By Manas Paul
Subrata Rana first took me to drains.
"I want to see your drains first. Wherever I go dirty drains are always my area of priority", he said.
I was flabbergasted. This young man must be crazy. As an IITian he had learned how to make nuclear bombs but switched over to less lethal subject of development economics in Stanford and then worked all over the world for various organizations and foreign governments with various assignments. He had formed part of the audience to Fidel Castro for three hours, sitting on a field amidst thousands of Havana smoking 'Campasinos' under the blazing Cuban sun and then spent some years in the Philippines consulting world leaders about food security in South Asia. Subrata as part of foreign university delegations helped foreign governments in developing tourism industry and now when he is in Agartala his priority here is not Ujjayanta Palace or Neer Mahal but 'drains'!
Never in my wildest dream could I imagine someone might ask for such a dirty destination on his first visit to a place.
He must have captured my befuddled mind.
"Have you ever noticed drains always get swollen in between 8.30 am to 10 am in the morning?" he had asked. 'No, I did not', I said and immediately decided next morning I must have a fresh and focussed look at my neighborhood drains.
"You know drain water management is an important subject nowadays. You can use some specific fishes for cleaning up the drain water and then recycle it for human use once again. You do not have to depend solely on your Howrah river" he said and, perhaps sensing that I was not fully convinced, added: Do you know there is a similar project in Kolkata too". The smart guy knew anything with a reference to Kolkata was-as it still is-bound to impress an Agartalite like me.
Frankly, I knew experts were always talking about importance of water but they used similar sounding phrases like 'ground water scarcity' sort of things. But I was unsure that I had ever heard of people talking exactly about drain water management.
More so, I was actually not at all aware of so many features of drains that he spelt out referring now and then to some International treaties and their implications for countries and governments. I never felt drains were my subjects of interest. I was born and brought up in Kamalpur with only two thin road side drains running straight up to the Dhalai river that demarcated Indo-Bangla border in the North with clean water that never seemed moving. Through out my childhood the drains which remained stand still รข€“except for when there were too much of rain or flood-would always have lots of playful 'lati' fish and elusive 'dhora saap'. I never saw 'lati' fish cleaning the water and no child in sub divisional town would ever give any importance to those simple, non-poisonous 'dhora saap' -the snake that cannot create a hood and is always scared of 'lathis'.
But in Agartala the only curious thing about the drains that stuck me was not the absence of those 'lati' fish or 'dhora saap', but how the wide stretch of drain that passes along Colonel Choumuhani to Bidur Karta Choumuhani gets lost all of a sudden.
But then, in Agartala drains are always lost.
Some old timers once told me boats used to cruise on Katakhaal straight from Akhaura up to Kansari Patti market right through the Agartala city. The bridges at Fire Brigade Choumuhani and RMS were at that time constructed in arch pattern so that boats could pass easily under. But those were the days of Maharajas.
I often wonder if Katakhaal had not been stripped off of its old grandeur and people had not eaten up its banks, Agartala might have still looked like, well, Venice?
It did not require an engineering degree to know that when the wide drain in Jagannath Bari road narrows down and slips somewhere underground at Bidur Karta Choumuhani, it spills over and creates water logging with slightest rainfall. But that is the experience everywhere in our Agartala.
None can complain as the city planners are expected to be more educated and responsible. They certainly kept in mind that the encroachers are also taxpayers.
I also used to wonder who could be the brilliant boy of Agartala municipality that came up with the idea of dumping all those thick black and stinking drain-mud by the side of the main thoroughfares. This mud-heap slithers down the road, paints whoever passes by right from school children to sleek vehicles black before drying up and sending dusts filled with trillions and trillions of bacteria into the air. Or just simply finding it's way back to the place again from where it had once been scooped up. I do not know what AMC Chairperson Mr. Sankar Das thinks of this practice, but I can certainly imagine our good old Maharajas who had given the charge of their beautiful city to us would have died of instant heart attack seeing all these black mud on road.
