The other victims of dengue

NEW DELHI: Being a conscientious citizen can sometimes become the bane of one’s existence. So you pay your taxes regularly, don’t litter the streets of Delhi or display objectionable behaviour in public. May not be good enough. Especially when suddenly active municipal authorities come calling.
The dengue scare in the Capital has another side to it.Of the populace that is not reeling from the deadly bite of the Aedes, many are lining up at the Municipal Corporation of Delhi office for a fairly harrowing time.
Officials who have for months looked away when the colony garbage bins were overflowing or when streetlights were on the blink have laudably woken up to the dengue danger. But the manifestation of that rising is, well, an experience.
This reporter went through one such experience. It began when a small strip of paper found its way to the residence a few days ago. Apparently, a surprise check at the house had revealed less – some still water.
The 2”x6”strip of paper, which came directly from the MCD, requested (of course with the anatomy of the name changed) presence before the Magistrate on a Friday at 10.00 am sharp to discuss ‘crime’ and accept ‘punishment’.
Suitably impressed and with various images of ‘crime and punishment’ crowding the head, one landed at the MCD office in south Delhi a little before the scheduled time - a first-time encounter. The light brown paint that adorned the exterior of the three-storey building looked like anything but babudom.
A step inside the land of the guys fighting the Capital’s newest menace and the perception of moments ago was shattered. This was babudom in all its glory -- lustreless walls, floors not scrubbed, stinking washrooms, paan-stained walls and dusty banisters. The destination was Room No.27, on the 2nd floor, directions from a scruffy-looking staff.
The feeling of being singled out vanished in an instant. A sea of humanity brought the realisation that one was not the only person picked. At that early hour, already around 200 people were waiting. Not that the early arrival helped. With no one designated to guide about the procedural details involved, many out there had no clue on what to do.
A look around finally found a staff that seemed to be fielding questions. But for answers you waited your turn: “Aap to abhi aaye ho, aap ka number baad mein ayega. Abhi aaap yahin raho. (You have just come in now, your turn will come later. Now you stay put here.).
Trying to talk about needing to get to work and having presented oneself at 10 am sharp as instructed by the slip of paper didn’t help. It only highlighted the fact that the entire sea of humanity present there had been asked to report at the very same time. Two MCD staffers flitted across importantly, sheaf of notices in their hands.
Voices started growing louder as entry to the magistrate’s chamber was denied. Soon individual chats stopped and collective voices were heard, asking for a method to the madness. With no suitable answer coming their way, the pitch of the atmosphere only got louder. Chaos and confusion followed as three members from officialdom tried to man the door and check humanity from meeting judiciary. Angry over the unorganised manner of conduct and absence of any official help only added to rising tempers.
Jostling, pushing and shoving soon had about a 100 of the masses pushing into the chambers of the magistrate, only to realise that it was past 10.30 am and he still hadn’t arrived. A peek into the assistant’s room to ask when justice would be done got a lame “Sir is on his way and can be here any time”. That didn’t help the crowd which was growing restless and by the time ‘Sir’ arrived, a good half-hour later, the mood was belligerent.
A loud din pervaded the atmosphere and despite the magistrate reiterating that silence and decorum must be maintained in he courtroom, hardly anyone paid heed. After meting out ‘punishment’ which included a fine ranging between Rs 300- Rs 500, and signing on a paper, acknowledging the ‘crime’ of abetting the breeding of the Aedes mosquito to 10 people, the magistrate walked away in a huff, unable to bear the scene any longer.
After many pleas from the crowd which included a Supreme Court woman lawyer pleading on behalf of her 84-year-old father, an advertising professional who had cancelled an overseas assignment, an elderly couple who had to forego a medical check-up, three BSF personnel, a pilot with a private airlines among other people, he finally resurfaced after 30 minutes.
By now, patience was wearing thin as was any faith in officialdom. Suddenly, a man read out names of particular colonies and dismissed them for a Monday session of the same. Late at work, an arduous time in a seamy unwashed building come to naught. There are better ways of spending a Friday. At the end of the entire exercise all thoughts of being a conscientious citizen have been summarily banished.