And the issue is…

Poverty? “Who cares for Rs 1,400 as pension?” said one of the MPs who have just gone out. “Many of us spend Rs 5,000 a day.” What does it matter if the per capita income is just about Rs 1,200? Health For All by 2000? Yes, that is the goal! In pursuit of it, crores are spent on the treatment abroad of ministers.

Slums, houses, jobs: are those the issue? No, the issue is Clochemerle.

Clochemerle is a small town in France. One day in 1922, two men were strolling there, in the words of the famous writer, Gabriel Chevallier, “with the unhurried gait of country people who seem to have unlimited time to give to everything.”

One was the mayor, Barthelemy Piechut. The other was Ernest Tafardel, “school master, town clerk and, consequently,” the mayor’s right-hand man. Out on their stroll, it occurred to the two gentlemen that Clochemerele lacked something vital — a public urinal.

“They do it everywhere,” said the mayor. “What do they do?” asked the clerk. “What they should not be doing in public,” answered the mayor, not in exactly those words, but in more polished language.

The two men agreed that Clochemerle should have a public urinal. But where? The mayor called a meeting of the town committee. Someone suggested the cemetery. This was turned down as disrespectful to the dead. The church was the central place in Clochemerle. “Why not have it close to it?” The clergy protested.

Some men-about-town proposed an open place not far away from a tavern. This was accepted. The urinal appeared. But no one had taken into account the mansion of the aristocratic Mademoiselle Justine Putet close to the place. One day she walked into the mayor’s office and lambasted him. “You want,” she shouted, “men to do it there, just within my sight?”

“Do what?” asked the mayor.

“To show their whole caboodle in the open,” said the disgusted lady.

“By why should you watch them?” asked the mayor, enjoying her rage.

“What do you mean?” screamed the lady, “Men indulging in outrage under my very window and I closing my eyes on that? I protest. Please have the urinal removed and at once”.

The mayor did not budge. The issue became enormously political. Half of Clochemerle favoured leaving the urinal where it was, the other half urged its removal. The first half won.

Ten years later, the same two gentlemen were strolling at the same spot. The mayor had become a senator, the clerk a senior bureaucrat. “I have a feeling,” said the latter, “that the urinal we had established needs to be elevated.” The senator smiled and remarked, “My dear good friend, no more reforms. We have had our day. Now let others have theirs. Clochemerle needs time to digest progress.”