<p>From falling in love to heartbreak, we have songs for every situation. Every occasion has been immortalised by songs. From ‘rang barse’ to ‘badtameez dil’, we just cannot do without our songs and dances. So why leave essential services behind?</p>.<p>In most other countries, municipalities or private garbage collectors work silently, almost invisibly. Only very early risers know of these vehicles that sneak in and empty dumpsters—as if they are ashamed of their jobs. </p><p>Not us though, no sir! Proud as peacocks we are of our system; no hiding in the pre-morning haze for us. And like for everything else, we make great songs and dances about this as well. And therein lies the genius of whoever thought of equipping our garbage vans with songs. </p><p>The language may change with region, and the song may change with the powers at the top. From ‘gadiwala aaya ghar se kachra nikalo’ to ‘swachch Bharat ka irada’, the tunes are so catchy that one almost expects to see merry dancers swaying along.</p>.<p>We can hear the van from three streets away, as can the street dogs who start howling along and smacking their lips in anticipation of the juicy tidbits that are sure to drop along the way. In the very early days of the programme, people would stand in front of their houses, trash tied and ready, feet tapping in rhythm to the song. It was almost a ‘saathi haath badhana’ kind of heart-warming sight. Only somebody had forgotten to instruct the drivers of these shiny vans that they needed to stop periodically to collect the garbage. It was a riveting sight—people racing after the vans and aiming kachra while others bet whether their neighbour Mr Singh’s kachra would land in the van or splat by the wayside.</p>.<p>We needn’t have cared though; if not in front of our homes, it would still be dumped not-so-discreetly in the outskirts of the town or nearby water bodies. Need we despair and hang our heads in shame at the state of our swachchta? Should we care that choked drains are leading to annual floods in our cities? Need we wonder why it is only us and not the authorities who notice that the growing size of our garbage dumps is vying with that of our mountains, given that they are being flattened equally speedily?</p>.<p>Absolutely not! We have our song and dance in place—what more could we ask for? Aage hai problem, peeche hai problem... but don’t worry, be happy!</p>
<p>From falling in love to heartbreak, we have songs for every situation. Every occasion has been immortalised by songs. From ‘rang barse’ to ‘badtameez dil’, we just cannot do without our songs and dances. So why leave essential services behind?</p>.<p>In most other countries, municipalities or private garbage collectors work silently, almost invisibly. Only very early risers know of these vehicles that sneak in and empty dumpsters—as if they are ashamed of their jobs. </p><p>Not us though, no sir! Proud as peacocks we are of our system; no hiding in the pre-morning haze for us. And like for everything else, we make great songs and dances about this as well. And therein lies the genius of whoever thought of equipping our garbage vans with songs. </p><p>The language may change with region, and the song may change with the powers at the top. From ‘gadiwala aaya ghar se kachra nikalo’ to ‘swachch Bharat ka irada’, the tunes are so catchy that one almost expects to see merry dancers swaying along.</p>.<p>We can hear the van from three streets away, as can the street dogs who start howling along and smacking their lips in anticipation of the juicy tidbits that are sure to drop along the way. In the very early days of the programme, people would stand in front of their houses, trash tied and ready, feet tapping in rhythm to the song. It was almost a ‘saathi haath badhana’ kind of heart-warming sight. Only somebody had forgotten to instruct the drivers of these shiny vans that they needed to stop periodically to collect the garbage. It was a riveting sight—people racing after the vans and aiming kachra while others bet whether their neighbour Mr Singh’s kachra would land in the van or splat by the wayside.</p>.<p>We needn’t have cared though; if not in front of our homes, it would still be dumped not-so-discreetly in the outskirts of the town or nearby water bodies. Need we despair and hang our heads in shame at the state of our swachchta? Should we care that choked drains are leading to annual floods in our cities? Need we wonder why it is only us and not the authorities who notice that the growing size of our garbage dumps is vying with that of our mountains, given that they are being flattened equally speedily?</p>.<p>Absolutely not! We have our song and dance in place—what more could we ask for? Aage hai problem, peeche hai problem... but don’t worry, be happy!</p>
