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City limits
We Indians are justifiably proud of our rich cultural and architectural heritage. But take a quick second look at the cities housing these monuments and you will be disgusted by the filth and squalor in their immediate vicinity, writes Abhishek Singhvi.
We Indians are justifiably proud of our rich cultural and architectural heritage. Many of our forts, though not as famous as European ones, are comparable to the best around the world -- the Jodhpur fort being a striking example. Our palaces -- the ones in Baroda, Jaipur or Hyderabad, for instance -- are world-class. The Taj Mahal is one of the wonders of the world.
But take a quick second look at the cities housing these monuments and you will be disgusted by the filth and squalor in their immediate vicinity. I can hardly think of any urban conglomeration of a reasonable size in India where the inner city is not a picture of abject neglect, degeneration, decrepitude and filth.
This urban degeneration takes many forms. From Kanpur to Kanyakumari, from Kolkata to Coimbatore, from Shimla to Siliguri, we have, as in so many other spheres, many Indias within one. There is mixed land-use everywhere. Hitherto residential areas have become fully commercial, dotted with tailoring shops, beauty parlours, coaching institutes and what have you.
There is lack of proper sewerage everywhere. Open drains emit a stench that would make hardy Indians, leave alone foreign tourists, blanch and faint. Shockingly ugly electricity poles stand right outside the most aesthetic havelis. Overcrowding is the rule of the day. The traffic in the most valuable heritage zones reflects a jumble of vehicles of all sorts, collectively generating a cacophony which renders quiet contemplation or aesthetic enjoyment impossible. Outside the cleanest of religious monuments -- temples, mosques or others, which insist on all forms of cleanliness within their precincts -- are the most nauseous garbage heaps. This list can go on but the point is clear.
There are several factors that contribute to this disgusting state of affairs. However, one of the major causes is the Indian (and indeed Asian) habit of blaming everything on the government, of externalising the cause instead of doing one’s own civic duty.
As a people and a culture we are full of extraordinary contradictions. The Indian philosophical and spiritual thought has always extolled the virtues of cleanliness -- of shauch -- in every sphere of life. Yet all our honourable sermons on cleanliness stop at our doorstep and have nothing to do with our neighbourhood, community, society or country. By contrast, the Western individual, arguably maintaining a lower standard of personal hygiene (by Indian standards), applies the concept as much within as outside his home.
It is interesting that this duality, this inconsistency between preaching and practice, exists in so many unrelated aspects of Indian life. For example, the concept of the four stages of life -- brahmacharya, grihastha, vanaprastha and sanyas -- is uniquely and innovatively Indian. Vanaprastha stands for the prerogative to pursue one’s interests, hobbies and talents while one is possessed of one’s mental and physical faculties, even while slowly withdrawing from the material rat race. In actual fact, vanaprastha is practised by several Westerners -- lawyers, judges, politicians -- who choose to voluntarily retire before the prescribed superannuation age to pursue their passion for travel, charity or sport. I cannot count, even on the fingers of one hand, any significant Indian examples.
Turning back to our cities, what is the solution? The time for complaining and setting up committees is over. The central and state governments should intervene directly to clean up selected portions of, say, 50 targeted cities. This could be done by creating aesthetically pleasant zones in small parts of the town centre or in some major part of the city. Dilli Haat, the Pandara Park restaurant complex, and the proposed pedestrianisation of Connaught Place are small but extremely significant examples from Delhi and deserve emulation everywhere.
The real lesson from these town beautification projects is that once the area is pedestrianised or otherwise beautified, the entire community acquires a pride and a vested interest in keeping it as it is. Littering stops, social responsibility rises exponentially and the project becomes a role model for imitative multiplication. But it is important to extend such initiatives to places far from Delhi, to all mid-size urban centres across the length and breadth of India.
Finally, all such initiatives should try to include schemes for a plaza in the city centre. Such plazas, like India Gate in Delhi or Victoria Memorial in Kolkata, ultimately become the lifeline of the city and the heart and soul of collective bonding for its citizenry. Almost all European cities -- even non-capital ones -- have a plaza, which is a model for emulation.
We tend to mock at such initiatives as either too elitist/ Western or too difficult to implement. None of these stereotypical paradigms is correct. History will not blame those who tried and failed; it will blame those who failed to try.
Visit at your own peril
In the face of the exalted Indian tradition of hospitality -- of atithi devo bhava, which equates a guest to the divine -- comes a jarring note of insensitivity from the breathtakingly beautiful environs of Almora district. In the quiet solitude of Binsar -- where the sound of silence is so eloquent that one can hear one’s own unspoken words -- I found the following notice at a government rest house:
'Music not allowed in vehicles; do not throw lighted cigarettes or matchsticks, it may start forest fire; camp fires not allowed; liquor strictly disallowed; non vegetarian food is prohibited; electricity is not available; hot water will not be provided during April to July; do not waste any water; do not tip any individual.’ Doubtless true on most points, but not the most tactful or hospitable of invitations to a state reliant on tourism.
