« April 2006 | Main | June 2006 »
May 26, 2006
Water, water everywhere, but not a tissue to dry
This appeared in today's Mumbai Mirror.
Two Mondays back, this paper ran a hilarious story on the absence of water in the wash-rooms of some of the five-star hotels in the suburbs. Apparently, the individual concerned had filed a complaint with the BMC and there was a graphic description of how people who needed to wash rather than use tissue might have to climb up on the basin to fulfill their water needs. I wonder why Morparia hasn’t done a cartoon on this – I just can’t get this picture out of my head.
His biggest grouse of course was that we Indians are water-based people and to provide only tissues and no water for cleaning goes against the “Indian” grain and therefore is not acceptable. Many years ago, Mrs. Maneka Gandhi had also commented on this, finding the use of tissue paper abhorrent, but I presume, more from the environmental paper-conservation issue than anything else.
Both of them will love Matunga. Specifically, the restaurants in Matunga, since Matunga in any case does not have five-star hotels and the nearest one at Parel, the ITC Grand, also is water-less in its toilets.
A good number of restaurants in Matunga don’t have rest-rooms anyway, so there is no problem. But there are some, which do have toilets. And these are the ones that have only water for cleaning, with absolutely no tissues at all.
Picture this. You’ve had some awesome fiery pav-bhaji or mysore masala and suddenly you feel the urge. You rush to the restroom, do your business and then clean yourself with the water. And then you’re stuck. With no tissues, how do you wipe yourself dry? Do you just wait for your underwear/panty to absorb the water, or do you wait till natural drying occurs.
The absence of paper manifests itself at the wash-basins as well. After eating (and don’t tell me you have dosas and idlis with a fork and knife), you need to wash your hands. Washing is fine, because there is ample water. But after that you need to dry them. And that’s where the problem arises. Most provide a towel for wiping your hands on. But this towel has been used a good number of times by people before you and unless you can find a corner which is still dry and therefore has not been wiped on before, you’re stuck.
Most of the times, you then land up using your handkerchief or the front of your jeans, if you are wearing one. Which is ridiculous. The best option here would be to provide paper napkins from dispensers, like the ones from Kimberly-Clark, which are ubiquitous now at airports, in malls and in those famous rest-rooms of the five-star hotels.
Which of course brings us right back to the use of paper and its many critics. But honestly, give me hygiene and disposable material for wiping and cleaning anyday over having water dripping from all parts of your body or having to use a towel or napkin that someone earlier has used.
Of course, the best solution would be to have the all-in-one, no-touch Japanese toilets, which dispense water for cleaning, provide air jets for drying, warm your exposed skin and also check your urine for sugar and alcohol. The only problem then would be that you might not want to leave the toilet room at all. Which on a bad day may not be such a bad idea…especially if the toilet came with a DVD viewer as well!
Posted by bhavinj at 11:15 PM | Comments (1)
May 19, 2006
Just Once is Enough
This essay appeared in today's Mumbai Mirror.
We had the 20th class reunion of our medical college batch that joined LTMMC in 1982, about four years ago. Except for those few who didn’t want to be found, everyone who was still in India was there. Along with their spouses. It was great to see and meet everyone after such a long time. As the afternoon wore on, the one thing that hit home was that everyone without exception was doing well in life. Everyone! Including those who had come in through the reservation seats, which were around 35% in those days.
It was then that the power of affirmative action struck hit many of us and we talked about it at length during the reunion post-mortem a few weeks later. We could remember some of our colleagues who had come in with nothing else, but the dream, fire and ambition to be a doctor and who, despite initial failures and problems, had become doctors like of all us. Their lives, the lives of their parents and families and those around them, had completely changed along the way. To put it in a country-western kind of way – they now had the money and the gals. Without reservations, it is unlikely that any of this would have happened.
Some of them went on to do post-graduation as well, by fighting for the post-graduate (PG) seats like everyone else. Eighteen years ago, when we were taking up our PGs, there were no reservations. A post-graduate degree in medicine was considered a “high seat of learning” and it was unthinkable that you could have reservations at this level. And everyone fought it out at this level, irrespective of caste, creed or method of original entry into the MBBS course.
Reservations work and make a difference. There is no denying this fact. But the reason for reservations is to provide an opportunity to those who do not have a level playing field during schooling or in junior college. Those who are economically or socially disadvantaged are thus helped by this one act of affirmative action, when they join medicine. Becoming a doctor is a big deal…you enjoy an elevated status in society, you join the top 5% earners in the country and life changes for the better. Always. Even if you don’t want it to. Just one doctor in the family is all that is required to pull the family out of its cycle of poverty and related problems, thus serving the original purpose of the reservation policy.
