Down in the dumps

"TREATED LIKE garbage" This phrase sums up the feeling of Saradha, a long-time resident of the city. She was referring to how we treat our street dustbins. While your neighbourhood dustbin may not be a `thing of beauty', it is what makes the city pretty or pretty ugly.

A walk down Chennai's lanes and by-lanes, the tell-tale signs become obvious. A motley collection of refuse strewn about, a smell best described as a `malodorous cocktail' wafting in the air. As if on cue, footsteps slow down and veer away to a respectable distance. Watch out! You are in proximity to the roadside trash bin.

An intrinsic part of the cityscape, it is often overflowing, nay, choking with garbage. The very thought of approaching it... you shrink in distaste. The nimble steps of a danseuse...a left foot here, a right foot there comes in handy to avoid the muck that lies scattered all round it. Dead rats and droppings inclusive!

Emptying household trash into the bin day-after-day is sure enough, a daunting task. Not recommended for the faint-hearted. Also considered a demeaning chore by many. Recall the humorous allusions to this in our very own Tamizh cinema.``Evalavvu naal ungalodu kuppai kotti enna sugam kanden." The taunting words of the long-suffering wife echo in your ears. With reluctant hands aplenty, those countless trips to the dustbin are all in a day's work for the domestic servant. No dawdling, mind you. In a jiffy, trash is dumped and the figure scurries away as if the house were on fire. A record of sorts. Where it falls is of no consequence, so long as it is not in one's premises. Time and again, it drops just short of the bin, on the road or platform, while the half- empty bin stares you in the face. A gust of wind. The bits and pieces bounce merrily down the lane.

Standing at close quarters is well nigh impossible. Watch 'em sling those coloured plastic bags stuffed with garbage and take aim. It may reach the intended destination or miss it by a breadth. Witness the carelessly knotted bag opening in mid-air treating you to a display of what's inside. Beware!! These missiles could rain down on you from the heights of multi- storeyed apartments. A quick peep at the visitor's book is an eye-opener. "Hello! What's new inside?"

One jump and the scrawny street dog is inside the bin. No picture post-card scene this. With his paws he digs and digs. Dirt flies in all directions.

A volley of barks catches your attention and stops you in your tracks. A keen tussle is on. The participants...a pack of mongrels staking their claim for territorial rights in the bin.

From the rag-pickers viewpoint, the humble bin deserves a pat on the back, supplying as it does their daily sustenance. A tenacious lot, they forage among the trash for plastic, paper and other goods to sell. Where the garbage trail ends is anybody's guess.

Wedding season in the city. No ``fun and frolic'' for the bin. For hungry beggars, it's a scramble to collect left-overs from plantain leaves piled high in garbage bins adjoining the countless kalyana mantaps that dot the city. The resultant mess... a far-cry from tales of ``Beauty and the Bin."

"Use Me". Two simple yet familiar words aren't they? Earlier painted on the sides of the bin, no longer are they visible though this has not curtailed the innumerable uses the bin is put to.

In a hurry. No dilly-dallying. `Just next to the bin' is the ideal spot for a section of the populace. No charges levied at this ``most convenient'' public urinal. For road users, olfactory disgust remains a long-felt grouse.

Come siesta time. Mother cow stretches herself in the vicinity of the bin, swishing her tail hither and thither to ward off flies. Mounds of dung and a puddle of .... Undeniable stamp of her presence.

"Every bin has its day." Abracadabra! and the much-scorned bin is suddenly in the limelight. Cameras start clicking. A crowd gathers...in a flutter over litter. Reason. A newborn babe abandoned among the debris or a corpse maybe and therein hangs a tale. A tale that tugs at your heartstrings in every second film to hit the city.

Elections just round the corner or a film awaiting release. Your source of information is just a stone's throw away. Behold the graffiti and poster lined face of the bin.

Many months to go before the ``Bhogi'' festival says your calendar. Ask the street urchin or your local gardener. Festival or not, a crackling bonfire is their answer to the growing pile of rubbish in the bin. Smoke hangs in the air. Handkerchiefs are out. Irate residents scream pollution. Yet another pointer to the sorry plight of "Citizen Bin."

A thorny issue is the location of the bin on the street. `A bin of contention' it stands among neighbours. It's the``nimbys''(not in my backyard) versus the``nimfys''(not in my front yard) here. Only a compromise restores calm to the street.

Look around and you find most apartment blocks and bungalows in the city sporting a ``spick and span'' look juxtaposed to the garbage bin lying outside the compound, an eyesore. A man-made- one at that. Truly said, garbage bins speak volumes about the neighbourhood they serve. Ever since cities developed, the ubiquitous garbage bins have fulfilled a basic human need, looks of disdain notwithstanding. Your backyard is saved from the neighbour. City dwellers deign to call it a `necessary evil.'

Consider the fate of those workers who clear the garbage thrown by the city. How much lighter their burden and cleaner the city would be if each citizen were to throw trash in the place where it is meant to be. At the heart of the matter is the ``follow the herd'' approach. Kanamma, a maidservant working in the city bristles with anger when questioned. Pat comes the reply. ``Why blame me. Even others throw rubbish haphazardly." Tick off the list of priorities of the average citizen. Civic consciousness is way down the list, clamouring for attention. As Vimala, a local Exnora enthusiast puts it succinctly: ``Paavam, atharku vaai irunthaal azhum."

The city's unfulfilled yearning for the sobriquet ``Singara Chennai'' may well be decided by these neighbourhood ``kuppai thottis", the less fortunate brethren of the ``recycle bin'' on your computer screens. This dream may take a while to ring true. Until then... the saga of the much-abused bin continues.

VIDYA VASUDEVAN

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Section  : Southern States
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