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Size doesn't matter!

A Ganesh Nadar

I was shocked to see people hanging out of the morning bus to Tuticorin. It was normally not so crowded. I squeezed in. Sheesh, and to think I left Bombay because of the crowds!

The throng inside reminded me of the buses in that great metro. The people didn't. All the women had flowers in their hair. Some white, some orange, some both. One lady had 10 gold bangles and another 200 grams of the metal around her neck. I don't think she would've dared to display so much gold in Bombay.

As we neared Tuticorin the scene changed. Now there were salt pans on either side. We could see men and women labouring in the blistering sun. The salt pan workers are paid the highest in Tuticorin. The sad reason being that in 15 years the salt will eat away the soles of their feet. And the glare of the sun reflected by the salt will more or less blind them.

Five kilometres from Tuticorin, we passed SPIC Nagar -- that is, the Southern Petrochemical Industrial Complex. It is the second largest fertiliser unit in Asia. The largest is in Japan. This is like saying the Param 10,000 computer is the fastest in Asia excluding Japan. It's always Japan that is on the top. And such a small country! But I am like Harold Robbins. We both believe that it is not size that matters, but performance!

The king and his subjects

The Tuticorin collectorate was imposing. The entrance was granite, the lobby marble. But the rest was ordinary cement -- not even mosaic. The offices were spacious.

The collector's white Ambassador was shining at the entrance. There were many jeeps around. All were labelled 'Government.' A van belonging to the family planning department cluttered out. Its condition symbolised the fact that family planning was still pretty shaky in India.

Being a Monday, it was 'grievances day' at the collectorate. It was held in a hall. All the chairs were arranged in a circle like in Parliament. Every person had a mike in front. The seated persons were all government officials.

The petitioners were standing in line outside. The collector's peon let them in one at a time. The peon was in sparkling white uniform. He had a colourful turban, and was the most imposing figure around.

The collector sat on a slightly elevated platform. He sat alone, though there were two empty chairs near him. The subjects went to the king one by one with their woes written on paper. Some he majestically put on a tray nearby. One girl wanted a job in the noon-meal centre. A young man wanted a path to his house.

I couldn't believe that the villagers could stand so quietly to go to the collector one at a time. I went out to investigate. Down the corridor on the far right there was a huge crowd. Men, women and children battling to get into a room. You had to register your petition in this room. The officials here were the ones responsible for the orderliness. They made sure that only the ones who got their petitions registered went in. And only the fittest could fight their way before these officials!

MLA's property

By the way, did I tell you that the first board that welcomes you to Tuticorin is 'Hotel Geetha International'? The hotel belongs to the local MLA.

In Tuticorin most of the bus shelters are in memory of somebody or the other. The rest have been all built by the Lions Club or the Rotary Club. The government hasn't built even one.

The bus terminus servicing distant places is on the outskirts of the city, on the road to Madurai. It is spacious. Outside there are about 100 shops. They all belong to, yes, the MLA.

'Don't eat meat'

A small road on the side of the bus stand leads to the industrial estate of SIPCOT. Sterlite dominates this complex. The plant is always in the news for the wrong reasons. Two days ago a high-tension wire tower of the Tamil Nadu Electricity Board was blasted with gelatine. The reason: "We don't like Sterlite."

Sterlite smelts copper. Many people believe that it will be the Union Carbide of Tuticorin. So far we have had only small accidents. The rest we leave to God.

There was no direct bus back home in the afternoon. So I took a bus to Arumuganeri. I passed the Dhrangadhara Chemical Works on the way. This is one of the oldest industrial units in Tuticorin district. The small boards outside DCW stand out: 'Don't kill animals', 'Don't eat meat.'

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