When Noida had a blast

FOR many months, our part of Noida nervously awaited the demolition of two hideous towers (ironically referred to as the ‘twin towers’) a builder had erected in a nearby apartment complex. The towers were in gross violation of every building law and, worse, an infringement of the original plan submitted by them to the buyers. Not just eyesores, they blocked the view of the neighbouring colonies (such as ours) and deprived several blocks of sunlight. Mercifully, among those affected were some retired police and tax officials who decided to launch a campaign and register a case against the builder. Despite all the obstacles they faced, they kept their dogged pursuit for over eight years and finally secured an order to demolish the buildings.

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It is no secret that the entire edifice of corruption in urban India rests on a foundation of dodgy deals contracted between builders, politicians and sarkari babus. These include officials of the state authorities, engineers, site inspectors and real estate agents. At the top of this pyramid is the political party that controls the levers of power. Noida has for a long, long time suffered under this system of evil connivance. There is no point in naming individuals (although we all know who they are) but the system they have spawned has now infected every urban township. This is how Bombay was turned from a beautiful seaside city into a mess of slums, Gurgaon from a quiet rural agricultural space into a faux-Singapore maze of high-rise buildings, mostly controlled by one conglomerate or at best by a cartel of thieves. And Bangalore — once famous for its gardens and quiet enclaves — is today a nightmare in the making.

I could go on, but you get the drift. As an older generation passes on, their huge properties are left to be messily divided between their heirs. In most cases, the easiest way to share the spoils is for siblings to hand over the land to a builder, monetise their share and go back with bulging pockets. Go to any old Delhi neighbourhood once occupied by the landed gentry and you will see huge blocks of flats where once stood a gracious villa surrounded by a garden. Today, almost all of the area surrounding Connaught Place has turned into commercial buildings that house multinational banks, MNCs, branded clothes’ outlets or hotels.

As real estate prices skyrocketed in Delhi, middle class folk like us opted to move to the suburbs that soon began to mimic the same history. The builders got greedier as they gobbled up villages and farms to accommodate the demand for flats and gated communities. So today, we live in a quaint area that is partly urban (residential flats, schools, etc) and a vast slum colony where the original farmers have built drunkenly leaning narrow houses that accommodate the maids and drivers who service this vast area. The rowdy ‘taporis’ (remember Munnabhai?) who have stashed crores inside these homes, drive around in SUVs and make life hell for the young girls living here. They have another life inside the ghetto they occupy, where the women of the family are veiled and tend to the kitchen and the cattle, still condemned to live like the farmers’ ‘jananis’. Education, did you say? Why and for what? They have enough to support three generations, so why chase a lowly job?

Readers from Punjab and Haryana are familiar with this trajectory of ‘progress’, for you can see it all over the areas surrounding important urban centres. Also, farming is no longer a viable option and few are willing to toil in the fields to eke out a modest income. Better to sell the family landholding and blow it up on drugs and alcohol. I may sound dramatic but just imagine the scenario a few decades down. Denuded of the security of land or farm, with no education or skill except fooling around, the violence and anger (already rising dangerously) will consume our young. The dignity of labour, of a peaceful rural life, of family ties and a modicum of education — all these will be lost in the hot pursuit of money and impossible dreams of fame and success. I may sound alarmist but if movies such as Udta Punjab and Gangs of Wasseypur or popular OTT serials such as Mirzapur reveal anything, it is that we are sliding into an era of complete social and cultural collapse. Added to this are the vile lessons of bigotry and mutual suspicion doled out by our irresponsible netas.

My final word is on how efficiently and effectively the saga of the ‘twin towers’ ended. At exactly 2.30 pm last Sunday, a ground-shaking boom brought them down and a thick plume of dust enveloped the entire area. Fog-dispelling machines and powerful water sprinklers were switched on. The administration, police, fire-fighters, cleaners and sweepers swung into action and cleaned up as much of the muck as they could and an unexpected rainstorm the next day brought the blue sky back into our lives. The view was spectacular and without the looming towers, we all felt as if a new beginning had been inaugurated.

As a witty friend remarked, ‘We had a blast this weekend, didn’t we?’