The irony of it. Around Diwali time, someone from the horticulture department dropped by, had the mango tree cut, the neem tree pruned (permissions? hush, hush, don't tell anyone, we'll do it quietly, and no one will ever know, but how about a Diwali gift?). In 10 minutes, the two-storey high mango tree is gone, chopped up, loaded on a truck, gone! Plenty of sunshine on the front lawn and on the kitchen garden at the back.
But the new room, for which the tree had to be axed? I confidently and optimistically call the CPWD civil engineer. Oh no, now our contract has run out, no more budget, you will have to wait until the new financial year! Persistence being my middle name, I wait patiently until early-April, make another call to the "civil" engineer ... yes, we are thinking about it, we will have to invite tenders, I will speak to my boss, I will get back to you with definite information in a day or two (I fall for that again)! I think it may be time to give up on that room ...
Sunday 19 April 2009
Saturday 27 September 2008
Delhi Driving - Lesson 2
Lesson 2: Red Light
A red light at a traffic signal is a place to stop - and RELAX. A place to do your daily shopping, saving on time and petrol (not to mention escaping bombs at your local market). A place where you can buy the latest books and magazines, Cosmopolitan to Better Homes & Gardens to Tehelka, even an IKEA catalogue - you name it, we have it! A place to pick up the latest made-in-China gadgets: mosquito exterminators, "Nokia" chargers, or plain old calculators. Fake beards last month have been overtaken by the demand for cowboy hats this month - in all colours, but only one size. I was intrigued by one in deep blue, and tempted to ask the price, but the light turned green. Dusters? Towels? Try the next red light! You need red roses? Check out the Moti Bagh red light.
Of course, there are those restless drivers who do not know how to RELAX, and start blowing the horn the moment the light turns green, without any consideration for the fact that the driver in the car ahead is still paying for his or her purchases ... Wasn't there a law against blowing the horn at a traffic light?
And then there are the drivers in too much of a hurry to stop at all when a light turns red - usually the ones behind the wheel of a blueline bus or a BMW ...
A red light at a traffic signal is a place to stop - and RELAX. A place to do your daily shopping, saving on time and petrol (not to mention escaping bombs at your local market). A place where you can buy the latest books and magazines, Cosmopolitan to Better Homes & Gardens to Tehelka, even an IKEA catalogue - you name it, we have it! A place to pick up the latest made-in-China gadgets: mosquito exterminators, "Nokia" chargers, or plain old calculators. Fake beards last month have been overtaken by the demand for cowboy hats this month - in all colours, but only one size. I was intrigued by one in deep blue, and tempted to ask the price, but the light turned green. Dusters? Towels? Try the next red light! You need red roses? Check out the Moti Bagh red light.
Of course, there are those restless drivers who do not know how to RELAX, and start blowing the horn the moment the light turns green, without any consideration for the fact that the driver in the car ahead is still paying for his or her purchases ... Wasn't there a law against blowing the horn at a traffic light?
And then there are the drivers in too much of a hurry to stop at all when a light turns red - usually the ones behind the wheel of a blueline bus or a BMW ...
Monday 8 September 2008
Time time time
It seems part of the Delhi (North Indian? Indian?) culture to not mean what you say nor to say what you mean. Especially when someone else's time is involved.
If you call a plumber or electrician or carpenter and he (I haven't yet come across a she in these professions in Delhi) says he will be there in a short while (मैं अभी आ रहा हूँ), it could mean half-an-hour, or an hour or two or three or four. It could even mean the next day or the day after or next week. By which time, another ten phone calls will have been made, with the same response each time. Is it because people are so busy that they don't know how long it will take them to finish the work in hand (then why not say so)? Is it because they don't want to disappoint you by saying they can't be there immediately or in real-time? Or is it that they just have no thought for the other person's time?
It is not just the small-time service providers who do this. After all it is these little acorns who grow into the oak-tree big-time service providers.
