It is a well-accepted fact that one of biggest avenues to generate employment is Tourism. Worldwide, the tourism industry generates revenue of about $620 billion. Out of this, India's share is a paltry $5 billion or about 0.8% (2004 figures). In terms of numbers, out of worldwide tourists of about 760 million, India receives merely 3.4 million tourists. While larger countries like US of A (with 46 million tourist / $75 billion revenues) and the dirt-cheap China (with 42 million tourist / $26 billion revenues) benefit a lot through tourism, it is Europe's showpiece France that takes away the honours with the highest tourist inflow. It has a staggering 75 million tourists, which is nearly equal to its local population. In contrast, an International visitor to India has a 1000 Indian to greet him. While these figures cut a sorry figure, it also shows the tremendous potential that India holds for the tourism business. How then can we make India a tourist destination?
As in all spheres, 80% of the changes can be done by 20% effort, while remaining 20% may require a gargantuan effort. So let us look at the former only. The first step, and this may be the most difficult step, is to create an 'Impression'. What do I feel of say 'Singapore'? A neat and clean place. What about Malaysia? Its 'Truly Asia' campaign and its Petronas towers. Each country brings its showpiece, be it Great Pyramids or the Great Wall of China. What about India? What do others think about it? I don't know. But I don't have any great regard for this country. 'Shabby' and all-pervasive 'Shabbiness' - This is how I can summarize its public life. In films, they say that India is a land of snake charmers and bullock carts. Is it true? I don't know. But leading CEO's from Cisco, Siemens, and Virgin among many others frequent India seeking business opportunities. Poverty and underdevelopment is a truth, but it spells opportunity for many. Different people have different impressions about India, and let us leave it like that.
The next important item is 'Information'. For a change, India's official tourism website (incredibleindia.org) hosts in multiple languages including French, Spanish and Deutsch. Everyone wants to feel connected and this is a welcome change. But this is not enough. Every state has its own naming convention for websites. I tried searching for Taj Mahal and I could not get an authentic and genuine website. In contrast, search for Windsor Castle gave me a very good result. The bottom line is that in the myriad websites floated by travel agencies, the official state websites get lost. So the proposal is to have the main Indian website connect all the State tourism websites which have a uniform nomenclature. The website development could even be outsourced to third-party developers (e.g. Travel magazines) who could be paid on number of hits.
Information alone however has limited use. The next logical step is 'Booking'. Here, tourist would want online booking, e-auctions and attractive deals/discounts. While the trend towards this has started, poor Internet penetration and PC-usage is a major stumbling block. So, the next proposal is to rate all hotels and make it mandatory for all star-rated hotels and leading government hotels to compulsorily offer Internet-based booking. Talking about Internet bookings, not only lodging but travel also needs to be considered. A good development in this regard is the Internet-based air tickets. Leading private sector airlines Jet Airways and low-cost airlines Air Deccan now offer e-tickets through credit cards / online bank transfers. However, aviation capacity is limited and a very big chunk of travel in India takes place through rail or road. For railways too, IRCTC has started offering ticket booking facility through Internet. The growth has been good and even e-ticket concept for railways coming up. Bus travel is a complete laggard in this regard.
With good or bad impressions, normal or e-tickets, tourist have come. Now what are the challenges? Needless to say, the very first step, 'Air Travel', has now become the most harrowing one. Decrepit airports, arrogant custom officials and unscrupulous taxi drivers don't make life easy. The privatisation of Bangalore and Hyderabad airports has picked up, but Greenfield development of the major airports at Delhi and Mumbai may take ages. While leading airport developers of the world have shown interest, the snails pace and bureaucracy is not making life easy. Airport development should now be an item of highest priority. The government makes the right noises. But what materializes is totally different.
Like airports, the state of 'Public Transport' is no better. For most tourists, this is non-existent as basic necessities like AC is absent. The condition of roads and indiscipline traffic movement makes many wonder how the system works. While metro appears in pockets (that too only in Delhi and Kolkata), the only available option is private taxi. A comprehensive transportation policy that focuses on efficient, cheap and comfortable public travel, use of cleaner fuels like CNG and providing pedestrian-only zones is the need of the hour.
Among this mess, the 'Hotels' fare better. This is with the assumptions that the visitors can afford 5-star accommodation. A new trend now has been towards smaller hotels that do away with paraphernalia and grandeur of the bigger hotels, yet serve almost all the needs of the tourists. This trend will serve well, more so for the domestic traveller.
Another major sore point that is conspicuous by its absence is 'Night-life'. With no Casinos, the gambling instincts are put in tight leash. For the basic instincts too, there is nothing legal to boast and one has to play in the hands of pimps. It is common sense that restrictions only fuel desire without any commensurate benefits. In contrast, a free society seeks its own equilibrium.
While the above points relate to the general makeup of a country, what are the specific areas of growth for tourism? Few areas emerge clearly: Natural beauty, Religious tourism, Historical places, Adventure tourism and Medical tourism.
