[Reader-list] A Sailor's tale...

[Anand Vivek Taneja]

Dear Taha,

I think this speaks to some of the concerns and issues raised in your paper... 

the fact that what was Gurgaon Jail has now become a commercially
developed property perhaps says something...


Cheers,
Anand

In a landmark move, in March 2003, PVR Limited (operating as PVR
Cinemas) has successfully raised private equity from ICICI Venture as
part of funding to support its Rs. 100 crore expansion plan. ICICI
Venture has invested Rs 38 crore in PVR Limited, the balance coming by
way of Rs. 40 crore debt funding, and the rest in accruals. This
represents the most significant investment in the Indian cinema
industry in recent times and bears testimony to the immense faith
ICICI has reposed in the business model, promoters and management team
of PVR.

The government, and institutional funding and both backing an
imagination of the city in which cinema, the institutionalized space
for pleasure and desire,  is restricted to the elite, and all other
spaces become illicit. Laws and regulations have been rapidly changed
to allow the coming up of the mall-mutiplex combine.

In the past few years there has been a… paradigm shift. Many state
governments repealed the Urban Land Ceiling and Regulation Act
(ULCRA)… land that was locked up for years … has now been released for
development.

The act was passed in 1976, during the Emergency, with the rhetoric of
'ensuring… equitable distribution and… avoiding speculative
transactions relating to land in urban agglomerations.'
The Act was repealed in 1999, effective immediately in Haryana, Punjab
and all Union Territories. . Immediately afterwards, the boom in malls
stared along the Mehrauli Gurgaon Road, in Gurgaon, Delhi's satellite
town in Haryana.

…Coming back to Gurgaon, the Haryana government is cashing on the
boom. It amended rules to remove all technical bottlenecks that
hindered setting up of malls on a stretch of the Mehrauli-Gurgaon
Road.
Not just that, the government's decisions made one believe that just
about any available land in the city could have only a single use:
commercial. That was clearly evident when Haryana Development
Authority (HUDA) planned a huge commercial area, which will include a
eight-storied mall, at a site where Gurgaon's Central Jail stood for
years.


