From national crisis to national cure: Lessons from Indore's clean sweep
V. Raghunathan is a former Director of the Schulich School of Business (India Program), York University, Toronto, a former professor at IIM Ahmedabad and a former President of ING Vysya Bank. A prolific author, he has written over 15 books, including the national bestseller Games Indians Play (Penguin). With more than 600 published papers and articles, his latest books include The Lion, The Admiral, and A Cat Called B. Uma Vijaylakshmi (Westland, 2025) and To Every Parent; To Every Child (Penguin, 2025) and Irrationally Rational: 10 Nobel Laureates Script the Story of Behavioural Economics (Penguin 2022), among others. LESS ... MORE
We are a nation of stark contradictions: deeply spiritual, revering rivers like the Ganga and Yamuna in our mythology and rituals yet ranked among the world's most polluted nations. If we are ashamed, it's not showing. At least not enough.
Our sacred rivers are heavily contaminated by untreated sewage, industrial effluents, and religious offerings. Urban drainage systems remain outdated, and sanitation workers –many from marginalized communities – risk their lives cleaning sewers without proper safety gear, reflecting systemic neglect and caste-based discrimination. Air pollution, especially in Delhi, and streets clogged with garbage and stench further underscore the crisis. Even India's proud railway network discharges waste directly onto tracks, exemplifying systemic neglect. Despite ambitious initiatives like Swachh Bharat, many toilets remain unused, and waste management remains primitive, burning, burying, or dumping refuse in open spaces. Public areas are overwhelmed with plastic, food waste, and debris, driven by cultural laxity and apathy. Education campaigns alone have limited impact without enforcement or civic pride. Ultimately, India's sanitation challenge isn't just infrastructural; it demands a cultural reset, transforming slogans into ingrained civic habits.
But amid this pervasive gloom, there is a shining beacon: Indore. Once a typical mid-sized city plagued by waste, stench, and civic apathy, Indore has redefined what's possible. It has topped India's Swachh Survekshan rankings for six consecutive years, proving that cleanliness is not a fantasy but an achievable reality. This success didn't happen by chance; it was the result of deliberate design, relentless execution, and a profound cultural shift. India doesn't lack the knowledge or technology; it lacks the will and persistent effort. Indore demonstrated that with political resolve, professional leadership, and active citizen participation, transformation is inevitable.
So, what exactly did Indore do right? Can its model be replicated across India? The answer lies in a series of strategic steps:
A mission-oriented approach
Indore's core strength was establishing a unified, empowered, and accountable sanitation task force. Instead of responsibility being scattered across multiple departments, the city brought together municipal officials, private waste contractors, sanitation workers, engineers, health officials, and citizens. This was more than creating committees; it was about making cleanliness a civic mission. Targets were set, budgets allocated, and results tracked. The city's leadership, from the mayor to the frontline workers, embraced the vision of making Indore India's cleanest city, and they delivered.
For other cities, a similar Decentralised Urban Sanitation Mission (DUSM) should be established – an autonomous, professional body with a dedicated chief sanitation officer and cross-functional teams. Funding from the Centre and states must prioritize sanitation as a core public health issue, not an afterthought.
Segregated at source
Indore broke new ground by enforcing 100% household segregation of waste into wet, dry, and hazardous categories. It was not just about distributing coloured bins; it involved sustained public education, strict penalties, and daily feedback. Over 1,600 'safai mitras' or sanitation ambassadors, were deployed, each assigned specific households and trained to promote cleanliness. GPS-tracked waste collection vehicles monitored punctuality and coverage. Wet waste was processed locally through composting and bio-methanation, dry waste was sorted for recycling, and hazardous waste was carefully disposed of. This professional backbone and community buy-in reduced landfill dependence, increased recycling, and restored dignity to sanitation workers. India must emulate this model, not with promises, but with on-ground action.
