Vattam's encounter with the collector
Fellow journalist Vicent D'Souza has a knack of presenting a commonplace incident with a sense of witticism. In a post in his blog Mr D'Souza speaks about conservancy inspectors, and refers to people, answering nature’s call behind EP box, under the avenue tree or at the wall. ”I shout at them so loudly they are forced to stop free flow midway and scamper. I am not sure it was bad for kidneys ------“
As I read this post my thoughts went back to my boyhood days. When I was 8- 10 years at native Bellary I used to go out for nature’s call. We didn't have proper toilet at home. One day as I was settling down behind some shrubs the district collector, returning home after morning stroll, along with his wife, spotted me . He stopped, picked up a stone, and flung it at me. He was left-handed; would have been a good bowler, had he taken to cricket, judging from his throw.
Cricket wasn't on my mind; my concern, then, was about dodging the collector's stone. Hurriedly , I got up, with buttock uncovered, holding my knicker with left hand, I ran towards home , leaving behind my chembu. After assuring myself that the collector was well out my sight, I went back to the shrubs to complete my unfinished business. From next day, I changed my timings so as to evade the passing collector.
Well, if you were travelling in Howrah Express from Madras, you would not have missed villagers in rows, smoking cheap cigars , squatting along the track, unmindful of passing trains.When I narrated this incident to my grand-daughter recently, she exclaimed 'thoo, thoo, shame, shame thata' . I thought that it was the best way to illustrate the change that has taken place during the last six decades, although several villages and slums in metros have dwellings that lack toilet facilities.
Some NGOs, with government help, are working to bring about changes in Karnataka. Yet, there are village old-timers who prefer the great outdoors. Old habits die hard.
As I read this post my thoughts went back to my boyhood days. When I was 8- 10 years at native Bellary I used to go out for nature’s call. We didn't have proper toilet at home. One day as I was settling down behind some shrubs the district collector, returning home after morning stroll, along with his wife, spotted me . He stopped, picked up a stone, and flung it at me. He was left-handed; would have been a good bowler, had he taken to cricket, judging from his throw.
Cricket wasn't on my mind; my concern, then, was about dodging the collector's stone. Hurriedly , I got up, with buttock uncovered, holding my knicker with left hand, I ran towards home , leaving behind my chembu. After assuring myself that the collector was well out my sight, I went back to the shrubs to complete my unfinished business. From next day, I changed my timings so as to evade the passing collector.
Well, if you were travelling in Howrah Express from Madras, you would not have missed villagers in rows, smoking cheap cigars , squatting along the track, unmindful of passing trains.When I narrated this incident to my grand-daughter recently, she exclaimed 'thoo, thoo, shame, shame thata' . I thought that it was the best way to illustrate the change that has taken place during the last six decades, although several villages and slums in metros have dwellings that lack toilet facilities.
Some NGOs, with government help, are working to bring about changes in Karnataka. Yet, there are village old-timers who prefer the great outdoors. Old habits die hard.
posted by Krishna Vattam at
11:00 PM
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