Given the vast expanse of India, from Kanyakumari to Himalayas, India's Natural Beauty is immense. However, one small visit to Shimla can corroborate how uncontrolled exploitation of nature causes intolerable damage. In the Hills, the main challenges include inadequate water supply, poor waste management, proliferating use of polythene bags and plastic bottles, narrow roads and lack of parking facilities. The holy place of Badrinath is a classic case where the residents do not have house to live as all houses are converted into dinghy hotels. The solution lies in controlled use of land where availability of hotel rooms limits the number of visitors preventing the choking of the infrastructure. If one moves to the Reserve Forests, an even bigger threat is there in the form of poaching. It is rumoured that all tigers of the Sariska tiger reserve have been shot. The situation in other tiger reserves may not be any better. While working groups are pressed to stem the rot, the threat is assuming menacing proportions. Down south, the beaches offer a potential. Among various options, the state of Goa remains a very popular spot, particularly so for the foreigners. The key to success lies in the relatively neat and clean state, easy-going people, nice accommodations, adequate water sports facilities, and even casinos. The state seems very unlike the India.
Apart from nature, Religious Tourism too offers tremendous scope. However, most of these places are in hills (like the 4 Dhams of Badrinath, Kedarnath, Gangotri and Jamnotri) or are small towns like Hardwar or Vrindavan, none of which are designed to carry the flux of visitors that come there. Smaller the place, worse is the accommodation. Limited availability of land makes development nearly impossible. The least that can be done is to terminate the cars at some distant location and offer ferry services so that the main centre is not clogged and people put greater use of their legs by walking.
Historical places, including the best-selling Taj Mahal, offer limitless opportunity. However, Agra, which earns lot of money through the Moghul monument, has very bad roads. A major development was planned for Taj Mahal, but it turned out to be a major scam and many leading politicians and bureaucrat went in the dock. Vested interests always cause harm than do any good.
A rather under-exploited field is Adventure Tourism. The potential for trekking, rock climbing, car rallying river rafting, ice skiing, paragliding and canoeing among others is there. But the biggest stumbling blocks here include lack of marketing and poor connectivity to the place under consideration. The solution here could like in hosting an array of big ticket events offering grand prizes. The prizes could even be sponsored by tourism budget. Not only would it create excitement, it would also cause awareness.
A recent development is Medical Tourism. Leading hospitals are doing it all along and offer cheaper medical treatments including Surgery, Bone Marrow Transplant, Cardiac Care and Dialysis and Kidney Transplant among others. The high cost differential makes the travel cost insignificant. Along with hospitals, what is also needed is service apartments that allow family members to living along with patients.
This column only touches a few things. The goldmine is there. It only needs to be tapped, properly and carefully.
Chachu 1/12/2005
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Web Resources
-------------
http://www.incredibleindia.org/ (Govt. of India website to promote tourism)
http://www.incredibleindia.org/tourism2004.pdf (tourism statistics)
http://www.windsor.gov.uk/
http://www.ameinfo.com/39109.html
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Thursday, December 01, 2005
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Chachu's Column #35: Of Have-not & Have-been Parents and their doctors
The last column triggered an overwhelming response from the readers. Most of the responses were congratulatory notes, welcoming my stepping into parenthood. Few others greeted the column that appeared in their inboxes after a long gap.
All the responses could easily be categorized into the Have-nots and the Have-been.
The Have-nots, those enjoying the fruits of celibacy, had still quite some distance to tread. The writings could only give them a vicarious experience; however, they could not appreciate the real fun involved. However, one young (and wise) lady made an interesting point. She said, "… It was really touching, especially for those who haven't gone through this stage of life yet. I could visualize everything and was overwhelmed with emotions. You are right. Paternal bond takes time but maternal bond is there even before the world knows the baby. But the irony is that men forget the pains women take. You got to remember the pains she had to go through to fill your life…" I never bore any pain. And what my spouse bore was slowly ebbing out of my memory. Her comment was a timely reminder.
This also reminded me what I felt about my parents when I was very young. I thought they had done me no favour in bringing me to this world. It was their moral duty and obligation to take good care of me. After all, I didn't ask them to bring me in. My infuriated parents remained silent to such slanderous comments and hoped that time could bring in some sense and sensibility in their self-indulgent son.
Now, however, I wonder what I would feel when my baby grows up and behaves in a similar fashion - may be even two steps ahead. Immediately, I recall all the moments spent with my baby. The first few months were especially challenging. During this time, when the biological clock understood no night or day, any moment was good enough to seek attention. The eyes remained dreary and one had to sneak outside one's bedroom to savour few moments of rest. The mosquitoes demanded a baby net. But the one I brought consumed half the bed. And so the two adults had to consume the leftovers while the baby - the prince - slept in all luxury. Then the difficult choice had to be made of whether to leave the baby unprotected or to sacrifice some comfort. The father felt it was all too demanding. What about the poor mother who went through the pain and ignominy before, during and after the childbirth?
Some Have-nots are on the verge. Their time is not too far - a year or two at the maximum. The whole idea excites them a lot, but there is also that anxiety for the pain involved.
