Hello, Chandigarh

THE festive season has started but where once markets used to be teeming with shoppers and bargain hunters, this year the enthusiasm is markedly low. One must be grateful for this because while we seemed to have skipped the dreaded third wave, it is too early to start celebrating. In any case, there will be many more festivals and while most people have shown a healthy respect for the rules that govern public behaviour, there are those daredevils who will not wear a mask or get their vaccinations done. Let us hope that we have developed herd immunity in India and that it will protect us. Another wave of lockdowns will be devastating.

To turn to my promise in my last column: our visit to Chandigarh after almost 10 years and the changes that greeted us. This was the first time in almost 15 years that we were going by road and the changes began to register on us as soon as we hit the highway. What used to once take a mere five hours took us much longer, thanks to a detour to avoid the farmers’ blockade. It was also a rainy, slushy day and the highway — still rough in parts due to ongoing work — was a muddy mess. We reached Murthal and started looking out for Zhilmil Dhaba that my husband remembered from a stopover years ago. To call it a dhaba is insulting its smart sitout space, clean loos and prompt service. Sadly, our stomachs are no longer capable of digesting the butter, ghee and masalas that were on offer. The butter we had at that one meal was almost a month’s quota and we proceeded from there in a semi-comatose state. This was the first of many food binges in those two-and-a-half days and we must have come back with dangerously elevated cholesterol levels. I have been surviving on soups and khichdi ever since.

Chandigarh is now, perhaps, the cleanest and most beautiful city in India. For this, I think the credit goes to Nehru and Corbusier for having designed a layout that was radically different from the older towns and cities of India in the 1950s. The wide roads that seemed so ghostly and under-utilised 40 years ago are now a blessing. The beautiful public gardens and roundabouts, the neat pavements, the cycle paths — all these now make so much sense. The lake and the beautiful background of the Shivaliks are stunning. Moreover, the sense of pride and ownership that its residents have makes sure that no one violates the building bye-laws. This is in stark contrast to almost every other city I have visited in recent times, where the land and building mafia work in tandem with greedy and corrupt governments to destroy the essential character of a place. Our driver, having never seen a city like it, turned to us and said, ‘You mean you left this heaven to live in filthy Noida?’ and shook his head at our idiocy.

The serenity and peace of the old kothis, with lovely gardens and the local market places, were another eye-opener. All the dusty fields where our children once played cricket and football are now neatly manicured parks with designated play areas for younger children. The old sarkari homes have lost their drab exteriors and look utterly transformed. Rip Van Winkle could not have been more shocked when he awoke after a hundred years!

So, was all perfect? Well, yes and no. There was joy at meeting and spending time with friends who we have long histories with, and who are bonded in ways that it is difficult to put into words. Yet, for all the muck and filth of Delhi, I have to say that while I love what we had in Chandigarh once and see its growth into a remarkable city, there is a complacency that sets in when comfort and aesthetics are the major focus of one’s life. I found a curious reluctance to emerge out of the cocoon of familiarity and routine and engage with whatever is wrong in the world outside this Shangri-la. Considering the political upheavals that are rocking Punjab, few seemed seriously upset.

I may be wrong but sometimes it is important to take a stand against what is wrong and speak out. This is when I miss our old friends, like Chani — whose memorial we had gone to take part in. How uncaring we were of the fallout the subversive theatre would have on our careers and lives even in the grim days of the Emergency, seems like another age led by daring creativity that flourished despite a suffocating political time. Nek Chand, who created the Rock Garden by stealth and went on to become an internationally celebrated artist, was another example of a simple man who broke the middle-class complacency of a smug city.

My great regret is that we were unable to meet all the friends we had planned to. There was just not enough time and it seemed better to spend two or three hours with each friend we could meet rather than say a hi and bye. I apologise for this to all those who we had to forego meeting (they know who I mean) and promise to come again and spend time with each one of them.