On Tue,  1 Feb 2005 06:52:00 +0100, taha at sarai.net <taha at sarai.net> wrote:
> Dear all,
> 
> Below is an account of a meeting with a builder in Delhi.
> Builders, architects and property dealers around Delhi are increasingly
> becoming a part of the security game.
>   This posting forms a part my excavations around the city,
>   concerning my on going research at Sarai.
> 
> ………………………………………………………………………………………………
> 
> Last week was largely devoted to looking for architects who are major
> players in the housing society- security `game'. The search did not prove
> entirely futile. Mr. Sabharwal the metal sheet fabricator businessman
> provides me with addresses and phone numbers of a few builders. Some of
> them have their offices in near by Nehru Place others are in Faridabad.
> 
> I take an auto to Nehru place. It's a nice sunny winter morning. This
> year the winter has been less harsh as compared to previous winters. The
> famed 'dilli ki surdi' is finally bowing to global warming. At Nehru
> place I walk past by Paras, a huge poster of the latest flick Insaan,
> featuring Akshay Kumar and Tushaar Kapur is pasted on the wall. A kid with
> a large guuny bag on his back is standing alone in front of the poster.
> Probably by night  he will have  collected enough empty liquor bottles,
> left over polyethylene bags and stray card board boxes to make a sale to
> the local agent and watch the last show of the film, sitting in the fifth
> row of the darkened hall, hooting, whistling and unwinding after a dogs day
> at work.
> 
> I take the steps and enter the central courtyard. Nehru place looks like a
> mammoth community center. Like other community centers in Delhi it is also
> going through a phase of renovation. At the periphery bare chested casual
> laborers are systematically digging up the floor ties one at a time. At the
> other end, another group of laborers are laying down new tiles and
> cementing it. The floor of Nehru place looks like a snake peeling off its
> old skin and acquiring a new one.
> 
> I go through a row of shops selling computer software, CD's, sundry
> stationary, sweets, mobile phones, computer parts and newspapers. I stop in
> front of a shop…a little confused.  I ask for Chranjiv tower. An
> attendant at a fruit juice kiosk points his finger at the far end of the
> courtyard. It's past lunch hour and the place is crowded. I take a left
> and step down a small flight of stairs.
> 
> Chranjiv Tower- a huge mass of iron, steel and concrete, is completely
> camouflaged by… well… other huge masses of iron, steel and concrete.
> They all look the same- unimaginative, homogenous structures. The only
> thing, which differentiates one building from other, is the name. Nehru
> place is full of names like Ansal Tower, Manjusa Building, Madhuban, Vishal
> Bhawan, Raja House, Sahyog, Skipper House, Apta.
> Chranjiv Tower is one of them- undifferentiated, unidentifiable, unmarked.
> Only the locals know of its location. To them I turn after every hundred
> steps. I stop, I ask, I get directions and I move on.
> 
> Inside the tower/building/office complex/house/bhawan/apartment a security
> guard greets me. He looks at me curiously and makes pointed enquiries. I
> tell him I want to meet Mr. S.S Kohli of Kolmet Constructions. He repeats
> after me 'Koalmate'… the name sounds familiar, why don't you go
> through this. 'This' turns out to be the register of the building where
> all the offices are listed along with their floors. His attendant advises
> me to begin my search from the top most floor. My finger scans the register
> for the word 'k' or its phonetic equivalent 'c'. It's a long
> search. There are fourteen floors in that complex and each floor has around
> ten to twelve offices. The guard leaves me alone and re-assumes his duty. A
> close circuit camera on the top right corner watches me. The lobby is a
> small hall. There are two glass doors about six-seven feet wide. On the
> right there is a small reception desk at which two guards are posted. A
> small corridor on the left leads to the elevators. Outside, the towers are
> barricaded with `no entry' signs painted on low movable iron grills. At
> the reception desk the guard is extremely busy. He stops strangers, asks
> them their destination, makes them sign an entry register. Checks all
> parcels going out and coming in to the building and make entries in a
> separate register. A man comes to the guard with a heavy cardboard box. He
> is carrying a notebook. He greets the guard and asks for the register. I
> see a DTDC emblem on his cap. I ask whether he is a courier here. He nods
> his head affirmatively. I tell him about Koalmet Constructions. He gives me
> hard look then nods in negation. He hasn't heard of them. He has been
> delivering parcels here for the past seven years and has never heard of any
> firm by that name. I carry on with my search. Luck at last!  Koalmet is on
> the eleventh floor. I thank the guards. Make an entry in the register and
> leave.
> 
> The elevator lobby is crowded. There are three lifts on each side. About