The Have-been also have to take their steps - little steps with their little ones. Every step, every year passed, providing new lessons. A two-year old father recalls, "…Nice-n-sweet reminiscences.... Enjoyed it reading even more so since today is my daughter's second birthday ... and your column brought back similar memories and joys I had when I saw my baby for the first time. I clearly remember, when for the first time the nurse held her out to me, she winked at me - the nicest, cutest and most loveable wink a lady had ever given me. The first days after her birth, filled with a lot of joy, new experiences and anxieties. Well a great experience…"
Those who have taken five steps with their only kid still find each day a new experience. Every visit to the mall is accompanied by a demand for new toys. It is not easy to refuse. Alibis are not easy to find by. The mother says that the money is in short supply an argument that the kid is not ready to buy. And the granny, who is there only for a while, is too willing to oblige. The not-so-young baby has his wished fulfil. The bribe has done the trick, as the baby is ready to fly back with the granny.
Many have taken steps twice. And one such father laments how his son plays havoc in the life of his son's nanny. The boy is not too difficult to handle. But he is no pushover either. He will always challenge. It is in the fitness of things that he must be given his due respect. And occasionally, plaster his broken leg after a football game or nurse a forehead wounded in the game of hide-and-seek.
Some people however have a different view of things. They are outsiders, yet they play an integral part in our lives. They are doctors who influence and facilitate our lives. And one such distinguished doctor is my cousin sister Puja. And let me have the fortune of having her have the last words, …
"As a paediatrician I have watched these myriad of emotions flash across parents faces so many times it's almost difficult to count...yet each time is different. I've been on the other side from you...knowing a little too much of what's going on. We get called as paediatricians to deliveries whenever there is anticipation for a problem with the delivery so that we can resuscitate the baby if needed. And every time the experience is at once the same and at once very different.
Generally we walk into the room of a family we have never met before. Everyone looks up wondering and questioning, but not saying anything because I think to some degree they're too afraid to ask why there are even more doctors in the room than before. We get a history from the Obstetrician and staff and set up the resuscitation station. All this to the background noise of the Obstetrician coaching the mother "Push! Push! Push! Keep going! A little longer!" We keep one eye on the mother, one eye on the progress of the delivery to see how much time we have, and one eye on the baby itself - is the umbilical cord around the neck? How big does it seem the baby is? Will she get stuck? Is the baby facing the right way? And through it all there is the 'Beep... Beep... Beep…' of the baby's foetal heart monitor tracing in the background. Our own heart rates seem inversely linked to that...the baby's heart rate goes down (a sign that the baby is struggling to get oxygen) and ours goes up proportionally. Even when our concentration seems fixated on the chart or the oxygen tank etc., a part of our mind is listening for that 'Beep... Beep... Beep…' because we know that if the beeps slow down and stay down, we may have a very sick baby.
When the baby's head finally emerges, even before she is born, our assessment has begun. Every little bit matters - the fluid the baby was bathing in, which way the baby's face was pointing, where the umbilical cord was - all of these will determine how much help the baby will need. And from the moment the baby's head is visible, a voice in our head is constantly screaming to the Obstetrician "give me the baby...come on give me the baby" because we know that when a baby is really sick 20 seconds spent while the cord is being cut is 20seconds that a baby is not breathing. And finally the baby screams for the first time...and the whole room breathes a collective sigh of relief because now everything will be fine. We congratulate the family...reassure them that they have a perfect baby and we leave the room. We know that we are unlikely to ever meet the family again but for that moment we've been part of their lives in a way that few get to experience.
But of course that is the perfect scenario...when the baby is fine and everyone is happy. Having seen enough deliveries where things don't go perfectly, I'm always so grateful for every delivery where things do. I'm so very glad that in the end everything was perfect for you and your little one! And I can't wait to hear about all the wonders to come …"
Chachu 28/07/2005
-----------------
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All the responses could easily be categorized into the Have-nots and the Have-been.
The Have-nots, those enjoying the fruits of celibacy, had still quite some distance to tread. The writings could only give them a vicarious experience; however, they could not appreciate the real fun involved. However, one young (and wise) lady made an interesting point. She said, "… It was really touching, especially for those who haven't gone through this stage of life yet. I could visualize everything and was overwhelmed with emotions. You are right. Paternal bond takes time but maternal bond is there even before the world knows the baby. But the irony is that men forget the pains women take. You got to remember the pains she had to go through to fill your life…" I never bore any pain. And what my spouse bore was slowly ebbing out of my memory. Her comment was a timely reminder.
This also reminded me what I felt about my parents when I was very young. I thought they had done me no favour in bringing me to this world. It was their moral duty and obligation to take good care of me. After all, I didn't ask them to bring me in. My infuriated parents remained silent to such slanderous comments and hoped that time could bring in some sense and sensibility in their self-indulgent son.
Now, however, I wonder what I would feel when my baby grows up and behaves in a similar fashion - may be even two steps ahead. Immediately, I recall all the moments spent with my baby. The first few months were especially challenging. During this time, when the biological clock understood no night or day, any moment was good enough to seek attention. The eyes remained dreary and one had to sneak outside one's bedroom to savour few moments of rest. The mosquitoes demanded a baby net. But the one I brought consumed half the bed. And so the two adults had to consume the leftovers while the baby - the prince - slept in all luxury. Then the difficult choice had to be made of whether to leave the baby unprotected or to sacrifice some comfort. The father felt it was all too demanding. What about the poor mother who went through the pain and ignominy before, during and after the childbirth?
