We’ll cross that bridge when it collapses
I know ‘balle balle’. And I feel the Commonwealth Games is on a trajectory dramatically different from that.
I don’t know how much you’ve heard, but there are these games that are about to get underway in Delhi. They are likely to be inaugurated by the man with the largest ears in the world.
I’ve been hearing about these (irrelevant) games for some time now.
Just a while back, there was some talk about the steps taken to reduce capital expenditure for the show. This, naturally, involved renting, rather than buying, stuff. Items such as toilet paper were therefore hired. How such an article could be used and returned in the condition that it was originally rented — I draw upon the standard lease agreement — I do not know. (Readers’ ideas are welcome, and I will pass these on to appropriate authorities).
Recently, there was also the incident of the collapsing foot bridge. Another non-event, unless you were on it, or under it, as it came down.
But none of this is to be trivialised. It has moved the second-most populous nation in the world to feel collective anger and shame, though mostly in English. So my first question is:
What (the hell is India thinking)? I don’t know. Because I cannot get my head around why any country would spend $2.5-6.5 billion (estimates vary) on an event that Usain Bolt will, last heard, not attend.
Is it to show muscle? It is common knowledge that India has been a regular at the gym lately. It likes to flex, bend the odd cricket rule like a pliant crowbar. The fact that it can afford to visit a gym is a consequence of hard work and (recently) good business sense. But is it good business sense to invest more than you spend annually on healthcare on this overrated ornament and get attacked in the bargain?
Where (will we dump the used toilet paper)? I don’t know.
But I do have a concrete suggestion. My top (and only) place to do this is Delhi. The capital of India, corruption and ‘jugaar’ (viz making toilet paper a renewable resource). In case you feel strongly about a city in your country that deserves this pile more, let me know.
Why (must we change our sanitary standards — to suit theirs)? I don’t know.
My gut says we should not. But my gut is the source of the problem. Sub-continental defecation sits above sanitation. It is faececulture/tradition. We use water, rather than paper. In Pakistan, there are vessels with delicate beaks that accomplish the task. The ‘health faucet’ in, say, Lahore’s Defence, is a commoner by comparison.
In India, there’s the more modest, but equally efficient, plastic clarified butter container (though super-strong ‘made-in-China’ water jets have recently arrived.) We enjoy the experience every morning, or several times a day, depending on intake. And we do our best to sanitise the source, rather than the receptacle.
So why should we have to say, like addicts in rehab, that we promise to be ‘clean’? Some moron in authority has gone and said that. He should be wiped/washed off.
[Even though this is an “internal affair of sovereign India”, as an occasional democracy, I give you the chance to vote on his fate. Referendum: should this man be 1) Wiped off 2) Washed away? Do vote. I know you like to.]
When (will the next Commonwealth Games structure collapse)? I honestly don’t know.
My guess is: when it collapses. I’m not a betting man. Ask a cricketer.
How (do we get this to work like a Punjabi wedding, where everything is ‘balle balle’ in the end)? I have absolutely no idea.
I am married to a Punjabi, and have not just been subjected to my own Punjabi wedding, I have also been ambushed into getting involved in a few others — at different stages of production. I know ‘balle balle’. And I feel the Commonwealth Games is on a trajectory dramatically different from the one prescribed in the Balle Balle Handbook of Event Management.
And I laugh. And I shake my head. Where’s the shame in that?
Published in The Express Tribune, September 30th, 2010.
I’ve been hearing about these (irrelevant) games for some time now.
Just a while back, there was some talk about the steps taken to reduce capital expenditure for the show. This, naturally, involved renting, rather than buying, stuff. Items such as toilet paper were therefore hired. How such an article could be used and returned in the condition that it was originally rented — I draw upon the standard lease agreement — I do not know. (Readers’ ideas are welcome, and I will pass these on to appropriate authorities).
Recently, there was also the incident of the collapsing foot bridge. Another non-event, unless you were on it, or under it, as it came down.
But none of this is to be trivialised. It has moved the second-most populous nation in the world to feel collective anger and shame, though mostly in English. So my first question is:
What (the hell is India thinking)? I don’t know. Because I cannot get my head around why any country would spend $2.5-6.5 billion (estimates vary) on an event that Usain Bolt will, last heard, not attend.
Is it to show muscle? It is common knowledge that India has been a regular at the gym lately. It likes to flex, bend the odd cricket rule like a pliant crowbar. The fact that it can afford to visit a gym is a consequence of hard work and (recently) good business sense. But is it good business sense to invest more than you spend annually on healthcare on this overrated ornament and get attacked in the bargain?
Where (will we dump the used toilet paper)? I don’t know.
But I do have a concrete suggestion. My top (and only) place to do this is Delhi. The capital of India, corruption and ‘jugaar’ (viz making toilet paper a renewable resource). In case you feel strongly about a city in your country that deserves this pile more, let me know.
Why (must we change our sanitary standards — to suit theirs)? I don’t know.
My gut says we should not. But my gut is the source of the problem. Sub-continental defecation sits above sanitation. It is faececulture/tradition. We use water, rather than paper. In Pakistan, there are vessels with delicate beaks that accomplish the task. The ‘health faucet’ in, say, Lahore’s Defence, is a commoner by comparison.
In India, there’s the more modest, but equally efficient, plastic clarified butter container (though super-strong ‘made-in-China’ water jets have recently arrived.) We enjoy the experience every morning, or several times a day, depending on intake. And we do our best to sanitise the source, rather than the receptacle.
So why should we have to say, like addicts in rehab, that we promise to be ‘clean’? Some moron in authority has gone and said that. He should be wiped/washed off.
[Even though this is an “internal affair of sovereign India”, as an occasional democracy, I give you the chance to vote on his fate. Referendum: should this man be 1) Wiped off 2) Washed away? Do vote. I know you like to.]
When (will the next Commonwealth Games structure collapse)? I honestly don’t know.
My guess is: when it collapses. I’m not a betting man. Ask a cricketer.
How (do we get this to work like a Punjabi wedding, where everything is ‘balle balle’ in the end)? I have absolutely no idea.
I am married to a Punjabi, and have not just been subjected to my own Punjabi wedding, I have also been ambushed into getting involved in a few others — at different stages of production. I know ‘balle balle’. And I feel the Commonwealth Games is on a trajectory dramatically different from the one prescribed in the Balle Balle Handbook of Event Management.
And I laugh. And I shake my head. Where’s the shame in that?
Published in The Express Tribune, September 30th, 2010.