THE DAY WATER STUCK

Each day when the proverbial dawn dawns, you never know what would it bring your way. You wake up, and find that yes, the army chief and the president are not in a healthy relationship. Or, the cricket team is yet again facing bribery charges for their recent loss. At times, it’s a rainy morning that sheds on your tentative routine, or you get up to find a sun that’s been eclipsed by our otherwise genteel moon. Or, in my case, you wake up and are told that the house’s sewage has done the unexpected. It has, indeed, clogged itself into a complicated knot.

Its true that we take many household services for granted. Only when something goes awry that we pull up our sleeves, snort and try and find something or someone to blame for the domestic snafu at hand.

Lets take my (thankfully, ephemeral) water issue, so to say. Logic dictates that all the water being supplied to our homes need a conduit system to elope once it has done its dirty work. (quite literarily) Usually, only water’s inward journey is what bothers most. At times, it’s the main government supply that’s dry. Or, it might be our own monoblock pump or reservoir that falters. But, its outward trot can also cause quite a quagmire. (albeit, infrequently)

We dwell in an annex of a large family house in Gulberg. Although, built in the 50’s, the randomly built buildings and the various appendages including the sewerage are still in great form. Just as the people living are connected by the rosy bond of blood, the buildings too share an unfaltering liaison. That is, the common sewer line.

The line starts from the annex and snakes all the way to the front. Out of the gates, and into the main line on our road. Along the way, like the London Underground, the sewer spawns many connections and tributaries.

An inspection revealed that the most ‘upstream’ of the connections was gurgling. Whence, it was time to seek professional help. A visit to the local WASA office, complaint lodged, and reassurance received that prompt action in the morning would be taken. Needless to say, it was an anxious wait. Not as much anxiety as would an ant feel just before winters, but very close.

Come morning, and a foreman/team leader from WASA showed up around 11am. He gingerly walked through the problem (pun intended), and suggested that ‘they’ needed to start from the very front, the main line to the road. And at that very moment, ‘they’ trooped in. Three WASA men, sporting the empirical WASA tool. It’s something WASA would be totally lost without. One of workers carried on his shoulder a set of bamboo sticks. Very flexible, very durable and of course very cheap. You would panic if a doctor showed up at work without a steth, or a plumber couldn’t find a pipe-wrench in his duffle. And you would totally dismiss a magician without a wand. Such is the importance of this bamboo contraption.

They started probing and pushing, and reinforced the notion that the sticky problem was at the main end. We started our trot along the driveway to the main gate. Inching towards the road, I got a glimpse of the vehicle that the WASA-men had hitched a ride upon. I was surprised, but yes, it was a yellow behemoth – a full scale truck. According to the technical jargon inscribed on its side it was a “High Pressure Sewer Jetting Unit”. (Hereinafter referred cordially to as HPSJU). Yes, it was a humble truck with two engines. The smaller one was to power the jetting system. But to me it was a motorized knight in a mustard yellow armor.

Within 5 minutes, the arena was converted into WASA HQ. The HPSJU reversed into the gate, the men started working its coiled pressure pipes and whatnot. The smaller engine was fired up, and pipe fed into the grotesque underworld. It very explicitly reminded me of a gastro scope finding its way into a patient’s gullet. Fueled by the pressurized water, the rubber hose slithered and slipped along the main line, as it spit its way through decades of neglect and grime. Sure enough, with in about 10 minutes, the hard working HPSJU had done its trick. Black gunk was visible rushing away in the main road sewerage. Although it’s hard to make a connection, but if you just squint, you could imagine it being akin the Niagara Falls: frothy and screaming, with the passer bys rejoicing.

With all the concrete lids back in place, and reassurances that the system would holler away nicely, the men and their machine were off. We had to sign a small “work done, complaint rectified” slip. And hope for the best.

Having written what I have written so far, I realize that it would not make sense to some of the readers. As in, why would anyone be so excited and jubilant over all this? What’s the source of my enthusiasm regarding the WASA team? Usually, the end of a write up means its time to conclude.

We as Pakistanis are not conditioned to be on the receiving end of good behavior. And, that too, from our government machinery. And our ruling class knows that. So, they lose no chance of exploiting the masses over what they perceive and envisage as acts of charity. We receive products/services which we have already paid for in the form of taxes and fees and fines. For instance, an honorable minister goes to inaugurate a road or a hospital. Or, plants a tree. Or, for that matter, commissions a fire brigade engine. He makes sure that in his fiery homily to the masses, the fact runs home that this is some sort of a heroic deed that he has undertaken or delivered. And we rejoice when we know that from this day on, we will have clean water to drink. Or, road to the local market will not be marked with potholes. Or, for the sake of conversation, the text books would be printed on time this year. We do not realize that as human beings, all this and much, much more comprises our basic rights. And not some extravaganza which some hillbilly was kind enough to send our way.

But, having said that, small gestures by the ruling class do go a long way. Like, it overwhelms me to see road works. Or, when I get to know of plans to make new bridges. Or flyovers. There is nothing prettier than the site of workers donned in uniforms sowing in new plants along the roads, or a refuge truck beeping as it empties an overflowing waste dump. Ambulances howling, and helping the emergency struck. And even the new traffic force when they are writing off tickets to the violators. Tiny things that matter a lot.

So, now you can see the link between my sewerage story and this issue. Imagine
my delight to know that a single complaint (without any reference from a higher-up) could mobilize such an extensive, well equipped work force. I have seen such resources mobilized before, yes. For VIPs. Not for us earthly beings.

I am not on payroll for lobbying for the present government in Punjab. But its not fair not to lobby for them. I am sure a lot is being done which shouldn’t be done. Maybe on a gargantuan scale there may be things going awry. But I remember the nineties when I used to look around at all the road works while on way to school. I felt good about Lahore, and the way it was transformed for the better. I fervently believe that a lot should be and can be done this time around as well.