Waste flows. It flows through the city, from dustbins to segregation centres and to landfills. If lucky, it disappears through the fumes of incinerators. Dissolving into the air and soil.
To make sense of its journey, I speak of its two distinctive movements– Vertical and Horizontal. Each with its own maze and rhythm.
The Vertical flow of waste
Waste flows vertically on its own, provided it is left alone, untouched for years. It might seem stagnant, but that is a visual deception.
Let me tell you a story of a mountain of waste and how it ‘flowed’ 328.08 feet below the earth on its own. Such agency!
In a beautiful city, there lived beautiful people with their beautiful things. They lived in harmony with their desires and wants. Everything was beautiful in this city except for their ugly lives.
Why were their lives ugly?
Marx would say that it was because they were alienated from themselves, the things they made, as well as the nature around them. This alienation created holes in the tapestry of the city, and its people would stick patches of pretty things into their lives to make it look beautiful.
Periyar would say that life was ugly in this city because, for thousands of years, its people had created hierarchical pyramids of touchability and untouchability, purity and profanity. In these pyramids, one group’s dignity was built on another’s humiliation, and waste was hurled onto the ‘others’ to preserve the illusion of beauty.
They did not read Marx and Periyar and continued sewing pretty things into their lives and throwing waste onto others. They thought buying pretty things would make them forget their meaningless 9-6 jobs, and throwing things at others would keep them pure . They read books which convinced them that their practice of Dharma [1] would guarantee a VIP lounge in heaven.
But life is here and now.
In the early 1970s, people’s obsession with beautiful things and purity deepened . With increased disposable income, they flocked to malls turning cash into waste. Unable to contain this excess in their own colonies, they dumped it onto another — one marked as impure. This other colony had people who were not at the top of the pyramid, they came from the forest. They built the city, but could not manage it. They built the mall, but could not enter and turn their wages into waste. They had no connection with either Sharma ji or Mishra ji.
So everyday, tons of waste would arrive at this colony to be dumped. You may ask what the government was doing with these changes in the city. It read the Dharma-purity book. It provided vehicles to purify the city and maintain its status.
Everything was going okay, the waste mountain was growing larger and higher . It did not seem to flow, just kept and preserved, decorated with layers of artefacts. Maybe the government wanted a museum of these artefacts, and of humans —- a Museum of Man.
The waste mountain had grown up to 80 feet by 2012, equivalent to around 5 floors. Nothing dramatic. But when a study revealed the flow of waste, everyone was shocked.
Waste, once assumed to be an inert, obedient chap, had been moving under its own blanket. It did so with such secrecy that the National Green Tribunal (NGT) was very upset with it.
In over five decades, Waste had flowed ‘downward’ seeping as deep as 328.04 feet into the ground. Immediately, NGT asked the people of the other colony to stop digging into the soil for water, and drink water from somewhere else.
Accusations and jibes were thrown at waste —
“We kept you safe for years, gave you a whole 57.8 acre land and even then you impure object couldn’t be satisfied. Our scriptures are so right about you.”
Waste stayed grounded and whispered slowly, “Malik[2], I tried whatever I could but I can’t go against my nature, my nature is to flow and rot. I will transform on my own. I leach and permeate into the soil.”
Horizontal flow of waste
Some 6,34,113 vehicles are deployed in India for this horizontal flow of waste. It is the maze of modernity, technology, GPS, human power and exploitation of a certain group of people.
All of this, a rite of passage for waste. Within this liminality, an object is neither a resource nor waste. It is something and everything in between. On its way to becoming, and transforming.
For the flow and passage, it must have a starting and an ending.
What is the inception of waste flow?
The act of throwing might be closest to the idea of waste. Many people talk about the change in position of an object in the making of waste.
Yes, a change in the position of an object.
Potato peels lying on the floor in the centre of the room are a source of anxiety, something that disturbs the order and aesthetic of the house, something that has to be quickly cleaned. It is garbage, waste.
