Garbage Chronicles

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After taking an exam on Monday, extreme boredom and frustration took over me. Later in the evening, with no one around to hang out with, I picked up the Times of India and began reading it in the solitary confines of my room. In a world-weary mood, it was refreshing to read Jug Suraiya’s comments on ‘Second Opinion’ (What rubbish, we’re Indians – 18th June 2008). Apart from Shashi Tharoor, he’s my favourite columnist from the Times; his cynical attitude and sarcasm is unbeatable. The best part is that this article of his highlights something that I wanted to comment upon. He’s made my job easier.

Tory MP Lucy Ivimy has reportedly rubbished Indians and branded us as congenital litterbugs. Many bigwigs have accused her of racism and though she has apologised, the issue does not seem to die down.

Jug emphasizes on an interesting idea in this column – the ‘open window’ concept. According to this concept, modern civilians (like us) believe that it is their birthright to fling household garbage lumps straight out of the window. He goes onto say that we believe everything outside the sacrosanct confines of home, office, etc is alien to us and therefore a natural receptacle to our rubbish.

Each one of us has, at least once in our lifetime, thrown something outside the window. Many of us must have thrown some filth just yesterday, to a place where it rightly belongs – public places and boulevards. A lane which connects me to the main road is always squalid – with dirt thrown from windows lying helplessly on the road. Paper wraps, chewing-gum, rubber slippers, plastic bags, banana peels – not to mention used condoms, sanitary napkins and a whole of other such rot. It’s not only difficult to walk here, but also embarrassing, to say the least. I know civilised, educated, sophisticated and well-bred individuals who throw all sorts of waste outside their window – their nail clippings, peach seeds, bad rotis, wafer packets, old rice, etc. It’ll sound very clichéd if I talk about ubiquitous excreters – practising a peculiar asana with a bucket of water every morning.

When I was half-baked as a child, I have myself thrown filth outside the window. No one complained or scolded me. Probably no one felt the need to do so. Somehow, it did strike me later that the world outside is not really outside and different from the clean, spick-and-span world inside the reverent boundaries of my home.

When my local train reaches Bandra creek, educated people toss bits of waste into it. Some have genuine waste with them; others do it just for fun. Many people spit on roads not because they are eating paan, but just because its fun. It’s fun to spit outside the window too. It’s fun to dirty our neighbour’s backyard and throw trash in our colony garden.

It’s not for the first time that a foreign delegate has pointed our skills at harpooning when it comes to dealing with trash, but still we continue to spit filth back at them. This is not about glorifying foreign habitude; it’s about accepting our faults.

One of these days, such firangs will be forced to say, WTF – since we can’t beat them, lets join them. Aaack thoooo…!