops, shopping centres and tourist places are ugly and hazardous. Cows ingesting plastic bags containing razor blades and household filth are a ubiquitous sight at Delhi’s 2,000 odd “dhalaos” — municipal parlance for garbage dumps. So why raise doubts now about the need for a ban?

The present ban (by reaching beyond the court’s order) is mimicking modish Western standards before time. Delhi’s garbage collection systems are thoroughly unreliable and the Delhi Government has little control over what the Municipal Corporation does (or does not do) in the name of conservancy and sanitation. Plastic bags are used to dump wet household garbage and the sudden ban leaves no choice except to break the law as permissible alternatives are expensive and shunned by the majority. While banning manufacture would ultimately force people to change bad habits, there were more imaginative and sustainable ways of involving the public in voluntarily pursuing the non-plastic route.

First, the Government should have announced a progressive increase in reducing the use of plastic bags. If a sparsely populated first world country like Australia could set a realistic target of a 25 per cent in the first year and 50 per cent by the next, and insisted on biannual retail end compliance reports, we too could have opted for more attainable goals. Pre- Olympics, Beijing banned free supply of plastic bags and shops were instructed to display the price of biodegradable bags, not to be subsumed in the bill. That worked. Ferreting for change is annoying and people learn pretty fast. Ireland introduced a ‘Plas tax’ which was high enough to make plastic bag consumption plummet in the very first year. But fresh produce was exempt from the ban. That would have made perfect sense for Delhi.

Second, manufacturers could have been encouraged months ago to produce bio-degradable bags in different sizes, labelled for different uses along with symbols. Samples and costs should have been displayed everywhere as part of a motivational campaign. Huge discounts could have been announced on bulk purchase of approved quality garbage bags after holding parleys with manufacturers.

Third, the MCD could have entered the door-to-door supply of garbage bag business and earned money like Jal Board’s drinking water bottles. Fast check-outs or discounts could have been incentivised for ‘good baggers’ at the Kendriya Bhandars and Mother Dairy outlets. Awards could have been announced for market associations that self-regulated the no-plastic ban. Schoolchildren could have been made judges to report market-wise compliance by observing home-bound shoppers and publishing results.

Instead of hectoring people in the name of court orders (whose 2008 directions were really quite achievable), a great opportunity has perhaps been lost if the ongoing infringements are anything to go by. But a practical approach can succeed even now. Try it.

Missing the wood

In a bid to show how high its reach is, the media prods a Minister with loaded questions whenever there is an outbreak of some disease or an epidemic, realising little that it’s not a Minister but a municipal health official who is supposed to have the answers

The National Health Policy was announced in 2002 — 19 years after it was first formulated. While its aspirations and prescriptions make a strong case for reducing regional iniquities and enhancing funding for health, it was only three years later in 2005 that the National Rural Health Mission attempted a gigantic leap forward in rejuvenating the primary health set up with funding and systems that could make paper orders spring to life.

Neither Health Policy, 2002, nor the National Rural Health Mission, however, addresses the specific subjects and situations that occupy the front pages of national dailies and television screens. Organ transplantation rackets, hazards of junk food, the net worth of anti-smoking fiats, seasonal diseases and cyclic outbreaks of dengue, malaria and sundry fevers are what constitutes the bulk of health coverage by the media. The reports are undoubtedly useful as they serve as news as well as warning cum health bulletins alerting people to be prepared and know what to do.

But preoccupation with localised news to the exclusion of the bigger picture is fraught with two dangers — first, the stories demand reactions from top health functionaries, thereby distracting attention from those directly answerable for the mess; second, they overlook the need for reporting about massive health programmes which affect millions of citizens and ultimately the well-being of the country.

In the present scheme of things, the media hardly reports on the success or failure in attaining health and family planning goals which are vital for improving overall health indices and without which sustainable development cannot take place.

Strictly speaking, the role of the Central Government under the Union List of the Constitution is limited to promoting medical research, setting standards for medical education and administering special Central institutions. Drugs, cosmetics, food adulteration, population control, family planning, are on the Concurrent List with shared responsibilities between the Centre and the States.

In contrast, public health and sanitation, hospitals and dispensaries are wholly on the State List of the Constitution but one hardly sees a Health Minister or Director General of Health Services in any State questioned for failure to control epidemics, equip health facilities adequately or get doctors to report for duty in primary health centres.

Likewise, we never see heads of sanitation and conservancy in the Municipal Corporation asked to explain their failure to perform direct obligatory functions. In the zeal to target the top, the mike is usually thrust before Ministers and senior functionaries of the Delhi Government when the prevention and control of malaria, dengue, cholera and gastroenteritis is directly a Municipal responsibility. The Delhi Government has little supervisory authority over the Municipal Corporation, which owes allegiance to the Central Government under a 1957 Act. So, why not ask the people who are directly responsible?

Why are public health doctors and engineers responsible for ensuring that sewage does not get mixed up with drinking water questioned why they remained unaware of the contamination? Did the Jal Board take sufficient samples and have them tested for purity as often as needed? Supervised by whom? Did they file for criminal action against known culprits who tampered with the water pipelines (since that is the usual excuse)? Why not? Was preventive action against mosquito breeding adequate? By what measure? Did the sanitary officers supervise the daily clearance of 2000 dhalaos and dustbins cascading with garbage and filth? Who inspected them and how often? Such questions are never asked from the real actors. Instead, sound-bytes spouting “everything under control” platitudes are what we get from senior functionaries while the real actors remain safe and dry.

