Refreshing customer service, for once!

Of late I have become rather fond of the famous breakfast cereal, now packaged with a tasty- ready- to eat-  formula, which transforms a rather tiresome cereal into something to actually look forward to! Of all the variants that have entered the market, I particularly favour the Pepper and Spice flavour, largely due to the presence of several real pieces of pepper and also cashews, which add  zing and crunch to my bowl of goodness at least once a week.

So, it was with with some surprise and concern that I found this morning's bowl MINUS the two most important ingredients - Pepper and Cashews!! Having stirred it up myself, I couldn't put the blame on anyone for picking them out or leaving them in the pan, either. The flavour, I admit was still there, but the joy of biting into a peppercorn at 8am was missing.

So, not one to keep quiet about such unfair practises, I quickly fished out the packet, which thanks to our system of separating garbage, was still intact and not lost under a mound of fruit peel and tea leaves.
I quickly shot off an email to the address written at the back of the package, along with batch number, manufacture date etc etc, with a lament about the missing ingredients.

And forgot all about it. As an Indian, having been repeatedly cheated, and now quite used to substandard stuff, I was quite sure that was the last I would ever hear of this matter. And went off to work. So, imagine my surprise when I first get a mail from the said Customer Service asking for my contact number, and having provided that, an actual CALL from them a few hours later!!

A very cultured voice; not your usual call centre voice which mispronounces your name  after trying to speak in two other languages before hitting on the correct one; speaks to me very politely. Checks on the story and expresses adequate surprise that something like this could have passed their very 'stringent' quality checks, and thanks me for caring enough to write in.

All in all a very satisfactory conversation, which left me quite happy that there are some large companies that are still bothered about their customers and the feedback they receive. Though I am not expecting a years supply of that awesome flavour in the mailbox, anytime soon.:)

No dignity for a final journey, yet?

They say India is the land of million Gods, a land which firmly believes in the passing of one's soul into the body of another, in reincarnation and reaching a heavenly abode, and in strictly following the rituals which will ultimately lead to this heaven.

Sadly, the journey that a person has to take to supposedly get 'there' is anything but heavenly. The ignominy of going through this process is sufficient to turn any person into an aetheist. I accompanied my friend to the 'holy river' Godavari located at Basara, near Nizamabad, to immerse his recently departed mother's remains. What was a very pleasant drive on 200 kilometres of beautifully paved highway, turned into a mind boggling horror show once we reached  the venue.

The Godavari at this point is almost dry, with  a little water that barely flows. The 'ghat' that has been prepared for these final rites is large, spacious, with all facilities like bathrooms, eateries and religious touts offering their services for a fee. The procedure that most follow is to wear bare minimum clothes, board a small row boat, and approach the centre of this little rivulet where the water is deep enough to unload the urn with the remains, drop into the water and take a dip, and quickly row back again.

The reality hits as one approaches the ghat. The entire bank of the river  -all the way from the ghat till the eye can see is covered with mounds of washed up cloths, urns, coconut shells and god-knows-what-else. Its worse than a landfill. And those at least get regulated from time to time. Not this. Not for years.

Whats visible of the river is dotted with hundreds of sons and husbands waiting to perform this final rite for their loved ones, trying to desperately shake the remains into a shallow, almost waterless river. Men and some women too, trying to take a dip in hardly 2 feet deep water that is filthy and brown. Two vultures circling around the banks looking for titbits. 

The souls of the departed must be revolted at this indignity of being jostled for space in a rite that should be clean, calm, and pure, and give a sense of closure to the bereaved. 

At the top of the ghat the scene becomes almost eerie and bizarre. Families who have accompanied the remains are milling around the eateries, with kids- in- arms, women in shiny polyester  clothes, beggars vying with each other for a good 'donation',  toy shops announcing their deals,  vendors making a quick buck; all this in a touristy, almost water-park like atmosphere, which is so far removed from whats happening down below at the river bed, that its difficult to believe its all at the same place where the dead are being given a final farewell.

Why can we not make the slightest effort to improve the quality of these places? Why can we not prevent cloths and other materials from being dumped into the river- even if the ' poojaris have instructed us so'? Why can the number of people going into the river not be regulated, and non-essential people like babies and hangers on be prevented from crowding the river? Why can the 'powers that be' not even be bothered to look into this? This apparently is the same story at every 'ghat' in the country with no respite in sight. Thousands of people dying every day, god rest their souls, having to suffer this due to our lack of sensitvity.

Is it necessary to mingle with the remains of others in order to reach heaven or even the next life? Not me, certainly not. I am going to become fertilizer in my garden.