When will I get my wisdom tooth?

Resources are scarce.  More than sustaining the initiatives at the grass roots’, now-a-days, we (did you read NGOs?) are gravitating towards the need to sustain us as professionals and the organizations we represent.  But this piece is not necessarily directed towards any NGO talk.  Let me directly come to the point… one of our resource mobilization 'conquests' took me to Shimla, just a few months back.  The time was just right to appreciate the bliss of the summer capital of the British Raj who had stormed the Orient (and still is). 

The two day-long meeting was hosted in an institute in the Fairlawns, 12 kms. away from Shimla, housed in a heritage building currently in the custody of the Himachal Government.  The theme was ‘water’, the much abused resource of mother earth.  Soon, the discussions turned towards the need to identify the long forgotten traditional systems of water conservation and the significance of reinforcing 'popular' knowledge.

Up came the story of the scenic Kalka Shimla Railway, a narrow gauge track, that is listed in the Guinness Book of Records for the steepest rise in altitude in a distance of 96 km. Way back in 1903, at the time when the rail track was being laid, the team met with immense disappointment at a particular bend when time and again the land would give away, thereby failing their endeavour. 

The Brits put to work the best brains and engineers but all went in vain.  Amidst all this commotion, no one took notice of the inconsequential looking man, a cattle herder loitering around with his donkeys.  One day, the man, not able to withhold his curiosity, came forward and asked, ‘what is the confusion all about’?   The team dismissed him, ‘why are you bothered’?  The man was unrelenting.  He said, ‘this is my territory and I need to know…what is going on here…every other day you seem to be a part of some problem or the other...’. 

One of them finally explained that they are facing problems in constructing a particular part of the track due to the uneven  hilly terrain.  The man volunteered to help.  The engineers were taken aback…could not accept that a scantily clad illiterate man can even dare to extend help in a technically complex task?  But having no other available solution, they permitted themselves to lend an ear. 

The man said, ‘It is simple.  Tie a sack of sand on the back of my donkey, slit the sand bag so that sand falls freely and let the donkey walk the land. Trace the sand track and design your railroad accordingly’.  The idea worked like the magic potion brewed by the druid of Asterix!!  It took a few more months to complete the once gargantuan task!

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Tourists enjoy the toy train ride in Shimla....(and also contribute to the woes of nature by discarding plastic bags and disposable water bottles).  The e-tourism sites are resplendent with information about exotic hotels and picturesque sites for the visitors who throng the city every year.  But not a mention of this historic fact ….and the force of human experience lies unacknowledged by generations to come.

We often underestimate the existence of popular knowledge.  I and my tribe (of social workers) have been trained to tap this knowledge through the variant methods of Participatory Rural Appraisal (PRA) but more often than not, I falter in my own life space, again flaunting an irate ‘I Know All’ attitude. 

One such reminder came to me ...barely a few days back.  Me, the pompous, know-all homo sapien, a member of the urban educated tribe….a woman of today…was faced with a queer problem.  That of the making our kitchen ‘pigeon- proof’ ever since they found a sure way to make nests and hatch eggs on the utensil rack propped near the window of the kitchen.   After trying myriad ways like clapping to shoo them, closing the window, tying used or damaged CDs and/or wind chimes and adopting other ‘videsi nuskhas’  (learnt from the internet) to keep away the displaced areal beings…..I finally resigned and reconciled with the day-long cooing and flapping of wings….not to forget the unyielding poops.  Anyways, this was inevitable….when we eliminate and forcibly occupy their space…they have every right to reclaim some. 

Here, let me take a detour to introduce my 69 year old father in law.  A farmer by choice, he decides to be a man engrossed in him …oblivious to the sinful world around…and a perfect delight for an urban, mismanaged home dominated by a fleet of erring kids and their screaming and perpetually indecisive mom….

One day, after having patiently witnessed my supremely failing efforts of keeping the kitchen pigeon-free, my sasurji slowly walked towards the kids’ room, picked up a stuffed monkey, came to the kitchen, carefully reached up to the top shelf of the utensil rack and re-positioned it.  The monkey obliged gleefully, overwhelmed to be singly selected from the limited range of neglected toys and sat atop with popping eyes, sporting a silly smile.

Immediately my protest mode was on….only to be embarrassed too soon, by my mindless display of ignorance and shade of misplaced arrogance. 

Our kitchen is spared by the regular visitors from the dave family. 

(Simple anecdotes often remind me that while I received formal education, I am yet to turn wise).

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