BevQ Model: Hell hath no fury like a Kerala tippler denied

They might not have seen it coming.

Tipplers in Kerala initially scoffed at the very idea of the opposition parties in the state demanding the government to shutter the beverages shops across the state in the wake of the coronavirus pandemic. They asked. How can a consumer-state like ours survive the crisis without all that revenue from excise?

The logic sounded reassuring to them until that fateful day when the Prime Minister without mincing his words asked the nation to stay where they were. Everything must close up shop. Beverages too? Kerala asked with bated breath.

Beverages too, the centre replied.

The state government knew the gravity of the situation with the land suddenly drying up. The initial spate of suicides almost confirmed its worst fears. How many more deaths do they need to realize that a state like ours could not just go dry, drinkers thought aloud. Counselling centres mushroomed throughout the state to help people cope up with their withdrawal torments.

Then one morning when it was thought that the situation would get out of control, people just stopped taking their lives. What happened! It was like that eerie silence in a horror movie when the heroine looks around, relaxes, and lets her guard down assuming the monster has finally gone away.

The monster returned but in innovative guises.

Brewing on WhatsApp

WhatsApp groups all across the state suddenly buzzed into life with vivid pictures of fruits — apple, pineapple and molasses — along with self-help guides and recipes on how to toss them together to make interesting solutions to beat the COVID blues. Sensing danger, the excise department swung into action cracking into secret bunkers and abandoned godowns. Drones flew across the pandemic-hit landscape after the smell of hooch smoke.

But there were too many for their tiny hands.

Not that there weren't people who turned pious. Many kicked the habit and dutifully presented themselves at home as responsible men. They took care of their kids, helped them with their studies, read to them stories late into the night, taking occasional breaks only to hurry into the kitchen to see how they could assist their wives. They even worried about the hardships and the weakening health of their poor partners. O what more could I do for you, dear! It was a dream come true for the womenfolk.

Also Read: Here's all you need to know about Kerala's new liquor app BevQ

Alas, dreams are not meant to last.

After the first two stages of lockdown, the central government, already reeling under economic pressure decided to lift the country-wide restrictions stage by stage. At one point they eased the curbs on selling alcohol.

Beasts Let Loose

The beast hibernating inside the good samaritan at the homes in Kerala woke up with a shudder and smelled the vibrant air. Oh, don't tell me happy days are here again!

They are, the state government said, but don't worry, not that fast.

The authorities knew well that hell hath no fury like the beverages outlets in Kerala suddenly pulling up their shutters. Social distancing, hell, it would be sheer pandemonium at the gates. So they deliberated for a while before deciding on to launch a virtual-queue app to restrict the potential crowd.

A call for bids was made and after an elaborate procedure, a startup company based in Kochi was selected as the most competitive of the lot. The deal was made.

For the impatient crowd still reeling in darkness while people in other states lined up in serpentine queues to get their stuff, a hero was made out of the void — Faircode Technologies. They turned in thousands to the company's Facebook page to inundate them with blessings and wishes. Without imagining what was in store for them in the future, the company, basked in all that sudden glory, replied to the messages, exhorting customers to be patient while they'd carry on with their work, a work only saviours could understand.

Days withered. People grew more and more impatient. Just before it came to a flashpoint announcement came: the app had been submitted to Google Play Store for approval.

Sundhar, You Have Messages

Sundar Pichai, the Google boss, might have doubted something serious had occurred in some particular corner of the world or why else this carpet bombing in a curious script on his social media pages. As an Indian-American, he could have finally got someone to read out to him the frantic messages in English. One typical message waxed on, "Sundara anna (bro), you are the most handsome man in the world. Please be kind enough to approve our BevQ app (Well, by that time, someone had given that name to the app) at the earliest."

There were requests, prayers, wailings, orders, threats.

Meanwhile in villages and towns all over Kerala, a curious phenomenon was taking place. People from all walks of life, even those in their nineties were furiously learning technology. Ask an oldie past lockdown, what the procedure of creating an app, he would blind you with technology - developing, load testing, beta version, play store etc etc. He would flip out his new mobile phone to show you how to access Google play store and download an app in a flash.

"But you know," he'd tell you still looking at his mobile over the rim of his glasses, "we have to be patient until the load test is over."

While it took decades for successive governments to make the state hundred percent literate, this new virtual queue app was already threatening to make the state 100% technologically brilliant.

Finally, the day came. The excise minister of the state convened a press conference and announced to the state, listening with bated breath, that the app would hit the Play Store for download in the evening. Hours of intense waiting began.

Many rushed to the startup company's page to thank them profusely and also to inquire about the exact time when the magic would hit the shores of the dry state.

Patience, the company replied.

Morning turned to noon, noon grew into evening, evening thickened to midnight, but BevQ didn't appear in the Play Store.

Now all hell broke loose on the FB page of the company. The saviours were suddenly found to be the monsters. To take the intense pressure off, the company bypassed the Play Store and opened a few links for the clamouring customers to get in.

In a minute, the bridge crumbled under the feet of lakhs of customers who rushed in, revealing the structural weakness of the app.

Oh! The Wait!

After keying in all the details in the interface customers found that the OTP, that last step towards their elusive bottle would not come. Many a tired soul dozed in their sofas that harrowing night with their fingers still woke up and clattering on the keys, resending OTP every time it failed. And people who never in their life heard about this new app sat up in their beds that night wondering what the OTPs they received in their phones actually meant!

After 24 hours of intense railing at the doors of the company's portal, some kind of a pattern evolved in the behaviour of the new app.

Even if you get the OTP, you could not rejoice. Look again, the outlet which the app had allotted you could most probably be in a red zone, where you are not allowed to enter.

A few reached the outlet they were directed to, took their position in the queue, slavering at their mouth at the sight of all those bottles waiting for them on the shelf. But as they got to the counter, poor customers, they found to their horror that the code that had to be produced before the scanner, had vanished from their mobiles! "Connection error: Try after some time," the app said and looked away. "It was there!" Some screamed.  The tight-lipped men at the counter shook their heads. You have seen God but the God is now not willing to vouchsafe that claim.

Customers erupted in fury. The government interrupted. After 48 hours of work on it the company could bring the app to the play store without any technical hitches. Happy days are here again for the tipplers!

Also Read: BevQ on Google Play: How Kerala is selling liquor during coronavirus lockdown

I stood in a queue outside a bar on the outskirts of the city wondering how they'd finally managed to solve the technical hitches in the app. Suddenly I got alarmed. I wanted to know whether I was standing on the right position in the queue. I asked the one before me. What app! I don't have any mobile, he replied. I asked the one behind and soon much to my chagrin realised that I was the only one in the queue with the app.

Kerala has beaten technology to win its rightful bottle.