Sir PM was embarrassed after that round of verbal lashing. He had erred. In fact, only the day before, he told the missus of how he found it difficult to breathe during his morning walks. “You are right; it is a bad time in the city. Dr Viegas is doing double shifts, by helping his friends at the hospital given the alarming rise in the number of cases related to respiratory conditions that have emerged in the past few weeks. I will be more careful,” he replied.

By now beads of perspiration had formed on Lady Flora’s face. It was a very hot October. “I want to know how our authorities didn’t foresee this man-made disaster. Speeding up infrastructure projects is one thing, but how about imposing tight controls across all sites to avoid this massive health hazard? We are staring at a very dismal scenario. It’s bad enough that the state’s health budget ranks quite low when compared to other large states. Haven’t lessons been learnt after the killer pandemic strike?” her thoughts were valid, crucial points. Sir PM was upset at his former employer and the state for ignoring the plight of the country’s financial capital. 

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“This is an annual affair of alarming proportions, and yet, the powers-that-be, including my own former bosses, seem to be napping and underprepared to tackle this environmental calamity. Sadly, multiple projects, from the Coastal Road to the different Metro lines that cover most of the city and suburbs, residential and commercial construction work as well as road works are underway simultaneously. Nobody seemed to have factored that this can collectively lead to a health disaster. Stringent controls and checks should have been put in place to ensure comfortable air quality,” he explained.

By now, Gargoyle came by to join his pals. His face looked fatigued. “What’s up, Gargo? You seem tired,” Sir PM enquired. “It’s the smog. From where I am perched up on the terminus’ façade, there is no respite. For the past few days, I’ve barely been able to spot my friends who live across from the BMC building,” he exclaimed, continuing, “All of this isn’t doing any good for my weather-beaten appearance. My eyes get watery all the time, and guess what…the other day, I swear I spotted Percy fly straight into a pillar. Poor fella, couldn’t spot it thanks to such hazy skies.” Sir PM and Lady Flora felt awful hearing about their friend’s plight. 

“My former bosses are in reaction mode now, going by what the newspapers are saying. They have ‘swung’ into action, it seems, but it’s going to take a massive effort to normalise these levels. Our winter is still a while away, and heaven help us when that arrives,” Sir PM sighed. Lady Flora asked, “Pheroze, are they at least educating Bombaywallahs with awareness programmes as a stop-gap remedy?” Sir PM did the slow anti-nod, “I am afraid, they’ve been aggravatingly slow off the mark. Rather than using their time and energies to cover up unpleasant looking parts of the city when national and global leaders arrive for big summits, this critical aspect should have been researched by experts to find viable, long-term solutions. We have the brains and the money; but clearly priorities 
are elsewhere.”

It was dawn, and time for the trio to say their goodbyes. Lady Flora returned to her near-mummified look, “We haven’t learnt our lessons and continue to take the health of our citizens for granted. I hope this year will be the eye-opener,” she uttered, handing over spare masks to PM and Gargoyle. “That is if they manage to see the signs through the smog,” remarked Sir PM.

mid-day’s Features Editor Fiona Fernandez relishes the city’s sights, sounds, smells and stones...wherever the ink and the inclination takes her. She tweets @bombayana
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