Unfortunately, in practice, the policy does not work as envisaged. Too many people from the “creamy layer” take advantage of this policy and abuse the system. In theory, those families that have already used the reservation policy to better themselves, should no longer be allowed to avail of reservation seats, simply because of the accident of their birth-caste.
Just as it is intuitively obvious that the “creamy layer” should be disallowed from abusing the system, in the same manner, once a person is a doctor, using reservations as a method of gaining one more advantage, i.e. a PG seat, should also be considered abuse of the system. It is not people from the general public who take up a PG seat, but only those who have already become doctors. And by the time medical students have become doctors after their 5 ½ years grind, the playing fields have leveled, irrespective of the original portal of entry into the system.
By allowing those who have become doctors on the basis of a reservation seat, to get a PG seat as well through reservation, is a case of double affirmative action. Just as double jeopardy is unacceptable (trying a person for the same crime twice), double affirmative action (allowing the same person to get a reservation seat twice) does not make sense. It is unfair to those who are fighting for these seats on merit and also insulting to those who despite having entered MBBS through reservation, have now proved themselves equal to everyone else through sheer hard work and perseverance.
We didn’t have PG reservations, eighteen years ago and the system worked well. Somewhere down the line, the “higher centre of learning” and “double affirmative action” reasoning was subverted, someone went to court and 27-30% reservations were introduced. Now they want to make it 50%, which is absolutely ridiculous. Its time we went back to 0%, i.e. no PG reservations whatsoever.
Posted by bhavinj at 11:38 AM | Comments (0)
May 09, 2006
Much Ado Over Khakhras
This appeared in today's Mumbai Mirror.
Last month, I had to travel to a Middle-Eastern country for two days. I called a friend of mine who lives there to tell him that I was coming and we fixed up to meet for lunch, the day after my arrival. I then asked him if he wanted anything. He hesitated for a moment and then said “Can you get me some khakhras?”
I can understand Gujjus pining for khakhras, but a true-blood CKP wanting khakhras? Apparently, even though he is the general manager of one of the biggest supermarket chains in that country, which specifically caters to the large Indian population as well, they don’t stock khakhras.
I have grown up with khakhras. As a child, I would see my Mom take left-over chapatis from the previous day and then on a tava, using a thick, cloth-covered “datto”, deliver a constant pressure to the chapati, until it became thin and crisp. And we had to make sure that the khakhra dabba was packed air-tight and not left open under the fan, otherwise the khakhras would become un-crisp within minutes.
Many years ago, we used to eat khakhras with ghee and sugar, usually for breakfast or in the afternoon as a snack. Then for a long time, I didn’t really have much to do with them, except during my earlier trips abroad, when khakhras and theplas were packed for me just in case I didn’t find vegetarian food to eat in the “phoren” countries.
In the last few months though, thanks to the need to start eating healthier foods, I’ve re-stared having them as an evening snack. I quickly learnt that instead of ghee and sugar, its better to lather them with mustard and mayonnaise. Mmm…a mustard-mayo combo on a plain khakhra…just try it – its awesome.
Since my Mom no longer makes khakhras, and not knowing where they come from these days, I stopped over at Chheda (remember the four pillars of Matunga?) on my way home. I asked for their khakhra counter, hoping to quickly pick-up a couple of packets. Quickly? Couple? I was suddenly faced with khakhra choice-fatigue. There were more than 30 types of khakhras – plain, masala, low-cal, methi, Jain and even Schezwan. And in different sizes. I called my friend again and asked him what he wanted. After asking me how many types there were and listening to my incredulous answer, he opted for plain, masala and (how can you resist this) Schezwan.
I picked up these packets and then bubble-wrapped them to make sure they wouldn’t crack. This incident made for good dinner-table conversation that day and I also learnt that our khakhras now came from a co-operative in Nallasopara, where my mother-in-law helps out members of this co-op who make khakhras for a living. It is a time-consuming, labor-intensive job, but it does generate income. And apparently, there are many such co-ops, as well as individual women who make khakhras in their homes and sell them to make some extra money.
Over coffee at a Starbucks, after a great Mexican meal, as I handed over the khakhras to my friend he told me that they were actually now going to try and source khakhras from India to stock in their stores. Which I guess means that I don’t need to carry khakhras the next time I visit that country.
Posted by bhavinj at 11:36 AM | Comments (2)
