Malling Malgudi

Even at the quintessential intimate level, even as small towns in India are transformed from cosy human settlements to the urban behemoths; the ageless, universal ‘mini-cosmos’ of Malgudi survives. In Le Corbusier’s Chandigarh — notwithstanding the conspiracy of architects to regiment life into rectilinear, cuboid dwellings placed in chess-board layouts — life asserts itself. In spite of its monumental City Centre, with grandiose piazzas and designer stores, the tin-sheet, low-budget ‘rehri’ markets are more animated. Here you can haggle with the shopkeeper, discuss politics or the changing fortunes of the ongoing cricket match on TV.

The pavement hawkers operating beneath fragrant groves of kachnar or amaltas trees, are quite the spice of life. There squat the likes of Badri, the cobbler-cum-connoisseur of old shoes and Bihari, the tandoorwallah whose rotis are as crisp and hot as his boasts of having served in Patiala’s royal kitchens. Or Rattan the vendor of newspapers, presiding over stacks of newspapers every morning as if he were selling the most mouth-watering ‘political sweetmeats’ of the day.

It’s in these quaint corners that the impersonal “sectors” of the city come alive. With Chandigarh becoming the next IT hot spot the ‘glass boxes’ are sprouting here too. Will they destroy the warmth of these endearing ‘encroachments’? I suspect the Malgudis will live on, even amidst the malls.