Four months, unbelievable! And this will probably be last post of the year too… My New Year resolution should most decidedly be to write more regularly!
Two things made me come back to this rather neglected piece of cyberspace… the first was some genuine appreciation showered, quite undeservedly, especially in light of my recent disappearance, of this blog by a friend I met after a good 10 years, at a college reunion. The other was an observation I couldn’t help making while traveling in the Delhi Metro.
I love the Delhi Metro… this city badly needs better public transport, and having seen how well trains work in Mumbai, I always thought the Metro would be a great idea for Delhi. Don’t get me wrong, I have no idea whether it is the ‘ideal’ solution, nor do I know whether all the people displaced or otherwise affected by the Metro have been adequately compensated. What I do know is that the trains are fast, and they criss cross the city connecting the farthest corners, making traveling much easier (and yes, this is relatively speaking, have you ever tried getting onto the buses in Delhi?) So in that sense, the Metro is fantastic.
Besides, having travelled to Japan, and extensively in the trains there, I have realized how well a good train network can work. So what’s irking me? The design of the train! I find it strange that in a country like India, with the number of people that take public transport, the jokers have provided exactly one rod with handles to hold onto in the centre of the train. So of course the vast majority of the people do balancing acts and fall over each other every time the train starts and stops. I can imagine providing such few handles in other countries where there may not be as many people per train. But here? In Delhi? Its criminal! Haven’t they learnt anything from the Mumbai locals? I just don’t understand this lack of basic design sensibility… there is something like adapting to context! Is someone from the Delhi Metro listening?
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Kudos to Dr Shetty
And then there was this one about Dr Devi Shetty’s Narayana Hrudayalaya in Bangalore, titled ‘Heart in the right place.’ Dr Devi Shetty must be awesome human being, and is living the adage, where there is a will, there is a way.
In his interview he recounts how, as a doctor in a Calcutta in 1989, out of every 100 patients he saw, 99 could not afford heart surgery. He realized that to really solve the problem, he had to look at how to reduce the cost. Hence was born his idea of Narayana Hrudayalaya- a hospital with state of the art medical facilities, available at a fraction of their costs at other hospitals. This is achieved by staggering the cost across the day. So a brain scan that costs Rs 5000 at 2 pm, will cost only Rs 500 at 2 am- this is possible because the equipment is a one time cost. Coupled with the micro-health insurance scheme adopted by the Karnataka government, that is based on a model of economies of scale, modern healthcare has now been made possible for 80 percent of the state’s population. To quote from the article, ‘since they are so large, and can accommodate so many, the notional cost of each procedure drops drastically- a benefit they can pass on to those who really need it.’
This is a wonderful model, but can only work if welfare, and not only profits, stays a priority. And yet it is important to make it a sustainable model, for it to stay on course and not fall prey to corruption as many government welfare schemes do.
In his interview he recounts how, as a doctor in a Calcutta in 1989, out of every 100 patients he saw, 99 could not afford heart surgery. He realized that to really solve the problem, he had to look at how to reduce the cost. Hence was born his idea of Narayana Hrudayalaya- a hospital with state of the art medical facilities, available at a fraction of their costs at other hospitals. This is achieved by staggering the cost across the day. So a brain scan that costs Rs 5000 at 2 pm, will cost only Rs 500 at 2 am- this is possible because the equipment is a one time cost. Coupled with the micro-health insurance scheme adopted by the Karnataka government, that is based on a model of economies of scale, modern healthcare has now been made possible for 80 percent of the state’s population. To quote from the article, ‘since they are so large, and can accommodate so many, the notional cost of each procedure drops drastically- a benefit they can pass on to those who really need it.’
This is a wonderful model, but can only work if welfare, and not only profits, stays a priority. And yet it is important to make it a sustainable model, for it to stay on course and not fall prey to corruption as many government welfare schemes do.
What an idea sirji!
Every once in awhile, I come across a news item that makes my day… maybe that’s why I religiously start the day with a newspaper… in the last week, it happened twice, thanks to the Hindustan Times’ Inspired India series.
