If we need more proof that our grandmas were ahead of their time, it is that they carried cloth bags when they went shopping. And a cloth bag ‘library’ in Vile Parle, pays tribute to that wisdom. Called The Granny Way, it distributes free bags to vendors in the local market; shoppers can borrow a bag for ₹10, refundable when the bags are returned.
“All three of us have grandmothers who use cloth bags,” says paediatrician Anuja Pethe, who with her friends Uma Joshi and Manasi Thite-Dighe, both architects, founded The Granny Way. Ms. Joshi says, “You have these sweet memories when you talk about your granny. The Granny Way is something everyone will associate with.” Two to three generations ago, she says, everything was methodical: our grandmothers used to segregate and recycle plastic, or send the newspapers to the raddiwallah. “A piece of cloth was reused till it was a rag, and then discarded. So, we thought, why not use the same concept?”
The idea came from a video of a woman in Australia who began an initiative where people could borrow cloth bags and drop them off in colourful boxes outside prominent stores whenever they had the time. It eliminated all the, ‘I left my cloth bag at home’ excuses.
In Mumbai, the trio realised, people are not willing to return things, that too in a good condition. So they decided to use a library system: pay a returnable deposit. Dr. Pethe says, “The ₹10 is a token. Nothing that is given free will be valued. What you are doing is committing that ₹10.” What if people don’t return the bags? “Initially it may not be successful,” she says. “But if someone perseveres, probably things will change. Even if they reuse our bags, it serves the purpose.”
The Granny Way began in January this year with an appeal to friends for donations of untailored cloth, old but in good condition: bedsheets, curtains, dupattas, cotton sarees and the like. They did some thorough R&D, like experimenting with making bags in different sizes and designs, testing their capacity and strength with loads of potatoes and onions, measuring how many bags they could get out of an average double-bedsheet.
Once they had this done, and they had accumulated a substantial collection of cloth, they commissioned tailors. They went to adivasi areas in Palghar, where Ms. Joshi was already working on remodelling anganwadis, and to Talegaon, Dr. Pethe’s hometown. They tied up with bachat gats, self-help groups for local women. Master tailors would cut the cloth, which would then be sent to Palghar. The founders pay ₹10 per bag from their pocket.
By May, they had between 700 and 800 bags ready, logo in place. They went out to meet street vendors in Vile Parle’s vegetable market. They gave the vendors the bags for free, and put up posters about their initiative. But, Dr. Pethe says, there were obstacles to trying to let people know about the initiative. “Our board would be hidden somewhere,” she says. Ms. Thite-Dighe says, “We had a lot of things getting in the way, like the vendors’ umbrellas. Our board would invariably be taken down with them.” More important, vendors said customers weren’t keen to pay even ₹10; some insisted that the vendor adjust the cost against the vegetables; others would simply insist on plastic bags. They got belligerent questions from customers: “Why don’t you go to the authorities instead and ask them to stop manufacturing plastic bags?” And, as expected, none of those who took the bags returned them. The reluctance to pay is odd, Ms. Thite-Dighe says; after all paying for bags isn’t new to India: supermarkets and malls usually charge for carry-bags.
But they did not give up, and decided to approach shopkeepers instead. Pleasant surprise: owners were not only willing to participate in and promote the initiative, they offered to buy the bags rather than take them for free. And, crucially, customers were willing to pay. Their most enthusiastic adopters tended to be young people. “People in their 20s are more positive, enthusiastic and receptive to the idea,” Dr. Pethe says.
It has been just three months so far, and they hope the initiative will gain traction. “Right now, we may be small, but even these can have a cumulative effect,” Dr. Pethe says. They hope that the floods in the city, exacerbated by storm drains clogged with plastic bags, will get more people on their side. Who knows, she says, perhaps in some months, The Granny Way will grow from, “three people’s effort to a people’s movement.”
The friendly messenger
Pravin Parmar is a nature lover and avid wildlife photographer who loves being in the forest. What he hates about city life — he lives in Khargar, Navi Mumbai — is the tonnes of plastic that we use and throw away regularly.
His dislike for plastic transformed into an active crusade the day he saw a cow about to eat a plastic bag mixed up with the vegetable waste it was munching on. He pulled away the bag, and decided at that moment that he needed to do something more than rant.
His action plan started in his own home, because he decided before he could go around preaching to others, he had to be the change himself. An average family would bring a conservative average of two plastic bags home on a given day, he says. “This means 720 plastic bags per family per year. One can only imagine what effect it will have on the environment.” In June this year, he and his family resolved to only use bags made of biodegradable material like jute or cotton. “The first 15 days were a challenge,” he admits. “We would sometimes forget to take our bags with us when we went shopping. But even then, we never accepted a plastic bag; we would tell shopkeepers to wrap our purchases in paper.”
His home pilot project successful, Mr. Parmar went to work in earnest. Every day, for the last three months, he has been evangelising his no-plastic message. He uses social media, like any modern activist — sending out messages to 500 people daily about the harm plastic causes — but he also relies strongly on face-to-face interaction.
He supplements the awareness drive by putting his own money where his mouth is: he has spent a few thousand rupees on jute and tissue bags which he carries with him in his car; every time he sees someone using a plastic bag, he offers them one. Mostly he gets a smile and a thank you, though he has occasionally been asked if he is a jute bag salesman.
