Martyr of the Trash Can
I
never aspired to become a Civic Culture
Motivator. I just wanted my neighbors, to stop Dumping their garbage
bang in front of our Gates. But in my heritage locality in old Mysore,
trying to change public behavior is like trying to convince a filter-coffee
purist to drink latte . You don’t just
get compliance; you get a stern lecture
on the philosophy of waste. Here is the unfiltered truth from the front lines of
my foray into the realms of civic motivation..
My first official campaign was to get citizens of my locality "Segregate at Source." Armed with colourful brochures,bins & Banners I and a volunteer group of “Lets do it Mysore” marched up every cross Road and Lane in the neighborhood. We approached the house of Kamalamma. the alpha matriarch of a narrow by lane , She has lived on this street since 1958. Assuming us to be the entire municipality sanitary squad she regarded u as uninvited guests.
"Kamalamma
“Avare”, green bin for wet waste, blue bin for plastic instructed our
enthusiastic young member.
: “Do I have to pay for the Buckets?” " Listen,
child my grandfather planted that tamarind tree. It eats everything. Plastic ? “I wash milk packets and use them to store Betel
leaf & nuts. So Don’t teach me 'recycle !"
On
subsequent rounds, we found that she uses the blue bin—which she accepted from
us with much trepidation—as a footstool for her veranda gossip sessions.
The Footpath Face-Off: we tackled the footpaths. In old Mysore (Bandi keri in this case) .i a footpath is rarely for walking. It is an
extension of the living room, a garage for a 1979 TVS 50, or a grazing ground
for Kempi, the neighborhood cow. We
tried to convince the local youth to stop parking their scooters on the pavement.:
"Sir, if we park on the road, the
city buses scrape the paint. If we park on the footpath, the vehicle is safe under
the shade of the sacred neem tree. It’s practical spirituality.” Was their
stubborn defence.
The gang offered a
Compromise; They didn't move the scooters. Instead, they treated
us to tender coconut to " cool hot heads."
Sheepishly we drank the coconut. The scooters remained.
Next
we tried to stop residents from throwing
small plastic bags of leftover /spoiled food into the corner of the park at midnight. We set up a vigil with flashlights, catching
Mr.Chandru in the act at 11:40 PM. The Volunteer whispered, "Sir, the CCTV is watching”. Mr. Chandru
adjusted his trousers and hissed back, "My ancestors fed the stray dogs at this exact hour. I am just
continuing the tradition. Besides, if I walk all the way to the municipal bin, my knee acts up. Better Consider
this my midnight charity ” .Having failed to stop him we placed a discreet
terracotta pot right where he liked to aim, and now he drops the waste…..
around it. The dogs are still happy.
The Rangoli Rebellion
My
greatest trial was the "Plastic-Free Campaign " of “Lets
do it Mysore” during Dasara festival.
The moment we suggested using organic
colors instead of synthetic powders for the street rangolis competition the local aunties
formed a unified front. They claimed organic colors lacked the
"high-voltage brightness" & failed to reflect true “Heritage” required to intimidate the next street’s
rangoli committee.
We spent three hours demonstrating how to make
yellow dye from turmeric and ended up staining our own hands bright yellow,
looking like we had a severe case of jaundice, while the aunties scoffed secretly
& used neon pink glitter because "the Gods” like shine
The Ultimate Realization: Being a civic motivator here means accepting a
different perspective of life. You cannot change centuries-old mindset with a PowerPoint
presentation or Emotional (Read Patriotic) plea. You change it over sessions of
Juicy Gossip & cups of sweet tea, by
admiring people's “aesthetic” sense, and by gently nudging them until they
think your civic idea was actually their ancestral tradition.
Months later, I saw Mahesha spreading his Vegetable & papaya peels directly around
the bottom of Tamarind tree and a few “Inspired” aunties showering the flowerbed
on the Traffic island. Progress is slow, but at least the bushes in the Traffic Triangle are
thriving.