It is time the people directly responsible are held accountable as generally happens when a building collapses or electricity fails. It is time that the functions and responsibilities of different echelons of the public health, drinking water, food hygiene and the mosquito control hierarchy are set forth on websites listing people responsible for prevention and control of health hazards, area-wise.

Equally, if extraordinary work has been done, nothing would boost the morale of workers more than giving a real performer a place in the sun while ignoring the vacuous worthies that mouth the “we are doing our best” baloney. Confronting the real culprits on camera or lauding their efforts, will heighten public awareness and the wrath and laurels will be directed where deserved, instead of giving free publicity to higher-ups having little direct responsibility.

On a wider scale, media should provide the lay reader an independent State-wise update on the final destination of thousands of crores of rupees spent on improving the condition of health care. Instead of recounting what World Bank and CAG enquiries reveal many years later, State Health Ministers and their battery of professionals should be made to respond to much larger current issues.

To start with to account for State-wise progress on achieving the specific numerical goals of the Population Policy 2000 and the Health Policy 2002.These questions can only be responded to by those at the very top, particularly in the low performing northern states, but unfortunately they are never asked.

Senselessly going green

In New York, confused consumers buy paint brushes with plastic handles because they are forest-friendly. Alternately, they buy wooden-handled paint brushes because they are not made of non-degradable plastic. One can imagine the dilemma of consumers in India
Eco-narcissism is the new name for the game the rich and guilty play in the name of saving the environment. As they sleep in organic payjamas on organic bedsheets, their roof-top generators run half a dozen air-conditioners, to keep the house cold enough to snuggle under blankets through the night.

While the green brigades ban plastic bags, their writ runs no further than the Mother Dairy outlets in Delhi where sporadic attempts fail to change bad habits. In New York, the confused consumer buys paint brushes with plastic handles because they are forest-friendly (not being made of wood) and conversely wooden-handled paint brushes, because they are not made of non-degradable plastic!

Such is the power of massaging, absurd as it is. In the same league we delude ourselves that CFL bulbs are eco-friendly (which no doubt they are), but not if they are accompanied by halogen lamps to give the special glow that the much maligned incandescent bulbs can’t match. This is akin to the hypocrisy of wearing organic cotton shirts while driving a fuel guzzling Merc.

The green movement having reached somewhat ridiculous proportions in rich countries is slowly catching up with us though a few right thinkers have begun exposing how telling half-truths, if not complete lies, is nothing short of “voodoo marketing”.

A columnist in the US has questioned the proliferation of green but environmentally expensive consumer goods in the name of what he calls “eco narcissism”. In psychology and psychiatry excessive narcissism is recognised as a personality dysfunction and is seen as a manifestation of egotism and selfishness. Applied to a social group, it denotes elitism and indifference to the plight of others.

Out-of-season fruit transported thousands of kilometres by fuel-guzzling jet planes from the southern hemisphere is an example of madness, especially when it is devoured in the name of organic cultivation. The delicacy is environmentally damaging if one considers the enormous fossil fuels burnt to bring Chilean summer raspberries to snow-bound American consumers.

Then there is the snobbery about bottled water. Not even a dhaba will today dare offer plain water for fear of putting off the client. Either it will be bottled water with the stamp of known and unknown companies, or it will be dispensed through an expensive reverse osmosis apparatus “so sweetly” promoted by the Hema Malini and daughter duo. That the contraption requires rejection of three litres of water to give one litre to drink hardly bothers the environmentalists.

No conference or board meeting looks complete without the ubiquitous plastic bottles hiding the chairman and others on the dais. In restaurants, snobbish waiters ask from their lofty heights whether you want mineral water or ordinary water. The guest is made to feel that much more important if mineral water is ordered ordinary water being considered too plebian. In the snootiest hotels they produce Perrier from France (unasked for) at Rs 400 a bottle, knowing full well that the person who foots the bill would not dare send it back. In the market a chilled bottle of water costs as much as a soft drink.

We in India might soon have to face what is happening in America where restaurants buy water for a dollar and resell it for as much as eight dollars or more, making it the highest mark up on any item on the menu. No wonder some restaurants in San Francisco’s Bay area have decided not to serve bottled water at all, as a part of an environmentally sustainable campaign.

Meanwhile the present generation of baby boomers has its own take on giving an eco-friendly upbringing. While swearing that they will not put their baba log through the trials and tribulations of competitive schools, they choose schools with air-conditioned buses and classrooms and ensure that their offspring return to the environment of an air-conditioned house, albeit to eat organic atta chappatis and organically fed chicken.

The argument here is not that we should give up environment-friendly measures and efforts to recycle waste. The solution lies not in deluding oneself that the organic label can buy peace with nature, but by changing lifestyles that waste energy. Should people who adopt unsustainable lifestyles and waste electricity, petrol and diesel (directly or indirectly) become trail-blazers just because they profess green tokenism?

What we need are awareness campaigns that tot up how much we ruin the environment, while deluding ourselves that we are saving the planet. We also need to set our own Indian standards for what is considered environmentally-friendly, safe and sustainable instead of blindly aping Western ideas and practices that have created the impending eco-catastrophe for life on earth.