The first one that I am writing about appeared in the Mumbai edition of Aug 7, and was titled, ‘An idea could change your life’. It was one of those news items that you read with a sense of excitement, and pride, and finish with a sense of hope. It spoke about the many simple ideas many simple people across the country regularly come up with. Some of them get implemented, and are able to make a difference to the people who they are able to reach out to, and others suffer a quiet burial in the idea makers’ mind, or as a thesis in a library, or government paperwork…
I can easily understand one of the examples given in the article… that of Same Language Subtitling, as a teaching tool. It’s ingenious… ask me, I know. Many years ago, when I was working with TARAgyan, I was involved in the development of an English Speaking course, under the guidance of Dr Jalaluddin. We developed this course and tested it in a centre (a slum school) in Delhi, before launching it in our local centres in Bathinda and Jhansi. We were always on the lookout for simple but effective ideas such as this, which would be interesting for the student, and help with language skills. And this exactly fits the bill, though admittedly for Hindi/ a familiar language, for a semi literate person. We all know how much Indians love to watch films and television… We produce the maximum number of films in the world every year! Now if people who already have a spoken knowledge of Hindi, but rudimentary writing/ spelling/ grammar skills, are regularly shown films or television programmes with Hindi subtitles, its bound to improve their language skills… the constant exposure to the written word in a language already familiar to them will make it stick in their heads better than any forced reading of unfamiliar text can. I don’t know if this idea has been tested, though the report suggested that it has, but based on my little experience in the classroom , I think I can safely say that it would be very effective. It can be adapted and used for any language teaching, in fact, at a later stage.
What an idea sirji!!
And to think that every engineering student in every engineering college in this country submits such an idea as her thesis at the end of her degree, not to mention the hundreds and thousands of other smart people who are brimming with such simple but wonderful ideas… we could transform this country if only we could tap into all that potential. How many of us have even heard of the National Innovation Foundation, the government body that is supposed to encourage such ideas, and facilitate their implementation on a larger scale. The annual funds available to the NIF is 1.5 crores?! That is ridiculous! If studies could be conducted to scale the benefits, both monetary and the more intangible, we’d find that many of these innovative ideas would probably pay for themselves, and beyond… why then is such a miniscule amount dedicated to finding and tapping them?
Our country is so incredible in so many ways, and it is a tragedy indeed that so many people are never able to attain their true potential.
The first one that I am writing about appeared in the Mumbai edition of Aug 7, and was titled, ‘An idea could change your life’. It was one of those news items that you read with a sense of excitement, and pride, and finish with a sense of hope. It spoke about the many simple ideas many simple people across the country regularly come up with. Some of them get implemented, and are able to make a difference to the people who they are able to reach out to, and others suffer a quiet burial in the idea makers’ mind, or as a thesis in a library, or government paperwork…
I can easily understand one of the examples given in the article… that of Same Language Subtitling, as a teaching tool. It’s ingenious… ask me, I know. Many years ago, when I was working with TARAgyan, I was involved in the development of an English Speaking course, under the guidance of Dr Jalaluddin. We developed this course and tested it in a centre (a slum school) in Delhi, before launching it in our local centres in Bathinda and Jhansi. We were always on the lookout for simple but effective ideas such as this, which would be interesting for the student, and help with language skills. And this exactly fits the bill, though admittedly for Hindi/ a familiar language, for a semi literate person. We all know how much Indians love to watch films and television… We produce the maximum number of films in the world every year! Now if people who already have a spoken knowledge of Hindi, but rudimentary writing/ spelling/ grammar skills, are regularly shown films or television programmes with Hindi subtitles, its bound to improve their language skills… the constant exposure to the written word in a language already familiar to them will make it stick in their heads better than any forced reading of unfamiliar text can. I don’t know if this idea has been tested, though the report suggested that it has, but based on my little experience in the classroom , I think I can safely say that it would be very effective. It can be adapted and used for any language teaching, in fact, at a later stage.
What an idea sirji!!
And to think that every engineering student in every engineering college in this country submits such an idea as her thesis at the end of her degree, not to mention the hundreds and thousands of other smart people who are brimming with such simple but wonderful ideas… we could transform this country if only we could tap into all that potential. How many of us have even heard of the National Innovation Foundation, the government body that is supposed to encourage such ideas, and facilitate their implementation on a larger scale. The annual funds available to the NIF is 1.5 crores?! That is ridiculous! If studies could be conducted to scale the benefits, both monetary and the more intangible, we’d find that many of these innovative ideas would probably pay for themselves, and beyond… why then is such a miniscule amount dedicated to finding and tapping them?
