When earth was cut up into many pieces, into kingdoms and civilisations, so that we can build homes and escape moody weather, the leftover land was always meant for everyone to enjoy. The great outdoors, forests, hill stations, parks and beaches are further divided into spas, malls, clubs and such common-area real estate. Stepping out of domiciles is an act of freedom, of owning our surroundings. And we do this frequently not only to beat the tedium of existence but to actively trespass sometimes, and to test borders. We include holidays both planned and whimsical. It is a human impulse to move about, to never stand still; the gypsy gene compels us to roam.
We trust the world in so many ways, the world that lies outside our front door. For planes to stay in the air, for scaffoldings to stay put, for roofs to be above our heads and floors under our feet. City planners owe us that much at least, a sense of security. Pestilence and pandemics are beyond anyone’s hands, but the simple matter of keeping a small area sheltered from floods, from drought, from starvation, from senseless accidents is surely a full-time 24/7 commitment for a dedicated and identifiable team of people.
As avoidable road tragedies, where victims succumb to others’ rage, or careless/drunken driving, steadily climb in statistics, there is the urgent matter of a general architectural trust. We enter public spaces laughing and chatting with friends, we take for granted that bridges won’t collapse and walls won’t cave in. The recent fatal fall of a college girl in a shopping arcade in Bengaluru directly points to a window that wasn’t a window—the ‘glass’ gave way like paper. No grill, no sill, here is a hole in the wall begging for someone to fall through. Who will take the blame for this small window in a silly mall on a bustling road?
Not an obit I thought I would write. Because it is for a city and not a person. As a planet, Earth is our permanent address, dead or alive. But how safe is it? Covid saw medical facilities falling short pin code after pin code. Potholes that suck us in and ceiling fans that fall on us —in these deaths is written a certain carelessness and arrogant lack of planning when it comes to basic civic infrastructure.
For the 19-year-old who tripped against the window only to find it an empty space, the day her internship with a global MNC was to begin became the day of her funeral. Every city should own up to its failings. Bengaluru, this one is on you.
Shinie Antony
shinieantony@gmail.com
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