There is the travel agent, who promises to call me back with definite information "on Monday", "tomorrow at 4:30", to bring the printout over with the confirmed flights "tomorrow before 6" - and then calls me the next day to ask me my first name, from which I infer that he hasn't yet made a booking at all! While I, like the gullible fool I am, look at my watch and wait restlessly for the appointed time, still not accepting that the appointed time is just something that runs off the glib tongue! And the next day I call, no answer. I call again, no answer. But then, wonders will never cease, he notes the missed calls and calls back - only to tell me that he is busy in the High Court trying to save his various properties from his ex-wife, and he will surely get back to me later in the day. Many phone calls and many hard lessons. A longer tale to be narrated elsewhere.
And the bank staff (private sector, not public sector) who have messed up simple requests, cannot give me details of what they have done, and routinely take my phone number every time I go to the branch, with the promise to get back to me the next day. I wait several days, go back, find new faces, again explain the problem (of their creation), again give my phone number, and again wait for the promised call. After two months of this, I ask them why can't they just email the information at their convenience, rather than trying to give it to me on the phone? So they take my email address, send me a test message to confirm that they have got the address correctly, and then promise to send me the details "asap". That was more than a week ago. I am still waiting. And wishing that I had just closed all the accounts and gone back to the public sector bank, where things do at least eventually get sorted out.
I could go on, with many examples of this implicit devaluation of other people's time. But is anyone listening? What kinds of skills are being developed by/for the service industry in this country?
If you call a plumber or electrician or carpenter and he (I haven't yet come across a she in these professions in Delhi) says he will be there in a short while (मैं अभी आ रहा हूँ), it could mean half-an-hour, or an hour or two or three or four. It could even mean the next day or the day after or next week. By which time, another ten phone calls will have been made, with the same response each time. Is it because people are so busy that they don't know how long it will take them to finish the work in hand (then why not say so)? Is it because they don't want to disappoint you by saying they can't be there immediately or in real-time? Or is it that they just have no thought for the other person's time?
It is not just the small-time service providers who do this. After all it is these little acorns who grow into the oak-tree big-time service providers.
There is the travel agent, who promises to call me back with definite information "on Monday", "tomorrow at 4:30", to bring the printout over with the confirmed flights "tomorrow before 6" - and then calls me the next day to ask me my first name, from which I infer that he hasn't yet made a booking at all! While I, like the gullible fool I am, look at my watch and wait restlessly for the appointed time, still not accepting that the appointed time is just something that runs off the glib tongue! And the next day I call, no answer. I call again, no answer. But then, wonders will never cease, he notes the missed calls and calls back - only to tell me that he is busy in the High Court trying to save his various properties from his ex-wife, and he will surely get back to me later in the day. Many phone calls and many hard lessons. A longer tale to be narrated elsewhere.
And the bank staff (private sector, not public sector) who have messed up simple requests, cannot give me details of what they have done, and routinely take my phone number every time I go to the branch, with the promise to get back to me the next day. I wait several days, go back, find new faces, again explain the problem (of their creation), again give my phone number, and again wait for the promised call. After two months of this, I ask them why can't they just email the information at their convenience, rather than trying to give it to me on the phone? So they take my email address, send me a test message to confirm that they have got the address correctly, and then promise to send me the details "asap". That was more than a week ago. I am still waiting. And wishing that I had just closed all the accounts and gone back to the public sector bank, where things do at least eventually get sorted out.
I could go on, with many examples of this implicit devaluation of other people's time. But is anyone listening? What kinds of skills are being developed by/for the service industry in this country?
