Less than a year to go till the Commonwealth Games kick off in Delhi and the Home Minister is requesting Delhites to start behaving themselves. However, what constitutes good behaviour is not clearly defined. He made references to using overpasses while crossing roads, not spitting on streets (is that even possible?) and observing traffic rules. I am amused that he had to remind Dilliwallahs that they live in a metropolitan city and not in a village. For all you know, village folk may be a whole lot cleaner than us city folk. In Delhi, like most other big cities, people care about themselves, their families, their homes and their cars. So waste management simply translates to cleaning up one's home and dumping the rubbish across the fence. If a neighbour ever catches you in the act, some juicy words are always on hand. Here I am referring to the educated-richer-Delhi resident who usually has an average of three cars lined up against his front gate and does not pass any opportunity to pick a fight with a fellow resident. These are the same ones who have access to The Hindustan Times and NDTV and may be aware of what the HM had to say.
A colleague at work suggested that it was not enough to talk about behaviour change but it needed to be supplemented with awareness programmes. He asked how a poor rickshawallah in Old Delhi would know how to behave 'well'. I agree with him and I do believe these 'changes' need to be made but they could be made despite the big Games coming to town. For a city whose streets are polka-dotted with spit balls, it might not be such a bad deal to teach people to be discrete with their bodily fluids. Maybe even from a public health perspective. Games or no-Games lets try and make our capital city a little cleaner.
In times of economic crises and dwindling bank balances I wonder how the samosa industry in India is doing? Judging by the consumption rate in my office- I should think the Unclejis might just be making a little dough (both for the samosas and themselves). The 30 something people who work in my office never cease to have a voracious appetite and it has caught on with me too. Luckily, in times of monetary crises, I do not always have to spend money for these delicious alooness. But what goes around comes around...
It happens like this: My office seems to share a certain invisible committee for convincing people to 'treat' others. This concept, I am sure, only exists in India. We find a reason to pin on someone so he/she can open up his wallet and fund the samosas/jalebis/gulab jamun or whatever else the rest of the office requests. The reasons start from someone's wife's father's dog's birthday to someone having purchased a shiny looking helmet to someone's neighbour having bought a new car. Really, there is no logic to this invisible committee picking on any particular 'victim'...
So it happens, everyday at 4 p.m, our dedicated office boy walks over to Aggarwal/Bikaner/Unclejis' sweets and puts in an order for 'Thees Samosas aur thees 'sweets' and comes back with a bag full of oily-goodness. We do have some health conscious homosapiens who tried to bring in a huge change to this tradition by ordering in momos. But lets just say it didn't go down very well (in every sense of the term)....
I live in Chitaranjan Park in New Delhi. A predominantly Bengali suburb where the average age is well past 60 years. Considering I behave like a 60 year old-I seem to fit in just fine. My house overlooks a beautiful park with lush grass, a product of the recent rains. If the residents ever have to rate the best hangout spots in C.R.Park, I would imagine this park coming second only to the Kali Mandir down the road.
This park is much loved by the older Bengali men and women, 5-12 year old boys who are practising to get into the Indian Cricket Team and teenage lovers hiding away from their parentals. All in all, it's a collection of the young and the old, songs and conversations, cricket and badminton and dogs and cats. While older women sit in circles and sing Bhajans, their older husbands discuss Lalu Prasad Yadav. While a 10 year old yells at his sibling for losing his tennis ball, a 17 year old professes his love (in whispers of course) to his girlfriend.
However, what I like most is watching the patrons of the park every morning. My unintentional alarm clocks, these men are an active bunch who like to get their dose of aerobics every morning. The first day I was rather frightened by the strange noises that erupted at 6.30 a.m. I shot out of bed wondering how fifteen odd men had found their way into my room. Upon closer scrutiny, I discovered a burly looking gentleman with an army moustache leading a group of men in stretching exercises in the park. Raucous laughter soon followed! C.R.Park's very own LAUGHING club! With arms and legs waving in the air all I could make out was a bout of unusually loud-artificial laughter. Apparently, it's good for you...