> fifty of us are waiting to go in one of them. The elevators look old and
> used. The markings are all gone. A group of men arrives and take up
> position near the third elevator on my right.
> 
> Soon the sliding door opens. I jostle through the crowd hands on my
> pockets. I always have this fear of getting robbed in crowded places.
> Whenever I board a bus, a lift, or walk in crowd I inadvertently find
> myself clutching my pockets. The left pocket for the wallet,  and the right
> one for my mobile phone. The lift is packed. I ask a man standing near the
> panel to press for the  eleventh floor. He smiles benignly at me. 'This
> lift doesn't go to that floor'. But it goes to tenth and to the
> twelfth floor. I ask him to press the button for the tenth floor. This was
> intriguing. Why wasn't the lift going to the eleventh floor? No wonder
> the courier guy didn't know about Koalmet Constructions. The eleventh
> floor wasn't marked! In this land of unmarked buildings there was another
> addition. The eleventh floor of  Chiranjiv Towers.
> 
> I finally reach the eleventh floor. I am standing in front of a smoked
> glass door. The name- plate on the door bears the name of the office I am
> looking for. I knock the door twice and enter. Inside a middle-aged woman
> is sitting behind a desk. The office is a small hall partitioned into small
> wood and glass cubicles. On the right is a cabin. I can hear the voice of a
> man arguing with somebody on the phone. The woman behind the desk is busy
> on her cell. On the left there is a small door. I can see vague outlines of
> two more cabins on the far left. The air inside the office is devoid of
> humidity and it's pretty warm for December. It's also very quiet
> inside. The traffic, the crowds and the blaring horns have dissolved into
> this calm, almost serene workplace. The low mechanical hum of the air
> conditioner adds a soothing effect. I slump down on a sofa.
> 
> The receptionist asks me who I wanted  to meet and whether I had an
> appointment or not.  I tell her about Mr. Kohli. Which Kohli? She asks.
> 'Bada aur Chota'. SS or SK. I am confused for I don't know who is
> who.  I tell her, 'the one who started this all'.
> She asks me to wait. She goes inside the room and comes back after some
> time. She tells me that Mr.Kohli is extremely busy and can't spare time
> at the moment. I plead. It will take only fifteen minutes. She asks me my
> reasons to meet the boss. I rewind my mental tape and press play. Almost
> mechanically I tell her about Sarai and my research. She listens
> attentively and recommends me to talk to Mr. Mishra, who is an architect at
> Koalmet adding that Mr. Kohli knows nothing about architecture, he is the
> financial brain behind the firm.
> 
> Mr. Mishra turns out to be an old, a few more years and he could be called
> ancient.  He is wearing large framed bifocals, a pencil is perched
> delicately between his left
> 
>     ear and the arm of his glasses. He is slightly bent. He never makes an
> eye contact while speaking. I rewind my introductory tape and play in fast
> motion, yet again.  He patiently listens, nodding his head every now and
> then. And then in a very business like,  matter-of-factly tone he tells me
> that he can't help me. He says Koalmet is into building powerhouses for
> the Government of India. That is all that they have done for past thirty
> years.  However another construction company called Mariners might be of
> some help. Mr. Ananth who runs the company, would know more about the
> housing business.
> ……………………<<<<<<<……………
> 
> I am standing in front of another glass door in a matter of fifteen
> minutes. There is no one in the corridor. I am mentally rehearsing what I
> was going to ask, how was I going to navigate conversation with Mr. Ananth.
> 
> I open the door. The office is of the  same proportions as Koalmet, but it
> is sparsely decorated and more quite. On the left there is reception desk.
> A girl in her early twenties is sitting. I ask for Mr. Ananth. She tells me
> to wait and goes inside a big cabin. There is nobody at the office. On the
> wall behind the desk, promotional fliers and posters of housing societies
> in New Zealand are pinned. Also  pictured are  exotic, wooden interiors,
> beautiful, apparently lonely women lying by the fireside, a couple in
> night-suit sleeping blissfully bathed in soft blue moon light, and  a
> seductive teenager in hot pants jogging in a lush green lawn, sweat beads
> gently trickling down her brow, her long hair waving wildly in the air - a
> blithe mare, broken  loose from the bonds of her captors, drunk high on the
> sheer ecstasy of freedom. The caption at the bottom aptly sums up the
> image, ' your dream house at fantastically low prices'. I notice the
> play of the words- dream and fantasy, similar in meaning but referring to
> different things.
>    Dream it is indeed. One that lures the consumer to believe in the
> fantasy of low prices. A cursory look at Times Classified tells enough
> about the 'Prime' property up for sale on the fringes of Delhi, in
