The Paradox of Sustainability: Scheme To Collect Gobbar and Its Advertisements on Primetime TV.

Last night, as I settled in for a quiet dinner at home, little did I know that a 20-minute advertisement marathon on ZeeNews in India would leave me questioning the very essence of sustainability and circular economy.

Among the barrage of commercials, what caught my attention were the astonishing number of ads from various state governments, ruled by different parties at present, each clamouring for their share of the precious airtime. It was astounding to realize that half of this airtime was dominated by government ads, enticing viewers with promises of government jobs and alluring freebies.

Among the repeated ads, one particular state government's scheme stood out, a plan to purchase cattle dung, affectionately known as Gobbar, from cattle owners. The intention behind the scheme seemed noble at first glance, aimed at increasing the income of farmers. However, the more I contemplated the idea, the more I began to question its true sustainability.

Memories of my village flooded back, where we once embraced a simple yet effective system for dealing with Gobbar. A plot of government land about a kilometre away from our homes served as the perfect place for villagers to dump cow dung into small enclosures known as Kurdis. The magic of nature would transform this organic waste into nutrient-rich compost over a few months, a testament to the beauty of a self-sufficient and circular economy.

Unfortunately, the winds of change brought with them unforeseen consequences when the government decided to build an overhead water tank, aptly named the Tanki, directly over the land where our Kurdis once thrived. The Tanki promised to provide us with a continuous water supply, a development that initially seemed like a blessing. Little did we know that it would disrupt our age-old sustainable practices.

With the arrival of the Tanki, villagers lost the place to dump and store Gobbar. Moreover, the convenience of a free water supply encouraged them to wash away the Gobbar instead of collecting and composting it in dry form. The mixture of dung and water flowed through the drains, eventually reaching our once-pristine water pond that used to recharge our handpumps and provide clean and refreshing water for drinking.

As a result, within just three short years, the pond fell victim to eutrophication due to the excessive nutrients from the washed Gobbar. As a result, the pond's capacity to recharge the groundwater decreased, and the water from the handpumps became contaminated, causing health issues when consumed. Tragically, our once-reliable handpumps eventually ran dry, leaving our village wholly dependent on electricity and centralized water supply.

The repercussions of the Tanki extended beyond our water supply, forcing us to rely on expensive campers of RO water for drinking. The self-sufficient village that once thrived on sustainable practices found itself entangled in a web of pseudo-sustainability, an unfortunate outcome of a seemingly well-intentioned government scheme.

During my recent visit to the village at the beginning of this year, I had mixed feelings about witnessing the ongoing work of cleaning the water pond, now undertaken through a contract worth over a crore rupees facilitated by the state government. It was evident that this costly endeavour had become the only viable option to address the recurring issues that plagued the once-pristine pond.

This eye-opening experience left me with a lesson - while immediate gains may appear alluring, we must consider the long-term effects of our actions.?

It leaves me wondering who pays for advertisements by state Governments on primetime TV.