Our country is so incredible in so many ways, and it is a tragedy indeed that so many people are never able to attain their true potential.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
A friend wrote a book!
Finished reading KK’s book today.
Kamini Karlekar or KK, as we fondly called her in school, is now an Independent Human Rights Consultant, working with the UN. In ‘(Un)settled: Notes from a shifting Life’, her maiden writing venture, she recounts her experiences of working in refugee camps in post conflict Sudan and Liberia, conducting interviews to determine eligibility for granting refugee status in the camps in Sudan, and to assist in return and reintegration of returning Liberians as well as continued protection of existing refugees in Liberia.
(Un)settled: Notes from a shifting Life, is just that: notes. Written in an almost conversational style, the book reads like entries from a journal. And thus it is that it is able to traverse a whole range of concerns, and talks of history, culture, politics, as well as her travels, love and personal needs with equal ease.
KK talks not just about the experience of working in the camps, but the whole journey that it involved. From immigration stories, to first impressions of every place that she visited, the book reads as much like a travalogue, as a memoir. She includes brief political histories to put things in context, and comments on all that she sees around her, the camps in the middle of the Sudanese desert, the supermarket in Khartoum, the lack of electricity and running water in the capital of Liberia, that also has a five star coffee shop catering to those who can afford it… there are many contradictions in all that she sees around her, and indeed in her own life, especially when she talks of her regular voluntary breaks, and all that she does on them, as also some of the thoughts, of her favourite places, and restaurants around the world, that keep her going on particularly difficult days. The contrast with her work is stark, but she seems comfortable with it, straddling both worlds with equal ease.
Her writing about her work in the camps is reflective. She doesn’t get into too much detail about the individual stories she must have encountered, concentrating instead on the fractured feelings of what home must mean to the refugees, as opposed to what it means to her. She is constantly reflecting on the questions that bother her, even if she is unable to find satisfactory answers to many. Her perspective seems unique, by virtue of the fact that she is a single woman, and Indian. This lends a sensitivity to her viewpoint, as I imagine, to her work.
Her writings about her voluntary breaks and about finding love, are delightfully travelogue-y. She paints verbal pictures of the places she visits, and the people she meets. These are interspersed with personal concerns such as getting manicures and pedicures, and stocking up on groceries, breathers in her otherwise introspective writing. Her efforts at setting up house in Liberia is a case in point.
‘(Un)settled…’ was for me, an easy read. I could identify with KK and her questions and concerns completely, though the closest I have ever come to being in a situation even vaguely like hers was when I volunteered to work in a Muslim camp in Ahmedabad for a week after the Godhra riots, conducting interviews to assess the displaced people’s claims to damage to property. For that week, I experienced the dichotomy that she lives everyday: a dear friend from Ahmedabad refused to let me stay in the dorm that was assigned to us volunteers, essentially a big empty hall in a college, with mattresses spread out on the floor. He picked up my bag, and off we went to his 11th floor apartment, in a relatively uptown neighbourhood. Thus I spent the next one-week, walking around in the heat and muck of June in the camps during the day, and enjoying wine and homemade Italian dinner and coffee in the evening. It was a contrast that I was unable to make peace with all these years; reading KK’s book has helped me achieve that, finally. Nevertheless, that experience had been an eye opener, and I imagine, in an alternate universe, if I hadn’t chosen filmmaking, I might well have been leading a life such as hers. But then again, my experience was all of a week, and she has been at it for years, in unfavourable weather, in isolated UN stations hours away from civilization, sometimes with unfriendly and uncooperative colleagues, many thousands of miles away from what she calls home. It’s an entirely different ball game, and I can only admire her for choosing the life she has chosen.
Kamini Karlekar or KK, as we fondly called her in school, is now an Independent Human Rights Consultant, working with the UN. In ‘(Un)settled: Notes from a shifting Life’, her maiden writing venture, she recounts her experiences of working in refugee camps in post conflict Sudan and Liberia, conducting interviews to determine eligibility for granting refugee status in the camps in Sudan, and to assist in return and reintegration of returning Liberians as well as continued protection of existing refugees in Liberia.
