Bengaluru's first official disciplinarians

Here's a fact that should not surprise us Bengalureans. We are an undisciplined lot; perhaps, the words `Bengalureans' and `disciplined' can never snugly fit in the same sentence. We seem to have borrowed a leaf out of

The Beatles

' hit song, 'Let it be', and lulled ourselves into a state of inertia.

On what basis am I making this claim? Because our citizenry can give even the inventor of the concept of `jugaad' a mighty complex. Take our roads, for instance, where lanes and rules exist only on paper. Our roads, in fact, may be defined as a microcosm of the hurly-burly, the honks straight out of `Ripley's believe it or not', craters from the Sea of Tranquility, the allpervasive attitude of might is right, not to mention the impromptu male urinals at the sides. If I drive an SUV, I believe I have the right to honk the two-wheeler rider into submission. This attitude per colates to the bottom of the pyramid with the biker extending the courtesy to the cyclist or pedestrian.

To buttress my claim, I produce exhibit B: our public places. While at the theatre or bus-stand, we inherently believe that it's our god-given right to ignore queues and cut through them, causing public inconvenience. The elderly or those with toddlers be damned, self-comfort is paramount. And how many of us even know that approaching the cottage industry of touts at the RTOs for driving licenses is a criminal offence?

However, all is not lost.Over the past year or so, Bengalureans are waking up to what it means to abide by regulations on one count, thanks to a `disciplinarian': the

garbage collector

.

The

BBMP

had in the past introduced the segregation of garbage into wet and dry categories for effective disposal.Households were urged to seg regate the garbage at source. But for some reason, it didn't take off. Something is different this time, and I believe it is their refusal to handle our garbage if we do not handle it in the first place. You may be the lord of the Vidhana Soudha or the founder of the latest hotshot startup, if your garbage bin did not have segregated trash it will be untouched by the garbage collectors.

Trash that is left untouched has a searing, psychological impact on its owner, not to mention its resultant olfactory effects. For many of us, it was a learning experience the bitter way. It was as if a school teacher had remonstrated us in front of the class. Change was the only way out.

Soon, the bins that were careless mounds of garbage gave way to systematic process.Green bins contained wet waste; pink bins were for dry waste. Now, when I dispose waste I instinctively think of the coloured bins. The garbage collector had disciplined me, as he had my neighbours and many other citizens.

In one stroke, we began to converse like weathermen.Every morning as the garbage truck approaches our street, my neighbour asks, “Is it a wet day or dry day?“, and then brings out the appropriate bin. I smile every time she asks that question.

I thought my experiences were anecdotal, until recent media reports said that at least 50 percent of the city's trash is segregated at source. For a city that knows not the meaning of rules, that is immense progress.

Around a decade ago, a former chief minister had promised to convert namma Bengaluru into

Singapore

. We may be getting there steadily, with little political help.

(In this column, people record their impressions of life in Bengaluru)

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