Whereas when the same potato peel is put in the compost pit, it transforms into a valuable manure for the plants instead of waste.
Everything becomes waste the moment it enters a dustbin— a simple change in the position or place. A grandparent’s old watch is an epitome of nostalgia, inheritance, and continuity, even if it is non-functional. However, the moment it enters a dustbin, it is reduced to an obsolete waste — an old, useless, meaningless object ..
I think about waste not just as a change in the place but also a change in the relationship with its human.
Let me dive into the flow of waste to delve into more complex ideas of waste.
A stream of waste flows from the dustbin of my house and moves like a river, thickening and shrinking through the city.
I push myself to think beyond the mere dustbins and positions. Towards the relationship humans have with things around them, and the relationship they have with each other because of certain things.
I follow waste backwards, when it is being thought and intended beyond the realm of individual households, even before it becomes waste, before it starts flowing in the city. Where does it come from?
The dark, black, thick, waste stream — a mix of everything that can be imagined, from phones to the intestines of an animal, the flow of human excreta and being. As I move backwards to trace its flow, I see the blackness of the stream diluting– the Udgam[3] of the waste stream. The origin of the waste stream is marked by a bulldozer, it digs deep into the earth with its claws and intends to extract most of it. I bow down to the head of the bull, the waste, in its neat, clean, beautiful form like the packaging of Amazon boxes before they are crushed and thrown, flows from its mouth, intended to be transformed into something temporary, disposable and unable to fulfil human desires and profit. It is a spiritual experience to bow down to that bull, especially for a person like me who is emotionally and physically absorbed in the flow of waste, to witness waste beyond the material, into the relationship humans have with the earth.
For today, I do not enter the mouth of the bull but flow back to the city, to see who all dive into the black stream of the waste.
In between, I take some rest at home, eat a packet of chips and drink some bottled water. I take this empty packet and bottle with me and throw them in the waste stream. As I move, I see many people flowing with the waste in the stream, they are wearing t-shirts that say ‘waste workers’. Some women wear the t-shirt above their pallu[4], and some like to wear it as a blouse and wrap their pallu over it. I like both the styles.
It is the women waste workers who create the momentum of this horizontal flow. They enter all the dustbins, and untie all the tight knots of the pannis[5]. They are the alchemist– before their touch, everyone perceives the throwaway as waste, but the moment they touch it, it becomes maal (goods), a commodity. I am fascinated by this touch. Though this touch lets the blackness of the waste cover their bodies in a way that clean (swachh) water can not wash away. Alcohol and humiliation dilute it. Waste not only flows in the city but also permeates their bodies. The bodies of the vulnerable — they have labels of being untouchables, of being de-notified.
There are also people who do not enter the waste stream but just stand close to it. These are the ones that make the most money out of this transformative journey of waste. They make money because they are clean and pure. They claim that they are the head of the waste management body and bring knowledge and technology.
But waste itself wants to flow towards the women, not these heads. They want to burn waste, make it invisible, and waste knows that. Waste knows that women waste workers understand its potential, its transformative, flowy nature.
Heads don’t want people to think about the udgam of waste, the finitude of its inception. They have got a machine, and have convinced people that we don’t need the alchemy of women waste workers. This machine will convert everything to ashes and make the waste disappear. Buy now! They tell us that we can extract as much as we want. They spread the rumours of infinitude. They make us believe that extraction is the natural flow of our lives, they repeat and chant through hoardings that life is beautiful.
But the very existence and visibility of the waste disrupts this flawed flow, standing in front of us as the mountain, as a Museum of Man, reminding us that life, after all, might not be that beautiful and pure.
To make sense of its journey, I speak of its two distinctive movements– Vertical and Horizontal. Each with its own maze and rhythm.
The Vertical flow of waste
Waste flows vertically on its own, provided it is left alone, untouched for years. It might seem stagnant, but that is a visual deception.
