The Urban Amazon

What does one really need to develop (not 'build') a city? When does a city get a life, in the literal sense of the term? These are some of the questions I have been asking myself ever since I set foot in the monstrosity called Gurgaon.

Before somebody tries to shoo the matter away either by attributing it to a culture shock people get when relocating to The North, or by quoting the more-popular 'This is Haryana' maxim, let it be known I spent four years of my life at NIT (formerly REC) Kurukshetra, in Haryana. Therefore, the rebuttal doesn't hold water for me on both counts. For one thing, Kurukshetra, despite being a sleepy agricultural town in Haryana, had a distinct identity (which could have been because of its many temples, but that's entirely besides the point). Yes, ladies and gentlemen, something is amiss. Or, as the Bard would've like to say in today's day and age: Something is rotten in the state of Gurgaon.

So, what is it? Well, here's my diagnosis. For a truly distinctive identity, it is my sincere belief that a city requires what I call Character - an inherent watermark in the city's culture, something that both defines a city and differentiates it at the same time- like the small three-tentacled star on the bonnet of every Mercedes. Every great city in the world has a unique star of its own, much like its DNA, but with the exception that there isn't a provision for identical twins. If you'll look around, you'll see it in all the major cities and towns of our country- Calcutta is the languid tram ride amidst the backdrop of its glory days of the British Raj. Delhi has the loud, throbbing, car stereo dhinchik dhinchik feel. Bombay is the crowded platform at CST, where if you don't move swiftly enough, you'll end up with a cold shoulder from people moving in both directions. Of course, all the cities mentioned have a character that can't adequately be described in the one line I did, but then, those were merely illustrative and not exhaustive.

One may contend that, after all, Gurgaon does have an identity, some character- the malls, the offices, yada yada. To that, I have only one rejoinder, that even sociopaths and raving lunatics have a character, so what? The point I'm trying to make is that when a city does nurture and develop an identity of its own, it resides in its people. Sadly for Gurgaon, there is no such thing. There is no unique quality, quirk of nature or mannerism that will make you snap your fingers and say "Aha, that's a Gurgaonwala". The city is, at best, an agglomeration of office blocks that mighty New Delhi carelessly threw away like a leftover, not in the least caring where it ended up. As luck would have it, the leftovers landed right outside Delhi's doorstep.

And it is this proximity to Delhi that is at the root of Gurgaon's lack of character. Delhi is the illustrious and successful elder brother to the kiddy younger sibling that is Gurgaon. The more Gurgaon aspires to be like Delhi, the more it slides into recess, so that it ultimately comes across as a cheap fake- like those dummy phones you see on display on Mobilestore shelves.

Those of us who have travelled on the NH8 on Friday evenings would have undoubtedly noticed (and suffered) the never-ending queues at the Gurgaon Toll Gate. I did too, once. On probing as to why it was so, I was told that it was Friday evening, and people of Gurgaon were going 'home'- to Delhi, Noida, Faridabad etc. "Really, they're going home?", I thought, raising my eyebrows by almost an inch, "I wonder what they call the place where they stay from Monday to Friday".

The rot is systemic, you see. When citizens really don't think of their city as their 'home', is it really a surprise that the roads resemble the aftermath of a meteor shower? Or that there is virtually no public transport to think of? As for the malls, they are to Gurgaonwalas what Opium was to the Chinese in the late 18th century. The mall, with its glitzy shops, chic restaurants, dim watering holes and gigantic movie screens breeds addiction. After office hours, it helps people take their minds off all matters worldly, just like the aforementioned opium. And the cycle repeats, day after day, night after night, till its Friday again and time to go 'home'.

Welcome to life in the new millennium, in Millennium City (bookings now open).