(Un)settled: Notes from a shifting Life, is just that: notes. Written in an almost conversational style, the book reads like entries from a journal. And thus it is that it is able to traverse a whole range of concerns, and talks of history, culture, politics, as well as her travels, love and personal needs with equal ease.
KK talks not just about the experience of working in the camps, but the whole journey that it involved. From immigration stories, to first impressions of every place that she visited, the book reads as much like a travalogue, as a memoir. She includes brief political histories to put things in context, and comments on all that she sees around her, the camps in the middle of the Sudanese desert, the supermarket in Khartoum, the lack of electricity and running water in the capital of Liberia, that also has a five star coffee shop catering to those who can afford it… there are many contradictions in all that she sees around her, and indeed in her own life, especially when she talks of her regular voluntary breaks, and all that she does on them, as also some of the thoughts, of her favourite places, and restaurants around the world, that keep her going on particularly difficult days. The contrast with her work is stark, but she seems comfortable with it, straddling both worlds with equal ease.
Her writing about her work in the camps is reflective. She doesn’t get into too much detail about the individual stories she must have encountered, concentrating instead on the fractured feelings of what home must mean to the refugees, as opposed to what it means to her. She is constantly reflecting on the questions that bother her, even if she is unable to find satisfactory answers to many. Her perspective seems unique, by virtue of the fact that she is a single woman, and Indian. This lends a sensitivity to her viewpoint, as I imagine, to her work.
Her writings about her voluntary breaks and about finding love, are delightfully travelogue-y. She paints verbal pictures of the places she visits, and the people she meets. These are interspersed with personal concerns such as getting manicures and pedicures, and stocking up on groceries, breathers in her otherwise introspective writing. Her efforts at setting up house in Liberia is a case in point.
‘(Un)settled…’ was for me, an easy read. I could identify with KK and her questions and concerns completely, though the closest I have ever come to being in a situation even vaguely like hers was when I volunteered to work in a Muslim camp in Ahmedabad for a week after the Godhra riots, conducting interviews to assess the displaced people’s claims to damage to property. For that week, I experienced the dichotomy that she lives everyday: a dear friend from Ahmedabad refused to let me stay in the dorm that was assigned to us volunteers, essentially a big empty hall in a college, with mattresses spread out on the floor. He picked up my bag, and off we went to his 11th floor apartment, in a relatively uptown neighbourhood. Thus I spent the next one-week, walking around in the heat and muck of June in the camps during the day, and enjoying wine and homemade Italian dinner and coffee in the evening. It was a contrast that I was unable to make peace with all these years; reading KK’s book has helped me achieve that, finally. Nevertheless, that experience had been an eye opener, and I imagine, in an alternate universe, if I hadn’t chosen filmmaking, I might well have been leading a life such as hers. But then again, my experience was all of a week, and she has been at it for years, in unfavourable weather, in isolated UN stations hours away from civilization, sometimes with unfriendly and uncooperative colleagues, many thousands of miles away from what she calls home. It’s an entirely different ball game, and I can only admire her for choosing the life she has chosen.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
And so it is...
In work, as in life in general, what is sometimes most important, more important than the victories and achievements, awards and money, is the dignity and grace with which we conduct ourselves along the way. Whether we can look at ourselves in the mirror without a sense of guilt or shame, whether indeed we are capable still of any amount of objectivity when it comes to ourselves.
It is this that I realized on a recent project that I was on. Perhaps I had a sense of it already, even if only theoretically, but difficult situations tend to reaffirm our beliefs. Or perhaps test them. And a test it was… one that I barely survived. Certainly would not have without the unfailing support and caring love of the man I was working under, and who I shall forever be indebted to, for everything that he was for me, and continues to be.
I often feel that I have been supremely lucky in finding the people that I have in my life, people who genuinely care about me. But more importantly, good people, with love and compassion in their hearts. The world’s a beautiful place because people like that exist and some of them are gracious enough to take lost souls like me under their wings…
It is this that I realized on a recent project that I was on. Perhaps I had a sense of it already, even if only theoretically, but difficult situations tend to reaffirm our beliefs. Or perhaps test them. And a test it was… one that I barely survived. Certainly would not have without the unfailing support and caring love of the man I was working under, and who I shall forever be indebted to, for everything that he was for me, and continues to be.
