Chandigarh, the city of sectors and grids. This is a place where ordering chai seems to entail getting poured a hot glass of milk and being handed a tea bag. There are no cows. The city is a geometrical world of retail and residential space (all with attached parking lots), connected by uncongested roadways that meet each other at traffic circles. There are no cows. I was stopped at a grocery store (!) to come back for my reciept, which was stamped by a guard when I got out of the door. Generic 'Liquor Wine & Beer' stores with attached 'taverns' appear every block, all part of the strip malls seperated from each other by designated green space and cycle paths. Smoking is illegal. Street lights affixed with timers and pedestrian signals are a commonality. And there are no cows.
Yes, I'm speaking of India. The background:
The concept of Chandigarh erupted in the late 50's after the state of Punjab lost its capital (Lahore) to Pakistan. Jawaharlal Nehru, the first prime minister of India, decided to respond by building a new one. As the idea gained momentum, Chandigarh became a world renowned urban experiment enlisting a board of foreign architects from Europe to the US. Le Corbursier of Switzerland developed most of the architectural blueprints, as well as the layout for the city, both which were built on the foundation of "LIVING, WORKING, CIRCULATION and CARE OF BODY AND SPIRIT." According to the architecture musuem, his desire was for "a modest and nomadic dwelling, where dimensions conform to the human scale and arbitrariness." Ahem. The city center were defended as "[centering] around four pedestrain concourses meeting [that meet] at a central chowk...it is a pedestrian's paradise, dotted with fountains, sculptures, and groves for trees."
It boasts some architecture that seems to be the icing on the cake of austerity, including some sort of building affiliated with the high court that resembles a nuclear power plant. The hand statue pictured below is the rotating work of Le Corbusier, which he described as "open to give, and open to recieve." Located next to the 'Trench of Consideration', it seems as though a tongue-in-cheek allusion to 1984 Orwellian ideology.
Yes, it's all quite curious. The populous has become obsessively materialistic while taking the city's inane functionalism in stride. With time, villages erupted on the outskirts of the city to accomdate those migrating for work that were unable to fuel the city's skyrocketing living costs. However, the city's calculated expansion left the villages intact; presumably due to a correalation between their contained cow population and Chandigargh's relentless demand for cappucinos and White Russian's.
But there was a jewel in the heart of it all: (past the 'Rose Garden', past the man-made Sutta Lake) the Nek Chand Fantasy Rock Garden. Having worked as a road inspector during the early development of Chandigarh, Chand thought to himself "why should I not build a kingdom too?" So he began hauling the rock debris collected from a day at work to his secret gorge at the edge of the city. What resulted was a fantasy world lasting for hectors. It was discovered in 1975 by a governmental malarial research party, and surprisingly not demolished. Apparently (as defended by the city's many museums), Chandigarh supports art: "The age of personal statues is gone. The city is planned to breathe the new sublimated spirit of art. Commemoration of persons shall be confined to suitably placed bronze plaques." No fear of a counter culture defacing iconic statues in this city, yar. Just the "immortal beings of an otherworldly kingdom" (Nek Chand) in the Rock Garden.
Showing affection was also popular in the many crevasses of Chand's rock garden. Most people seemed to be on an adolescent social venture, like a trip to the rollar rink; perusing the lanes and staircases like the mundane hallways of a school. I saw my first kiss in India in the bleachers of the main hall. These radical modern youth.
Despite the parallel universe established by Chand's fantastical mind; Chandigarh left me carrying a fresh vile of cynicism, pinned tight to my otherwise western complex of missing India.
-Tara
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