Delhi Driving - Lesson 1
Driving in Delhi has always been a challenge, despite (or because of?) the plentiful, wide roads. It has become even more of a challenge with the proliferation of vehicles of all sorts, and all the construction going on in preparation for 2010. Some observations of a daily driver, for surviving on these Lawless Roads:
Lesson 1: Lane Driving
Lane driving means different things to different drivers. For autorickshaw drivers, it means driving with the front wheel on the line dividing two lanes, effectively blocking traffic in both lanes. For motorcycle drivers, it means cutting in from the left lane and then cutting in from the right lane, scraping your car evenly from both sides. For bus drivers, it doesn't mean anything, except on the BRT bus corridors, where it means they have a lane to themselves and can test the speed limits more easily. For drivers of cars with a red light (लाल बत्ती) on top, it means they can drive in the lane meant for cycles on the BRT bus corridors. For the traffic police, it means even less, because they don't know the first thing about driving anyway!
Postscript: New observation. The right lane is not for overtaking as we once thought. It is for cruising along at 20kmph, cell phone in one hand, cigarette in the other, a finger lightly on the steering wheel ...
Lesson 1: Lane Driving
Lane driving means different things to different drivers. For autorickshaw drivers, it means driving with the front wheel on the line dividing two lanes, effectively blocking traffic in both lanes. For motorcycle drivers, it means cutting in from the left lane and then cutting in from the right lane, scraping your car evenly from both sides. For bus drivers, it doesn't mean anything, except on the BRT bus corridors, where it means they have a lane to themselves and can test the speed limits more easily. For drivers of cars with a red light (लाल बत्ती) on top, it means they can drive in the lane meant for cycles on the BRT bus corridors. For the traffic police, it means even less, because they don't know the first thing about driving anyway!
Postscript: New observation. The right lane is not for overtaking as we once thought. It is for cruising along at 20kmph, cell phone in one hand, cigarette in the other, a finger lightly on the steering wheel ...
A Tree Grows in Tilak Lane
A mango tree in our backyard has become, for me, a symbol of our "green-tape" bureaucracy, born of green activism. In the past three years that we have lived here, I have not seen flowers nor fruit on this tree. It provides shade where we don't need it, but little else. Don't mistake me, I love the abundant greenery in central Delhi, where we are lucky enough to be able to live for a while, and we have added to it as best we could in our garden. But this tree ...
Almost six months ago, the CPWD junior engineer came and asked if we wanted to have a room added to our flat. Who doesn't need another room, so I promptly said "yes, please, when can you start and how long will it take". Ah, but first you will have to get this mango tree cut, as it is getting in the way. Won't your workmen take care of that? Oh, no, you will have to ask the CPWD horticulture division, we are only the civil engineers who hire the contractors who build the room!
After some more questioning, the junior engineer agrees that the whole tree may not need to be cut, but just the main branch that is leaning towards where one wall of the new room will be built. So, after several phone calls, the horticulture man arrives. In my naivety, I thought we have control of what is planted in our yard, and thus also control of what is removed. Oh no, anything that is more than two fingers' thickness (or did he say one?), needs permission - even pruning a branch. Please write an application addressed to the Director Horticulture. But you do realize that cutting this branch will kill the tree? If so, so be it. RIP.
Promptly, an application is typed, signed, sealed and delivered. And I wait patiently for a few weeks. Meanwhile, an assistant engineer (boss of the junior engineer) arrives to survey the site. Maybe the contractor is idle, and that explains the renewed interest in building the room. Oh no, he said, cutting the branch won't be enough, the whole tree will have to go from the roots! So why don't you coordinate with your brethren in the horticulture division to remove the tree? Yes, we will write a letter, as there are several other flats similarly affected. Aha, I thought, strength in numbers ...
More waiting. More phone calls to ask about progress. More assurances of letters having been written to take up the matter ... Meanwhile, the horticulture man sends a copy of a letter they have, in turn, written to the Delhi Government, asking for permission to cut the branch per our original application. More phone calls to the assistant engineer ... can't you modify your design to save the tree, if it is such a cumbersome process to get a tree cut in one's own backyard (never mind the hundreds and thousands that were cut to make way for the bus corridor in south delhi ... but that is another story!). We will examine that. I will talk to my executive engineer ... who apparently comes to inspect the site also, one day when I am not home. Lo and behold, another day when I am not home, the horticulture people come and cut off the main branch of the tree, as originally requested.