I often feel that I have been supremely lucky in finding the people that I have in my life, people who genuinely care about me. But more importantly, good people, with love and compassion in their hearts. The world’s a beautiful place because people like that exist and some of them are gracious enough to take lost souls like me under their wings…
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
And I travel by the same trains, Part 2
A rant from a long time ago... written on January 26, 2009
H’s brother died today.
I don’t know H too well; he’s a part of the Grip team that I have been working with on the last two shoots. He’s a young boy, all of nineteen, quiet and unassuming. And forever smiling. Today I got to know that he had a younger brother, a brother he lost to a local train accident.
This is about as close as I have come yet to my fears being realized, and now I am angrier and more scared and helpless still. Why is it so? Why is human life so worthless in this country? How many deaths does it take for us to sit up and take notice? Why are small numbers over a period of time so easy to ignore?
It seems to be a pattern. Small offences are forgivable, it takes a big jolt for people to really react. It’s as if we become habituated to things, and learn to accept them, because we feel so powerless to do anything about them. So we react with anger and outrage to bomb blasts that kill hundreds in the same local trains that claim hundreds of lives per month anyway. Somehow these hundred deaths are worth reacting to, their stories worth telling, their families worth supporting, while the other nameless faceless ones who lose their lives in the simple act of leading a normal life on a normal day go unnoticed because its something we have got used to.
Let me try and understand this. I read the papers, mostly HT, and I listen to the news on TV occasionally. And then there is the internet; chain mails, and Facebook groups. There seems to be a lot of anger in the people, especially about the recent attack in Mumbai. And what is it exactly that people are reacting to… the deaths, and the lack of security, the inability of the establishment to deal with terrorism, and to react to emergency situations.
I would have imagined however that there would be curiosity about finding the root of the problem, or atleast a drive towards it. There is most certainly a rise in terrorism. There is also a rise in violence in general, and in the crime rate. There is a rise in intolerance, whether it is towards another human being, or an entire community. And there is a rise in the concept of instant gratification. It’s a reflection of the society and the times we are living in.
Inconveniencing people brings instant gratification. It disrupts their peace, and they react immediately and strongly. And killing near and dear ones is the greatest inconvenience one can cause. If you inconvenience a critical mass of people, you get a certain amount of reaction. A few years ago, a few AK 47s would have sufficed. Then came the bomb. Now its serial blasts. Every time however people got used to it, and the reaction diluted. So I guess the brains behind the terrorists had to get more and more creative about it. They had to keep increasing the critical mass. When serial blasts stopped eliciting the desired response, they decided a change of tactic was in order. Some bright fellow came up with the idea of a sustained attack that would last a long time, a siege, so to say, of a place where the wealthy and the noticeable hang out. November 26 was born.
What next? Serial blasts across the nation?
(I still think the most creative was 9/11. That was a stroke of genius. Or maybe it was obvious to a more disruptive mind than mine.)
And towards what cause? I’m not entirely clear…
There are several points I am trying to make here. The situation is so complex, and there is so much to react to, that it makes me incoherent. I hope I can be excused for it…
The first is the rise in intolerance. It didn’t come about overnight. Nor is it confined to a single act. Its around us everywhere. Its what our children are growing up watching and imbibing. It’s there on the roads when we don’t allow a car to overtake, or grab a parking space. It’s there when we make a run for a bus instead of standing in queues. It’s there when we bribe government officials to get our water connection ahead of people before us. It’s there, and every new generation will be more intolerant that the one preceding it if we don’t accept and address it soon.
The next (ironically) is acceptance. We have learnt to accept injustice, even crime. We have become quietly submissive to restrictions on our daily lives, than fight for our freedom and dignity. So it is than women are afraid to step out after dark in Delhi, or people in Mumbai won’t voice their dissent against the likes of the Shiv Sena or the MNS, or Mayawati in UP or Modi in Gujarat. The force we have to fight is either too large and obscure, or too powerful to fight against. The fight seems too long drawn out, and the rewards too elusive, besides the fight is itself as thankless as it is fraught with danger. Faced with such odds, it’s hardly surprising that people make the choice that they do.
The next is insensitivity. As long as something doesn’t affect us directly we ignore it, or don’t give it its due, until it grows so large that we can’t ignore it anymore. Take the case of the Kashmir problem, or the insurgency in the North east or the Maoist movement in many states.