Professionalisation of sanitation services
Dependence on contractual labour and outdated methods hampers progress. Indore invested in professional facility management firms, performance-based contracts, and tech-enabled monitoring. Workers received protective gear, uniforms, insurance, and training. Routine cleaning, proactive drain clearance, and emergency response systems became standard. India needs a National Institute of Urban Cleanliness Management to train municipal leaders, engineers, and frontline workers. Sanitation must become a science and profession, not caste-based toil. Staff must be paid better, insured, housed, and protected; dignity and safety are non-negotiable.
Upgrade Infrastructure
Physical infrastructure is vital. Indore replaced open drains with covered sewers, built public toilets every 500 meters, and installed modern dustbins based on data, not politics. A central control centre monitored real-time operations, waste vehicle movements, and public complaints. QR codes allowed citizens to rate toilets; apps and helplines made reporting issues easy. Transparency built trust, encouraging usage. Every city must conduct ground-level audits, prioritize maintenance over new construction, and ensure infrastructure supports daily cleaning and waste disposal.
Behavioural change: As in the 'Roko-Toko' revolution
Perhaps Indore's most understated achievement is the cultural shift it inspired. The 'Roko-Toko' campaign, meaning 'Stop and Remind', encouraged children, shopkeepers, and volunteers to politely stop people from littering, offering chocolates or tokens as incentives to do the right thing. This simple act fostered pride and made cleanliness a matter of honour. Schools actively engaged students in cleanliness drives, while local celebrities, radio shows, and community events helped reinforce the message. To deepen this impact, India should emulate the Japanese model by mandating schools, both government and private, to involve staff and students in maintaining cleanliness, including proper waste disposal and toilet hygiene, with staff equipped with protective gear like gloves and masks.
This requires a serious overhaul of school curricula to include environmental civics and sanitation ethics. Public campaigns must move beyond preachy slogans; humour, pride, and community ownership should become the driving forces. 'Swachh Bharat' will only succeed when cleanliness becomes a daily habit, ingrained in the cultural fabric rather than just posters and slogans.
The War on Plastic and Air Pollution
Plastic waste must be tackled at the source. Indore promoted cloth bags, ran buyback schemes for plastic, and encouraged eco-friendly packaging like areca leaves and coconut shells. Strict enforcement of single-use plastic bans is essential. Additionally, air quality must be integrated into sanitation efforts; dust suppression, mechanized street sweeping, and emissions control are public health priorities, not luxuries.
Railways and rural adaptation
Railways and transit hubs are critical fronts in the fight for hygiene. All trains must adopt bio-vacuum toilets with automatic locks when stationary, preventing waste discharge onto tracks. Major stations should be managed by professional cleaning firms under strict service-level agreements, with regular audits to ensure standards. Tracks must be maintained like hospital floors – clean and hygienic.
In rural India, the focus must go beyond toilet construction. Toilets must be functional, with reliable water supply and maintenance. Village-level composting, segregated waste collection, and panchayat-linked funding can incentivize sustained performance. Awareness campaigns should address behavioural taboos respectfully, fostering long-term change.
In conclusion, Indore is not a miracle; it is a model. If a city with all its complexities can lead the way, every municipality, district, and state in India can follow suit. But this requires political resolve, civic participation, and consistent, professional execution. The real lesson is not just how to clean a city but how to build a culture of cleanliness, one that endures. If India can do this, we can finally stop bowing to the Ganga with one hand while poisoning her with the other.