My friend Tapas Bhattacharjee, an engineer, who takes interest in everything under the sun once told me such an ugly practice of senseless drain waste dumping on road, could not be thought of in any civilized society.
I had to agree. But, in any case, since I am a true Agartalite I never complained.
But, my stint with Subrata did stimulate interest in me about drains in Agartala. And slowly I developed my own ideas about drains. Now I believe drains could well be called a true mirror of Agartala. Drains reflect its social development, its idiosyncrasies, its idiocy and certainly how the Agartalites want to live in their, can I say, 'perilous paradise'. Drains indeed can give you some ideas as to how your immediate environment and how your neighbours are changing.
Let, me explain.
All say, and I agree too, Tripura is on the fast track of development.
There are many indicators to gauge the rate of development invented by the wise head economists. But many would agree with me that these are all very confusing figure-mappings and socio-economic indexes crowded by more complicated mathematics that ultimately make no sense to common people like me with special dislike for numbers.
So, forget figures, go to drains. Next time during your morning walk look at the drains or the space in between road and the drains down your locality. What will you see? The drains, or its sides, are now littered with black paper boxes with golden letters that read 'Blenders' Pride' or those green and round hard-paper containers that carry 'Signature' or announce 'Vat 69'. Or, those 100 exotic looking Pipers peeping out innocuously from the Municipality installed garbage bins?
My encounters with brand names like 'Vat 69' or 'Johnny Walker' commenced when I became a film-buff as the galaxy of heroes like Dharmendra, Rajendra Kumar, Amitabh et al and villains such as good old Premnath, Pran, Danny etc gulping down full bottles of exotic liquor at one go was a familiar sight. If the Hero was a frustrated young man or ditched lover, or an angry Amitabha Bachhan, he would gulp down the entire whisky right from the bottle somewhere on the road driving a car or riding a Rajdoot motorbike as a matter of divine right.
Initially I used to feel intrigued at the orgy of drinking full bottles at one go but gradually realization dawned on me that one had to suspend disbelief and skepticism for the time being before stepping into the semi-dark ambience of cinema halls showing Bollywood blockbusters. After all, even in the age of internet Bollywood loyalists remain steadfast in their conviction that their heroes and villains remain capable of superhuman feats and it is sacrilege to call there on-screen exploits in question.
Now after 25 or 30 years I have in my area not only noticed 'Black and White' with two small wooly pups, or discarded 'Teachers' but also found brands like Chivas Regal and even uncommon single malt 'Glenfiddich' and 'Singleton' quietly lying beneath roadside trees. There are also bottles of Mexican or Brazilian Tequila. Gone are the days of your 'Director' with his Special offer. The only brand that seems to have survived the invasion of aggressive new names is ancient, unruffled and saintly sober 'Old Monk'.
And what does that mean?
It certainly means your neighbour does not mind to spend some good money for his whisky. He can afford it. He is rich, he is prosperous.
If the costly whisky bottles- finished to the last drop -can give you some idea about the financial capabilities of your neighbourhood, look at the discarded Maggie packets.
The Maggie, Chips or sweet packets are simply the silent announcement of what your neighbor's son takes in his Tiffin hours in school- not like your pocket full of 'badam bhaza' that had been sufficient to keep you going through all the caning in classes and bruising in play fields.
And those empty Herpic near the drains? Does not it say all about your neighbour's sense of hygiene?
One may argue, the littered bottles on roadside also speak aloud of the grade of your neighbour's social responsibility. But do not blame him. You cannot expect with stomach full of whisky at night he could approach the stinking hells called Waste dumping bins that the AMC parked in crowded city corners or say, near Women' College'.
Look at the positive side, someone had told me. It is all about attitude. Would you not agree that those costly bottles, those Maggie packets or Herpic were not there near your local drains some 25 years ago?
Are we not improving- in our, as I said, 'perilous paradise'?
