SCAVENGING- NIGHT SOIL OR MINDSETS?

Rains lashed Bangalore and exposed the state of sewerage, drainage systems as well as the roads. Early morning there was a hue and cry amongst the general public. All were reminded of the fact that the BBMP had not done its duty. An elderly man remarked that these guys know how to draw the salary but fail to do the work. Another person remarked that he was nostalgic of those days when a scavenger would respectfully appear at beck and call to do the needful. Unmindful of the drizzle, two boys perched on a motorcycle were zipping around distributing newspapers of the day. None had time for the newspaper since the rains had wreaked its havoc.
Unfortunately, no permission or leave would be available on this count and the office goers were trying to sort the sewerage issue to the best possible extent to ensure that there would be a smooth outflow. I absolutely felt that the stench was unbearable but had to go through the motions and finally was on the way to office.
The commuters in the bus for a change were unanimous in their verdict that BBMP had failed to discharge its duties though it promptly collected taxes. The FM radio station was giving information on the state of the clogged traffic and water logged areas to be avoided with a dash of humour and entertaining songs. Slowly, we reached a point where the bus could neither weave its way ahead nor could back out. Commuters who were standing urged the sitting ones to open the windows. The ones who were blissfully sitting pointed that the bus was on a bridge over an open drain. I peered out to verify the veracity of this statement. In the large open drain, dark waters were swirling and even the best of poets would not have composed poetry as was done on the dark waters of the Yamuna. One could see through the drizzle that there were some objects like plastic containers which were lying around and four men clad in khakhi had rolled up their trousers and were standing in these “holy waters” of the denizens of Bangalore. One of the commuters who was in a great hurry requested that he be allowed to alight from the bus and the doors swung open to let in the “fragrance” of the rivulet. All who had insisted on opening the doors hollered for it to be shut forthwith. Hankies went up to the nostrils. Since the bus did not show any signs of moving, my mind drifted to another incident which occurred over a decade ago.

I had been travelling by the train and was chatting up a Travelling Ticket Examiner when a friend of his joined. Since there was sufficient accommodation, the friend also sat down and we introduced ourselves. The TTE then said that his friend was being modest since he was at the forefront of a revolution in the Indian Railways. He then went on to elaborate how many small stations did not have the facility of drainage system. It was a revelation to me that in these places the railway officials used what was known as dry latrines and the night soil was carried by the scavengers. This friend was at the helm of the movement in that sector which rightly considered this as inhumane and sought that such a system be dispensed with. In the present context, I wondered what had changed in the case of a drainage system. The frequency of being subjected to daily humiliation was deferred to probably a periodic one. Additionally, a system was in place, which provided them pay and allowances along with a uniform for the same work.

Should we not scavenge our mindsets to find a solution for all such issues? Should we not be able to empathise with our fellow human beings? Will we able to scavenge not only the night soil issue but also all issues that confront us on which we maintain a hypocritical double or multiple standard?