The Indian Express (Delhi Edition)
Swachhta in a costume
New Delhi Municipal Corporation’s cleanliness mascot deals with giggling children, indifferent people, and discomfort
IT IS 10 am. Connaught Place, at New Delhi’s heart, is already bustling with people. Through the laughter and phone chatter, a voice blares out over a loudspeaker: ‘Help keep our city clean’.
The man with the loudspeaker gets barely a response, even as all eyes turn to his companion — the Swachh Sewak mascot of New Delhi Municipal Council (NDMC).
In the costume — made of foam, in bright yellow, blue and orange, covered in logos of the Swachh Bharat Abhiyan and NDMC, and including a mask bearing an expression of perpetual surprise, a big half-tricolour-like turban and an imposing moustache — is 42year-old Amar Singh.
With folded hands, and sometimes a wave, he approaches people to spread the message that NDMC is pushing, as part of the Centre’s Swachh Bharat Abhiyan.
“I don’t think people realise that they litter, or maybe they think there is someone to clean up after them. How else can you explain this?” Singh says, pointing to an empty chips packet lying on the ground. “All you need to do is keep it in your hand for a while longer until you see the dust-bin provided.”
Amar must leave his home in Patparganj at around 6 am sharp every day, even as Delhi’s winter gets worse, to reach on time for work. Gulping down the breakfast his wife Jyoti has prepared, he only has time for a hasty “bye” to his three children, ages 9, 6 and 3, if awake, before heading out. “My wife and I call ourselves the Amar-jyoti couple,” he smiles.
His duty hours begin at 7 am, at the Palika Bazaar parking lot in Connaught Place. A supervisor marks his attendance using the NDMC app.
Amar admits he is impressed with the new technology. He has never owned a mobile phone himself, he says. “I haven’t felt the need for one. It’s also pretty expensive.” An employee with NDMC for over a decade now, he earns around Rs 28,000 per month.
Most days, he begins work by sweeping the sections allotted to him in and around the parking lot.
“The previous night, this area might have seen around 10 to 20 lakh people and it is usually a mess everywhere,” says Dr Ramesh Kumar, Chief Medical Officer (North), who is the supervisor today. “You would see the area clean in the morning after a lot of work put in by people like Amar.”
Around 9.45 am, NDMC officials get Amar’s costume. NDMC has 28 of these fivefeet-tall costumes.
The local body employs around 2,500 health workers to keep the city clean but the workload is always high. The mascots were introduced last month. “We expect the mascots to be a medium to attract and communicate to the people the need to have a clean city,” says Naresh Kumar, Chairman, NDMC. “We have received encouraging responses.”
The shift Amar is on lasts till 3 pm, after which another person will don the costume. The second shift lasts till 10 pm, with the supervisors deciding the shift rota. The costumes are dry-cleaned every few days as they are constantly in use.
Amar is aware the mascots have a tough task at hand. As he starts off on his rounds in the inner circle of Connaught Place, he says, “It’s a little difficult to see through the costume and obviously impossible for people to understand if I tell them anything.”
Perhaps that explains why each mascot has a companion with the loudspeaker. Amar’s is 52-year-old Prempal, dressed in the bright Health Department uniform.
As they set off together, Prempal keeps announcing from the loudspeaker, “Please do not litter the road. Please put all your trash in the dust-bins provided. Support NDMC’S cleanliness efforts.” Once in a while, catching someone throwing something on the ground, Prempal blows a whistle, stopping a startled offender in his or her tracks.
Soon, some approach with requests for selfies with Amar, who obliges. Prempal says he doesn’t mind his “brighter” colleague attracting all the attention. “We all have our roles to play,” he says. As a few girls go giggling past Amar, Prempal adds, “Some of them may get the message that we are trying to convey. If one of them is inspired by it, I think it is a job well done.”
The children in the crowd are either curious to know why Amar is dressed as he is, or find the mascot amusing. Some approach Amar only if they see their parents do.
Around noon, the two stop at a Tommy Hilfiger showroom in Connaught Place inner circle. Prempal has a chat with the guard. “I told him there was litter outside his shop. ‘It may have been put there by you or maybe not. But how about getting someone to clear it anyway?’,” he says. A moment later, a person from the shop comes out and clears it.
It’s nearly 1 pm, usually the time Amar and Prempal take a break for lunch. Prempal frets,“nowisthetimewhenpeoplemaystart throwing packets of food on the road. We have to be vigilant.” They eventually settle for a pear and water from a roadside vendor.
The winter sun is warm and Amar admits the turban that he hasn’t taken off for over three hours now — apart from lifting it once in a while for deep breaths of air — is making him uncomfortable. One of his NDMC colleagues approaches him and asks him jokingly to take it off so that he can have a better look at his face. “Duty pe hain (I am on duty),” snaps Amar.
Around 2 pm, after having finished the round of the inner circle, Amar and Prempal head towards the crowded Janpath market.
“Can he see anything through that? Can he breathe? It must be boring inside that suit. Is this not a waste of time? What is the point?”, people looking on openly wonder, barely keeping their voices down.
Amar sighs, “I sometimes sing and talk to myself while in the suit to pass time. It makes it easier to approach people.”
Still, this is the easy part of town. The Swachh Sewaks are at times deployed early in the morning on railway tracks which are used at that hour by people to defecate. “Sometimes, when we approach the people, they abuse us. ‘Tere baap ka hai kya railway track (Is the railway track your ancestral property)?’, they ask. Then they go about their business anyway. We try, but there should be a system of fining them too. There must be a law and personnel with the power to enforce the law,” says Amar.
It’s 3 pm and Amar’s shift is about to end. Just then, he receives instructions to rush to the NDMC Headquarters on nearby Sansad Marg to meet his department head. Prempal too accompanies him, carrying Amar’s mask.
On the 10th floor of the building, they knock on the door of Dr P K Sharma’s office. Someone has shown interest in creating more of these mascots, and Amar has been called to remove his suit so that it can be given as a sample.
NDMC CMO Kumar, who had logged in Amar in the morning, nods in approval. “Amar is one of our best,” he says.
Sitting at the Sansad Marg bus-stop, Amar admits he can’t wait to return to his family. His eldest daughter would be back from school by now. “Maybe I will get them something to eat... Or let’s see if they want to do something different today. Maybe they want to play or go to the neighbour’s house for a while.”
He adds that he never has any late-night plans any more. “I should sleep by 10 or so to wake up early tomorrow for duty again.”
Have his children seen him in the costume? “Not yet,” Amar laughs. “I don’t know what their reaction would be. Maybe they will tell me to get rid of it.”
“Or maybe they will ask you to keep it,” quips Prempal. “You look cute in it. An instant hit with the kids, I am sure of it.”
“I am sure Jyoti will find it amusing,” says Amar, as they both part ways.