Most precious to Mr. Parmar are the people who have promised him that they will stop using plastic bags. He is particularly pleased to see residents in his housing society come out to buy vegetables and fruit from handcarts carrying their own cloth bags for vegetables. “We all are supporting this noble cause,” says Manjiri Rane, a neighbour. Mohandas Nair, another resident of the area, is all praise for Mr. Parmar’s doggedness. “There is not a single day when I don’t receive his message. It is heartening to see someone working for the environment so dedicatedly.” His campaign extends to vendors too. Swami, who sells coconuts, says, “Sir comes every week and educates us about ill-effects of plastic bags. He also gives us bags.”
Mr. Parmar wants to take his initiative to citizens and shopkeepers across Navi Mumbai. He would also like the city administration to help in one crucial way: “If the civic body bans plastic bags, the effect will be bigger and faster.”
Collective strength
Two years ago, Snehal Ajay Dixit (46), a senior finance sector professional, thought of starting a foundation that would promote education and tackle environmental issues. She shared this with her social circle, women from diverse professional backgrounds and a few homemakers. Soon, 17 women got together to start Urjaa, meaning ‘energy’.
In January 2016, they began to run awareness campaigns aimed at discouraging the use of plastic bags. By early this year, the women — who now number 50 — have collected 11 tonnes of plastic waste in Dombivali alone and sent it to Rudra Environmental Foundation Factory, Pune, for recycling into polyfuel, which is eventually sold to farmers.
“We used to go to markets, discouraging shoppers and vendors from using plastic bags over 50 microns and instead give preference to paper or cloth bags,” says Ms. Dixit. Gradually, though, Urjaa activists understood that running awareness campaigns was not enough.
By December, they got in touch with Dr. Medha Tadpatrikar to use her environment-friendly plastic recycling plant in Pune. Says Ms. Dixit, “She agreed to accept our plastic, so we could get the missing part of our programme in place.”
Ever since, once a month, Urjaa has been organising the collection of plastic at centres in Dombivali and Thane and sending it on to Pune for recycling. They also go from door to door in Thane, Dombivali, Kalyan and Mulund, convincing people to segregate their waste and send them the plastic.
Urjaa’s members dip into their savings to spend on collection and transportation of the plastic, and supplement it with donations and contributions from Rudra. “It’s not easy to get donations, but people see the results of our work and it builds mutual trust,” says Vidya Paranjpe (48), an LIC employee. The Kalyan Dombivali Municipal Corporation has providied them with a place to store plastic waste.
Among those who work for this cause are doctors, lawyers, insurance agents and retired professionals. Says Ms. Paranjpe, “Most of us meet on the train, where we spread the word.”
Sheela Iyer, a Central Railway employee, says she came across Urjaa in April 2016. “I am happy to contribute in a meaningful way.”
Shamal Matange (43), says, “Social links connect us. Most of us are professionals, and the work we do for Urjaa is part of what we consider our civic duty.” The former assistant manager, Quality Assurance at Indian Register of Shipping is now a homemaker and full-time Urjaa member.
Ultimately, says Ms Dixit, “It is every citizen’s responsibility to keep Mumbai clean. My plastic waste is my responsibility.”
What municipalities are doing
Citizen efforts to get us all to use less plastic are part of the solution. It also needs our government bodies to play a role. Rules can be set but enforcement has to be part of the plan.
Our administrations must also incentivise citizens to dispose of plastic in responsible ways. Could there be, for instance, prominently placed bins exclusively for plastic waste? Or recycling centres where a carton full of plastic bottles can be compacted in front of one’s eyes, and one could get a little something in return?
The Hindu asked some of the municipal corporations in the Mumbai Metropolitan Region what they were doing to minimise the impact of plastic.
Mumbai
The Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation, India’s richest civic body, says that segregation should be done, but Vijay Balamwar, Deputy Municipal Commissioner, says the Municipal Solid Waste Rules 2017 put the onus on citizens. “The Rules state that all households must segregate plastic waste and give it to recyclers in their areas. Garbage collectors hired by societies cannot be held responsible, as they aren’t civic employees.”
The MSW Rules, however, do not have any penalties for non-compliance. Mr. Balamwar said, “The rules are set by the State government and we are abiding by them.” Mr. Balamwar did say the BMC plans to increase the number of segregation centres over the next year, from one per ward to at least two.
Navi Mumbai
While garbage segregation is a high 75% as per the NMMC’s Solid Waste Management (SWM) department data, getting to 100% has been difficult. Tushar Pawar, Deputy Municipal Commissioner, SWM, says the challenge is to get gaothan areas and slums, which generate 20% of the city’s waste, to comply. The civic body has been conducting awareness campaigns, and is liaising with an NGO to augment its efforts. On another front, the NMMC has been enforcing the ban on bags less than 50 microns thick; a special drive over June and July this year seized 4,000 kg of such bags. It also fined vendors.
Change must begin within, and so the NMMC is setting an example: “We have stopped use of packaged water in our corporation,” says Municipal Commissioner Dr. N. Ramaswami.
Panvel
Next month, when it celebrates its first anniversary, the Panvel City Municipal Corporation will roll out an ambitious waste segregation project. The plan includes a campaign to raise awareness, help residents to deal with wet waste at the housing society level, and segregate dry waste into various categories.
Commissioner Dr. Sudhakar Shinde says, “Establishments use plastic products over 50 microns, which is permissable. If we ask them to stop, it may cause litigation. So the only option is to educate citizens and motivate the establishment to reduce use of plastic.”