Let me tell you a story of a mountain of waste and how it ‘flowed’ 328.08 feet below the earth on its own. Such agency!
In a beautiful city, there lived beautiful people with their beautiful things. They lived in harmony with their desires and wants. Everything was beautiful in this city except for their ugly lives.
Why were their lives ugly?
Marx would say that it was because they were alienated from themselves, the things they made, as well as the nature around them. This alienation created holes in the tapestry of the city, and its people would stick patches of pretty things into their lives to make it look beautiful.
Periyar would say that life was ugly in this city because, for thousands of years, its people had created hierarchical pyramids of touchability and untouchability, purity and profanity. In these pyramids, one group’s dignity was built on another’s humiliation, and waste was hurled onto the ‘others’ to preserve the illusion of beauty.
They did not read Marx and Periyar and continued sewing pretty things into their lives and throwing waste onto others. They thought buying pretty things would make them forget their meaningless 9-6 jobs, and throwing things at others would keep them pure . They read books which convinced them that their practice of Dharma [1] would guarantee a VIP lounge in heaven.
But life is here and now.
In the early 1970s, people’s obsession with beautiful things and purity deepened . With increased disposable income, they flocked to malls turning cash into waste. Unable to contain this excess in their own colonies, they dumped it onto another — one marked as impure. This other colony had people who were not at the top of the pyramid, they came from the forest. They built the city, but could not manage it. They built the mall, but could not enter and turn their wages into waste. They had no connection with either Sharma ji or Mishra ji.
So everyday, tons of waste would arrive at this colony to be dumped. You may ask what the government was doing with these changes in the city. It read the Dharma-purity book. It provided vehicles to purify the city and maintain its status.
Everything was going okay, the waste mountain was growing larger and higher . It did not seem to flow, just kept and preserved, decorated with layers of artefacts. Maybe the government wanted a museum of these artefacts, and of humans —- a Museum of Man.
The waste mountain had grown up to 80 feet by 2012, equivalent to around 5 floors. Nothing dramatic. But when a study revealed the flow of waste, everyone was shocked.
Waste, once assumed to be an inert, obedient chap, had been moving under its own blanket. It did so with such secrecy that the National Green Tribunal (NGT) was very upset with it.
In over five decades, Waste had flowed ‘downward’ seeping as deep as 328.04 feet into the ground. Immediately, NGT asked the people of the other colony to stop digging into the soil for water, and drink water from somewhere else.
Accusations and jibes were thrown at waste —
“We kept you safe for years, gave you a whole 57.8 acre land and even then you impure object couldn’t be satisfied. Our scriptures are so right about you.”
Waste stayed grounded and whispered slowly, “Malik[2], I tried whatever I could but I can’t go against my nature, my nature is to flow and rot. I will transform on my own. I leach and permeate into the soil.”
Horizontal flow of waste
Some 6,34,113 vehicles are deployed in India for this horizontal flow of waste. It is the maze of modernity, technology, GPS, human power and exploitation of a certain group of people.
All of this, a rite of passage for waste. Within this liminality, an object is neither a resource nor waste. It is something and everything in between. On its way to becoming, and transforming.
For the flow and passage, it must have a starting and an ending.
What is the inception of waste flow?
The act of throwing might be closest to the idea of waste. Many people talk about the change in position of an object in the making of waste.
Yes, a change in the position of an object.
Potato peels lying on the floor in the centre of the room are a source of anxiety, something that disturbs the order and aesthetic of the house, something that has to be quickly cleaned. It is garbage, waste.
Whereas when the same potato peel is put in the compost pit, it transforms into a valuable manure for the plants instead of waste.
Everything becomes waste the moment it enters a dustbin— a simple change in the position or place. A grandparent’s old watch is an epitome of nostalgia, inheritance, and continuity, even if it is non-functional. However, the moment it enters a dustbin, it is reduced to an obsolete waste — an old, useless, meaningless object ..
