What is an EIA?

It is not surprising that many would ask what an EIA is.

The answer is simple - EIA basically expands into “Environmental Impact Assessment”. A self explanatory term, is a big paperwork and many-a-times a bureaucratic hurdle where the project agency itself quantifies your human project’s impact into the larger environment where it is intervening.

The paper news of ET, Gujarat (the most ambitious of the Indian states), version reported that now the time required for carrying out EIA’s has been increased from 13 months to 18 months. The current total investment of about 25,000 Crore Rupees - which if directly converted to US Dollars is about 5 Billions USD, and in terms of spending equivalence is 50 Bill USD. Most are tourism or trade development related projects. And the delay has sent the developers of the state, they are who have stake in it, run helter-skelter in various government offices to find relaxation from this new clause.

Well, everywhere in the world, the Great EIA is known to be a mere paper exercise conducted and thereafter checked by people or companies or their consultants like you and me. The farmer or the fisher man who understands his own natural habitat and protects it since ages is nowhere in the damn picture. It is now left to the people, incompetent people (in all fairness and allegedness in the case here) who haven’t lived in any natural environment in their own lives. How can one conduct EIA properly if the word environment itself is not clearly understood to them?

Projects struck here may amount to 100Million USD only, and their crudest manifestation can be pictured as some ten thousand people grouped together like ants digging a hole and building something in some 10 hectares of land for next three years.

Surely, nothing like this or collective many may affect the environment, because environment or nature is much larger than humans itself. What one human can do is to cheat the other, or cheat oneself for making his petty ends meet.

One example of an EIA is in a protected reserve along the A92 road in the beautiful eastern highlands of commercial Scotland, where the intervening agency was forced to improve their noisy underwater drilling technology to a noiseless one, so fishes were not to be impacted. Since the bridge was to be built it has to be built -but, please do it quietly. British people are sensitive to construction noise, so are their fishes too.

Untouched parts of Scotland are as similar barren as of Gujarat in India, and both want to attract monetary investment for their local prosperity, and this is how some parts of the world are goin’ to be. No one at these places is ready to hug mangroves and fishes.

About a Neighbour (Neighbor) -

Once one a beautiful post told me how a short story strives to become a word. Quite similarly, this issue manages to become a one liner.

Deadly Trap!

A few posts back I had written this -

Heart-attack is a world-wide disease and event, phenomenon only to be underestimated in most parts of the world; with so called developed ‘west’ being the worst biggest victim, and emerging economies like India walking into the same booby trap.

Booby trap!... trust me, deadly it is.

Hey Banjo

Naming a dog is tough if you become thoughtful. Three months old, he looked like ‘Gromit’ (Wallace and Gromit fame) - didn’t bark much, just turned his head staring at you in question. For a Labrador pup he looked weak and thin, collapsing under his tiny weight when in pup-like excitement he ran and skidded about inside the house. The local friends and relatives, opined, getting older he was becoming a burden to the kennel. They fed necessary little and caged him; this got him malnourished and stiff. A good deal against a few thousand bucks it is good he has come to live with us. When I first named him ‘Gromit’, all desi neighbors and acquaintances tended to call him ‘Gaur-ment’, or ‘Grow-min’.

This irritating re-occurrent calling of this name and in between a cool Solo in the movie ‘The Dog Problem’, not deject but rather inspired me not to give him any name at all. But, the dog is supposed to grow big, so I thought he is supposed to have a name. What should I call him? Call him - ‘Jack’ the dog?

The dog owners, modern-time world travelers, Pete Seeger’s and Woody Guthrie’s fans too, applied our minds to the best of our abilities, gave up, and finally named him ‘Banjo’ – in resemblance or in tribute to the musical instrument.

Then, we figured out Banjo is a pronunciation free name – If you are frustrated call him Bancho, if you are wanting to feel sophisticated, call him Banyo, and if musical you can hum, Bannn-j j j-o. In affection you can also call him ‘Bunjo’.

Six months old now, ‘Banjo’ is literally double the size when he first came to the house. A cool natured pup - sensitive and careless, is now big enough for local standards. In next six months to come, he is estimated to grow double. When his owners leave him alone in the house, Banjo probably knows he has to keep guard, but he prefers to take sound naps. Sleeping, probably he loves his dreams which are full of innocent smells and games.

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Disabled to horns and honks

We know Indians in India get in a honky-tonk mood when on the road. Newspapers available in English here funnily call it a horniness problem’, of otherwise mostly whom I find purty mild and sober and modest kind of people - either off or on the road.