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Time of India
a day ago
- Time of India
From national crisis to national cure: Lessons from Indore's clean sweep
V. Raghunathan is a former Director of the Schulich School of Business (India Program), York University, Toronto, a former professor at IIM Ahmedabad and a former President of ING Vysya Bank. A prolific author, he has written over 15 books, including the national bestseller Games Indians Play (Penguin). With more than 600 published papers and articles, his latest books include The Lion, The Admiral, and A Cat Called B. Uma Vijaylakshmi (Westland, 2025) and To Every Parent; To Every Child (Penguin, 2025) and Irrationally Rational: 10 Nobel Laureates Script the Story of Behavioural Economics (Penguin 2022), among others. LESS ... MORE We are a nation of stark contradictions: deeply spiritual, revering rivers like the Ganga and Yamuna in our mythology and rituals yet ranked among the world's most polluted nations. If we are ashamed, it's not showing. At least not enough. Our sacred rivers are heavily contaminated by untreated sewage, industrial effluents, and religious offerings. Urban drainage systems remain outdated, and sanitation workers –many from marginalized communities – risk their lives cleaning sewers without proper safety gear, reflecting systemic neglect and caste-based discrimination. Air pollution, especially in Delhi, and streets clogged with garbage and stench further underscore the crisis. Even India's proud railway network discharges waste directly onto tracks, exemplifying systemic neglect. Despite ambitious initiatives like Swachh Bharat, many toilets remain unused, and waste management remains primitive, burning, burying, or dumping refuse in open spaces. Public areas are overwhelmed with plastic, food waste, and debris, driven by cultural laxity and apathy. Education campaigns alone have limited impact without enforcement or civic pride. Ultimately, India's sanitation challenge isn't just infrastructural; it demands a cultural reset, transforming slogans into ingrained civic habits. But amid this pervasive gloom, there is a shining beacon: Indore. Once a typical mid-sized city plagued by waste, stench, and civic apathy, Indore has redefined what's possible. It has topped India's Swachh Survekshan rankings for six consecutive years, proving that cleanliness is not a fantasy but an achievable reality. This success didn't happen by chance; it was the result of deliberate design, relentless execution, and a profound cultural shift. India doesn't lack the knowledge or technology; it lacks the will and persistent effort. Indore demonstrated that with political resolve, professional leadership, and active citizen participation, transformation is inevitable. So, what exactly did Indore do right? Can its model be replicated across India? The answer lies in a series of strategic steps: A mission-oriented approach Indore's core strength was establishing a unified, empowered, and accountable sanitation task force. Instead of responsibility being scattered across multiple departments, the city brought together municipal officials, private waste contractors, sanitation workers, engineers, health officials, and citizens. This was more than creating committees; it was about making cleanliness a civic mission. Targets were set, budgets allocated, and results tracked. The city's leadership, from the mayor to the frontline workers, embraced the vision of making Indore India's cleanest city, and they delivered. For other cities, a similar Decentralised Urban Sanitation Mission (DUSM) should be established – an autonomous, professional body with a dedicated chief sanitation officer and cross-functional teams. Funding from the Centre and states must prioritize sanitation as a core public health issue, not an afterthought. Segregated at source Indore broke new ground by enforcing 100% household segregation of waste into wet, dry, and hazardous categories. It was not just about distributing coloured bins; it involved sustained public education, strict penalties, and daily feedback. Over 1,600 'safai mitras' or sanitation ambassadors, were deployed, each assigned specific households and trained to promote cleanliness. GPS-tracked waste collection vehicles monitored punctuality and coverage. Wet waste was processed locally through composting and bio-methanation, dry waste was sorted for recycling, and hazardous waste was carefully disposed of. This professional backbone and community buy-in reduced landfill dependence, increased recycling, and restored dignity to sanitation workers. India must emulate this model, not with promises, but with on-ground action. Professionalisation of sanitation services Dependence on contractual labour and outdated methods hampers progress. Indore invested in professional facility management firms, performance-based contracts, and tech-enabled monitoring. Workers received protective gear, uniforms, insurance, and training. Routine cleaning, proactive drain clearance, and emergency response systems became standard. India needs a National Institute of Urban Cleanliness Management to train municipal leaders, engineers, and frontline workers. Sanitation must become a science and profession, not caste-based toil. Staff must be paid better, insured, housed, and protected; dignity and safety are