Chandigarh’s planned geometry and poetic order

Twenty years ago, I left the hallowed stillness of Jammu — the city of temples — for the youthful grace of Chandigarh. What began as a cultural jolt gradually reshaped me — the city didn't just welcome me, it rewrote me. Somewhere between the soulful silence of temples and the loud beats of the dhol, I have changed from a quiet girl from Jammu into a high-spirited, mildly overfed naturalised Punjabi. I now laugh louder, say things as they are, hug like I mean it, and dance like no one’s judging.

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Each morning, as I drive through its luminous arteries, pausing at red lights that blink like cosmic reminders, I find myself contemplating time — how it rushes, how it rests. While I ponder life, someone honks me back to reality — reminding me that in Chandigarh, even philosophy must keep moving. I've found peace, yes, but also chhole bhature at 8 am, and an unshakable belief that no problem is too big when you're well-fed and slightly overdressed.

Chandigarh, with its planned geometry and poetic order, has given my inner chaos a soft place to rest.

Dr Divya Jyoti Randev, Chandigarh