Delhi Jal Board. Sheila Dixit. Sonia Vihar Water Treatment Plant. World Bank. PwC. Parivartan. Vandana Shiva. Privatization. Public private participation. Failure. Lessons learnt. Thank you.
Fuck. Finally over.
I was satisfied with the way the final story had came out to be. The eleven pages term paper made an interesting read. It’s hard to believe someone can be so excited about creating a case study by gathering information from the web, that he can call it a story, isn’t it? Meet me. 🙂
I like my story (or term paper or case study, whatever suits you) so much that I am going to paste the first paragraph it of right here. Here I go:
Water was on everyone’s mind on the evening of 26th February 2004 as they had their welcome dinner at the Taj Palace Hotel in New Delhi. A National Media workshop on Water, organized by the Asian Development Bank (ADB) was to take place the next day. Sitting among other delegates, was Mr. P. K. Tripathi, the CEO of Delhi Jal Board (DJB). He held the view that public private participation was the best way out to bring out DJB from the large debt trap that it was trapped in. This was supposed to be the focus of his presentation when he would be on stage the next day.
At about six thirty in the morning, it was time to go, buy a fag, blow out the smoke and feel good about the hard work and the sleepless night. It was time to celebrate the fact that though rarely, working on infrastructural assignments did give me a kick! And last, but not the least, it was time to gear up enough patience to come back to room, make a presentation, present it at 9:20 AM in the department, come back to room, revise for the end sem that was to begin at one, sit for three hours, write for three hours, and reach back the room, alive.
I was still near the fag shop. The tobacco was burning, resting between the fingers. I saw a puppy.
A small black, next-street son of some bitch that was cute enough to be called cute was trying to enter IIT through the gate that separated the fag-shops outside and the green life inside. There was no bitch around to take care of the animal. One lonely asshole decided to help another lonely dog. I lifted it up and helped it cross the caged covering of the culvert that existed at the gate, because its small legs would keep falling between the gaps of the cage made of parallel steel rods, running across the road.
It was not desired inside the campus. With equal love that I had shown, the security guard picked it up and placed it outside. The scene was set. The drama was to begin. The real-life drama.
A mother-fucking giant pot-bellied brown and white goat who didn’t like the dark puppy, wanted to crush it down. It attacked the small animal who was already missing it’s mumma. The goat became the villain in seconds. Everyone out there hated the bloody goat for what it was upto. The puppy was crying out loud with eyes closed, back pressed to the textured pavement, and small legs facing the morning sky. Before the goat could do much, it was shoved away, forced to get lost. The puppy was safe. It found few more to take care of it. A moment before it was under a mad goat’s horns, and now, there it was, being fondled by a kid, who didn’t care to wear anything more than his dirty khadi shorts even in the cold morning.
Patience. Smoke. Strength. Focus. Smoke. Love. Life. Fag.
Fuck. Finally over.
The rest of the day, passed as planned.