> Gurgoan and Noida. The newspaper contains images that mirror the New
> Zealand housing society visuals. Nature, luxury, exotica and sex are all up
> for sale at affordable prices. The message is subtle yet clear and cushy.
> "A Dream you can be a part of". " Luxury you can afford". A
> Laburnum Villa for three crores, Aralia's for 2.5 crore onwards, Windsor
> court for 98 lacs onwards, Nirvana for 55 lacs onwards.  Often  housing
> societies have names like Vatika city, Orchid  Greens, Park View, Petals,
> Blooms, Nirvana Country, Sun city and Heritage City. Voluptuous models vie
> for attention in tiny six square centimeter spaces. Consumers are subtly
> persuaded to heed to their most atavistic urges, a reclamation of the lost
> pastoral past, a desire for luxury. We know what you desire, come to us and
> we will service your dreams at affordable prices. If you don't have the
> money now, then don't worry! Thank God that you live in the age of 'buy
> now pay later' – for ICICI bank, IDBI bank and HUDCO are always there
> to provide you with soft loans.   7.5% Interest. 100%  Finance. For More
> Details, Contact  9811269051.
> 
> [Back to the office!] On the right there is a small table on which two
> wooden models of upcoming projects at Gurgaon and Noida are placed. The big
> cabin dominates the office. The walking space along the perimeter of the
> cabin looks like a reverse –c-. At the far end a shabbily dressed peon is
> pouring hot water off an electric kettle.
> 
> I can hear someone grumbling inside, possibly  Mr. Ananth. 'Who is it?'
> 'Did he take my name?' I can just about make out the soft tone of the
> girl explaining on my behalf, as I unashamedly eavesdrop, standing close to
> the door.  `Hmm. Okay, send him in'. The receptionist comes out and asks
> me to go inside. I give her a grateful smile and walk into a sparse but
> stylish cabin. A burly sardaar looks up from behind a glass topped table.
> 'Yes?'
> 
> Ananth is in his mid thirties. He was a sailor with the merchant navy and
> quit the 'seas' in 1996. After two years of dwindling around he became
> a builder and started Mariners. His family is in the same business.
> Initially they helped him out. Now it seems, he is very much his own man.
> His first project was in Gurgaon. He contacted his friends and their
> friends in the merchant navy and convinced them to invest in a housing
> society promoted by him. In 2000, he managed to persuade about fifteen
> people, and Mariners began its operations. HUDA sanctioned land to them
> within four months of submitting the application. In 2001 the project was
> formally launched.
> 
> But due to a shortage of funds financiers were also called in. The company
> has built 40 flats on an acre of land. Gradually more people started
> investing in Mariners. One year down all the flats were booked.   Ananth
> looks satisfied, ensconced in his office. He is thinking about new projects
> now. One in Gurgaon and another  in NOIDA. He is confident of getting
> clients for this new project too.
> 
> We settle down to talk. He speaks frankly.  His taquiya kalam is `yaar'
> pronounced as yaa. I ask him about the  property scene in Delhi. He
> responds thoughtfully. It's pretty bad yaa. South Delhi is suppressed…
> but the land prices elsewhere are sky rocketing…
> Dwarka is on fire yaa…
> 
> Dwarka, which was a planners' nightmare a few years ago has suddenly
> undergone a facelift courtesy Delhi Metro. Although Metro hasn't started
> its services yet, but in a few years time when Metro commences operation in
> the area, Dwarka will be connected to Delhi supposedly through the safest,
> cheapest and fastest mode of transportation. This is bound to impact land
> prices in Dwarka in a big way. According to Ananth 40 to 50 per cent more
> units were sold last year as compared to the previous year. I inquire
> further. He looks at the window. Far below I can see the slow serpentine
> traffic crawling its way to the red light.
> 
> The problem is basically with DDA yaa… there are six- seven hundred
> societies waiting for the DDA to allot land… HUDA is very quick… they
> allot within 3-4 months… yahaan to 20-20 saal se land nahi mila…
> 
> But what do they do with the land. I prod. He scratches his thin, well-
> kept beard, then in a quick motion pushing the air with his hands, as if to
> clear a confusion, says, "see". I look at his palms as if they were a
> key to understanding the security- property- politician-moneyed- migrant-
> retired army officers'- housing society- RWA-DDA-planners'-business
> man- smart cards- Nishan- pictometry-films on terror-the crime programmes-
> Bhagidari- TV serials-hosing debate linkages. I see three or four clear
> lines but there are hundreds of thousands other lines that are strangely
> connected to each other. At times they criss-cross, intersect, and take a
> detour to thousands of other small, medium and big lines. It's confusing.
> I give up.
> 
> DDA is making their own flats… these MIG-HIG things… they cost more and