Some Have-nots are on the verge. Their time is not too far - a year or two at the maximum. The whole idea excites them a lot, but there is also that anxiety for the pain involved.
The Have-been also have to take their steps - little steps with their little ones. Every step, every year passed, providing new lessons. A two-year old father recalls, "…Nice-n-sweet reminiscences.... Enjoyed it reading even more so since today is my daughter's second birthday ... and your column brought back similar memories and joys I had when I saw my baby for the first time. I clearly remember, when for the first time the nurse held her out to me, she winked at me - the nicest, cutest and most loveable wink a lady had ever given me. The first days after her birth, filled with a lot of joy, new experiences and anxieties. Well a great experience…"
Those who have taken five steps with their only kid still find each day a new experience. Every visit to the mall is accompanied by a demand for new toys. It is not easy to refuse. Alibis are not easy to find by. The mother says that the money is in short supply an argument that the kid is not ready to buy. And the granny, who is there only for a while, is too willing to oblige. The not-so-young baby has his wished fulfil. The bribe has done the trick, as the baby is ready to fly back with the granny.
Many have taken steps twice. And one such father laments how his son plays havoc in the life of his son's nanny. The boy is not too difficult to handle. But he is no pushover either. He will always challenge. It is in the fitness of things that he must be given his due respect. And occasionally, plaster his broken leg after a football game or nurse a forehead wounded in the game of hide-and-seek.
Some people however have a different view of things. They are outsiders, yet they play an integral part in our lives. They are doctors who influence and facilitate our lives. And one such distinguished doctor is my cousin sister Puja. And let me have the fortune of having her have the last words, …
"As a paediatrician I have watched these myriad of emotions flash across parents faces so many times it's almost difficult to count...yet each time is different. I've been on the other side from you...knowing a little too much of what's going on. We get called as paediatricians to deliveries whenever there is anticipation for a problem with the delivery so that we can resuscitate the baby if needed. And every time the experience is at once the same and at once very different.
Generally we walk into the room of a family we have never met before. Everyone looks up wondering and questioning, but not saying anything because I think to some degree they're too afraid to ask why there are even more doctors in the room than before. We get a history from the Obstetrician and staff and set up the resuscitation station. All this to the background noise of the Obstetrician coaching the mother "Push! Push! Push! Keep going! A little longer!" We keep one eye on the mother, one eye on the progress of the delivery to see how much time we have, and one eye on the baby itself - is the umbilical cord around the neck? How big does it seem the baby is? Will she get stuck? Is the baby facing the right way? And through it all there is the 'Beep... Beep... Beep…' of the baby's foetal heart monitor tracing in the background. Our own heart rates seem inversely linked to that...the baby's heart rate goes down (a sign that the baby is struggling to get oxygen) and ours goes up proportionally. Even when our concentration seems fixated on the chart or the oxygen tank etc., a part of our mind is listening for that 'Beep... Beep... Beep…' because we know that if the beeps slow down and stay down, we may have a very sick baby.
When the baby's head finally emerges, even before she is born, our assessment has begun. Every little bit matters - the fluid the baby was bathing in, which way the baby's face was pointing, where the umbilical cord was - all of these will determine how much help the baby will need. And from the moment the baby's head is visible, a voice in our head is constantly screaming to the Obstetrician "give me the baby...come on give me the baby" because we know that when a baby is really sick 20 seconds spent while the cord is being cut is 20seconds that a baby is not breathing. And finally the baby screams for the first time...and the whole room breathes a collective sigh of relief because now everything will be fine. We congratulate the family...reassure them that they have a perfect baby and we leave the room. We know that we are unlikely to ever meet the family again but for that moment we've been part of their lives in a way that few get to experience.
But of course that is the perfect scenario...when the baby is fine and everyone is happy. Having seen enough deliveries where things don't go perfectly, I'm always so grateful for every delivery where things do. I'm so very glad that in the end everything was perfect for you and your little one! And I can't wait to hear about all the wonders to come …"
Chachu 28/07/2005
-----------------
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Monday, July 18, 2005
Chachu's Column #35: Of Have-not & Have-been Parents and their doctors
It has been more than six months since I wrote the last column. This column started on a fortnightly basis, with some even dispatched within a week. With changing times, the unwritten rule of writing this column was about once a month. But this time, familial demands and general lethargy saw me letting me each month pass, probably with lesser pain or agony. It hurt the first time. But then it became a habit. So when three become four or four became six, it just did not hurt any more. In the past, such interruptions were marked by reminders from well wishers, who thought it was my duty to write and reminded me of the same. But this time there were hardly any such interludes even though half of 2005 had disappeared; only recently, a friendly soul dropped a one-liner inquiring about my health and the health of this column. But then, I was to board a train to drop my spouse and new born to my mother-in-law's place. When the job was done, and I was left to ponder over the memories of what transpired in last six months, I knew it was time this column was resurrected to give the anxious souls some peace.
It was as if it was yesterday when I was pacing the aisle of the local hospital where my spouse was admitted-in the operation theatre, and where I eagerly awaited for the first cries of my baby. And as Gods had destined, there was hardly a family member around because within minutes, my brother's marriage party (baraat) had to depart for the marriage venue, and everyone was assembled there. The baraat was in full cry with band party drumming and marching ahead. But my father was anxious. How would be the baby? What if something untoward happened?
