The political Sun may have set but the real one is at its blazing best. As Chennai reels under its relentless assault, even the white collared AC dweller gets dragged into an afternoon siesta. It was perhaps during one such sleepy sojourn that the ensuing (day) dreams might have emanated. And I am pretty sure, these dreams are shared by all fellow denizens. But wait. Dreams as they are, they may yet become reality, given the zeal with which the new government has embarked on its mission to rid TN of all its ills starting with K & Co. So let’s add our hopes too to the kitty of dreams. Over to the wish list:
It would be fit to start our dreamy demands with a hazy hangover. TN’s liquor regime is a legacy of K’s first stint as CM in the early seventies. For the next twenty five years, the State’s prohibition policy imitated a drunkard’s gait, blundering back and forth, depending on the populist prudishness or the brash permissiveness of the reigning CM. Ultimately, by mid nineties, the policy became ‘steady’ when realisation dawned that the State’s exchequer drew its succour from liquor and prohibition got prohibited once and for all. So granted that the ‘kudi’magan’s inhuman right is inviolable, the issue is the location of Tasmac shops. Now, what is the ideal place for a Tasmac shop in a crowded city? Though that question certainly stumps one, there is still no justification for the presence of these watering holes near schools, hospitals, hostels, residential areas, bus stops and even places of worship. A complete overhaul of the Tasmac topography is quite in order for the State’s capital to remain in a sober state. Come to think of it, why not place these Bachchus dens near police stations, even at the risk of yielding a rather risky cocktail?
In this sweltering heat any thought of rain is a day dream. But when rain does arrive city life becomes a nightmare. If the deluge from the skies just drenches, the inundation on terra firma simply sinks you. Just before the April polls, almost all city roads were given a make over; potholes vanished and the surface is smooth as silk. On the flip side, the roads have risen a few nothches above sea level, rendering the areas abutting them as low-lying. Already, many groundfloors seem like basements. The monsoon which will come sooner or later is the real test. While the carpet of tar will likely peel off, the flooding of many more areas than last time is a high possibility. The rain water harvesting scheme of J’s earlier regime was a civic revolution of sorts and a somewhat similar plan with similar speed and efficacy is called for vis-a-vis the city’s storm water drain and other drainage systems. Removing impediments to free flow in the city’s various waterways is a top priority. Now, that’s another ‘thanni’ problem off our list, assuming the drinking water situation is quite comfortable.
I know no life beyond Chennai. While it warms my nostalgic heart to feel that it still remains the cosy little town that it was at my birth and through my growing up years, it also shows that the city itself is stuck in a time warp. It has not grown in stature or size to befit a definition as a world metro. This when the city has a historical advantage as a modern outpost and also been blessed geographically with a presence on the famed peninsular coastline, entitling it to be a commercial and cultural gateway to southeast Asia. This position was lost first to Colombo and then to Singapore, thanks to TN politicians’ myopic inability to look beyond the Marina. Not just Chennai, but most coastal towns of TN would have prospered with some broader mental vision and a wider horizon. It appears the LTTE exploited our shores’ potential better than anyone else!
Master plans have come and gone and the city’s structural activities remain chained in red-tape as a prisoner of judiciary. There is no clue about the fate of the regularisation schemes and lesser light on plans in the offing. While violations, particularly by commercial establishments, cannot be tolerated, the demolition option would mean razing the entire city down. At risk of inadvertantly tipping off the current regime, I doubt if the new Secratariat itself has been built according to norms! Clearly, the violator and officialdom must meet half way. So, thanks to the stalemate, vertical growth remains stunted while horizontal growth is tardy and haphazard. That T Nagar still remains the epicentre proves that neither the city’s perimeter nor its radius have lengthened. Probably, it needs a Tsunami to push the city inwards. Whatever expansion is seen in the suburbs looks dubious and risky, given the shenanigans of many unscrupulous realtors. Of course, one must add that with its awful civic infrastructure Chennai is in no position to handle growth either. Town planning, like family planning, seems to have settled in sterilisation mode! But unlike the latter, fertility can be restored in the former with political will.
There is, however, one aspect that merits Chennai’s mention on par with other metros: Traffic chaos. While vehicle population has zoomed, it looks impossible to widen any of the key roads to accomodate sundry squatters. By the time the Mass Rapid railway was in place (it’s still work-in-progress), the traffic growth had dwarfed its utility. The Metro rail, which is to be completed by 2014 will likely see the same fate, with traffic congestions right underneath even as trains zip past above. Clearly public trasport has missed the bus. And then we have road rage. The average literate, rational Chennai motorist is starkly colour blind and cannot tell red from green. And amber is when no one stops and everyone takes off. The city man loves to be in the middle of the street! When my vehicle got banged from behind at a signal recently whilst the green light was well over a minute away, the offending driver’s excuse was typical:’Brake Pidikkalai’. I assumed he was saying he didn’t like to brake! What to say of a city where you have to post cops below traffic signals? Once upon a time, PTC buses were known for road terror. Then there was the water tanker lorry era. Now, we have, call taxis, whizzing past as if they have leased the roads. Autos and random cyclists have always caused havoc. Giving them sound competition are the under-18s who have a marked aversion to licence and helmets. A tougher, corruption-free traffic regime will save life, limb, livelihoods and lots of time.
There are other issues: A disabled-unfriendly milieu, pollution, street children, beggars, public toilets, slums, Cooum etc. Indeed, the dreams are many and this delirious Chennai Talk can go on for eternity. While we necessarily have to snap out of our noon nap as work beckons, it is important for officialdom to be stirred from its slumber too. A wake up call from the CM can do wonders. Our home, Chennai, like Rome, cannot be (re)built in a day. But a start can be made so that at least my grandchild will be born into a real ‘Metro’.
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