> are of atrocious quality…DDA gives contractors 700 rupees/ sq. feet and
> to housing societies 600 rupees/ sq. feet… ultimately they are making
> money some where yaa… if damages, project delay costs etc are added up,
> the cost comes to around nine hundred rupees/ sq. feet. Then they pass it
> off to the consumers.
> 
> He elaborates his point further. About two years ago they were selling a
> three bedroom flat for 14 lakh rupees, while housing societies were selling
> the same for 13 lakh rupees… The quality of society and DDA were no match
> at all... DDA was just crap…yaa… They are not giving any land to the
> societies... I don't know why... They should have given the entire land
> to housing societies... Let them do it… see… the basic problem is
> housing yaa… housing could have been solved anyway… They are keeping
> that milch cow there any way… saara land aapne pas rakha hua hai unhoone.
> 
> I experience a feeling of déjà vu. Ananth's way of describing land
> through a metaphor of milch cow is pastoral and agrarian just like the New
> Zealand housing society fliers or Times classified advertisements about
> property. For him the DDA is the `other', which he refers to as,
> "they" and expects that if the entire land of DDA is handed over to
> housing societies… the problem of housing will be solved. This opinion
> was quite similar to something I heard a year ago from somebody else in not
> an entirely different context. Last year, while researching for my final
> year film on surveillance and the city, I met Mrs. Sharma, a resident of
> Ishwar Nagar colony, a posh area in south Delhi. Her grouse was with the
> MCD. A public park of her colony belonged to the MCD, which was open to
> access by all and sundry. She would tell me that the colony was
> 'maintained' by the residents, `us' she said. Maintain here refers to
> fortification of her colony by gating and installation of security guards.
> She felt that the MCD should transfer the maintenance [control] of park to
> the colony RWA. Little did I realize that what she was telling me was no
> less than prophetic. A few months ago the Delhi government gave an order to
> hand over the public parks to the resident welfare associations, which was
> close on heels of a high court order that legalized the construction of
> gates on public land by private resident welfare associations. The gift was
> part of a package. Other additional `responsibility' included gradual
> takeover of all the historical monuments [maintained by ASI] coming under
> the zone of influence of respective RWA. So for example, a public park in
> GK-I, which is also the site of a 14th century Tughlak era ruin and
> maintained  by NDTV on behalf of the MCD will now fall under the GK RWA.
> 
> The office has huge glass windows. Sunlight streams through them. Outside
> the sky is clear; I notice a pair of sparrows perched on the window- sill.
> The room is getting claustrophobic. It's a story I've heard before. A
> part of me wants to leave.
> 
> Ananth starts talking about Mariners. …We are making houses
> basically…We are going for bigger units than normal… Higher standards
> of furniture… These units are for higher income group…Multi story
> apartments… 7-8 stories but can go up to 10-14 stories…. Each building
> has around 40 flats on an acre of plot…it costs around 2000 rupee/sq.
> feet… totally furnished…each flat comes to around 40 lakh rupees.
> 
> I ask about the security apparatus in his housing society. He says…
> it's not much…the usual… enclosed compounds… guards… CCTV…
> that's it…not many security things…guards are there for twenty four
> hours… two more come during the night…That's all…
> 
> But quickly adds… in the future projects we are going for gadgets…
> heavy amount of gadgets…see… what we are promoting is community
> living… they come to us because they want security…First of all now
> this security thing is huge… and it is with all the builders too… when
> we started the project for merchant navy officers our endeavor was to give
> low cost houses to merchant navy officers…see… yaa… its simple….a
> society is formed when people come together… they become members…strict
> criteria is followed while taking in members… if somebody is very very
> this thing… we don't… we check the profile as far as possible…we
> don't segregate any body… in our society we don't take business
> men…business men jaise hote hain…if some body has an industry its
> okay…I don't know…people don't want them yaa…bolte hain… petty
> businessmen hamare ko bada taang karte hain… oon logeon ki thinking badi
> alag hoti hai…usually these are… our's are very elite… so called
> elite clients…they are more academically inclined…so they tell us to
> keep them out…zara… unko door rakho…that's the thinking basically
> but if tomorrow these people come we won't refuse them yaar… so there
> is some segregation I guess.
> 
> When Ananth talks about Mariners, he always refers to his organisation in
> first person plural- we-. He is not a sailor now, his profession has
> changed, and so has his notion of self. –They- includes his former