The lady doctor had promised a delivery within 10 minutes. But it was now more than sixty. All through the day, she provided my wife courage to hold on and persist. The prolonged labour pains had taken a heavy toll on my wife who was unable to bear the pain any longer. The yet to be born baby (that was to bring millions of smile to us) had became a load too heavy to bear. I was merely a mute spectator and realized why the baby belonged to the mother. For sure!
Attendants and nurses kept moving in and out of the operation theatre. I wanted to know what was happening but no help was forthcoming. Then, one of attendants obliged by saying that the labour had stopped and the patient had no energy left. I wondered at the miraculous process of how babies were born, naturally, without artificial cuts to the womb. Our doctor was famous for her ability to avoid the knife. While it was rumoured that in order to make quick money many private clinics made the patient go through the knife without a sincere attempt, this doctor was different; presumably so. The shouts of the doctor could be clearly heard outside - egging my wife to give one final push. Try once more! Try once more! Try once more!
And then it happened - the first cries of my baby. Just like they show in movies where the first cry of the baby is followed by the maid running in and yelling, "Mubarak ho, aap dada ban gaye (Congratulations, you have become a grand father)!"
The doctor's husband, who ran the hospital, saw my anxiety and took me inside where I had the first look of my baby. It was a boy. All through the pregnancy, I had surmised that I was having a baby girl. Call it premonition, but that was indeed the case. The pervasive female foeticide had meant that the doctors did not reveal the sex of the baby no matter what. My rather modern mother had promised a grand celebration for a boy. The festivities ensuing birth of a baby girl were left unstated. I always asked her, why she being a woman, favoured a boy. She could never give me a convincing answer (an answer which I later got my self). But she always confirmed that I was going to have a boy. Thus, when a boy was born, I presumed that my religious mother, through her mystical powers, had changed the sex of my baby when it was taking shape in its mother's womb.
The phones were ringing every minute, both from my mother now dancing in the baraat, and my mother-in-law, enquiring about the status. And when the much-awaited news was divulged, the marriage bands only grew louder. Currency notes were doled out without much thought. And the news of a grandson meant my mother's joy knew no bounds. Even the gold ornaments were not spared and some beneficiaries became instantly richer by few tolas of the shining metal.
In the mean while, I was taken by the doctors for the first look. The baby was soaked in blood and was being cleaned. The very first look was one of disbelief; I was trying to establish the link. The mother had a natural connection; but what about the father? I tried to tell myself that it was my child - but the paternal bond required more time. Soon, I was handed over the child to be taken to the room for the mother and the child. The baby had a slightly elongated head and I wondered whether everything was alright. But there was nothing to worry. Soon, a tired yet relieved mother joined and the family was complete.
While the marriage party continued, I only gave a brief appearance where congratulations rained from all quarters. And before people realized, I was back with my family. And within 24 hours, after a short and simple sojourn at the hospital, we were back in the confines of our house.
To start with, I was very apprehensive about my baby. I feared that an untidy hand could make my baby sick. Thus, I did all I could to prevent people from touching him. I even did not go to office for two weeks just to ensure that the first fortnight, I was there when the child and the mother needed me most. Then there was the Jalwa function (celebration of birth of baby!) where everyone got a chance to cuddle my baby. I wanted to prevent it, but I was helpless. Nothing happened though.
Slowly, my wife regained strength. It seemed that childbirth took all energies from the mother's body. But there was gradual recovery.
I also learnt many many things. I learnt that it was not as bad as it seemed because kids however delicate had their own immunity. I also learnt how God naturally provided mother's milk for the baby. How the cries of the baby resulted in natural flow of mother's milk. How some kids had their mother's milk till the age of six, while some did not know or like the milk at all. I learnt how the babies did not have their skull joined to start with and how the gap closed with the passage of time. How babies could not hold their neck or even their back till quite some time. Every few weeks there was a new learning - the problem of jaundice or the routine vaccination.
Some of us have already gone through this while others will go through this. Each baby brings his share of joys. Mine brought too. One may ask how was my first experience. I would say that the birth of my princely baby 'Raj' was not an experience. It was the beginning of a life time of experiences - the latest of them being his ability to get up if you hold his hands slightly and pull it gently. His ability to apply force and get up is indeed a sight. Or for that matter seeing him hold a toy in his hand for a minute or two. Simple things but a treat to watch - so pure, so innocent ...
Chachu 18/07/2005
------------
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It was as if it was yesterday when I was pacing the aisle of the local hospital where my spouse was admitted-in the operation theatre, and where I eagerly awaited for the first cries of my baby. And as Gods had destined, there was hardly a family member around because within minutes, my brother's marriage party (baraat) had to depart for the marriage venue, and everyone was assembled there. The baraat was in full cry with band party drumming and marching ahead. But my father was anxious. How would be the baby? What if something untoward happened?
The lady doctor had promised a delivery within 10 minutes. But it was now more than sixty. All through the day, she provided my wife courage to hold on and persist. The prolonged labour pains had taken a heavy toll on my wife who was unable to bear the pain any longer. The yet to be born baby (that was to bring millions of smile to us) had became a load too heavy to bear. I was merely a mute spectator and realized why the baby belonged to the mother. For sure!