Written on January 29, 2009
"I want to see your drains first. Wherever I go dirty drains are always my area of priority", he said.
I was flabbergasted. This young man must be crazy. As an IITian he had learned how to make nuclear bombs but switched over to less lethal subject of development economics in Stanford and then worked all over the world for various organizations and foreign governments with various assignments. He had formed part of the audience to Fidel Castro for three hours, sitting on a field amidst thousands of Havana smoking 'Campasinos' under the blazing Cuban sun and then spent some years in the Philippines consulting world leaders about food security in South Asia. Subrata as part of foreign university delegations helped foreign governments in developing tourism industry and now when he is in Agartala his priority here is not Ujjayanta Palace or Neer Mahal but 'drains'!
Never in my wildest dream could I imagine someone might ask for such a dirty destination on his first visit to a place.
He must have captured my befuddled mind.
"Have you ever noticed drains always get swollen in between 8.30 am to 10 am in the morning?" he had asked. 'No, I did not', I said and immediately decided next morning I must have a fresh and focussed look at my neighborhood drains.
"You know drain water management is an important subject nowadays. You can use some specific fishes for cleaning up the drain water and then recycle it for human use once again. You do not have to depend solely on your Howrah river" he said and, perhaps sensing that I was not fully convinced, added: Do you know there is a similar project in Kolkata too". The smart guy knew anything with a reference to Kolkata was-as it still is-bound to impress an Agartalite like me.
Frankly, I knew experts were always talking about importance of water but they used similar sounding phrases like 'ground water scarcity' sort of things. But I was unsure that I had ever heard of people talking exactly about drain water management.
More so, I was actually not at all aware of so many features of drains that he spelt out referring now and then to some International treaties and their implications for countries and governments. I never felt drains were my subjects of interest. I was born and brought up in Kamalpur with only two thin road side drains running straight up to the Dhalai river that demarcated Indo-Bangla border in the North with clean water that never seemed moving. Through out my childhood the drains which remained stand still รข€“except for when there were too much of rain or flood-would always have lots of playful 'lati' fish and elusive 'dhora saap'. I never saw 'lati' fish cleaning the water and no child in sub divisional town would ever give any importance to those simple, non-poisonous 'dhora saap' -the snake that cannot create a hood and is always scared of 'lathis'.
But in Agartala the only curious thing about the drains that stuck me was not the absence of those 'lati' fish or 'dhora saap', but how the wide stretch of drain that passes along Colonel Choumuhani to Bidur Karta Choumuhani gets lost all of a sudden.
But then, in Agartala drains are always lost.
Some old timers once told me boats used to cruise on Katakhaal straight from Akhaura up to Kansari Patti market right through the Agartala city. The bridges at Fire Brigade Choumuhani and RMS were at that time constructed in arch pattern so that boats could pass easily under. But those were the days of Maharajas.
I often wonder if Katakhaal had not been stripped off of its old grandeur and people had not eaten up its banks, Agartala might have still looked like, well, Venice?
It did not require an engineering degree to know that when the wide drain in Jagannath Bari road narrows down and slips somewhere underground at Bidur Karta Choumuhani, it spills over and creates water logging with slightest rainfall. But that is the experience everywhere in our Agartala.
None can complain as the city planners are expected to be more educated and responsible. They certainly kept in mind that the encroachers are also taxpayers.
I also used to wonder who could be the brilliant boy of Agartala municipality that came up with the idea of dumping all those thick black and stinking drain-mud by the side of the main thoroughfares. This mud-heap slithers down the road, paints whoever passes by right from school children to sleek vehicles black before drying up and sending dusts filled with trillions and trillions of bacteria into the air. Or just simply finding it's way back to the place again from where it had once been scooped up. I do not know what AMC Chairperson Mr. Sankar Das thinks of this practice, but I can certainly imagine our good old Maharajas who had given the charge of their beautiful city to us would have died of instant heart attack seeing all these black mud on road.