To me, to a certain level, honking on roads is energetic and lively, and makes a city and perhaps India so vibrant. But loud ones, especially persistent ones, right on the ears when walking on the road aren’t so amusing. Nerves pulled, it also makes me think of people with disabilities who are sensitive to high decibel noises. I guess, a problem of bad road sense and indifference.

A possible solution comes by in my mind reading the satirical book - not much I agree to, but at times very insightful because perhaps it is liberating- is “A Beginner’s Guide to Political Economy” by Sauvik (available at his blog). Owing to these idears of political cum economic liberation, perhaps one can suggest to the Great Office in Delhi of MORTH (Ministry of Road Transport and Highways) to initiate a file - that to initiate a process of taxing vehicles on the basis of how louder their horns are. Louder we want to honk on the road, higher we pay for the car or scooter we buy! Simple! Also the exchequer will get some money; or at least some one may attempt this for the sake of less-able. One possible democratic regulatory answer so as to somewhat control too many a liberal people.

Further, on similar thoughts – since government loves and its people don’t mind ‘Subzi-dees’, perhaps bicycle ghantis (bells) can be made available cheaper. Subsequently, one can imagine cacophonous streets of low volume horns and trin trins. Picture a late evening, when the dying traffic does not sounds that bad.

And on highways we may allow the Tata’s dusty-desi trucks to keep their old signature sign “Horn Please!” as they were, because they kind of ring nice to our innocent ears.

Men on the morning TV

Missed the baasi (baa-see) supply of hourly letterman I always get in the morning at seven here. Courtesy ‘Star World’, thanks, I love it even if it is not live; it is relevant. Well, it was late at eight, and my dog kind-of satisfied, after he took me out on our regular morning walk. It had lasted for nearly an hour, and also since we had started late today, we had to face this agony of missing the show.

My Tata sky has about twenty news channels roughly, and you can flick them in one order. Thanks to digital technology available now. First one is DD, then the hindi ones, followed by the english news channels. While the hindi channels had regular Sallu and Dhoni being interviewed, the English ones showed what the CNN and BBC showed - a Live Obama 'state of the union' speech! Now there was something sinister about it. I can say this because I am just a simple observer, not any political commentator, living in today's globalised world. People attending the speech in the hall, clapped after every sentence the American president had sort-of completed. Nothing made sense to me, except some vague stuff he talked on job market in America, trade and Afghanistan and Eye-rack.

Well, I write this blog just to remind myself that Obama is America's president, not mine. Bhaiya, you can keep your CHANGE, I need more to survive in today’s world.

India 61st Republic day Parade

India is probably the biggest country in the world when the population and the land area indicators are together taken into account. Such big and dense is the mass that it allows most of its critics as well as its well-wishers into defining it as a cacophony. But the way this world works for a country- it is either only a ‘collective’ or a ‘consensus’ based sound which would come out, therefore defining it.

Reference is to the 61st Republic day yesterday and its most symbolic and anxiously celebrated event - its parade. I again stayed glued to it on my TV, choosing the old DD out of other twenty odd channels covering it live. It is not that I always watch it in some ardent nationalist like mood since childhood, like me many did not take it seriously. My uncle, a colonel in Army I had a drink with later in the night, played his regular round of golf. My website contractor continued with his work, although he didn’t forget to remind me that he had to keep his office open on this 26th because of my deadline which I insisted, not his time management skills. Most of the shops, coffee shops, wholesalers and chai-gallas (Gujarati for road tea stalls) stayed open.

My small office of three people stayed closed. In solidarity with hope for continual free air and free talks we are able to opinionate today. For those who might be a little eager to catch up - this ‘Republic’ day parade (A TV channel wittily calls it ‘Free-Public’) ceremony was over by 11:30AM; and most of it in the thick winter fog of Delhi. Probably, because we have a faster pace of life now, or as it is happening in most parts of the world, as humans we are becoming less patient. Reduced time slot allowed lesser exhibition of military missiles, and the cultural event had the same fervor - especially dances by the confidenter school children in Delhi, and obscure dance groups from elsewhere in the country spreading an energy and vibrancy, through amazingly graceful women which signifies sure empowerment of women tomorrow.

Indeed much of this is unlike the reality, for this was then a celebration event. To the Korean guest delegation, and few who saw it, saw a confident India, toned down, mellower as it probably would like to be in the world’s eyes.

It was one of the few days in a year when we partially remember our forefathers. And, as writers or blog writers or commenter, or even as general speakers we can always perpetually criticize our system, our politics, but definitely for once we can unequivocally celebrate the commonality that is people, celebrate hope…right?