Kudos to the Chennai Traffic Police! They're really trail blazers in putting mobile technology to innovative use. I learned this on my drive back home this evening - at the traffic signal past the T. Nagar bus stand - (yes....the area does seem to be the stage on which the drama of my blog unfolds!) to be precise.

So there he was, a rotund traffic cop, standing right at the center of the traffic junction. He cut an interesting figure, reminding me of Mr. Goon of Enid Blyton fame. A chubby dravidian version of Mr. Goon amidst honking buses, cars and swearing drivers (my irate self included). And behold! Mr. Goon was busy speaking into a mobile phone as he ably directed the traffic around his ample self.

Well! Talk about multi tasking. Perhaps he was filing his daily report over voicemail or issuing instructions to his subordinates at the control room. Or maybe he was directing traffic at another junction through his mobile. The possibilities were mind boggling. The digital age made another world possible.

What a role model. I'm sure drivers of vehicles that passed him, took a leaf out of his book and multi tasked with their mobiles as well. I am filled with admiration! And for those of you who say its illegal to talk on mobiles as you drive (and / or direct traffic?), I say this: Stop splitting hairs and think of how you can embrace the myriad possibilities of the digital age.

This morning, I observed an act of kindness on my drive to work. I was driving past the T.Nagar bus stand - a place of nasty traffic snarls. My only aim in this leg of journey is to move through traffic, without hitting people or being hit. In my endeavour to accomplish this goal for the umpteenth time, I saw a sweet and tender sight.

A middle aged guy, about 50 was helping a young school boy, about 10, to cross the road. He had his arm around his young charge and was carefully negotiating the morning traffic. An ordinary enough sight you might say? I didn't think so.

Sadly, I have rarely seen people stop to lend a helping hand to someone in need - and for something as simple as helping a child cross the road. But more significantly, this middle aged man was a traffic constable. These are the least helpful people I have come across. Apart from dotting the roads at infrequent intervals and scowling at moving traffic, I have rarely seen these guys stretch themselves to help citizens-despite having a mandate to do so. And here was one helping the most vulnerable of citizens, a child.

In this age, of police inaction in some of the most brutally violent situations, of people's indifference to the suffering of others, this was one of those 'feel good' sights. Did my heart good to see this. I drove the rest of the distance to work humming 'kisi ki muskurahaton pe ho nisar' and a vague resolve to try and do a good deed that day. Which is to spread the message of this unknown cop's good deed. May his tribe increase.

I demand to know who in the Chennai Corporation's Solid Waste Management Department is in charge of transportation of garbage from the streets to the dumping ground. I wish to acquaint him/her about my real feelings on their fantastic sense of timing.

On a regular work day, I drive to work on my two wheeler, and usually leave home around 8.30am. The first leg of my journey is on Mount Road, an important arterial road. Despite the traffic - which at that time is medium heavy -I generally enjoy the drive It is 'my time' - when I think cheerful thoughts and even sing on the drive to work.

So there I was the other day, freshly scrubbed from my morning bath, powdered and perfumed, driving along singing 'mein chali mein chali', when I was assailed by the most godawful stench. I was reminded of my high school chemistry lab - where a particular chemical reaction emitted the smell of 'rotten eggs'. Looking around, I saw the yellow Corporation garbage disposal van drive past, with bits and pieces of organic waste dropping off and flying in its wake. My breakfast threatened to come back up.

The following day, the same odour hit my nostrils at precisely the same spot. And yet again the next day.

What is it with the Corporation guys? Agreed the city's bowels spew 3200 MT of solid waste everyday and it needs to be moved to the dumping ground asap. But why choose peak office hours to transport garbage? Are they trying to kill citizens with the stench? Apparently their collective brains reside in their nether regions.

I would greatly appreciate the opportunity to inform the Corporation guys on the whereabouts of their grey matter. And perhaps help them locate it. Hope readers will help in the cause.

We went to see a movie last night. The plan was that I would join my husband, (on his evening shift), at his office and from there go to the movie theatre. So, after dinner, I set off for the sub urban railway station, about 1 km from my house.

Just to give you an idea about the neighbourhood - our apartment complex is located in an interior road which connects two arterial roads. The fact that it connects two arterial roads is a rather well kept secret. As a result, the road is less crowded during the day and wears a deserted look at night.

So - there I was, ambling along the path, enjoying the cool evening breeze and savoring the anticipation of watching a movie, when I noticed a car parked on the bend of the road. Having lived alone, in a large city, during my single days, alarm bells went off in my head. And sure enough, as I passed by the car, its occupant, a darkish young man called out: ' Excuse me...'.

Deliberately, I put some more distance between me and the car before turning to ask: 'Yes?'.
'Do you live in XXX Apartments?
' Yes' I replied coldly. Being the only apartment complex on the road, the question rather answered itself.
'Come, I will drop you wherever you are going' was next.
'No thank you.' I retorted, groping for my phone.
' I'm your neighbour' he said, and smiled (evily I thought)
'No thank you. I prefer to walk'. Putting an end to the conversation, I walked away.

This incident is something which most women living in cities might have experienced and dealt with in myriad different ways. Some of you reading this post might think that I took a risk walking down a deserted road at night. What is the alternative? Be a prisoner in my home after sunset?

I had taken measures to minimise the risk. My family was aware of my whereabouts, I had my mobile phone - fully charged, was dressed conservatively and had removed expensive jewellery from my person. And though the road was deserted, the street lights were on and it was fully lit - and for God's sake, cant a woman walk 1 km down the road without being accosted?!

Let us assume, for argument's sake, that the gentleman in question did not have sinister motives. That he was, in fact, my neighbour (though I do not recall having seen him at all). Offers of help, in these troubled times, must be accompanied with full and complete information that will help the 'helpee' establish the credentials of the 'helper'. For eg. 'I am your neighbour' can be accompanied with name and flat number. Simple, verifiable facts!

I doubt this will deter me from continuing with life and doing my own thing. And indeed it shouldnt. I wrote this post to know, from other women, their experiences, thoughts and opinions. And from men - what is your opinion, position, stand on these type of incidents? How can we make neighbourhoods safer for women?

I saw a news item today on television. The success of 'Slumdog Millionaire' has piqued people's interest in what is being termed as 'Slum Tourism'. This essentially means that people visiting Mumbai take a deko at Mumbai slums, usually Dharavi.

I can only say that this HORRIFIES me! Slums are a glaring indicator of our country's inability to live upto its responsibilty of taking care of its citizens. Where people live sub human lives without access to basic facilities essential to live a dignified life. And this warrants tourism?!

One could perhaps understand why foreign tourists might want to see such sights. Perhaps out of a morbid fascination to know how the 'other side' lives. Much like watching a horror movie - you dont really want to see it (coz it scares the living daylights out of you) but you can't seem to help it. You watch...comforted in the idea that you can walk out of the theatre once the show is over and forget all about it.

But how does one account for Indians, indeed Mumbaikars, wanting a taste of this terrible tourism? The news feature had members of the middle class expressing their interest in wanting to 'learn how people in slums live' and a pretty reporter exolting the delights of slum tourism. Here is a footpath dwelling, made with cardboard and scrap. One can learn so much from these slum dwellers about recycling. And over there is a toilet block that over 100 people use. What happens when the drains clog up you ask? Well, there is always open defecation. Wonderful way to commune with nature. There you see women lined up to fill pots with drinking water. Hang around and you may get the opportunity to learn some choice expletives in various regional languages.

Have we become so dead as a nation that we get our jollies out of the suffering of our fellow citizens? Is there no end to this commercialisation?