I think about waste not just as a change in the place but also a change in the relationship with its human.
Let me dive into the flow of waste to delve into more complex ideas of waste.
A stream of waste flows from the dustbin of my house and moves like a river, thickening and shrinking through the city.
I push myself to think beyond the mere dustbins and positions. Towards the relationship humans have with things around them, and the relationship they have with each other because of certain things.
I follow waste backwards, when it is being thought and intended beyond the realm of individual households, even before it becomes waste, before it starts flowing in the city. Where does it come from?
The dark, black, thick, waste stream — a mix of everything that can be imagined, from phones to the intestines of an animal, the flow of human excreta and being. As I move backwards to trace its flow, I see the blackness of the stream diluting– the Udgam[3] of the waste stream. The origin of the waste stream is marked by a bulldozer, it digs deep into the earth with its claws and intends to extract most of it. I bow down to the head of the bull, the waste, in its neat, clean, beautiful form like the packaging of Amazon boxes before they are crushed and thrown, flows from its mouth, intended to be transformed into something temporary, disposable and unable to fulfil human desires and profit. It is a spiritual experience to bow down to that bull, especially for a person like me who is emotionally and physically absorbed in the flow of waste, to witness waste beyond the material, into the relationship humans have with the earth.
For today, I do not enter the mouth of the bull but flow back to the city, to see who all dive into the black stream of the waste.
In between, I take some rest at home, eat a packet of chips and drink some bottled water. I take this empty packet and bottle with me and throw them in the waste stream. As I move, I see many people flowing with the waste in the stream, they are wearing t-shirts that say ‘waste workers’. Some women wear the t-shirt above their pallu[4], and some like to wear it as a blouse and wrap their pallu over it. I like both the styles.
It is the women waste workers who create the momentum of this horizontal flow. They enter all the dustbins, and untie all the tight knots of the pannis[5]. They are the alchemist– before their touch, everyone perceives the throwaway as waste, but the moment they touch it, it becomes maal (goods), a commodity. I am fascinated by this touch. Though this touch lets the blackness of the waste cover their bodies in a way that clean (swachh) water can not wash away. Alcohol and humiliation dilute it. Waste not only flows in the city but also permeates their bodies. The bodies of the vulnerable — they have labels of being untouchables, of being de-notified.
There are also people who do not enter the waste stream but just stand close to it. These are the ones that make the most money out of this transformative journey of waste. They make money because they are clean and pure. They claim that they are the head of the waste management body and bring knowledge and technology.
But waste itself wants to flow towards the women, not these heads. They want to burn waste, make it invisible, and waste knows that. Waste knows that women waste workers understand its potential, its transformative, flowy nature.
Heads don’t want people to think about the udgam of waste, the finitude of its inception. They have got a machine, and have convinced people that we don’t need the alchemy of women waste workers. This machine will convert everything to ashes and make the waste disappear. Buy now! They tell us that we can extract as much as we want. They spread the rumours of infinitude. They make us believe that extraction is the natural flow of our lives, they repeat and chant through hoardings that life is beautiful.
But the very existence and visibility of the waste disrupts this flawed flow, standing in front of us as the mountain, as a Museum of Man, reminding us that life, after all, might not be that beautiful and pure.
1 Dharma is a key concept in Hinduism religion governing conduct of individuals and groups. It translates to Duty in English Language.
2 Malik translates to Owner, a person who owns things/ people.
3 Udgam is a hindi term translating into the source from where the river begins
4 Pallu is the one end of the saree, a long piece of cloth worn by many South Asian women, draped over the shoulder.
5 Panni is a word used for thin plastic bags, regardless of their actual polymer type.
2 Malik translates to Owner, a person who owns things/ people.
3 Udgam is a hindi term translating into the source from where the river begins
4 Pallu is the one end of the saree, a long piece of cloth worn by many South Asian women, draped over the shoulder.
5 Panni is a word used for thin plastic bags, regardless of their actual polymer type.