H’s brother wasn’t the first to die in a local train related accident, nor will he be the last. Accidents will keep happening, and people will keep getting injured and dying, a few everyday, until we decide to do something about it.
H’s brother died today.
I don’t know H too well; he’s a part of the Grip team that I have been working with on the last two shoots. He’s a young boy, all of nineteen, quiet and unassuming. And forever smiling. Today I got to know that he had a younger brother, a brother he lost to a local train accident.
This is about as close as I have come yet to my fears being realized, and now I am angrier and more scared and helpless still. Why is it so? Why is human life so worthless in this country? How many deaths does it take for us to sit up and take notice? Why are small numbers over a period of time so easy to ignore?
It seems to be a pattern. Small offences are forgivable, it takes a big jolt for people to really react. It’s as if we become habituated to things, and learn to accept them, because we feel so powerless to do anything about them. So we react with anger and outrage to bomb blasts that kill hundreds in the same local trains that claim hundreds of lives per month anyway. Somehow these hundred deaths are worth reacting to, their stories worth telling, their families worth supporting, while the other nameless faceless ones who lose their lives in the simple act of leading a normal life on a normal day go unnoticed because its something we have got used to.
Let me try and understand this. I read the papers, mostly HT, and I listen to the news on TV occasionally. And then there is the internet; chain mails, and Facebook groups. There seems to be a lot of anger in the people, especially about the recent attack in Mumbai. And what is it exactly that people are reacting to… the deaths, and the lack of security, the inability of the establishment to deal with terrorism, and to react to emergency situations.
I would have imagined however that there would be curiosity about finding the root of the problem, or atleast a drive towards it. There is most certainly a rise in terrorism. There is also a rise in violence in general, and in the crime rate. There is a rise in intolerance, whether it is towards another human being, or an entire community. And there is a rise in the concept of instant gratification. It’s a reflection of the society and the times we are living in.
Inconveniencing people brings instant gratification. It disrupts their peace, and they react immediately and strongly. And killing near and dear ones is the greatest inconvenience one can cause. If you inconvenience a critical mass of people, you get a certain amount of reaction. A few years ago, a few AK 47s would have sufficed. Then came the bomb. Now its serial blasts. Every time however people got used to it, and the reaction diluted. So I guess the brains behind the terrorists had to get more and more creative about it. They had to keep increasing the critical mass. When serial blasts stopped eliciting the desired response, they decided a change of tactic was in order. Some bright fellow came up with the idea of a sustained attack that would last a long time, a siege, so to say, of a place where the wealthy and the noticeable hang out. November 26 was born.
What next? Serial blasts across the nation?
(I still think the most creative was 9/11. That was a stroke of genius. Or maybe it was obvious to a more disruptive mind than mine.)
And towards what cause? I’m not entirely clear…
There are several points I am trying to make here. The situation is so complex, and there is so much to react to, that it makes me incoherent. I hope I can be excused for it…
The first is the rise in intolerance. It didn’t come about overnight. Nor is it confined to a single act. Its around us everywhere. Its what our children are growing up watching and imbibing. It’s there on the roads when we don’t allow a car to overtake, or grab a parking space. It’s there when we make a run for a bus instead of standing in queues. It’s there when we bribe government officials to get our water connection ahead of people before us. It’s there, and every new generation will be more intolerant that the one preceding it if we don’t accept and address it soon.
The next (ironically) is acceptance. We have learnt to accept injustice, even crime. We have become quietly submissive to restrictions on our daily lives, than fight for our freedom and dignity. So it is than women are afraid to step out after dark in Delhi, or people in Mumbai won’t voice their dissent against the likes of the Shiv Sena or the MNS, or Mayawati in UP or Modi in Gujarat. The force we have to fight is either too large and obscure, or too powerful to fight against. The fight seems too long drawn out, and the rewards too elusive, besides the fight is itself as thankless as it is fraught with danger. Faced with such odds, it’s hardly surprising that people make the choice that they do.
The next is insensitivity. As long as something doesn’t affect us directly we ignore it, or don’t give it its due, until it grows so large that we can’t ignore it anymore. Take the case of the Kashmir problem, or the insurgency in the North east or the Maoist movement in many states.
H’s brother wasn’t the first to die in a local train related accident, nor will he be the last. Accidents will keep happening, and people will keep getting injured and dying, a few everyday, until we decide to do something about it.
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