non-negotiable. Upgrade Infrastructure Physical infrastructure is vital. Indore replaced open drains with covered sewers, built public toilets every 500 meters, and installed modern dustbins based on data, not politics. A central control centre monitored real-time operations, waste vehicle movements, and public complaints. QR codes allowed citizens to rate toilets; apps and helplines made reporting issues easy. Transparency built trust, encouraging usage. Every city must conduct ground-level audits, prioritize maintenance over new construction, and ensure infrastructure supports daily cleaning and waste disposal. Behavioural change: As in the 'Roko-Toko' revolution Perhaps Indore's most understated achievement is the cultural shift it inspired. The 'Roko-Toko' campaign, meaning 'Stop and Remind', encouraged children, shopkeepers, and volunteers to politely stop people from littering, offering chocolates or tokens as incentives to do the right thing. This simple act fostered pride and made cleanliness a matter of honour. Schools actively engaged students in cleanliness drives, while local celebrities, radio shows, and community events helped reinforce the message. To deepen this impact, India should emulate the Japanese model by mandating schools, both government and private, to involve staff and students in maintaining cleanliness, including proper waste disposal and toilet hygiene, with staff equipped with protective gear like gloves and masks. This requires a serious overhaul of school curricula to include environmental civics and sanitation ethics. Public campaigns must move beyond preachy slogans; humour, pride, and community ownership should become the driving forces. 'Swachh Bharat' will only succeed when cleanliness becomes a daily habit, ingrained in the cultural fabric rather than just posters and slogans. The War on Plastic and Air Pollution Plastic waste must be tackled at the source. Indore promoted cloth bags, ran buyback schemes for plastic, and encouraged eco-friendly packaging like areca leaves and coconut shells. Strict enforcement of single-use plastic bans is essential. Additionally, air quality must be integrated into sanitation efforts; dust suppression, mechanized street sweeping, and emissions control are public health priorities, not luxuries. Railways and rural adaptation Railways and transit hubs are critical fronts in the fight for hygiene. All trains must adopt bio-vacuum toilets with automatic locks when stationary, preventing waste discharge onto tracks. Major stations should be managed by professional cleaning firms under strict service-level agreements, with regular audits to ensure standards. Tracks must be maintained like hospital floors – clean and hygienic. In rural India, the focus must go beyond toilet construction. Toilets must be functional, with reliable water supply and maintenance. Village-level composting, segregated waste collection, and panchayat-linked funding can incentivize sustained performance. Awareness campaigns should address behavioural taboos respectfully, fostering long-term change. In conclusion, Indore is not a miracle; it is a model. If a city with all its complexities can lead the way, every municipality, district, and state in India can follow suit. But this requires political resolve, civic participation, and consistent, professional execution. The real lesson is not just how to clean a city but how to build a culture of cleanliness, one that endures. If India can do this, we can finally stop bowing to the Ganga with one hand while poisoning her with the other. Facebook Twitter Linkedin Email Disclaimer Views expressed above are the author's own.
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International Booker Prize 2025: How Banu Mushtaq's Heart Lamp insists on dignity, witness and repair
On the day Banu Mushtaq and Deepa Bhasthi win the 2025 International Booker Prize for Heart Lamp (Penguin), the first Kannada book and only the second Indian literary work to win the award, the Supreme Court of India spends over three hours hearing the petitions challenging the Waqf (Amendment) Act 2025 on the question of passing interim orders; the after-echoes of hostility between India and Pakistan continue to ricochet off television studios and drawing-room conversations. On stage, however, Mushtaq speaks of a different world, one in which stories make it possible to pause and to listen, to speak and be heard, and most of all, to look differences in the eye and seek rapprochement. 'Tonight isn't an endpoint — it's a torch passed. May it light the way for more stories from unheard corners, more translations that defy borders, and more voices that remind us: the universe fits inside every 'I',' says Mushtaq, 77, in her acceptance speech. A day later, over a telephone call from London, she speaks of why the human ability to overcome adversity drives her conviction in change. 'This rupture is not true only of India, it is playing out across the world. There is no faith. There is no harmony. There are wars. People are suffering. And yet, I feel hopeful. When you turn the pages of history, you see bloodshed, torture, sorrow and mourning. But even then, you know, the sun shines, good sense prevails, people turn to each other in trust. This time will pass and peace will prevail. I am hopeful about it,' she says. A lawyer, activist and writer, through the course of her own life and career in Karnataka's Hassan, Mushtaq has known what it means to be an outlier. Despite her middle-class upbringing and the freedoms that shaped her, she had sensed early on that choice was a privilege not afforded to many women of her religion and class. Since her school days she had wanted to write. 