Santa is sitting by the scenic village stream, munching happily on a bright packet of Nut Cracker. He finishes the last piece, crumples the packet with a flourish, and with a casual flick of his wrist, sends it sailing into the bushes near the stream bank.
“Out of sight, out of mind!” he declares with a satisfied burp.
“Keeps the village clean, eh Banta?”
Banta, who is meticulously clearing some old leaves and a couple of plastic bottles from the edge of the stream further up, watches Santa’s aerial disposal with a raised eyebrow and a sigh that could rival the wind whistling through the pines.
“Ah, Santa,” Banta says, walking over, “your aim is as true as Arjun‘s, but I fear your target selection might just invite a rather unpleasant Monsoon Melody for our village.”
Santa, puzzled, asks, “Monsoon Melody?”
“What are you talking about, Banta?”
“I just got rid of a tiny wrapper.”
“It’s not like I threw a whole Bori of rubbish!”
“True, Santa,” Banta concedes, picking up the discarded wrapper.
“It’s just one tiny, shiny, almost weightless piece of plastic.”
“But imagine your one flying wrapper meeting its cousin, old Gangu’s empty oil packet, and then they bump into Mrs. Dhyani’s discarded soap pouch from her morning wash upstream.”
“Soon, this family reunion of plastic Parivaar grows in the nooks and crannies of our drains and nullahs.”
Santa chuckles. “A plastic Parivaar reunion!”
“You have a way with words, Banta!”
“It might sound funny now, Santa,” Banta continues, his tone becoming a bit more serious, though still with a twinkle in his eye, “but when the first heavy monsoon showers arrive, these plastic relatives, along with dry leaves and other bits of ‘Kooda-Kachra that people think magically disappear, get swept into our ‘Naalis and this very stream.”
“They don’t dissolve like good old gobar.”
“Oh no! They are expert traffic jam creators!”
“Traffic jam?”
“In the stream?” Santa asks, amused.
“They snag on stones, catch on roots, and weave themselves into lovely, waterproof Chatais at the bottom of our drains and culverts.”
“Soon, the drain that was supposed to carry away rainwater like a swift messenger is choked, constipated, and starts grumbling.”
“The water, finding its path blocked, decides to take a detour – right into your courtyards, onto our pathways, and sometimes even into our homes, bringing along a delightful perfume of mixed village waste!”
Santa’s smile wavers a bit as he imagines his own courtyard flooded with smelly water.
“And that’s just the Pani ki Pareshani, Santa,” Banta adds.
“Think about those pretty slopes above our village.”
“When we generously decorate them with our daily waste, especially plastics that don’t let water seep through, it can do two things.”
“One, the rainwater flows over the plastic-covered surface much faster, carrying away precious topsoil.”
“Two, if water gets trapped under these plastic sheets or within piles of dumped garbage on a slope, it can make the ground soggy, heavy, and Phislu from underneath – a perfect invitation for a small landslide to start its journey, perhaps taking a bit of someone’s field or a boundary wall along for a ride.”
Santa looks at the innocent-looking Nut Cracker wrapper in Banta’s hand with newfound suspicion.
“So, my one little Pataka of a wrapper can join an army of other Patakas and cause a flood in my own Aangan or make the hillside above us want to go on a vacation?”
Banta nods gravely, but then a slight smile returns.
“It seems our out of sight, out of mind approach to waste, Santa, can lead to it being very much in our face, in our homes, and sometimes even under our feet when nature decides to send the bills during the monsoon.”
“Keeping our drains clear and our slopes clean isn’t just about Sundar Uttarakhand for the tourists; it’s about Surakshit Uttarakhand for ourselves.”
Santa sheepishly takes the wrapper from Banta.
“Alright, Banta. No more flying wrapper practice for me.”
“I’ll find a proper dustbin, even if I have to walk a bit.”
“I’d rather hear the birds sing than my own courtyard gurgle a choked nullah symphony!”
Banta laughs. “Wisely said, Santa!”
“Every wrapper in its place keeps the floods and slips at bay, more or less!”
संता – बंता की इस जुगलबन्दी से आज हमने क्या सीखा:-
- हमारे द्वारा कूड़ा-करकट को लापरवाही और गैर-जिम्मेदाराना तरीके से कही भी फ़ेक देने से, विशेष रूप से प्लास्टिक का कचरा गाड़-गधेरों के जल प्रवाह को अवरुद्ध कर सकता हैं।
- गाड़-गधेरों का अवरुद्ध जल प्रवाह भारी बारिश की स्थिति में बाढ़ व जल भराव का जोखिम बढ़ सकता हैं।
- ढाल पर जमा कूड़ा-करकट भू-क्षरण के साथ ही सतही जल प्रवाह में बढ़ोत्तरी कर भू-स्खलन का जोखिम बढ़ा सकता हैं।
- सही तरीके से कूड़ा-करकट का निस्तारण करना हर किसी का सामाजिक कर्तव्य हैं और यह समाज के स्तर पर किये जाने वाले आपदा प्रबन्धन सम्बन्धित कार्यो का एक महत्वपूर्ण हिस्सा हैं।
- अपने पास-पड़ोस को साफ़ रख कर हम अपनी घातकता को कम कर के सुरक्षित रह सकते हैं।
संता – बंता की यह जुगलबन्दी आपको कैसी लगी, कृपया हमें जरुर बताये
व
इस जुगलबन्दी को बेहतर बनाने के लिये अपने सुझाव अवश्य दें।
हमें हमेशा की तरह आपके सुझावों, प्रतिक्रियाओं व कटाक्षो का बेसब्री से इंतजार रहता हैं और सच मानिये इसी के आधार पर हम अपने आप में, अपनी सोच व रचनात्मकता में सुधार करने को प्रेरित होते हैं।
सो अच्छा – बुरा जैसा आपको महसूस हुवा हो, कमेंट जरुर करते रहें।
Very well written