Attendants and nurses kept moving in and out of the operation theatre. I wanted to know what was happening but no help was forthcoming. Then, one of attendants obliged by saying that the labour had stopped and the patient had no energy left. I wondered at the miraculous process of how babies were born, naturally, without artificial cuts to the womb. Our doctor was famous for her ability to avoid the knife. While it was rumoured that in order to make quick money many private clinics made the patient go through the knife without a sincere attempt, this doctor was different; presumably so. The shouts of the doctor could be clearly heard outside - egging my wife to give one final push. Try once more! Try once more! Try once more!
And then it happened - the first cries of my baby. Just like they show in movies where the first cry of the baby is followed by the maid running in and yelling, "Mubarak ho, aap dada ban gaye (Congratulations, you have become a grand father)!"
The doctor's husband, who ran the hospital, saw my anxiety and took me inside where I had the first look of my baby. It was a boy. All through the pregnancy, I had surmised that I was having a baby girl. Call it premonition, but that was indeed the case. The pervasive female foeticide had meant that the doctors did not reveal the sex of the baby no matter what. My rather modern mother had promised a grand celebration for a boy. The festivities ensuing birth of a baby girl were left unstated. I always asked her, why she being a woman, favoured a boy. She could never give me a convincing answer (an answer which I later got my self). But she always confirmed that I was going to have a boy. Thus, when a boy was born, I presumed that my religious mother, through her mystical powers, had changed the sex of my baby when it was taking shape in its mother's womb.
The phones were ringing every minute, both from my mother now dancing in the baraat, and my mother-in-law, enquiring about the status. And when the much-awaited news was divulged, the marriage bands only grew louder. Currency notes were doled out without much thought. And the news of a grandson meant my mother's joy knew no bounds. Even the gold ornaments were not spared and some beneficiaries became instantly richer by few tolas of the shining metal.
In the mean while, I was taken by the doctors for the first look. The baby was soaked in blood and was being cleaned. The very first look was one of disbelief; I was trying to establish the link. The mother had a natural connection; but what about the father? I tried to tell myself that it was my child - but the paternal bond required more time. Soon, I was handed over the child to be taken to the room for the mother and the child. The baby had a slightly elongated head and I wondered whether everything was alright. But there was nothing to worry. Soon, a tired yet relieved mother joined and the family was complete.
While the marriage party continued, I only gave a brief appearance where congratulations rained from all quarters. And before people realized, I was back with my family. And within 24 hours, after a short and simple sojourn at the hospital, we were back in the confines of our house.
To start with, I was very apprehensive about my baby. I feared that an untidy hand could make my baby sick. Thus, I did all I could to prevent people from touching him. I even did not go to office for two weeks just to ensure that the first fortnight, I was there when the child and the mother needed me most. Then there was the Jalwa function (celebration of birth of baby!) where everyone got a chance to cuddle my baby. I wanted to prevent it, but I was helpless. Nothing happened though.
Slowly, my wife regained strength. It seemed that childbirth took all energies from the mother's body. But there was gradual recovery.
I also learnt many many things. I learnt that it was not as bad as it seemed because kids however delicate had their own immunity. I also learnt how God naturally provided mother's milk for the baby. How the cries of the baby resulted in natural flow of mother's milk. How some kids had their mother's milk till the age of six, while some did not know or like the milk at all. I learnt how the babies did not have their skull joined to start with and how the gap closed with the passage of time. How babies could not hold their neck or even their back till quite some time. Every few weeks there was a new learning - the problem of jaundice or the routine vaccination.
Some of us have already gone through this while others will go through this. Each baby brings his share of joys. Mine brought too. One may ask how was my first experience. I would say that the birth of my princely baby 'Raj' was not an experience. It was the beginning of a life time of experiences - the latest of them being his ability to get up if you hold his hands slightly and pull it gently. His ability to apply force and get up is indeed a sight. Or for that matter seeing him hold a toy in his hand for a minute or two. Simple things but a treat to watch - so pure, so innocent ...
Chachu 18/07/2005
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Friday, January 14, 2005
Chachu's Column #33: The broken bonnet
Just few days back, I was on my way to my office. Suddenly, the sedan in front of me applied its brake and before I knew what had happened, there was a loud sound - bang. My last memory of that accident was my car's inability to stop. While I tried to figure out what went wrong, the driver in front came charging out. To my surprise, instead of beating me up (which has become a regular feature on Delhi streets) he charged a lady that was leisurely crossing the street. The whole story was now clear. The lady had dashed suddenly and the car in front had no option but to hit the pedal with all the thrust. I was slightly late to hit the pedal; to add to this, probably, my car's braking ability did not match the sedan's might. The driver ascertained the damage and finding none, left the scene of action. I also moved ahead, lucky to avoid a scuffle with him. But getting down and inspecting closely, I found that the bonnet was completely damaged. Getting the car repaired was definitely an irritant, more so when my car was the only means to reach my work place. But at the garage, I was pleased to know that they were quite willing to offer a replacement car free of cost till my car was brought back into action. They kept my passport and I got their car.
