Meet a government servant who dared to go against tradition and switched off lights during Diwali. To put some shine into the life of a student in a remote village. “Begging does not get you an education or electricity; and food is eventually expunged from your body, education isn’t; and education does not diminish when you give it away.”
These are the words of 42-yearold Sharad Phatak – government servant by profession, social worker by choice. You may remember him as the man who convinced Lanes 3 and 4 of Mahadeo Chawl in Parel to turn off their lights for three hours in the evening and celebrate Diwali by lighting oil lamps. (‘Model citizens’ dark Diwali; MM, Nov 12).
A household routine
Conserving electricity so that others, mainly students in rural regions can study, is an ideal Phatak follows in every aspect of his life. He works in the Economy and Statistics department at the Mantralaya as a statistical assistant and serves as a trustee on the board of Shivaji Shikshan Saunstha in Ghatkopar.
The trust was started by his father and Shri Akaram Shankar Gaude in 1960 and runs a technical school which helps students from rural areas learn skills that become their livelihood.
Phatak has rewired his house, by himself, and installed CFL tube lights of various voltages. So if you were to take a bath, you switch on a 3-Watt tube as that is all you need to find the soap and water. But if you need more light to say, wash clothes, then you switch on a brighter 9-Watt tube. And this holds for all the rooms in his house. Brighter lights near the reading and cooking areas. Dimmer ones in the sitting area.
“The body acclimatises itself to light and weather conditions,” says Phatak, “so we don’t feel as hot as others who are used to whirring fans all day.”
His son, who studies in class IX, reads on the threshold of the house in natural light, when he needs to study. His wife has worked out a routine of washing maximum clothes in the washing machine and others are very careful about taking out whatever they need from the fridge in one go, instead of opening it repeatedly. They also keep consumables, such as milk, out of the fridge for a while before heating them to bring it up to room temperature, thereby reducing the gas spent on bringing it to a boil.
Inspired by a poem
Diva pahun Lakshmi yete Karu tichi prarthana (Lamps beckon Goddess Lakshmi Let us worship her) These lines from a Marathi poem inspired the Phatak household’s Diwali. “There is a kind of ‘prasannata’ (joy) that comes from celebrating Diwali this way,” he says, “It makes the atmosphere very peaceful. Some find it spiritual, some find it pragmatic. I find it essential.” He elaborates saying electricity consumption goes up by 10 to 15 per cent during the festive season. Even if the three hours of ‘lights-out’ does not bring down the average electricity bill, it at least keeps it to the average. Also, he says, the children get busy with minding the diyas, lighting and placing them around the house, re-lighting the ones that have gone off, and this keeps their minds occupied and also keeps them near their homes. Accidents and untoward behaviour is kept in check and the residents come closer as a community.
“I told them to give it a try,” says Phatak, “We’ve celebrated Diwali with garish lights and crackers, so why not try something different. And they all joined in.”
As a government employee, there is a core of cynicism in Phatak, but his optimism makes up for it. “We’re always blaming the government for not providing facilities,” he says, “But what are we doing to help others? The government will take its time to provide light in rural areas. But if we, as city-dwellers, save power, a village student benefits from it. That education is invaluable and will not leave him all his life.”
So he rides a cycle to anywhere he wants to go – for 7 to 10 kms – to save petrol and reduce pollution. “A mark of a government servant is his huge belly,” he says, “but because I cycle everywhere, I am as fit as a fiddle. My colleagues do remind me that my clerks and juniors have motorcycles and cars, but I tell them that my vehicle doesn’t determine my post. I know what I am and what I do. I do not become a lesser person by riding a bicycle.”
And so on prods Phatak, switching off the lights and fans in his office, trains; switching off his computer’s monitor during lunch hours or when the PC is processing something that does not require the monitor to be on – just so that some student in a faraway village, perhaps Phatak’s own, gets an education and shines with a light of his own.