Archive for June, 2010

Why Goans are squealing like pigs


2010
06.28

THE invasion of swanky housing projects has been a reality since The Great Depression (perhaps earlier). And now they are taking over the Goan landscape. Here’s a quick 101 on the state of affairs in India’s soon-to-be erstwhile paradise.

On May 17, 100 Goan activists were jailed and subsequently released for peaceful protests against the lack of development in the state. Several days later, PWD minister Churchill Alemao said, at a press con,” Whenever a construction project starts, Goans here start squealing like pigs.”

He was defending the construction of a mega luxury housing project in Carmona. Or rather his concept of development (agriculture and sustainable jobs be damned). According to a report in TOI dated May 26, 600 flats will be built in the small village and this was being vociferously opposed by Goa Bachao Abhiyan, an umbrella NGO for several protesting groups, and the Village Groups of Goa (VGG).

The minister’s audacious remark (not the first by any measure) inspired a symbolic protest by the the VGG; they clothed a pig in finery and paraded it around in the rear of the pick-up truck.

“Since Churchill Alemao called us Goans pigs, he should also tell us who feeds a pig like this? Does the mega construction company feed this pig? Or does Churchill feed it?” VGG spokesperson Zarinha da Cunha demanded to know.

To put things in perspective, Goa is currently “being developed” through a spate of swanky housing projects (a la the ones in Gurgaon and Noida). I do not begrudge corporates for initiating these projects. They are in it for the moolah, and that is what they shall continue doing.

But what is the government doing to regulate the distribution of electricity, water and other amenities between the old houses and the new developments? And where does preservation of the environment, the role of agriculture and creation of sustainable jobs in the state, feature in this development scheme?

My deceased uncle spent a lot of time tending his precious paddy fields courtesy of which we had some quality unpolished rice on our lunch and dinner table. But the cost of labour proved too costly and he eventually gave up.

This is the eventuality in most cases. In fact the government is buying off land from people who can longer afford to till their field (which now lies  idle) and in turn selling it to corporates, when in effect they must be encouraging and helping people to cultivate.

Housing projects and other types of projects, present a nice little opportunity for the politicos to fill their coffers. On one hand they are corrupt, but on the other they are also downright lazy and reticent about creating sustainable development, which needs thought, ideas, creativity, strategies, all things they are ill-equipped for. Of course, dubious intent defeats all purposes, first.

This country is being invaded by housing projects (some claiming to be eco-friendly) at lightening speed, and this will continue. I recall living in one of these swanky housing projects in Noida for eight months in 2009. The reason: they have power backup and it’s a gated community (advisable for single, career women in Noida). What the government of UP cannot provide, this corporate can, but at a ridiculously pretty price. I had to cough up Rs 2,000 per month so that I could sit in an air-conditioned room in the peak of summer. It wasn’t instant power back-up, and the electricity from the back-up took around 30 seconds to activate. My friend Alan who crashed at my house for a bit, once counted the number of powercuts in a day: 20!

2 K was pure maintenance. The electricity bill was extra. I wonder how the average Jo survives with such power shortages, not to mention the hard water that flows through his tap everyday. The latter corrodes your utensils, makes your hair fall and destroys all your clothes. You are ill-advised to drink it lest you want your intestines to be corroded, too.

But now I am digressing.

This international tourist destination is suffocating under the debri of housing projects and illegal constructions being erected dangerously close to the sea. What’s even sadder is that when Goans protest peacefully no one takes notice. But when protests get violent, it sets off a media frenzy and the government announces some knee-jerk measures to remedy the situation.

I hope the Indian media and the international media take notice of this travesty and reports on it with a vengeance, before it is too late. After all Goa still brings back many a found memory for many, as also the prospect of getaway.

But soon memories are all we may have. And some enterprising writer may pen a book or rather a eulogy titled The Goa we all used to know and love.

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Why are you scared of a Muslim?


2010
06.14

A COUPLE of weeks back a close friend from Mumbai popped down to Delhi for a work trip. Right off the bat I noticed she wasn’t sporting her pristine white Hijab; she donned it some years back as an experiment, felt comfy wearing it. It was here to stay. Or so we thought.

Sadly, this pristine white piece of cloth hampers her pace of work, she explained.

This qualified dentist who now works in the social sector, is fiercely dedicated to her NGO’s mission. But it turns out that the folks she interacts with during field trips are less receptive when she dons the Hijab. During more generic activities such as (surprise, surprise) watching a play at Prithvi Theatre, it arouses odd – sometimes devious stares – from supposedly evolved theatre-goers.

She now uses discretion when wearing it.

So whilst the Burka is being banned in Europe, here in India our girl conforms (for psychological reasons), so as to get the job done. A feisty American woman @jbacyrus tweeted: ‘What’s up with French people and their burqa obsession? Will they require boob displays next? http://bit.ly/cQ5Efb

Now S, who has been living for donkey’s years with her grandparents in an old building in a Mumbai suburb, has a paan-spewing tenant for a neighbour who also happens to be Muslim. During a society meeting, some members wanted to disallow Muslims as tenants and this seems to have been triggered by the tenant’s paan-spewing shenanigans. She pointed out coolly that she is Muslim too, but not a paan-spewing one, and that this act is related to personal preference, habit, not religion. During my house-hunting days in Mumbai a broker once told me in hushed tones that the landlord would prefer if I did not keep a Muslim roomie. Sigh.

S observed, “So, even if you want out of the ghetto, no one gives you a chance and you are forced to return and feel humiliation at the hands of the very same ghetto.”

“Okay, so you will get turned down by six people but what about the twelfth house. You must persist,” I suggested. “No, the twelfth person will also turn you down,” she said with conviction.

I felt a tinge of sadness because we grew up knowing Muslims, very closely. Our neighbour in Muscat was a loud, affectionate, garrulous, bindaas dishdasha-clad Omani chap named Khalid, whose daughter was tutored by my mother and whose wives (I think there were two) babysat us when the folks had chores to attend to. We attended Zakia’s (mum’s student) wedding, ushered in by wailing women.

And then, when I was six, mom would leave my sis and I, with this homely woman, whose kids Aftab and Amar became staunch playmates. Sadly, Amar is no more. We looking forward to the  Ramzan meal with the family after the sun set every evening. To date Mrs Jameel’s mutton gravy makes my mouth water.

And back to the present.

On a more positive note, a common male Muslim friend (of S and I) took the initiative and organised a big family holiday at a valley resort located many miles from Mumbai. The quiet little resort did not know what hit it when a bus full of bearded men and burqa-clad ladies arrived at the venue. My friend, who is in his late 20s, encouraged the ladies to take a dip in the pool (clothed from head to toe), a first for many women in the family.

He experienced “sheer delight” watching them enjoy themselves. “I had to cajole them into trying it. Someone said: this is so funny, water is going in everywhere! I had to hold their hand and slowly introduce them to the waters, something they have resisted for so long,” he says. According to him, the men and women in his family are so brilliantly house-trained that the housekeeping staff must wonder if anyone actually stayed in their rooms!

Coming back to my conversation with S I asked her very earnestly,” Why are people scared of Muslims?” She posed the very same question to me, and we pondered together. A couple of days later, I posed this question to another friend, a non-Muslim who was engaged to a Muslim boy for many years. This was her answer,” The sight of so many people praying in unison makes people sub-consciously envious of the community. It’s the numbers that instill the fear.”

”Okay, so people are scared but perhaps the younger generation should try and change perceptions,” I suggested to S. “I don’t think that’s the solution; people should just mix more, not keep a distance. Talk more, mingle more, have regular experiences,” she said, earnestly…

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