Chandigarh Sector 17

Chandigarh: Sector 17 A man with a book in hand is an oddity at most public places in India but in Sector 17, Chandigarh I did not feel so. Nobody- and I mean nobody – so much as turned his or her head to even look twice, let alone stare. Just exactly how refreshing this was cannot be conveyed easily. It was even more of a surprise to note that no one was hurrying either. There was no frenzied running to nowhere and at 2.00 p.m. in any case, everyone walking by appeared at ease. They were busy with themselves and I guess the ambience and layout of the place facilitated this self-absorption but more on this later.

Now this tendency of the city dwellers to be with their own selves was something that went against my preconceived notion about the natives. They were fashion conscious, no doubt, and also neither shy of displaying their affluence nor unaware of the effect but they were not the least bit conscious. They seemed to not only own their riches but to be born into them.

I occupied several benches in turn to avoid the sun and, thus, had a view of the plaza from different angles. I felt free and relaxed. And, this wasn’t all. I felt welcomed. The plaza was like an open house – ready to have you in anytime you chose to walk into it. Yet, it did not have that brazen look of cheap invitation that adorns disreputable places which try to lure you because you bring them something they prize and from which you leave as glad to go as they are to see you go when you have nothing left to offer them.

The place by itself did not impress itself upon the onlooker and this was its most impressive feature. By design or inadvertently (I suspect the former), all buildings were of low to medium height and thus did not fall over, so to speak, over the open spaces in between. Their height did not obstruct the winds. However, some were in urgent need of repairs as they were mildewed and if care is not taken they might soon sport that particular greasy look which is so offensive to the eye. .

The pavements could have done with a bit more width, no doubt, but they were still quite spacious and, for most parts, not swamped by makeshift shops set up by ingenious retailers and protected by unscrupulous cops. In fact, this was one more remarkable feature of the place. Men in khaki were not swarming around.

The whole place was so designed that at no time did I hear vehicular traffic. The parking lots were some distance away and evidently the designer knew his business. Cars whizzed by on the flyovers flanking the plaza on two sides but while one saw their outline one was mercifully spared their clatter.

The plaza seemed to grace the fountains and not the other way round. I mean, had the fountains not been there, I would not have missed them. True, they were an added attraction but, to me, a rather superficial one. Even in the May afternoon sun the plaza did not seem to burn under one’s feet and the walls of the buildings were not hurling heat at the passers by.

Wide avenues at right angles facilitated automatic sweeping of dust by the winds. A couple of jealous sweepers did the rest. As a result, the place was clean by any standard. Dustbins had been placed at different corners but I think a few more will not hurt. The washroom I visited was quite good and the best part was that not only was there minimum stench inside it, there was absolutely nothing to screw your nose about in its vicinity as well. The ubiquitous ‘paan’ stains were conspicuous by their absence.

The one irritating feature was the many shoe-shine boys constantly on the look out for customers and constantly being rebuffed. I indulged two of them on different occasions just to get rid of them. Of course, things would have been different had I been wearing sports shoes! The beggars, on the other hand, were rather reticent. The fruit sellers were slovenly dressed and the place where they squatted was perhaps the dirtiest part of the landscape. The milkshake shops, too, could have done with some facelift. I enjoyed the bookshops but not the interaction with members of their staff, most of whom were merchandising books they had neither any knowledge of nor any

interest in. The branded showrooms were like what they are everywhere else but, again, the quality of staff was below par.

A very thoughtful addition to the amenities available was the water kiosk – offering what was claimed to be pure water. That I had to accept at face value but what I could testify to was that it was cold and very refreshing particularly with the sun at its apogee. Later, on one of my many rounds of the place, I came across another such kiosk. Near it were hawkers offering simple, inexpensive snacks. Just adjacent was a small grass knoll fairly well occupied. I liked the setting – all that one needed to relax was readily available.

Just a little distance away were several benches arranged in a sort of circular fashion beneath a cluster of trees. This was supposed to be a highlight of the place I guess but somehow I did not enjoy myself there. May be the reason was that I was alone and all around me were couples in various stages of intimacy!

The plaza had all the trappings of a young place. However, ‘oldies’ did not look out of sync and even appeared younger while strolling through it. Youth was the predominant flavour but I did not chance upon any ‘unseemly’ sight. Freedom like wealth is least abused when it is part of the culture of the surroundings and the youngsters, therefore, came across as easy-going in a normal, natural manner.

And, how can I forget those instrumental strains of old Hindi film songs that wafted across the place mellowing everything and everyone in their path and lending a nostalgic colour to the otherwise youthful setting. Sonorous, rhythmic and soothing – imagine me being drenched by them as I sat on a bench nearby munching popcorn; my eyes now poring over the arresting pages of Camus’ ‘The Plague’ and then, once in a while, lifting to view the swaying tree tops; all the time my inner self aware that I was happy and that I shall be happier still when my companion would join me later in the day. The effect was memorable. What more can you ask for from a spot you are spending your vacation in?

I found Sector 17 worth visiting several times – as many times as one wants to be with one’s own self without feeling lonely; as many times as one wants to enjoy human company without being submerged by it; as many times as one feels like marveling over human creation without being intimidated by it and, of course, as many times as one wants to enjoy one’s time rather than simply ‘kill’ it.

Sector 17 is a large, non-pretentious, open-air club whose decorum does not depend upon such artificial things like dress code, social status of the members etc. This club is intrinsically graceful and wonderfully inclusive.

Chandigarh is known as ‘The City Beautiful’ and Sector 17, to me, is one of the factors why the city acquired-and still richly deserves- the soubriquet. It fits in so very well with the image that I have of Chandigarh - a modern, pleasant, carefree yet disciplined city.

June 23, 2008