My friend Tapas Bhattacharjee, an engineer, who takes interest in everything under the sun once told me such an ugly practice of senseless drain waste dumping on road, could not be thought of in any civilized society.
I had to agree. But, in any case, since I am a true Agartalite I never complained.
But, my stint with Subrata did stimulate interest in me about drains in Agartala. And slowly I developed my own ideas about drains. Now I believe drains could well be called a true mirror of Agartala. Drains reflect its social development, its idiosyncrasies, its idiocy and certainly how the Agartalites want to live in their, can I say, 'perilous paradise'. Drains indeed can give you some ideas as to how your immediate environment and how your neighbours are changing.
Let, me explain.
All say, and I agree too, Tripura is on the fast track of development.
There are many indicators to gauge the rate of development invented by the wise head economists. But many would agree with me that these are all very confusing figure-mappings and socio-economic indexes crowded by more complicated mathematics that ultimately make no sense to common people like me with special dislike for numbers.
So, forget figures, go to drains. Next time during your morning walk look at the drains or the space in between road and the drains down your locality. What will you see? The drains, or its sides, are now littered with black paper boxes with golden letters that read 'Blenders' Pride' or those green and round hard-paper containers that carry 'Signature' or announce 'Vat 69'. Or, those 100 exotic looking Pipers peeping out innocuously from the Municipality installed garbage bins?
My encounters with brand names like 'Vat 69' or 'Johnny Walker' commenced when I became a film-buff as the galaxy of heroes like Dharmendra, Rajendra Kumar, Amitabh et al and villains such as good old Premnath, Pran, Danny etc gulping down full bottles of exotic liquor at one go was a familiar sight. If the Hero was a frustrated young man or ditched lover, or an angry Amitabha Bachhan, he would gulp down the entire whisky right from the bottle somewhere on the road driving a car or riding a Rajdoot motorbike as a matter of divine right.
Initially I used to feel intrigued at the orgy of drinking full bottles at one go but gradually realization dawned on me that one had to suspend disbelief and skepticism for the time being before stepping into the semi-dark ambience of cinema halls showing Bollywood blockbusters. After all, even in the age of internet Bollywood loyalists remain steadfast in their conviction that their heroes and villains remain capable of superhuman feats and it is sacrilege to call there on-screen exploits in question.
Now after 25 or 30 years I have in my area not only noticed 'Black and White' with two small wooly pups, or discarded 'Teachers' but also found brands like Chivas Regal and even uncommon single malt 'Glenfiddich' and 'Singleton' quietly lying beneath roadside trees. There are also bottles of Mexican or Brazilian Tequila. Gone are the days of your 'Director' with his Special offer. The only brand that seems to have survived the invasion of aggressive new names is ancient, unruffled and saintly sober 'Old Monk'.
And what does that mean?
It certainly means your neighbour does not mind to spend some good money for his whisky. He can afford it. He is rich, he is prosperous.
If the costly whisky bottles- finished to the last drop -can give you some idea about the financial capabilities of your neighbourhood, look at the discarded Maggie packets.
The Maggie, Chips or sweet packets are simply the silent announcement of what your neighbor's son takes in his Tiffin hours in school- not like your pocket full of 'badam bhaza' that had been sufficient to keep you going through all the caning in classes and bruising in play fields.
And those empty Herpic near the drains? Does not it say all about your neighbour's sense of hygiene?
One may argue, the littered bottles on roadside also speak aloud of the grade of your neighbour's social responsibility. But do not blame him. You cannot expect with stomach full of whisky at night he could approach the stinking hells called Waste dumping bins that the AMC parked in crowded city corners or say, near Women' College'.
Look at the positive side, someone had told me. It is all about attitude. Would you not agree that those costly bottles, those Maggie packets or Herpic were not there near your local drains some 25 years ago?
Are we not improving- in our, as I said, 'perilous paradise'?
Written on January 29, 2009
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