Waste Bengal

The shenanigans have started to sound again. The walls are being painted or rather repainted with the colours of political parties, their emblems and requests. Banners have taken their place along roadsides. But most unwanted of all these and many more is perhaps the regular rally at every locality or junction, which throws life out of gear and makes a moment of silence very hard bought. With yet another election coming up, the race for Writers’ has heated up.

The government with nothing worthwhile to showcase in its last thirty years of governance still feels it is the best candidate to take the state forward. The opposition, although a namesake one, does not have the experience or the ability but is still convinced that it will be the lone torchbearer to the progress of the state. It is ironic that despite such an effective government and a confident opposition the state of West Bengal is well on its way to the ruins. The constant bickering and one-up-man ship has left the state in complete mess. It is perhaps the biggest victim of this political drama that unfolds here once in every five years.

The ever insecure politicians have surely forsaken their moral duties and responsibilities towards the state in lieu of their seats. Such is the addiction to the corridors of power, that the plight of the common man is considered secondary in governance. The roads which are repaired bi-annually are in a state of perennial disrepair. Any person, mobile or otherwise, would vouch for it. Shortage of electricity has reached alarming levels. The length of power cuts imposed makes one wonder the significance of having a state electricity regulation board and its claim of regular, uninterrupted supply. Perhaps it is time to go back to the age where lamps were the source of light, bullock carts used to be the mode of transport and people would work from their homes.

At least it would save the time and energy required to travel from home to office on rickety buses, plying on dug up roads with clogged drains unable to drain out the rainwater. For a city with a history three hundred years, it is surprising that every year the civic authorities are taken by surprise at the extent of water logging. This is what remains to happen when the drainage system that runs underground remains to be overhauled despite its age which would be from the time the English conquered India. Such is the condition of the lone metro city in Eastern India, the previous capital of erstwhile British India. I would love to spare a thought for the villagers but deep inside I can feel that their situation is no inferior to ours.

Only if the government could wake up to the difficulties of the common man; only if the opposition would take its time of bashing the government and sing a tune more constructive – this state would surely be a better place to live. It would not be called a waste.