What further cost must we pay for mindless unplanned urban development that plagues our hill townships? As we witness the catastrophic loss that Uttarakhand and Himachal Pradesh are experiencing, our sutradhaars ask uncomfortable questions about our own Maharashtra
Pic/PTI
Sir PM was looking sullen; Lady Flora could read his face from a mile as she made her way to their temporary adda —the Cooperage Bandstand grounds. “Why so glum? All okay on the health and home front?” she enquired. His eccentricities irritated her, but deep down the concern for her oldest friend in the city mattered above all else.
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“We had to cancel our trip. The wife has been scarred and is scared.” By now, Lady Flora had gotten used to his habit of beating around the bush, and so she had to interrupt him, “Come to the point, Pheroze; what’s the reason for your displeasure?” Sir PM had another of his infamous facepalm moments, “My apologies. I am upset because our plan to meet my cousins who reside in Pune had to be cancelled. I was looking forward to it. It was going to be a reunion where relatives were coming down from far and wide; we were to visit the races; special festivities were planned on cousin Sohrab’s terrace gardens. But now I’ll have to hear of it later.”
“What great reason led to the cancellation of this important trip?” Lady Flora asked. “It’s the missus, and she’s the boss. She is petrified to cross the ghats after seeing visuals on the television of the unfortunate destruction that continues to cause loss to life and property in Uttarakhand and Himachal Pradesh. She is afraid that the same fate will befall us when we cross the Sahyadris via the Bombay-Poona highway. I’ve given up trying to calm her fears; I’ve told her that there have been no reported accidents or casualties en route, but she is paranoid. The itinerary was fixed; we had committed to the reunion but these terrifying visuals from the Himalayan towns keep emerging every day,” sighed Sir PM. “How about taking the train? Surely, the railway climbs aren’t as scary…” Lady Flora asked. “I suggested the option but images of the weather-beaten railway tracks in and around Shimla have shocked her. There’s no solution!” He was crestfallen.
Lady Flora felt for her friend. “But Pheroze, I can understand her fear. Back in the day when I took frequent trips to Poona, to head to the rac…” she quickly corrected herself, “…resting place of my long-gone relatives.” Sir PM did an eyeroll. “Not races, my Lady?” She dared not reveal her old habit of betting to her friend, who prided himself on being one of the best punters. “No racing for me. I remember those days where our horse carriage would take days to cross the ghats; it was treacherous, and our hearts were always in our mouths at every bend and twist. My sympathies are with you; you’re missing out on all the fun, gossip and revelry. But seeing this beautiful Himalayan landscape being destroyed has shaken me; it will take years, even decades to rebuild. The rest of India cannot afford to ignore this calamity. Greed, hasty, unchecked planning, lack of expert knowledge, and yes, ignorance about the impact of climate change, has resulted in this scenario,” Lady Flora rattled off. She was the sharper of the two when it came to news gathering. Sir PM didn’t bat an eyelid. It now made sense to him.
“The Himalayas are in danger, but our home state guardians must not look the other way. The Irsalwadi tragedy should be an eye-opener. Now that you mention it, I recall noticing how the slopes along Khandala and Lonavala are dotted with bungalows and structures that are built precariously close to the edges of precipices; perhaps to get that ‘perfect view’. Apart from being vertigo-inducing, these plans are not ideal, considering how our weather patterns are changing rapidly. The good Dr Viegas shared an article by the author— and my new favourite—Amitav Ghosh. He mentioned how Bombay, where cyclones were unheard of, was witnessing them more regularly. Isn’t that a reason for concern?” Sir PM agreed.
By now, both friends had to take shelter under a canopy at the Bandstand since a drizzle began, and also ended as quickly and dramatically as it had started. “Rather unusual, isn’t it? I remember August witnessing incessant rainfall; instead, look at this year,” Lady Flora remarked.
“I suggest that the state government prepare a report and action plan to safeguard those regions from such natural disasters. Structural audits must be conducted in these hill townships, and they must also ensure these regions are environmentally safe, since countless such ‘hill stations’ have emerged in and around the Sahyadris that have damaged the natural, rich topography of the area,” Sir PM thundered.
“Pheroze, you must use your clout with your former bosses to push for this. Those visuals of the rivers in full spite, taking along property (and obviously, lives) along the way are disturbing. It’s a wake-up call for every Indian state that’s turning a blind eye to haphazard development at the cost of damaging the environment, even more so as climate change—I am just learning all about this term—is a current scenario, and not something that is decades away,” thundered Lady Flora.
“Yes, yes…and as the famous quote by Thomas Fuller goes: ‘Abused patience turns to fury,’ I hope we too never forget this Himalayan tragedy. Also, next time, I’ll do the wise thing and organise the reunion right here in Bombay, at Albless Baug,” Sir PM signed off.
mid-day’s Features Editor Fiona Fernandez relishes the city’s sights, sounds, smells and stones...wherever the ink and the inclination takes her. She tweets @bombayana
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