Do You Hear Me Out There?

I begin this discourse with some words from the classic Rock song by “Eagles”—‘Hotel California’. The natural world does not need to ponder this half-truth, because Mother Earth takes everything that the most damaging creature on the planet—MAN—throws at Her and, in Her own time, tries to recuperate, restore and reconcile Her most counter-productive species to date, to the irrefutable fact that there is no Planet B: the Earth is our only home, and even She can take only that much wanton destruction.

We humans have the capability to make our habitat a heaven or a hell. In India, unfortunately, we tend to throw the burden of responsibility on everyone else and though we cry out loud that India (that is Bharat) is our everything, we conveniently look the other way and justify our actions by saying that such occurrences do not concern us.

Let me illustrate, dear Reader.

Last week I described my abode as being part of a slice of heaven. While that is true, it is also true that heaven and hell exist in close proximity. Veteran Lines is, by and large, clean. The roads and lanes are swept periodically, but the garbage continues to pile up. Some of us maintain an “over-the-top” policy and because boundary walls are now threatening to grow taller, inmates do not see the clutter that they too are guilty of contributing to. Mounds of garbage soon turn into little hillocks of crap and with the daily infiltration of bovines into the locality, coupled with scores of dogs on every street, adding to the excreta, it is unsafe to step out after dark because the ordure cannot be seen. And yes, we still continue to do our daily chores because the street is not our business, is it? Oh no!

More than thirty years ago, when I finally moved to my personal paradise, the daily commute to the city and back was accepted with good grace because, while approaching the airport area from the city, the air seemed cleaner, purer and healthier. The atmosphere enveloping Veteran Lines was almost intoxicating in its freshness; not any more. The approach from GST Road is still tolerable, but all the other access points to my heaven are literally paved in filth. Going past the school towards the market area, you will find a playground in distress and then, utter chaos. Take the road going west and you will find a man-made waterway—an over-sized sewage line, actually—filled with everything disgusting. To make matters worse, traffic from those west-south-west areas comes loaded—cars and two-wheelers pause after the bridge, fling their trash into that ever-increasing, never-diminishing dump, and then go their merry way. Since this happens every day, the authorities are always at a loss when it comes to tackling the problem.

Closer to heaven and right in our locality, the authorities have bulldozed everything into mounds of assorted rubbish. Nature tries to hide this ugliness by covering the area with flower-bearing creepers, but it always seems to be a losing battle. I hate to say it, but we do not mind wallowing in the mush; if we did, we could put a stop to it by concerted social action. Does anyone care? Can you come up with solutions? Do we even think about these small, insignificant things?

Veteran Lines is located in the Cantonment area of Pallavaram. If this is the sorry fate of a “restricted access” zone, can you imagine the plight of other, poorly-planned neighborhoods? To add to the misery, the authorities have now established a huge (yet enclosed) dump closer to the market area. I suppose we are supposed to be proud: if Chennai City can have its dumping grounds, why shouldn’t there be at least one in the Cantonments?

Most of us love to think about the future; some of us even pray daily about it, hoping that our exhortations will eventually get us closer to heaven. Very few of us consider ourselves candidates for hell, but if we continue to be apathetic and callous about the present, we may very soon find ourselves living in the throes of hell. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, dear Reader.

But why am I telling all you good people this? Remember that the old but still relevant injunction: “Love thy neighbor as thyself” should never be forgotten. Who is my neighbor? Who is your neighbor? Mother Earth, of course—who else? She is all around you and with you and in you. Therefore, like dutiful daughters or sons, let us all take care of our universal Mother. Don’t wait for the morrow, my Dears. Sufficient for the day is the sorrow thereof.