Independence Day Musings

After decades of humiliating existence as a tenant (often treated worse than animals), I finally bought a house of my own. To call it a house would be an overstatement as it only had three box like rooms surrounded by four halls, a small courtyard, a dirty toilet and a dilapidated bathroom and of course, a small chamber where the earlier owners used to cook food, which they lovingly called kitchen. The plaster had come out at most places. There were no cupboards, no proper electric wiring and even the sewerage system was in a mess.

Though I paid a premium to even buy this ‘hot’ property in East Delhi, I knew right from day one that I had to spend a good fortune renovating it. Well, renovation would be an understatement as the house in question virtually required to be rebuilt except that the basic structure would not be pulled down as there were three other similarly fragile flats resting on its tender shoulders.

Thus began a long journey, which not only taught me the nitty-gritties of building a house but also of building a nation and life itself. To begin with the local contractor promised me everything under the sun much like our khadi-clad politicians and with every passing day, he made a sharp u-turn on all of those promises.

Then came the architect and engineer to supervise the work as it progressed much like our Vigilance officials or Chief Election Commissioners and much of the guidelines laid down by them were flouted with impunity the way the model code is violated and yes, there were excuses galore with the maximum blame falling at the doorstep of the ‘mistry’ or the mason under whom the labourers work, much akin to the manner in which the bureaucrats are blamed for the acts of commission and omission on the part of the politicians.

But the labourers too were not the poor and innocent ones like those projected in movies such as ‘Do Bigha Zameen’. They have become worldly wise. Like Sarkari babus, they take an hour or more for lunch followed by a light nap. Prod them as much but they have already made up their mind on the quantum of work they had planned for the day. What’s more, they also want their pound of ‘chai-paani’, not to bestow any favour on us but to do their work properly. “Hamara Khyal rakhiye to hum aapka khyal rakhenge” – this after paying whatever the contractor had asked for.

But once you loosen your purse strings, don’t think the job has become easier. Go for a second visit to the site and one will find them not doing the work they were told to do and there is a stock answer, “thekedaar ne bataya nahin” (the contractor has not instructed us). Then, there is a flurry of calls between the Engineer and the contractor and the ‘mistry’ (or is it mystery?). One feels like a pensioner running from pillar to post for his monthly sustenance. But no hearts melt here. You are the milch cow, the Kamadhenu, on whom depends the prosperity of one and all.

Yes, the officials of the Municipal Corporation, the Development Authority, the local police station who have no time to attend to water logged roads, unauthorised constructions and incidents of rampant chain snatching and eve-teasing in your neighbourhood, have all the time at their disposal to get their ‘baksheesh’ for the new home, much like the fixers who try to cut corners in every Government project.

We also have the Pakistans and Chinas in our neighbourhood, who are less concerned about the unrest in their provinces, such as the leaky taps and broken walls but are more bothered about how many windows the new house has, how deep is the column and how would my children play if the courtyard is covered. They are so concerned that they even threaten to call the police.

Again, you are mistaken if you think you have given the money (vote) to the contractor (ruling class) and your worries are over. On the contrary, you have to face the whims and fancies of multiple agencies including plumber, electrician, carpenter, grill maker et al (panchayat, municipality, PWD, state Government).

What’s more, they don’t have qualms even in attempting to grease the palms of the Election Commission or the Vigilance Commission. The architect and engineer are promised a handsome cut for passing the substandard material, much in the manner the Anti Corruption department or the CBI officials are taken care of. Sometimes, even your own employee whom you had entrusted to supervise takes the bait and tries to strike when the iron is hot. Eternal vigilance, indeed, is the price of liberty, as the fence itself is lured to eat the crop. If this ruse fails, then the work on your dream house is delayed endlessly, much like the bridge in your village, the dispensary in your locality. He keeps promising, you keep waiting and mind you, this is private enterprise.

What we lack as a nation is character, honesty and integrity. Let us face it. Ignoring this and indulging in self adulation as an upcoming super power would only be at our own peril. Let us not have delusions and illusions. We have all become the worshippers of mammon. We have become a nation of shirkers who want to make a fast buck somehow, by hook or crook. Let us not hoodwink ourselves by blaming the politicians alone. We all need to introspect.

I am not sure when my house, my dream home, would finally see the light of the day, but I am sure, my dream nation would take a long time to take shape, if we continue on the same path.

Happy Independence Day!