Ear to ground, Rana confident of sixth shot

His voters — traders, businessmen, professors, workers from Surat’s 306 slum pockets — are busy elsewhere, dashing in and out of a crowded, noisy air-conditioned room. Each person spends no more than 10 minutes inside, the Gujarati chatter bouncing off the red ‘‘Keep Silence’’ boards. But this is one place in Surat where nobody gossips about cricket or 66-year-old Rana’s sixth shot at becoming MP. They are too busy complaining about clogged drains or contaminated water. The corporation with its call-centre efficiency — staff is ordered in half-hour before official working hours — is controlled by BJP corporators. It’s a strong reason for Rana’s smug confidence that his constituency is happy, though there is discontent brewing in the textile and zari cottage industry.

‘‘We take turns for lunch break so the counters are always manned,’’ says Krishavadan Rana at Surat’s busiest civic centre in the central zone. ‘‘We never know the day’s cricket scores because chatting among employees is not allowed.’’

Here, municipal staff are trained to stay polite as 80-100 complaints flow in daily through telephones, fax machines, e-mail or in person. ‘‘Now, I don’t have to change my lecture schedules to find time to pay property tax,’’ says economics professor P.C. Kher. In 11 months, the centre’s 18 staffers have logged in 9,403 complaints, and 3,425 have been solved. The deadlines for the municipal staff: 24 hours, 48 hours, 72 hours or seven days.

‘‘The citizens’ ego should be satisfied. It’s like a corporate call centre,’’ says center manager Hirnesh Bhavsar, keeping a daily check on each staffer’s output. ‘‘If staff have free time, I tell them to learn a new computer programme.’’

Jayshree Surati’s counter is near the door. ‘‘I handle at least 1,000 citizens every day because they all come to me to ask for directions,’’ she says, rather tired. ‘‘We can’t take holidays unless another staffer agrees to take over the workload.’’

Keeping Surat’s people happy is the motto. So when citizens complained that they did not want to leave shoes outside, the rule was withdrawn. Textile dyeing businessman M.A. Mehta did not dwell on the problems of the industry here. ‘‘No more long queues,’’ he grins, as he wraps up advance property tax payment in 15 minutes. There was a five-minute delay, he’s noticed. ‘‘The computer was busy.’’

As the sun sets, the staffers click the Windows shut. Back home, Rana’s reached the end of his speech despite happy interruptions from grandchildren Dharam and Pooja. ‘‘I have only one problem,’’ he says, as Uma Bharati calls up. ‘‘How to increase the percentage of voting.’’