More waiting. The tree thrives even without its main branch. The neem tree in front of our house collapses in a storm, but the mango tree refuses to die. More phone calls. No, the design can't be modified. The tree will have to go! So take it away ... We have written a letter. How about making a phone call? We have taken up the matter with concerned authorities. Presumably the guardians of the Forest Act in the GNCTD (new acronym added to my vocabulary - government of the national capital territory of delhi)? Government of the trees, by the trees, for the trees?
Who cares? The tree is still there, I am tired of making phone calls, the engineers will come back when the contractors are idle again. Some day, in somebody's lifetime, a room will be added - if the whole structure hasn't crumbled by then! Meanwhile, taking advantage of the abundant rains, our gardener has planted a lemon tree in the backyard, and three shade trees just outside, but is anyone counting those in exchange for a fruitless mango tree?
Green tapism zindabad!
Almost six months ago, the CPWD junior engineer came and asked if we wanted to have a room added to our flat. Who doesn't need another room, so I promptly said "yes, please, when can you start and how long will it take". Ah, but first you will have to get this mango tree cut, as it is getting in the way. Won't your workmen take care of that? Oh, no, you will have to ask the CPWD horticulture division, we are only the civil engineers who hire the contractors who build the room!
After some more questioning, the junior engineer agrees that the whole tree may not need to be cut, but just the main branch that is leaning towards where one wall of the new room will be built. So, after several phone calls, the horticulture man arrives. In my naivety, I thought we have control of what is planted in our yard, and thus also control of what is removed. Oh no, anything that is more than two fingers' thickness (or did he say one?), needs permission - even pruning a branch. Please write an application addressed to the Director Horticulture. But you do realize that cutting this branch will kill the tree? If so, so be it. RIP.
Promptly, an application is typed, signed, sealed and delivered. And I wait patiently for a few weeks. Meanwhile, an assistant engineer (boss of the junior engineer) arrives to survey the site. Maybe the contractor is idle, and that explains the renewed interest in building the room. Oh no, he said, cutting the branch won't be enough, the whole tree will have to go from the roots! So why don't you coordinate with your brethren in the horticulture division to remove the tree? Yes, we will write a letter, as there are several other flats similarly affected. Aha, I thought, strength in numbers ...
More waiting. More phone calls to ask about progress. More assurances of letters having been written to take up the matter ... Meanwhile, the horticulture man sends a copy of a letter they have, in turn, written to the Delhi Government, asking for permission to cut the branch per our original application. More phone calls to the assistant engineer ... can't you modify your design to save the tree, if it is such a cumbersome process to get a tree cut in one's own backyard (never mind the hundreds and thousands that were cut to make way for the bus corridor in south delhi ... but that is another story!). We will examine that. I will talk to my executive engineer ... who apparently comes to inspect the site also, one day when I am not home. Lo and behold, another day when I am not home, the horticulture people come and cut off the main branch of the tree, as originally requested.
More waiting. The tree thrives even without its main branch. The neem tree in front of our house collapses in a storm, but the mango tree refuses to die. More phone calls. No, the design can't be modified. The tree will have to go! So take it away ... We have written a letter. How about making a phone call? We have taken up the matter with concerned authorities. Presumably the guardians of the Forest Act in the GNCTD (new acronym added to my vocabulary - government of the national capital territory of delhi)? Government of the trees, by the trees, for the trees?
Who cares? The tree is still there, I am tired of making phone calls, the engineers will come back when the contractors are idle again. Some day, in somebody's lifetime, a room will be added - if the whole structure hasn't crumbled by then! Meanwhile, taking advantage of the abundant rains, our gardener has planted a lemon tree in the backyard, and three shade trees just outside, but is anyone counting those in exchange for a fruitless mango tree?
Green tapism zindabad!
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