The broken bonnet (like any other problem in life) required some time and cost to be fixed. The cost of the damage here would partially be borne by the insurance company. But I too had to pay - pay in terms of the remaining cost, pay by carrying the fear of driving and hitting someone again (which only happened yesterday when someone banged me again), the fear of using someone else's car that too could get damaged (incidentally, it broke down on new year's eve, the very day I was taking it home) and many other things. But with this cost comes some learning. The wise men do not require broken bonnets. But then, wisdom comes only after breaking a few bonnets.
In the last few weeks, many an events warrant a comment. The massive Tsunami lashed out on many parts of South-east Asia leaving about two lakh people dead or missing. It is being said that it took about three hours for the waves to reach India from the epicentre of the earthquake that caused this havoc. But while the government slept, it was left for the news channel to report the damage when the tragedy had already transpired. Now the president wants a system to detect Tsunami, when it conjectured that Tsunami comes roughly every ten thousand years or more.
Deaths or accidents are not new or uncommon to India. Nor they should be. It is a simple reflection of the way our systems are built. Be it the signalling systems in railways or the traffic movements, or the naked power lines merely few feet away from balconies, the danger is inherent. It is just in our abilities to adapt to these imperfections that cause much lesser damage than the imperfect systems demand.
Daily, I cross a railway crossing. The guard operates through a shabby room. Quite a few times, I have seen red flags blocking the railway tracks, an indication that I interpreted as a faulty signal. Everyday, I wondered what all equipment or signalling systems were there in the room enabling the guard to manage the crossing. The red flags too were an enigma to me. One day, I entered the guard's room only to find that there was no equipment in there except a very old fashioned telephone. I asked the guard how he operated and he nonchalantly said that he had all the things that he required. He further added that someday there would a major accident here as the crossing was officially not a crossing and that it required the station head-master's permission to be opened. The red flags were merely a substitute for the missing signal, indicating that the crossing was open and that the train should tread cautiously. I wondered what all could possibly happen in heavy dew. There were so many possibilities and some times they did materialize. As a train collision took place only few weeks back where two trains hit head on. Train accidents are not new. But what are the lessons from the numerous broken bonnets that every one of us has witnessed so far. I see none that has brought appreciable differences in our lives.
Few months back, Christiano Junior died in the finals of a prestigious national level football competition. Even at that level, there were no medical personnel to provide emergency help to the gasping footballer. The man, who had came all over from Brazil, went back in his coffin with a distraught wife. Since then, there are reports that football matches have emergency medical assistance to tackle situations like these. It still remains to be seen how sincere or effective the steps will be.
At a macro level, certain trends clearly emerge. First of all, there is no premium on anyone's life. Death should be deemed sacrosanct and come under ultimate situation. But in our country, death is cheap and a routine affair. 60 died in Godhra by suffocating inside a burning train. But there were no emergency exits. 1000 more died in the aftermath, and you can see the farcical drama acted in the news channels involving one of the victims who now says she was coerced into making false affidavits. The presence of weak police and an ineffective judiciary makes the act of murder much less risky than it ought to be. This is only one part. The second part is the that makes death trivial is the margin we leave for errors. Our lives are always on the edge. Just like my car. One misplaced nut in the system and my bonnet went kaput. Similar is the case with overloaded buses, lorries and boats whose accidents are routine affairs.
Apart from the margins, there is a wilful violation of laws or norms: Jumping red lights or crossing roads when subways are there; or sending 10 children on a rickshaw that can carry just two people. The outcome is a society that has lost the definitions of right or wrong, the legal and the illegal. Bonnets keep on getting broken. Some are lucky to survive after denting. Some meet their last. What lessons are learnt? Is there any improvement? Or is the urban landscape now fraught with ever increasing danger.
The third angle relates to the theory that we are a poor country. Thus, people may die in absence of medical attention but help may not be forthcoming. But I believe that no way are we a poor country. The notion of monetary weakness allows us to be misgoverned and be convinced that it is due to lack of resources. The poverty is in the minds than at the banks. The foreign exchange coffers are flowing with over 120 billion dollars of reserve. A bulk of financial transactions is in black rather than in white. And the lament remains that we are a poor country.
Among this lament, what is the way out? India's solution and its problems lie in its people. If the 1billion people come together, there is so much that can be achieved. And if each charters his/her own course, there is collision and broken bonnets. Taking everyone together like a battalion in a march past is not easy. It requires great leaders, but none are forthcoming. Then?
What about me? What were my learnings? Of course, changes in the society are not easy to bring about? But at least, I can increase the margins: all types of margin that endanger my life of lives of those around me. That is for starters. The next step is to pay for the increased margin and shun those who are insensitive to it. For example, I may not choose to send my children to school in rickshaws that are not safe. If people start paying for additional safety, then obviously the costs of living would increase but so will the safety levels. In developed countries, there may be lot of wastage, but that allows the shops to serve only the best to the customers. It then boils to increased safety and comfort at an expense. This would avoid accidents like people dying after consuming illicit liquor. The next step would obviously happen at a macro level where institutional changes have a salubrious impact on our lives.
More some other time. Wishing you all a happy and more importantly a safe 2005.
