The irritating 'buzzing' of the alarm is what I wake up to every morning.The irritation is compounded if it happens to be a weekend. Smashing the alarm to bits when it goes off every morning is something I am sure most of us want to do. But alas the harmless alarm will always remain the most hated but necessary invention in our lives forever.
So last Saturday when the alarm did buzz for the zillionth time I dragged myself out of the bed. With the necessities done away with, I quickly got ready for the weekend escapade on my bicycle. Usually I do not decide on any particular route, I just follow my heart and instinct. So after about 20 minutes of cycling I found myself on this on this narrow winding road running parallel to the freshly laid 6-lane expressway headed towards Bangalore’s new international airport. The airport, albeit its flaws, proudly represents the development of the city. As the road curved away from the expressway the typical ‘city noise’ began to fade and concrete structures gave way to lush green fields and cleaner air. For the next few kilometers there was no sight of any human and I began to sense an iota of joy in my heart. Probably I had finally found that ‘oasis’ I was always been longing for…
I pedaled on for the next one hour. I could see sporadic signs of developments – new sign boards marking distances, new drains been constructed, high tension towers etc but no sign of anyone. The gradient of the road increased steeply and as I went past a sign that said ‘Kannur Cross’ I saw the first signs of civilization -a wooden shack and a few houses. As I neared the shack I noticed it was a small ‘chai shop’ and stopped for a break. I dismounted from the bicycle, saddled it up against and tree and sat on the stone bench.
A sweet voice asked the familiar words, “Ennu Beeku” (what do you want?). (The following conversation took place in Kannada and I have translated it the best I can in English)
I asked, “Who is that?”
A small head popped up from behind a makeshift counter. A girl, probably about 8-10 years old with droopy eyes, wearing a skirt and shirt stood on a stool.
She said, “we have no water” , and the cleaned her leaky nose.
“I do not want water. You got cigarettes?” I enquired. I began to scan the shelves checking for signs of any.
“Ajja (grandpa) will come” she said. I couldn’t help noticing that her skirt and blouse were held in place with pins and she probably had a bath a week before.
A rather gruff voice said, “Namaskara (hello)” from behind my back. An elderly man wearing a dhoti and an oversized white turned brown shirt was walking up to me. He had grey hair and a slight hunch.
I asked, “Do you have tea? I also need a cigarette”
“Where are you from?” he asked.
“Bangalore”, I said, “you got tea?”
“Bangalore…hmmm..big place…big houses. I heard you have electricity problems. We have no electricity here from yesterday evening,” said ajja. I was in no mood to hear about anybody’s problems. I wanted to move on quickly.
I said, “Ok”, shrugged my shoulders and began to walk towards my cycle.
“You can come to my house if you want. We got hot tea there”, the old man said. He pointed down a narrow pathway indicating the direction to his house.
“No. Thank you. I’ll be on my way.” I said.
“If you want, you can sit on the bench. Usha will get you tea.” He quickly asked his grand-daughter to get me a glass of tea from the house. He sternly told her not to spill it. Usha quickly ran down the small pathway. For the first time I noticed that the pathway was lined with few mud houses and beyond them were open dry fields. I sat down reluctantly on the stone bench.
“Do you want a beedi? I have some’, enquired the old man. I politely refused. He squatted on the roadside and lit a beedi which he began to puff vigorously.
“How long have you lived in Bangalore? You must be working in one of those big companies. We have no electricity here from yesterday. Sometimes we don’t get electricity for up to two days. Taps have run dry too. We have a well but the water level has fallen” he said. At that moment I felt I was like a priest listening to the confessions of an old man. I began to question my judgment of taking a pit stop here.
“You should take the matter up with your local corporator,” I said, totally uninterested in his rambling.
A smile broke his lips revealing a few tobacco stained teeth. “ We have no local authority. We had a village leader and he moved to the city. We have no one now. A few families are left in our village. We have no choice. The government is going to take our houses. A 4 lane express way is planned.”
“Good for you,” I said, “Development means money. You can sell your house now, make money and have a better life”
He quickly shot back, “Development for who? That’s for only people like you. Where will I go at this age leaving this place? How will I find food in the future? What hope do I have?”
Well, now I was beginning to have a fight on my hands. All my learning’s about economy, management and finance came flooding into my head. I was framing an answer in my head when Usha came with a glass of tea.
I politely said, “Thank you. This was not needed. It’s too much trouble for you.”
“Its ok. It will not taste great. We have shortage of milk here. We don’t have enough money to feed the cows.” I was wondering now if I did the right thing of accepting the tea. I stared at the half glass of tea without sipping it. I thought to myself, will Usha curse me for stealing her half glass of milk?
He carried on,” I have 2 sons and 1 daughter. The eldest son works in construction. There is a road being laid a few kilometers from here and he works there. The daughter is married to a man from the same village. Son-in-law works in construction too. My daughter takes care of the house and me. My youngest son, Chellappa, is smart. He is studying diploma. He is our only hope.”
“Development leads to rise in income levels. Once you get the money from the government you can buy a new piece of land and set-up a shop. You will have more customers and more income. You can then feed your family and have a better life.” I said. I was brimming with pride. The management thinking does help to give articulate answers.
My adversary now blurted out, “What income? Will you ever leave your house and go elsewhere? Now at least I have a plot of land from which I get some income. Development is going to steal my land and house. I don’t know anything else other than farming. People like you will drive big cars on big roads. We are the ones who sacrifice. If needed you give some charity and move on. We want our lives not development or charity.”
Those emotion filled lines caught me completely off-guard. I didn’t know what to say next. I finished the tea and got up to leave. I pulled out a bar of Snickers from my back-pack and gave it to the little girl. I quickly mounted my cycle and rode out without turning back. A few kilometers and the narrow single lane road suddenly gave way to a well tarred 4 lane expressway just like the old man had said. Within a few weeks this road will be cutting through Usha’s mud house and wooden shop.
The grey haired man’s words kept ringing in my head as I headed home. “Development for who?”, “We are the ones who sacrifice”, “We need our lives…”…I rummage through economic statistics every day of my life. The numbers indicate India is witnessing rapid development. Today we have mobile phones, better healthcare and housing and luxuries all around us. Then how can there be such a contrasting difference. Are not Usha and her family part of this development? People like them somehow have not yet been the beneficiaries of economic growth. Probably it’s easy to make policies sitting in air-conditioned rooms, but the ground realties are always stark.
Who is to blame? The list looks long! Maybe we have to blame ourselves. We grab what we can and get moving head. Our objectives are somehow intertwined with money, power and position. We live in the world’s largest democracy but still at some level feudalism is imbibed in us. We tend to look down on the not so deserving. Caste, creed and religion as much as a uniting factor it is also dividing us. How then can we bring quality to Usha and her Ajja? Maybe there is a ray of hope for that family. If their youngest sibling finishes college, he can maybe get a BPO job and feed his family. Or will he too perish?
The glaring of horns of trucks and cars brings me back to reality. The green landscape has now vanished (or rather given up and folded) and concrete jungles have sprouted. I reach home and ring the door bell.
As soon as my mother opens the door she shouts out, “Son, what took you so long? The electricity has been out for an hour and I need use the mixer. Call the local electricity office………….”
I walk into my room and collapse on the bed due to exhaustion.
Happy 64th Independence day!!
