In pursuit of real freedom

On the eve of India’s Independence Day, our sutradhaars wonder what is freedom for the hardworking, middle-class Bombaywallah

Oh my! Someone’s in top form,” chided Lady Flora as she spotted Sir PM walk towards her at their new meeting adda—the Cooperage bandstand—since maintenance work was still underway at the Horniman Circle Garden. He blushed at her compliment. Sir PM was dressed in a new three-piece tweed suit and seemed genuinely happy. She was looking equally spectacular in her all-white ensemble, Sir PM had noticed. Even before she could enquire about his spiffy appearance, he began, “My Lady, I couldn’t wait to inaugurate my new suit, and so I decided to give it a test-drive. Actually I’ve got two made, since it’s back-to-back celebrations” he smiled, adding, “August 15, as you know is our Independence Day, and luckily, this year, our New Year falls on the following day; how convenient! Okay, enough of my rambling…what’s the occasion for your resplendent look?” Lady Flora replied, “I am as Indian as you are, Pheroze. This is my freedom week collection—all shades of white and off-white, because it’s the colour of free India according to me.”

Sir PM was mighty impressed with his friend’s thinking, and just as he was about to suggest heading to one of their favourite Irani halts for some refreshments, she said, “You know, but I feel that most city folk haven’t fully experienced this freedom …” Sir PM nodded, yet he held back from making a comment, and instead, waited for his friend to explain. “I feel for our common man; the hardworking, tax-paying middle-class city dweller who is still not free from countless woes despite giving so much to the city. I feel they’ve reached a point where they work on autopilot—trying to make it big in the city for themselves, their children, their parents, but what do they get in return? A pathetic public transport system that’s been used and abused. An unbearably long commute and bad roads, congested trains and stations, that only add to their struggles. High rents and higher costs of living. Is bagging that coveted window seat on the Virar fast their small joy for the day? Does owning a 1BHK in a far-flung suburb remain a pipe dream; and forget about that secondhand car. This is just the burgeoning middle-class…” she trailed off. Sir PM was even more impressed by now (and also embarrassed) that despite being more ‘local’ than his friend, these concerns of his dear citizens had got brushed under the carpet somewhere along the way.

“You are right my Lady. In fact, those who reside in slums have other nightmarish ordeals to face on a daily basis. From public sanitation, to hygienic living conditions; it’s very disturbing that we, including my former employer and our rule-makers over the decades, didn’t have the vision to realise that this city will eventually burst at its seams. No wonder they’ve been unable to provide equal civic amenities and working opportunities to all; the latter, I am afraid, is a doubly worrisome scenario—where people from other parts of India continue to pour in, in the hope of making it big in the ‘City of Dreams’. But not everyone hits the jackpot, let alone come close. The city is spilling over with such unemployed folks. What is the civic administration doing to solve this behemoth of a problem?” Sir PM elaborated; his mood had shifted from upbeat to upset. “What is freedom for all these people?”

“You are right, Pheroze…at least we are privileged to be where we are. But a majority of this city lives in the suburbs and it is a tough life, I’ve heard, unless you belong to a certain economic bracket. Freedom for me, should be a port-key to certain civic, basic facilities spread evenly across citizens irrespective of their financial standing. I have watched from my pedestal, and seen enough of how this divide has grown wider and administrators are not keen on offering this ‘freedom’ to all their citizens,” Lady Flora explained, as she got up from her seat.

A gentle sea breeze began to waft across the bandstand and she gestured to Sir PM that they should walk about the maidan. “So tell me, Pheroze, do you think this gap will be bridged, and by default, will Bombaywallahs get a better life, to experience this real freedom? “I wish I had an immediate answer. Sometimes, I wonder if small town India is experiencing this freedom, while we have been shortchanged in our pursuit to dream big without being practical about the larger picture and its challenges. The rich-poor divide must be tackled by farsighted visionary administrators who are not power-hungry. The Bombaywallah, by default, is wired to overcome adversities, and move on, thanks to their famous ‘spirit’,” Sir PM opined.

The mood was getting too sullen for Lady Flora. “Let’s lighten things up. You nailed it when you said about our citizens being superb examples of ‘live and let live’. On that note, let’s wish our dear readers a Happy Independence Day and warm wishes for Parsi New Year, for being our inspiration. Let’s get that kheema-pav; I’m starving! And, I am expecting an invite for lunch on April 16,” she smiled, as both headed towards their favourite Irani haunt in Fort.

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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