We built this City

Jammu, like rest of India, is a bundle of contradictions. Pleasant surprises and unpleasant annoyances vie for attention every time I visit this city of my formative years. We’ve all heard about great cities of the world — Mumbai, Singapore, Paris, New York and many such great cities of our times. Have you ever wondered what makes these cities great? Modernity, history, culture, architecture, conveniences — all these things for sure. But there is one ingredient without which none of these would matter — People. It’s people that shape any city. The way her denizens live within her, how they take care of her, how they think about her future — all this shapes and determines how a city manifests in the world.

On a fine autumn morning earlier this year I stepped out for a walk and found myself in a newly developed park not far from my parent’s house in Trikuta Nagar. Nestled, almost hidden, between highly trafficked roads the park is clearly designed to encourage walking and walkers. I slid past the small turnstile-like gate and emerged on the other end; staring at a name that I would later see on many other foundation stones — Raman Bhalla. Mr. Bhalla, the foundation stone informed me, was minister for Housing, Horticulture and Culture who’d inaugurated the park little over a year ago. Next to the inscription were other boards urging the public to help keep the park clean and maintainable. Twenty years ago such notice boards used to be indiscriminately plastered with movie posters and all sorts of flyers and it was refreshing to see cessation of that abusive practice. I noticed it’s unique design as soon as I entered the park. It has two parallel walking tracks joined by two small foot bridges. Young trees, seemingly planted recently, dotted the walking trail designed to exercise the body and refresh the senses. As often happens in nature, a natural selection of sorts had already been established with slower walkers using the first track and leaving the other track to brisker, not necessarily younger I must add, walkers. I started off on the first track and was soon overtaking, and on few instances overhearing, middle-aged and few older ladies as they marched briskly to their social banter. They may not invoke memories of Jane Fonda in leotards and headband but our ladies, or Aunties if you so prefer, cut no less a determined figure in their monocolor salwar suits and onward gait. I picked up bit of pace and decided to cross over to the other track. This one seemed to be dominated by men, mostly middle-aged but few young ones too. Most of them were a bit out of shape but nevertheless walking briskly, unsuccessfully but valiantly trying to keep a step ahead of their mid-sections. What was remarkable was the earnestness being exhibited. There was no chit chat, no slacking, it was all business. Couple of walkers had decided to break the monotony of straight line movement with some contortions as they indulged in some yoga (or yoga like) poses on a raised platform in the middle of the park. My eyes fell on a small structure on the platform with a longish description carved on a bolted-on black stone. I found it curious enough to break my cadence and walk over to the platform. The description was about the person to whom the park was dedicated. I forget the name now, but the inscription described him as one of the earliest freedom fighters from Jammu to join Mahatma Gandhi. A marxist who strived for egalitarianism in the region. I was pleased to learn about him. Meanwhile the resolute walkers and contortionists refused to be distracted and went about stretching their bodies. I left the park after about thirty minutes, quite pleased about govt. investing wisely in public parks and people using it in a civilized manner.

My drive through the city on the other hand was anything but a ‘walk in the park’. It’s no secret that Jammu is rapidly growing — a sprawling city on the move if you will. Newer housing colonies are mushrooming all around but roads leading up to them seem anachronistically designed for tiny Marutis’ of the eighties, not wider Hondas’ of today. Inspite of new ‘fly-overs’ vehicular traffic on ground remains stubborn as ever. Wait, did I say vehicular traffic? I should take that back, for roads in Jammu still provide equal opportunity to man, machine and beast.

People seem to be constantly on and about in a hurry. As you can imagine, this combination of constant and hurried movement can be a bit of a problem — especially if those partaking in the pleasures of uninterrupted motion are suddenly confronted by the notion of regulated movement. Yes, I’m referring to the newest decorations — the ‘Traffic lights’. Many of us grew up watching that lone traffic policeman on the busy squares — directing, shouting, cursing or cajoling errant motorists, hotheads on two wheelers, and buffalos ambling on their fours. Traffic lights, thus, are an attempt to replace earnest but inefficient human direction with predictability of mechanized control. But freedom loving folks here are built of sterner stuff and naturally militate against any form of control as I was soon to learn.

That afternoon I drove past the leafy neighborhood of Gandhi Nagar towards Hotel Asia. The light turned red and I stopped. It was then that I started to witness triumph of human will over fetters of technology. The vehicles would slow down, pretend to stop and then keep moving ahead slowly. The scene was reminiscent of that moment when a piece of chocolate drops to the ground, you quickly pick it up, look around and if no ones looking; pretend nothing happened. After few minutes my frustration got better of me and I moved ahead to block an errant driver, an uncle jee, who was trying to move past the red light and denying me and those behind me the right of way. Indignantly, I shouted — Red light dikhti naheen hai kya (Can’t you see the red light). He cooly responded ‘Nahi dikhti’ (No, I can’t see it). I was stumped and at loss for words as others behind me started to honk. So when lights blink, people wink.

I sighed and hoped that next time I visited this city the roads would be as pleasurable as the park. Almost on cue the FM station started playing a popular song from the past — We built this City.

© Rajesh Razdan