'As a child, I would scribble on the walls and the floor and pretend that there was an audience waiting to read what I had to say. I would tell my father that I have written a story and he would sit with me as I read out whatever I had put together that day,' she says. Through her one novel and six story collections, her Kannada translations of legal texts, she sought to tell the stories of others like her, yet not quite, in the polyphonic cadences of a colloquial Kannada that she made her own. In the aftermath of Heart Lamp's win, a collection of 12 short stories written between 1990 and 2023, and put together by Bhasthi, there have been murmurs on social media about the book's success, its worthiness to garner one of literature's most coveted awards, about the possibility of its journey being eased by the zeitgeist of a fractured world in search of inclusive symbols. To be honest, Heart Lamp is not a seductive read in the traditional sense. It doesn't dazzle with plot twists or offer the slow burn of psychological complexity. Instead, it demands something more uncomfortable from the reader: to sit with pain, to listen to voices that have long been smothered and to recognise that certain stories aren't told to entertain; they are articulated to hold space for grief, for defiance, for survival; that the emotional squalor they portray is so routine, so normalised by its perpetuation that it could almost slip into the terrain of dark comedy. To suggest that Heart Lamp is unworthy of its honour is to disregard the urgency of its demand — for dignity, for equality, for witness. That the very excess that some critics of Heart Lamp find overwrought, the self-sameness of the stories, is, arguably, its point — its most deliberate and political feature. Unlike Geetanjali Shree and Daisy Rockwell's Tomb of Sand (Penguin) — the first Indian novel to win the International Booker Prize in 2022 — whose expansive canvas was Partition, Mushtaq's literary universe deals with the quotidian — the microaggressions, domestic confinements and everyday brutalities that define women's lives. In a deeply stratified social landscape, where class and gender often dictate access and agency, her characters rebel, endure or cave in. They challenge both the mainstream Kannada literary canon and the sanitised narratives of Muslim womanhood. This is literature that does not flatter the elite reader's gaze — it confronts it. Mushtaq says her stories are a consequence of her long association with the Bandaya (rebellion) movement in Karnataka, of which she was one of the few Muslim women participants. She had worked as a journalist with Lankesh Patrike for almost a decade before getting drawn into the cultural upheaval in the state. 'In Karnataka of the late 1970s, there were a lot of social movements that demanded revival and reformation. There were commerce union agitations, besides movements by Dalit sangathan samitis, environmentalists, theatre activists, feminists. Together, there was a movement that was keen on social justice, that dreamed of changing society and its hegemonies. People who were involved in it wrote slogans, poems, essays and moved on to writing stories, novels, plays and other forms of literature. At that time, the situation in Kannada society was such that women, Dalits and backward-caste people were denied education. Even women from high-caste society did not necessarily have access to education. Only high-caste males dominated Kannada literature. But when the movement began, Dalits started writing, women started writing, people from backward-castes started writing, and some Muslims like me, also became involved in it. In the beginning, we were confused — we didn't know what to write, how to write and how to express our solidarity. It so happened that Kannada literature branched out into three segments at the time: Dalit sahitya, women's literature and Muslims involved in these social movements also began writing. Even today, these segments are the prominent branches of Kannada literature,' she says. In that sense, Mushtaq turns her back on the masculine literary tradition and the refinement that has come to symbolise 'good writing' in regional Indian literature. She embraces melodrama, repetition and sentiment — tools that have historically been dismissed as lesser, feminine or unliterary — and uses them as instruments of resistance. Stories like 'Black Cobras' and 'Be a Woman Once, Oh Lord!' showcase this defiance. In the former, a woman finally goes in for a tubectomy after birthing seven children against her husband's long-standing order to the contrary; the latter is a demand for empathy. 'Patriarchy, religion and politics form a powerful centre, a lord, whose only aim is to control women and impose restrictions on them. They have to become sensitised to the suffering of women,' says Mushtaq. In the discomfort that her stories leave behind, Mushtaq's hope remains that something will shift — not loudly, not all at once, but just enough.
