India is one hell of a country. A diversity
that is so baffling that almost 98% of Indians would themselves not realize the
magnitude of it .The other 2% are the government servants, IAS officers, people
in the military, and public health officers who scout remote unheard unseen
corners of the country ;). This India, has rushed in headlong into the new
century, to compete with the super powers of the world, injecting into its
veins, the trends of the west, and yet seems to be lost somewhere in
identifying its own self, searching in the shards of broken mirror, each of
which reflect something different about it- A million dreams for a future,
where it commands the position it once held in the past, a past so profound and
prolific that it will always remain an inseparable part of it, the growing
sense of modernity, the urge to compete
in terms of technology, resources, man power, while starkly contrasting it are
the issues of rampant corruption, crime, female foeticide, farmer suicides,
terrorism, insurgency and others one sees on a daily basis, so much so that we
have accepted them as a part of life in India.
With all this complexity, that is unique to
this country, I intend to understand to the best of my ability who the
quintessential modern Indian is. How does he identify himself? Is there only
one such image, or does difference creep into this as well, like every other
thing in India? Is it different in the cosmopolitan cities from the little
towns and villages of interior India? I intend to pen down my observations,
conversations with people I come across, maybe these could give new insights,
which will help understand better my country today. In this process, I intend
to discuss issues we all can relate to, what we see on a daily basis…
In the past two months I had to shuttle
between three cities of India – Chennai, Bengaluru and Mumbai, several times. I
shall now write what I observed about these cities, their differences and
finally the one common feature I saw.
I shall start with the garden city, which was
once truly a garden city, when it was still green, picturesque and an exclusive
hub for the southerners and the MNC’s had not yet identified the one major
destination they choose to transform (Now what kind of transformation, we shall
see!).
At first sight this city seems to be
refreshingly less ‘metro’ish- tall gulmohars with the flaming crimson heads and
the dense foliage of the banyans line on both sides of the sprawling roads beat
the summer heat. Even as I enjoy the trees whizzing past my autorickshaw, tall
buildings suddenly seem to sprout out of nowhere; malls at every street corner leer
at passersby selling brands, (many of which one would not see even in most
other metros) like Chanel and Calvin and Klein, luring the city’s rich
businessmen and corporate honchos and other not so big people who yearn to live
that coveted lifestyle of parties and night clubs. Pizza and coffee joints are
just as many as the slum dwellings, that have mushroomed here, there and everywhere. The population seems to be cosmopolitan. Sphagetti tops and garbled
English are as much a part as are the city’s rich tradition of carnatic music,
fine arts and rava idlis. It reminds me of a dainty, bashful girl suddenly made
up, adorned by ornaments and heavily embroidered brocades, beautiful, opulent but
gaudy.
The next in line is Chennai. ’Singara
Chennai” it once used to be called. But with unchecked growth and
industrialization, the adjective sounds good only on a T shirt. The land of
filter coffee, dosas and idlis, retains its identity, only, it seems to be
aping the other big cities which have already fallen prey. The Koovam, which
lent beauty to this once scenic capital of the state of Madras now carries
waste of every imaginable kind to the Bay of Bengal. The ‘Parakkum rail’ from
beach to Velachery is a clever move to camouflage the dumping grounds and the
numerous slums.
Chennai so totally seems to love the English
names of roads, a fond memory of the colonial period they do not want to erase,
(probably because it adds to the effect of a modern city??). Five years back,
eating out in a restaurant was for a middle class south Indian family a monthly
affair or even rarer. But today I see people flocking to restaurants at every
street corner, so much so that there are queues outside most even at 9 pm. thankfully,
the temples in Mylapore and Triplicane are still popular and the city still
comes alive with divine music in the month of Margazhi.
Both these cities Chennai and Bengaluru
represented the authentic south Indian life - Conservative, peace loving, rule
abiding and hard working. I know these words still bear a lot of relevance; but
with words like development, infrastructure and technology doing the rounds; I
fear they will soon lose that.
Mumbai, the city of dreams, the inspiration to
many writers, movie makers and artists, inspired me too. Life is on at a pace
that even the clock seems to run faster. The richest of the rich and the
poorest of the poor all live together. This is where one can see an Indian from
any part of the country juggling, to make a living. Unlike Chennai and
Bengaluru, which have visualized change in the recent years, Mumbai has been
this way for ages and hence easier for me to digest. There are rambling
buildings, slums, sabzi mandis, and suddenly a sky scraper. They all seem to be
snugly fit in a bizarre maze, that only they understand. People like me will
miss a temple, mistaking it for a mall, as it is right next to an office
complex.
The roads are dirty, the people living on
them dirtier. The sea seems to be there everywhere. The city in itself is on a
little piece of land floating on the sea. The fast disappearing mangroves and
forest reserves are a matter of serious concern the locals feel, but who would
care for these when terrorist attacks happen once in a while and the people
have learnt to live with them.
So
that was a brief account of the cities I have been to in the recent past. They
are all different in their own ways, and yet, there is one aspect common to
them all, that saddens me. Growth, expansion, development, these are good
things. Liberalisation and globalisation has changed the course of post
independence India forever. I am no economist to analyse the impact and give
strategies. But somewhere I feel, these cities are forgetting what they stand
for, their originality in the process of all this change that has engulfed
them. The west has its own model, but that fits them best. For a country like
India, no one model will fit appropriately. So, blindly aping the west, be it a
sprawling secratariat to be only abandoned by the next chief minister or shops
selling things people do not need in the first place, is only pushing us closer
to our doomsday. I am not against malls or branded clothes. I love the
experience of a movie in a multiplex and the aroma of cheese melting on the
pizza. I love weekend dinners and cruising on a car. But not to the extent that
I forget the Ganesh ‘visarjan’ procession, mysore pa or the fragrance of
malligai poo(jasmine). The new generation at times, seems to be running exactly
on the wrong track. But well, I hope I am wrong!! What say???
