By Paramjit Bakhshi
We have a mongrel that we named Snowy when he was a pup. Since he was pure white, Snowy, like Tintin’s dog, was the obvious choice for his moniker. From a sickly puppy he has grown into a fine healthy adult and because he always tags along with us everywhere, we have become extremely fond of him. However I do think that I made a mistake in calling him Snowy. A more appropriate name, perhaps in the manner of the Red Indian names, would have been “White Shadow”. It would have reflected, more appropriately his character. Similarly I think whoever has named our city, Shillong, made a bit of a mistake. In hindsight, a more appropriate name for it, would be, Compromise City.
For visitors to our be-loved, or yet to be loved hometown, the compromise is apparent the moment they enter its outer limits. If their left nostrils take in the air of fresh pines, the right nostril is bombarded by the stench from the Martens dump. Having travelled speedily some ninety odd kilometres, on a wide undulating highway, they now have to crawl through the narrow lanes of the city. It is as if Nature which invited them here, gave them unrestricted passage here, but the city itself like a shy damsel, refuses to allow them into her living quarters. Is it because our living spaces are something to be ashamed of? There isn’t one proper well planned, orderly laid out colony, in the entire city. Fancy multi storied buildings sprout, compromisingly in shabby localities. The houses may have fancy furnishings and interiors, are even sparkling clean but the surrounding public areas all have potholed narrow roads, leaky pipes, tangled electric and phone wires and abysmal parking spaces. Whether it is the old and hallowed mound of Iewduh, or the newer areas such as Mawblei, they all point to a compromise between the demands of today and the lost beauty of yesterday.
“Compromise in colours is grey” says Edi Rama, artist, writer and current Prime minister of Albania. This is the colour of our city. Grey. It lacks any defining character. If Chandigarh is well planned, Srinagar breathtaking, and Mumbai vibrant (Maximum City), it is difficult to characterise Shillong. Though nature has truly blessed us, and the weather is to die for, our city lacks any man made distinguishing features. But for the topography, the city is indistinguishable from other nondescript places like Muzzafarpur, Meerut, or Dibrugarh, Our museum and library are nothing but apologies. We lack wide tree lined avenues and we have no majestic flyovers to help ease traffic. The only swimming pool in spite of the recent renovation is still not Olympic sized. The stadium at Polo after having taken decades to build is still primitive. However the top honours as far as compromise goes should go to our famed Golf Course. It is a matter of surprise and a testament to the grit of the diehard golfers that they still play golf here. The fairways are thoroughfares for church goers (including priests and pastors), school children, lovers, fitness buffs and picnickers. Broken bottles, empty chip packets and papers litter the course. Children play soccer on the greens where, even golfers tread carefully, and occasionally some mean minded people even crap in the holes. The cars have been stopped from entering the course by digging big fat drains on the periphery otherwise we might have hosted a daily motocross here. This is our Scotland of the East. The Scotch tag remains stuck on a bottle which is now full of dirty water.
Though one mentioned the travails of tourists visiting us, their flirtation with the city is brief and for this reason, they can afford to be uncritical and forgiving. It is us residents, who bear the brunt of the lack of proper planning and infrastructure. For a person like me, living in the heart of the city, one cannot but wonder how we have gone so wrong. In front of my home lies the Fire Brigade field or the Madan Iew Rynghep. Early morning one sees keen young footballers being coached by African coaches. That is when the rain Gods are kind and the field is not slushy. What is surprising is that in decades, no one has been able to fix this space, when all it requires is a bit of proper drainage. Perhaps it is not really an imperative because very often the ground is hired out for trade fairs such as the one which is on currently.
Behind the house runs what used to be the Wah Thang Sniang (ouch). Today it is but a foul smelling drain. It is not that people cannot manage things well. Adjacent to the fire brigade field lies the Marbaniang Petrol pump and right next to the stream is the Bethany hospital. Both these do roaring business and are efficiently managed. It is the public assets which belong to everybody and thus belong to nobody, which are badly maintained, misused and compromised. To quote Spike Jonze, “ If you compromise what you’re trying to do just a little bit, you’ll end up compromising a little more the next day or the next week, and when you lift your head you’re suddenly really far away from where you’re trying to go.”
But compromise it is and it never stops here. Not when the Mothphran turns into an insignificant traffic roundabout, not when the fountain at Khyndailad stops working, not when pavements turn into markets, and even not when deforestation brings little rain and causes power cuts. That there is a complete lack of political will to do anything about the city is only too apparent. What goes unnoticed is our complete apathy. Shillong is an orphaned city for which no body is responsible but which like a street child is exploited by everybody. If the politicians are loathe to take hard decisions it is because we compromise and let them off the hook. We want to be likable people and allow our personal likes and dislikes, and not the efficiency of our public servants and elected representatives, to be the criterion. Yet it is not our personal likes or dislikes that should matter. Margaret Thatcher once said, “If you set out to be liked, you would be prepared to compromise on anything at any time, and you would achieve nothing.”
The only areas in our city that are truly well maintained are the ones occupied by the Army, Air Force and other paramilitary forces such as the Assam Rifles and the Border Security Force. At one time, they used to maintain, our Golf course too. Should those areas ever come to us I am sure we will turn them into ugly urban slums too. There is already a colony called Solace in Laitumkhrah. I guess this name reflects our sense of defeat and frustration at the way things are. With land prices still astronomical, I guess we are all now mere Slumdog millionaires lording over congested and crumbling slums.
Of course one need not take my suggestion, to rename our hometown, Compromise City, seriously. Other choices can include Solace or even Martens Dump. Or perhaps even Confrontation City because that is what one has seen for the last forty years. It is either District Council Versus State Government or Headmen versus Urban development and Municipality, or NGOs (No Good Organisations) versus NGOS (Non governing organisations, that is the government) .Everybody is rowing our boat with oars of self interest in different directions and as a result we are heading nowhere. The forces of entropy seem destined to win over any attempt to evolve Shillong into a well planned well regulated urban space. Smart city remains a mere pipe dream.
They say that you cannot step into the same river twice because different water flows into it every time you step in. We also cannot be living in the same Shillong every day. It is changing rapidly – right under our noses and our very eyes. “The body can endure compromise and the mind can be seduced by it. Only the heart protests. The heart. Carbon-based primitive in a silicon world.” writes Jeanette Winterson in the The Powerbook.
Do our hearts still beat and are we truly alive? Or are we just dark shadows inhabiting a grey compromised city.
The writer can be contacted at [email protected]