New Delhi

Inside delhi

Modernity is spreading its grasp beyond conventional boundaries of the economic divide. With more urbanised sanctums available to those who can afford to reap their benefits only on a subsidised public platform, present-day metropolitan life has scores of such spaces on offer -- malls, cinema complexes and, of course, the now essential Metro rail service. Conjuring up visions of European style and Japanese efficiency in its sterile stations, the Metro is as fresh and contemporary as a public transport system can rightfully be. With its slick interiors and some stress on adherence to basic rules, the Metro’s infrastructure and service provide a hassle-free public transport system to a population that has long been accustomed to overheated, over-populous mobile tin shacks that pass for buses in this part of the world. As far away from all things arcane as an integrated circuit is from an excavated abacus, the Metro has still maintained a fine sonic link with times long gone. Broadcast through the public address system and on board speakers is a voice that many have grown up listening to. The deep baritone that requests commuters to behave themselves while travelling on the metro rail and cajoles them to not break into that pack of potato chips while on board belongs to Doordarshan’s erstwhile newsreader Shammi Narang. Listening to the soothing bass amid the background of the swaying carriages, one cannot help being transported to the era when the same intonations were responsible for the country’s daily dose of “breaking” news.

Kunal Diwan

In a jam

The belated start of work on the traffic grade separator at Ghazipur Crossing on National Highway 24 has come as a major reassurance to people using this congested stretch day in and day out. For motorists who in the past passed by this crossing wondering if the project will take off at all, seeing heavy machinery in use now is a matter of great satisfaction. But by the time the project actually becomes operational, the traffic situation in the area would have gone from bad to worse. And all this because the only way one can cross the Ghazipur drain here is through the two carriageway on NH-24 that only has two lanes on either side. Over a period of time, a large number of motorists have started avoiding NH-24, especially while moving from west to east towards Ghaziabad. These motorists had started using a small culvert or bridge over the drain near Patparganj that is about half a kilometre away from the crossing. Though it is barely wide enough to allow two cars to pass through at one time, this small bridge had become a major time-saver for many. However, it has of late started attracting a lot of heavy vehicles and buses as well. And this creates a precarious situation where motorists get stuck on either side of this bridge when two “big” vehicles get on to it from opposite ends and are unable to pass each other. It is high time the authorities put up a barrier on the bridge to prevent big vehicles from using it so that at least a large number of smaller vehicles are able to cross it, thereby easing the burden on the Ghazipur crossing.

Gaurav Vivek Bhatnagar

Changing times

Perhaps the first sign of global giants taking over homespun entrepreneurs, the ubiquitous tea stall with its predictable set-up has made way for tea cafés selling the brew in clean but brittle plastic cups. As the local chaiwallahs turned over a new leaf, for those who liked their cuppa straight off the kerosene fire and made from boiled and often re-boiled tea leaves, the change has been accompanied by a sense of loss. There is no “Chhotu” who delivers the brew and then uses recycled water to remove all traces of the beverage and the imprints from the tinkling glasses. There is no chaiwallah behind the rising smoke and vapour to regale you with his point of view. There is no small talk and no credit register at these made-to-measure tea stalls either. There is no tea made to taste, the ingredients and quantity remain the same for all. They press a button, and to the sound of a whirling storm the brew rushes out. And behind this belated elegy to the chaiwallah is a personal sense of loss. The chaiwallah outside the good old INS Building on Rafi Marg that is a conglomeration of newspapers has been transformed too. Not the one to lag behind in the race to catch up with global etiquette, he has bid farewell to “Chhotu” and the burnt utensil; instead there is now tea in clean cups and little to say over it.

Smriti Kak Ramachandran

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