It was past midnight when Ariana Afgan Airlines touched down at Kabul. Sivananda Rau met me at the airport and took me to his residence in Shore-Noveau. I was visibly impressed and therefore spontaneously caused an opinion on the Kabuliwallahs who bothered to leave a light energised at each of their gates. It was not out of generosity, Rau enlightened me -- but due to an order of the monarch that every householder should maintain his share of the road lighted in the night. The King himself could not afford to illuminate the streets.

The next day I reported at the Ministry of Posts & Telegraphs for work. The Ministry was also housing a post office for Kabul. My associate would tell me that it was the only post office in the town. Distribution of mail through postmen was not in vogue. Then how would the common man get his dak? Simple, he said, each individual was expected to rent a post box. The post office left the destined letters at the respective post boxes. The citizens collected their letters from their respective boxes. Again, managing a cadre and supervising the postmen was something beyond the Emperor.

When I narrated this to my brother who had settled in Baltimore since long, he thought that wasn't unique. That was the style in which he was expected to clear the occasional snow fall in his street and keep the walkways safe for the pedestrians. If an administration recognised something was beyond their competence and therefore left it to others, it was not wrong. It makes a lot of productivity wisdom.

In the days when Kolkata was Calcutta, our apartment in Lake Area had been piped for the so called street gas. The old city of Bombay had similarly been plumbed for gas, but it closed down in the early fifties. Piped gas would obtain a new lease of life again in the nineties when localities near Trombay were selected for distribution (that continues even today) through mains laid on the roadside.

The other metros are not that gas-savvy. They depend on the cylinders. Whereas the delivery of a refill cylinder may be expected in Delhi in 2 or 3 days, there are places where it takes 7 to 30 days. That the delivery time is not predictable, adds the mandatory insult to the injury. The resulting pain is that the gas agencies invariably excuse saying -- we were there, but the premises was locked. In all probability the delivery man sold the cylinder to another customer who was willing to donate a premium and not prepared to wait for his turn.

The worst to happen in the already bursting infrastructure was the big black out this new year's day [2002 meant]. The administration was not competent (and could not prevent a developing system separation from happening). So it was imagined -- why not let Kabul-like solutions be pasted, over here, on the day to day miseries of the common man? Many of the experiments that are only briefly rushed through in the article were initiated in the suburbs of Mumbai and rural parts of Tamilnadu. They are sustaining as of this writing. We also obtained a lot of support from the media.

I am grateful for the constructive suggestions posted. I should also confess the story is from real life. Of course the names had to be changed to protect the original. For example Ramesh was formerly Ron Goodwin. And Kolkata was Kansas. Some garnishing was also imperative before presenting to discriminating surfers at Sulekha