> friends from merchant navy, businessmen and the government officials.  He
> calls his apartment complex- a society-, where security guards, CCTV
> cameras, are –normal- apparatus of security. He considers his
> clients-elite-and at forty lakh per flat he wants to provide them with-low
> cost housing.
> 
>  Delhi is going through a facelift. Builders like Ananth are pushing for
> housing societies where criterion for being a part of housing society is
> condensed. For example,  Journalists and their  allotted houses in -Press
> Enclave- at Malviya Nagar, Kargil war widows  housed in sector 25 at Dwarka
> [Two hundred widows are allotted three bedroom flats for 6 lakh rupees.
> They cannot sell/ transfer/rent / lease it to anybody else. If they remarry
> the flat will be taken back the government. What is the government's
> interest in perpetuating widowhood on young women, by doling out housing
> and other welfare schemes to keep the category of –war widow- alive and
> kicking?].
> 
>  Ananth carefully skips the question on segregation of members on the basis
> of some eligibility by saying "… if somebody is very very this thing…
> we don't… we check the profile as far as possible…".
> 
>  Who comes under the category of –very very this thing- I don't know as
> yet. But I could clearly see an enforcement of social division on the basis
> of one's eligibility to a self same club. I remember as a child in
> Udaipur I used to get very intrigued by small employment news items in
> local edition of Rajasthan Patrika, seeking qualified Engineers and
> Doctors, under a generic heading of ATTENTION  or WANTED, with a caveat, -
> sirf Sindhi Bhai hi apply Karen-.
> 
> In Ananth's world money is not a  barrier any more. Merchant navy
> provides good money,  so a petty businessmen, even if he has money, is
> discriminated- unko door rakho- [keep them away]-the level of education
> becomes a mark to identify a person as –ours-.
> 
> I start to talk about the security culture in Delhi. Ananth listens, poker
> faced, hands folded on his chest, physically stonewalling me … with an
> occasional hmmm… then he opens up… comfortable that the question is not
> about intricacies of financing a housing society.
> 
> …In Delhi we have a very territorial and parochial kind of people…
> matlab very… ke bhaiyya hum rahete hain yahan south Dlhi mein…that
> thing is there…so what I have is a fortress kind of a thing… this is
> where I think security really comes in… Dilli mein itna to hai nahi ke
> itne mar kutai chal rahi hai ki security is required so much…it's not
> so bad… but people really love having a lot more security guards…I mean
> they don't want to give access to the common man… there is a tendency
> to barricade from the rest of the world…hai..kuch… matlab… we have
> that we are a little higher up… the more you project that you are
> different… kind of untouchable for the normal person… the more it's
> advantageous out here…
> 
> I ask him to give a specific example…. Laburnum… it's a housing
> society in Gurgaon… it's selling at three crore per flat…that's
> primarily because of this kind of security… wohi 4-5 security guards hote
> hain… zarra se apparatus idhar udhar… but ITC made it …they are not
> very good flats …but again the name is there…probably our flats have
> better stuff over there… but they built it up on a name… such a great
> name… NRI's … officials of other MNC's have bought them…they made
> a group…now they are attracting more of those kinds…stuff is the
> same…its four bedroom… they have say… 20% more area than ours… but
> they are selling it for five times the price… that's the way you
> package a stuff yaa… and sell it…they have done a good job of it… the
> security is a major thing… security ka point of view kaafi hai…
> 
> Laburnum has got an elaborate security system. Residents are provided with
> swipe cards to access their own houses. But the interesting thing is, the
> ITC group were able to increase the mark up price of their properties by
> installing high tech security equipment. Ananth sees a sound business logic
> in all this. He is planning to import fingerprint access machines, infrared
> sensors and smart cameras for his up coming projects. The security
> industrial complex has emerged as a major financial market with the
> corporatization of fear.
> 
> I thank him for his time and leave. Later at night I dine out with my old
> friends at the New Friends Colony community center. Its well past twelve
> when I trot back home. I reach the red light at Maharani Bagh. On the other
> side of the road I see three men sitting, sharing bidis. They are probably
> sharing a joke. All three of them are armed. All three have uniforms on
> them. They have barricaded the road, which goes past by the Kalindi colony.
> 
> Two of them are constables with the Delhi police, the third is a private
> security guard with the Kalindi RWA.
> 
> I cross the ring road and enter  Kilokri and run into the night chowkidar
> for the first time in six months.
> 
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