Gurgaon and Gurugram — Two years, two perspectives
Gurugram was one of the 18 villages that Drupada had bestowed to Guru Dronacharya to fulfil a truce, and derives its name from so. Today, the only prominent trace of his presence is in the eponymous yellow line Metro station. However, his wife Kripi, popularly known as Sheetla Mata has claimed a significant place in Gurugram, as the Sheetla Mata Mandir solicits hundreds of visitors every day who stop in by conscious choice, unlike her counterpart’s place of homage which sees thousands of metro commuters only by virtue of it being a node of transport. Guru Dronacharya seems to have claimed a small part of the urban heritage of Gurugram while his counterpart has maintained cultural significance. Much like husband & wife, the urban and rural counterpart personalities of Gurugram strive to establish their own significance. While Guru’gram’ is redolent of Sohna, Pataudi, and Farrukhnagar, the name doesn’t survive much in the urbane-ness of its dominant metropolitan personality.
When I first moved to Gurgaon (and I say Gurgaon for a reason) in 2018 to begin my career, I detested its citified vibe. The city of Gurgaon is metropolitan-ized to the extent that it’s almost impersonal — all I came across on my route to Cyber Hub through the Golf Course underpass were swerving cars and blazing horns, all I experienced in Cyber Hub were the confines of my office building, and all I became familiar with on the whole was unfriendliness and detachment from human emotion. The city reminded me of myself as a teenager, a rebel without any real personality; but for Gurgaon it was more than just a phase — it was a tendency, a fatal flaw — its urbane-ness was in fact its Achilles’ Heel. As a result of the absurdist existentialism that creeped up on me, I constantly questioned the purpose of my being. Somewhere in between, I realized my passion for public service.
Cut to a year later, beginning my stint at the CMGGA program, where each of us Associates are placed in one of the districts of Haryana, the odds of my escaping the city of Gurgaon was 21/22. And as fate would have it, fate wanted me to give Gurgaon a second chance, and Gurugram a first. While I was slightly also comforted by the fact that I had a previously developed contextual understanding of the area, I had to gear myself up to take up this challenge (of having to live in Gurgaon all over again?) throughout the two hour drive from Sonipat. At around 5 p.m. on that Sunday, I was yet again greeted by the familiar swerving cars and blazing horns on the Mehrauli-Gurgaon road. But this time, I took a different turn at the intersection, both literally and metaphorically.
My work in Gurugram’s public administration has exposed me to areas beyond the boundaries of its Municipal Corporation, and to quainter areas of Sohna, Pataudi, Farrukhnagar, and Manesar. These different dimensions of Gurugram has made me realize that Gurgaon is only the tip of the iceberg that is Gurugram, and there’s more to it than meets the eye. I now feel acquainted with the whole picture i.e. the peaceful marriage of Guru Dronacharya and Kripi, if I may put it that way. One and a half months into my second year in the district, I emerge with way different experiences, emotions that I haven’t felt before for the place, and a genuine sense of concern and hope to change it for the better. For instance, now when I pass through the overly flooded underpass during the rains, I don’t complain, but I think of ways to improve storm-water drainage system capacities. When I see the exorbitant surge pricing on Uber, I don’t criticize the gentrification, but I rather think of ways to enhance citizen access to public transportation in the city. When I experience the frequent electricity outages, I don’t crib, but I imagine interventions to balance out energy supply through renewable energy initiatives. My key takeaway from all of this is, Gurgaon hasn’t changed, but my perspective has definitely pivoted; but what surprises me the most is how fast it has.
