Subir Roy: Cleaning up India, top to bottom
That was not all. The senior management had to know the drill. The sahib would approach the main gate from the left, followed by the management from the right, who would stand behind the sahib. Then they would all start sweeping the driveway and most important, the still and video photographers would all have to be there to record the action. Gifts for the media had to be kept ready and follow-up with the news channels was vital so that the clip of the sahib swinging the broom was telecast at least a couple of times.
Scene Two: as we left the Tatanagar railway station platform and approached the parking area, something seemed amiss. Instead of the usual milling crowd and the organised chaos of a railways station, most of the space was empty and everyone seemed to have congregated in the foreground to watch something. Instead of looking for transport I was unable to resist the temptation to first find out what was on. It was a street play with smartly dressed young people with badges and sunshades above their temples enacting a little skit on the Swachh Bharat mission.
As we got out of the station area life returned to normal, with familiar dirt lining the street. But soon change re-emerged. There was a procession of what looked like railway employees, specially fitted out, carrying placards and mouthing slogans to broadcast the message of the clean-up-India movement. The autorickshaw driver did not know us, but still could not help turn his head a little and say, "Why don't they just clean up the road?"
Scene Three: over the next couple of days, as we soothed our nerves with a wall-to-wall view of the densely wooded Dalma hills I thought no more about the special mission, until we got on to the train for the return journey to Kolkata. In the chair-car compartment soon began the long procession of vendors offering a range of tasty snacks. In between cups of tea I sampled some of them and came up against a familiar dilemma - where to discard the used paper cups and plates.
I carefully gathered them in one corner of the space beneath the seat in front of mine so as to deposit them in the dustbin beyond the door where the washbasin was. But then came the first hurdle. The way to the door was blocked by standing passengers without reservations. After some effort when I did manage to get to the dustbin it was unusable - jammed and overflowing. I managed to somehow shove my bit in and returned, the post-holiday mood partially gone by the sight of the mess and decision taken to have no more cups of tea.
Then as Howrah station approached a strange spectacle unfolded before us. A boy in his early teens who appeared crippled moved on his haunches down the aisle, broom in hand, and carefully swept out all the discarded stuff on the floor beneath the seats. He was a beggar of sorts but performing a function. As he kept moving down the aisle with the growing pile of discards in front of him, passengers began to give him little bits of money, unasked.
When he reached the end of the corridor I could not resist the temptation to find out the end of the episode and moved behind him to see what he would do next. He dragged himself and the dirt out of the compartment and those standing moved aside to make way. Then someone opened the main door and the boy swept out of the compartment on to the racing countryside all the dirt he had gathered. This done, he dragged himself through another door, to the next compartment.
As I moved back to my seat a bit nonplussed I noticed a sign up on the compartment wall: "Please Do not Litter out of the window, Use Dustbins." To get back a bit of my holiday mood, in a fit of black humour I tried to figure out the logic behind the capital letters and the underlining in the railways sign.
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