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My young nephew often sings a curious ode to virility: “Make love like a man”, he gurgles, with what he believes is hoarseness appropriate to well-sexed men. The song has apparently been performed by a band called Castrated Camel…or is it Deaf Leopard?

You will probably know better, I am an MS Subbalakshmi aficionado, and her magnificent repertoire did not encompass post-coital gloating.

Anyway, “Make love like a man” was the refrain that clung to me when I read in DNA on Wednesday that emergency contraceptive was being devoured by many frisky Mumbaikars.

We are finally making love like the West, I thought. Nothing at all wrong with it, of course. But I always thought that we, the Indians, were the position-setters if not the trend-setters in that field.

I have no quarrel with those who seek to bring handy Western inventions to Mumbai. I am not squeamish either if some of the Western values – the work ethic or civic volunteerism – were to be become common in our city. But we must ask ourselves what good are abstract values without solid amenities?

The US has a comprehensive healthcare programme for all its citizens. The programme is often derided and many folks in the federal government have always wanted the facility rationalised.

But till the cost-cutters win, American healthcare programme will remain one of the most benevolent initiatives of the world: doctors in US who examine patients with hearing disabilities have to pay for sign-language interpreters!

Back in Mumbai, at KEM, the poor are treated free as long as they get their own bed sheets, pillows, and medicines! I learnt of Mumbai’s brand of benevolence when I went to visit my ailing maid’s relation at the hospital.

So on the one hand, we have easy access to Western individualism, but are constantly denied the West’s superiority of service. I think the disparity arises from the quality of empowerment provided to people who run crucial services in Mumbai.

This example should illustrate my point. A week ago, a friend who is a heavy smoker felt a twinge in his chest and feared the initial rumblings of a heart attack. He works in Dadar and so he went to the nearest hospital he could find, which was a citizen co-operative facility in that area.

In a scene reminiscent of a Munnabhai film without the fix-all presence of Munnabhai, the friend was told in the emergency ward to line up at the cash counter, await his turn at the doctor’s consultancy, then pay for the ECG if so advised, and then to get back to the doctor with the result.

Despite his light-headedness, my friend was able to calculate that his chances of survival would be much better if he tried another hospital. When he went to Hinduja he described his apprehensions to the casualty receptionist, who askedhim to run right in and assured him that the papers would follow once he wassettled. In the end, it turned out to be only acidity.

The big hospital which followed the corporate drills of an efficient capitalistic enterprise had been faster to respond and more responsive in its service. The small cooperative hospital had all the key equipment but not the people who were empowered to make that quick call.

So before we exult over the ready availability of emergency contraception, can we first have emergency services?
Email:raghu@dnaindia.net