Rise & fall: Difficult to bridge gap

Sanjam Preet Singh

On National Highway-21, a mechanic whiles away time reading a newspaper at his shop in Zirakpur – in anticipation of an occasional customer. From morning to evening, he spends his time waiting for an odd customer. A flex above the shutter reads “SK”. The rest of the words are not visible, for the flex is tattered.

Every day, on my way to the office, I notice him sitting on an old chair. As a witness to a change in his fortunes and that of the town, I went to up to him last week to know about ‘his story’ of Zirakpur.

In 2005, he migrated from Panipat (Haryana) to Zirakpur, then a town under construction. The flyover, which defines the town’s skyline today, was still in the pipeline. The traffic was chaotic – it has not improved even now – and the dust hung in the air.

With a shop on the highway, this 49-year-old Haryanavi’s business flourished. He had three men to help him out in repairing scooters. “Guzaara ho jaanda si (I used to make ends meet),” he said when asked about his income then.

The ‘good old days’ had a span of only three years. In 2008, the construction of the flyover started. The portion of shops that jutted out on either side of the highway was declared “unauthorised” and, hence, demolished to create space for the widening of the road.

As with the story of any town or city, “development” is a harsh reality for those with meagre means. The demolition drive did not affect those plying their business from showrooms. But for him, it was a big blow. 

His shop was reduced to a small rectangle – two feet by four feet – just enough space to keep his tools. He pays a monthly rent of Rs 1,500 for it. With the shrinking of space, the number of customers dwindled.

Now, two to three customers visit his shop in a day— those are his old customers. When I asked him about his income, he was not forthcoming. “Hun bahut mushkil hai (Now, it has become very difficult),” he said. He has two daughters to tend to – one is in college and the other is in school.

He conceded that Zirakpur had developed in the past few years, and pointed to the flyover and towers of flats that had come up on either side of the NH. “But...” 

He did not complete the sentence. Maybe, incompleteness has become a part of his life.

He asked me the purpose of my questions and where did I work. “In a newspaper,” I replied. He smiled back.

He urged me to get him a job. “I have done my BCom from Panipat,” he said softly. 

“Are you thinking of winding up the shop?”

“I have no other option,” he said.

For the past two years, he has been contemplating to start something else. But what? He is unsure.

Before I took his leave, he asked me not to mention his name. I did not find his request strange. After all, his story is a footnote in Zirakpur’s “development”.

This week, I went to meet him again. He was busy repairing an Activa. So, I decided not to disturb him.