doon diary

 DOON    DIARY

Am at Dehradoon on vacation, thae place of my birth . Much has changed ; the town is emerging into an unmanageable city! Though I visit Doon at least once a year this time I could see the changes at far off distances too. The town of Doon in which I was born had a character- schooling, Military training, survey of India, the culture of walking and cycling, the bubbling Punjabi migrants the emerging Garwali commmunity, a distinct British  stamp on administration of schools and offices a certain cosmopolitism distinguished the town.

   The formation of Uttarakhand State and  Doon being declared its  Capital has not only changd its character but in a way ‘assasinated’ its character !! Whatever was  its personality developed over the years seems eroded. The massive construction has not only defaced its original charm but has allowed uncontrolled population to reap the economic benefits of a developing state. The areas of  importance,those with prospect of investment have been occupied by the money bags . The road side location encompassing the entire state which have potential for tourism in future belong to the remote  unknown faces , with influence and reach to twist the law to their advantage. Despite the late effort of the Government to safeguard the interest of the locals in acquisition of land the  irrepairable  damage has been done. The city seems to be in a state of  disarry .

  Vivid memories of childhood visit me; we all piled in ‘Shahid’s’ tonga trotted and gallopped to Rajpur road via the slim and cunning lanes of ‘Khurbura’, cannaught place, Prabhat cinema hall, Digvijay- Ghanta ghar and reached St Joseph’s Academy. Prior to start of class we played ‘langri-tang’ on the pebbled ground. Bund-samosa was relished during break and whenever our meagre savings allowed.Returning to school again on foot in the afternoon to play football. Was in 4ft 4inch school team, the Irish Brothers were keen sportsmen, this could be made out from the number of playing grounds we had, these are still the hall mark of our school.Now the pedestrians are looked down upon  in fact there are hardly any footpaths to see.

  We were tenents in Laxman chowk of Vaidyaji who wore wooden sandals( kharanwu) and grew under the warmth of his  large family, his daughters and sons were addressed as mausi and mama. This time I visited the house part of which has been preserved by his grandson Dabbu a gem of a person who is a gifted musicians, they invited us to dinner and was lke returning to childhood. We talked of the era gone by when the srvents too were treated like family members, the warmth of relationship.Actually we lived in the same house as only a tin sheet seperated us. There large garden with lichi, mango , amrak and anwala trees.

  Returning to the destruction of hills my fears have been echoed in the article written by Mrinal Pande , the chairperson of prasar bharti in ‘Hindu’ of 27apr 2012. It seems the state has been formed to cater to the interest of the ‘builder lobby’, the large majority have been denied development. I often wonder as to what has happened to the committed journalists of hills ?