Oh, For The Love Of Gutka
My flight to Mumbai via Dubai is touch-and-go, as Emirates will, understandably, cancel flights at the slightest whiff of impending danger. The on-and-off threats of wiping out civilizations and counter-threats of dire reprisals can be daunting for any airline plying in and out of the turbulent Gulf region. We do take off, and after a five-hour wait at a less crowded airport in Dubai, I land in muggy Mumbai. Indian immigration has its act together; the petite officer, hair heavily laden with scarlet sindoor, smiles widely, wags her head, and thumps my passport on the page I request due to rapidly dwindling pages.My glasses fog, and I start sweating the moment I step out of the terminal and make my way to the line of cabs waiting for prepaid customers like me. The driver, an ancient-looking Muslim man with a prayer cap that has seen many, many Eids, wipes the passenger-side seat with a dubious-looking rag with a flourish, bares decaying red teeth, exhales gutka fumes that briefly makes me forget my sciatica pain, and asks me to take a seat. He can barely speak because of the nasty stuff crowding his mouth. He guns the engine, rolls down the window, spits a stream of red gutka onto the pavement, and we jerk into stop-and-go traffic. It’s a short trip to the Novotel Hotel near the airport, less than a mile, but it takes us over thirty minutes because of the maddening early-morning traffic.
Mumbai has not changed in the six months I have been here. What makes me reel is the absolute addiction to the nasty gudka, especially among the young. It’s fiercely rampant and unceasing, a total dependency on this poison. I can smell the rot on the breath of the young lad who checks me in at the hotel, the potbellied guard who smiles falsely, anticipating a tip for holding the door open for me, and the crowds of teenagers who flock to the corner hole-in-the-wall paan shop that peddles cigarettes and gudka of every size and every colorful sachet imaginable. The government has rightly banned its domestic use, but violations are blatantly tolerated. Exports are exempted. Too much easy moola to ignore.
My mission is to Sirsi, UP, a 90-minute flight from Mumbai to Delhi, followed by a 5-hour drive. Tucked away in the agricultural heart of Uttar Pradesh, Sirsi is a mostly Muslim village deprived of affordable education and educational services. CAI has constructed a 1,200-student school, 320 homes for the homeless, two orphanages, and will now support a medical clinic that urgently needs refurbishment. I am going to Sirsi with Aliakber Ratansi, a lifelong, selfless contributor to the success of CAI projects across India. At 75, he still has the drive and passion to implement daunting CAI projects, even while struggling with serious medical challenges. The total pull of gudka addiction is underscored by his continued use of this venom, despite his medical condition.
We land in New Delhi, where it is scorching 108 °F (43 °C), baking the capital and contributing to some of the world’s most suffocating pollution. Eleven of the world’s worst-polluted locations are in northern India, with Delhi the third most polluted. I am struggling to breathe and coughing within ten minutes while waiting for our ride, and I get relief only after the air conditioner is in full swing.
It’s Monkey Business, Sirjee
The drive to Sirsi is now quicker. It used to take six-plus hours to make the trip about ten years ago. It was all countryside then, but now the modern highway is lined with businesses and chains of mostly all-veg dhabas. I spot only one beaten-down, fly-infested non-veg eatery, but you won’t find me eating there for a billion bucks. Our school at Sirsi is doing well, with 1,200 students, mostly poor Muslims but a sizable Hindu minority as well, from across the area now able to attend an affordable school; the very poor pay 10% – it is not free. The medical clinic needs significant modernization, but we’ll need funds for it. I can’t ignore the needs, since it helps an awful lot of poor, sick people, some with urgent medical needs. Our orphans are flourishing, eating healthy food, and have excellent facilities for their health, spiritual, and psychological growth.The biggest problem, apart from the stifling heat and omnipresent loadshedding about every 30 minutes, at the school and other CAI projects in the sprawling Bahman complex is large monkey clans that terrorize the school and surrounding communities. They poop all over the school, breed frenziedly, steal books, and break anything they find challenging, including desks and tables. They snatch eyeglasses from unsuspecting students and teachers, steal lunches from students’ eager fingers, and even assault lone women walking between buildings. Because they are Hanuman, the Hindu god, by Indian law, nobody can shoo, hurt, or kill them. If arrested, it is a non-bailable offense that can result in years of imprisonment if convicted. The problem is so dire that the school functions only through fear and appeasement of the monkeys.
After a lot of contemplation and debate, we’ve decided to try to beat these destructive monkeys with their own ilk – langurs. For unknown reasons, monkeys are terrified of langurs and will run for their lives if they see one. These langurs don’t come cheap, however, costing over US$500 a month to rent. Their owner looks down with contempt and sneers at anyone who dares to negotiate a better deal. Take it or leave it, he says. This is monkey business, Sirjee, not easy.