Chachu 14/01/2005
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The broken bonnet (like any other problem in life) required some time and cost to be fixed. The cost of the damage here would partially be borne by the insurance company. But I too had to pay - pay in terms of the remaining cost, pay by carrying the fear of driving and hitting someone again (which only happened yesterday when someone banged me again), the fear of using someone else's car that too could get damaged (incidentally, it broke down on new year's eve, the very day I was taking it home) and many other things. But with this cost comes some learning. The wise men do not require broken bonnets. But then, wisdom comes only after breaking a few bonnets.
In the last few weeks, many an events warrant a comment. The massive Tsunami lashed out on many parts of South-east Asia leaving about two lakh people dead or missing. It is being said that it took about three hours for the waves to reach India from the epicentre of the earthquake that caused this havoc. But while the government slept, it was left for the news channel to report the damage when the tragedy had already transpired. Now the president wants a system to detect Tsunami, when it conjectured that Tsunami comes roughly every ten thousand years or more.
Deaths or accidents are not new or uncommon to India. Nor they should be. It is a simple reflection of the way our systems are built. Be it the signalling systems in railways or the traffic movements, or the naked power lines merely few feet away from balconies, the danger is inherent. It is just in our abilities to adapt to these imperfections that cause much lesser damage than the imperfect systems demand.
Daily, I cross a railway crossing. The guard operates through a shabby room. Quite a few times, I have seen red flags blocking the railway tracks, an indication that I interpreted as a faulty signal. Everyday, I wondered what all equipment or signalling systems were there in the room enabling the guard to manage the crossing. The red flags too were an enigma to me. One day, I entered the guard's room only to find that there was no equipment in there except a very old fashioned telephone. I asked the guard how he operated and he nonchalantly said that he had all the things that he required. He further added that someday there would a major accident here as the crossing was officially not a crossing and that it required the station head-master's permission to be opened. The red flags were merely a substitute for the missing signal, indicating that the crossing was open and that the train should tread cautiously. I wondered what all could possibly happen in heavy dew. There were so many possibilities and some times they did materialize. As a train collision took place only few weeks back where two trains hit head on. Train accidents are not new. But what are the lessons from the numerous broken bonnets that every one of us has witnessed so far. I see none that has brought appreciable differences in our lives.
Few months back, Christiano Junior died in the finals of a prestigious national level football competition. Even at that level, there were no medical personnel to provide emergency help to the gasping footballer. The man, who had came all over from Brazil, went back in his coffin with a distraught wife. Since then, there are reports that football matches have emergency medical assistance to tackle situations like these. It still remains to be seen how sincere or effective the steps will be.
At a macro level, certain trends clearly emerge. First of all, there is no premium on anyone's life. Death should be deemed sacrosanct and come under ultimate situation. But in our country, death is cheap and a routine affair. 60 died in Godhra by suffocating inside a burning train. But there were no emergency exits. 1000 more died in the aftermath, and you can see the farcical drama acted in the news channels involving one of the victims who now says she was coerced into making false affidavits. The presence of weak police and an ineffective judiciary makes the act of murder much less risky than it ought to be. This is only one part. The second part is the that makes death trivial is the margin we leave for errors. Our lives are always on the edge. Just like my car. One misplaced nut in the system and my bonnet went kaput. Similar is the case with overloaded buses, lorries and boats whose accidents are routine affairs.
Apart from the margins, there is a wilful violation of laws or norms: Jumping red lights or crossing roads when subways are there; or sending 10 children on a rickshaw that can carry just two people. The outcome is a society that has lost the definitions of right or wrong, the legal and the illegal. Bonnets keep on getting broken. Some are lucky to survive after denting. Some meet their last. What lessons are learnt? Is there any improvement? Or is the urban landscape now fraught with ever increasing danger.
The third angle relates to the theory that we are a poor country. Thus, people may die in absence of medical attention but help may not be forthcoming. But I believe that no way are we a poor country. The notion of monetary weakness allows us to be misgoverned and be convinced that it is due to lack of resources. The poverty is in the minds than at the banks. The foreign exchange coffers are flowing with over 120 billion dollars of reserve. A bulk of financial transactions is in black rather than in white. And the lament remains that we are a poor country.
Among this lament, what is the way out? India's solution and its problems lie in its people. If the 1billion people come together, there is so much that can be achieved. And if each charters his/her own course, there is collision and broken bonnets. Taking everyone together like a battalion in a march past is not easy. It requires great leaders, but none are forthcoming. Then?
What about me? What were my learnings? Of course, changes in the society are not easy to bring about? But at least, I can increase the margins: all types of margin that endanger my life of lives of those around me. That is for starters. The next step is to pay for the increased margin and shun those who are insensitive to it. For example, I may not choose to send my children to school in rickshaws that are not safe. If people start paying for additional safety, then obviously the costs of living would increase but so will the safety levels. In developed countries, there may be lot of wastage, but that allows the shops to serve only the best to the customers. It then boils to increased safety and comfort at an expense. This would avoid accidents like people dying after consuming illicit liquor. The next step would obviously happen at a macro level where institutional changes have a salubrious impact on our lives.
More some other time. Wishing you all a happy and more importantly a safe 2005.
Chachu 14/01/2005
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