My first Diwali gift arrived rather early this time. Shanthini sent me rose cookies inside a beautiful black earthen pot. The cookies are polished off but, every morning, as I warm up leftover milk to set curd and pour it inside the pot, I smile happily. But, in just a few days, there will be no smiles as thousands like me will be struggling to deal with plastic bags and boxes sent by well-wishers for the festival.
Can we do something about it? I know I could have, but didn’t recently, at a well-known eatery, when I bought their lip-smacking onion thokku. It came in a plastic bottle covered in cellophane (that I can understand, as we don’t want the oil leaking into our bags). But the bottle was then put into another plastic cover, sealed and then into a plastic carry bag. Yes, it was all food-grade plastic, but I also know that most of it is going to find its way into the garbage bin. Why on earth did I not stop them? All I needed to do was to say, “Don’t bother. I will take it as it is.” The eatery sees thousands of customers every day and there is sure to be a surge before the festival. If only each one says ‘no’ to the carry bag and whips out their own cloth one! Another famous sweet shop chain inexplicably does the same. Like those Russian dolls, it is plastic inside plastic, inside plastic.
I remember when we exchanged sweets with neighbours for the festival, the sweets would go out on steel plates or trays covered with a pretty cloth napkin. It was made clear at the time of handing over if the trays were for keeps or returnable! But they accomplished the job. Without increasing the volume of garbage.
I don’t know at what point we decided plastic was good. Recently, at Bengaluru, as we sat down to a wedding feast, there were bottles of water on each banana leaf. We fought with the lids, spilt water on our saris and, worse, left most of the water un-drunk. As we got up to wash our hands, I saw the bottles, lids, leaves, food and water being unceremoniously dumped into the dustbin. This, when Bengaluru was reeling under water shortage.
It did not stop there. You know how we take a little water in our palm, sprinkle it over the banana leaf and then wipe it clean? Well, at the same wedding, each of us got a plastic cup with a cotton swab pre-dipped in water. We had to squeeze the water out of it on to the leaf and then wipe with the cotton. Frankly, I think my palm is more hygienic than cotton balls of undetermined origin. Yet, when I asked why water was not served the usual way out of jugs into the glasses, I was told that it was unhygienic.
The waiters who served us wore plastic gloves. But inside, bare bodied men cooked, cheerfully sweating and scratching into the bubbling cauldrons. They wore no plastic protection. The dessert came with small plastic spoons and the paan with a cherry on top also came in a plastic sleeve. I am happy to say I was not the only one outraged. “Guests to wedding should bring their own bottles of water, and their own cutlery too,” was one very sensible piece of advice, I thought. May be we can do that henceforth. I know a lot of us already carry cloth bags in our cars when we go shopping and virtuously refuse carry bags that are charged extra in big stores in shopping malls.
Why don’t sweet shops do the same? Why don’t we as customers not refuse that extra bag?
