[Reader-list] Walking in the city

[joy at sarai.net]

Few days back I went to see the devastated site of demolition near Yamuna
Pusta. It was like endless dunes of rubbles. I walked through that with
Diya who is doing some work along with other activists. She went there to
interview some one, who was still living there. As it was on the bank of
river Yamuna, lots of farmers were already staying there for centuries,
this man was one of them, and ironically his house was not demolished, as
he is a farmer. But those who are staying there as migrants, came to this
place in last 30-40 years, all of their houses are demolished and they are
pushed out side the city to a barren land. It is like sending bees to
flowerless gardens. Though every piece of construction was smashed to the
ground but people were still trying to excavate some bricks and stones to
rebuild their houses wherever they build it. Saw few people getting trucks
to move their belongings to where I don’t know. From one of my friend’s
mail could see some of them still working or at least going for routine
work in the market place, in one of the major whole sale market in Delhi
while struggling to find a new place to stay. Others I could see, some one
like hawkers still trying sell their daily stuffs. Though in last few
years many such habitations are demolished, people had to move to other
places to leave the land for parks and gardens, but here still people are
living on the rubbles building temporary cane and bamboo structures. How
long I don’t know. Once one of my blazers was altered, it was like
exposing the inside and makes it available to the rest of the world. I
felt the same way, as if the world, which was closed to the rest,
extremely intimate, was suddenly exposed to million-watt light. I was
walking with extreme discomfort through the streets, the hardened path on
the rubbles.

Though few structures were still standing straight, a police station, a
mosque, a NGO office, a huge temple complex, which said to be authorized
with thin a whole area of unauthorized construction. But the demolition
work was still going on, at one corner of the place. Police was also there
protecting the bulldozer. For a moment I thought about the person who was
driving the bulldozer. He is like an executioner. Whether he likes it or
not he has to do it. Though I don’t want to fantasize him as a victim but
if he don’t like it then it must be torturous for him I thought. Any way,
we couldn’t find one of the person who is a photographer, I saw his camera
bag, but couldn’t see him, then we went inside the farmer’s room. It is a
small room with just two charpoi, he was lying on the bed, two more people
were also in side the room.  One of them I think was doctor. Glucose dip
was hanging from a rod. The person we wanted to meet was ill. Though he
was willing to talk but we insisted him to take rest and Diya promised to
come back again. While coming out of the room we cam to know that he was
suffering form typhoid.

While coming back form the rubbles saw police stationed at every level, in
their vans. But for that day there was no resistance. There was complex
history of friction for last few days, repeated fires and fights were
reported, but today it was display of defeat and helplessness. While going
back to our cars I saw lots of rickshaws standing. Diya told me that
rickshaw pullers have filed a case against the authorities because the
place they are supposed to go, there rickshaws are not allowed on the
road.

Best
Joy