Dehradun: A city where roads are made to be dug up, not driven on!
By Satish Aparajit
Well, this is not about precious metals, uranium or some exotic rare earth mineral. Surely nobody expects to find any of these in Dehradun. So what, one may wonder, are all these diggers and excavators searching for across the city? The answer is far more complicated than one can imagine. They are apparently digging for development!
There is a familiar saying in government corridors that the right hand does not know what the left hand is doing. In Dehradun, this seems to have evolved into an established administrative philosophy. There is little coordination between government departments, civic agencies and utility providers when it comes to development, maintenance or even routine repair work.
Take something as basic as garbage disposal. One would imagine that a municipal authority would have designated collection and disposal points. Not quite! In several parts of the city, the final destination of household garbage appears to be left entirely to the discretion of the driver of the garbage vehicle or the person collecting it. Wherever he considers convenient, the garbage is unloaded. The result is there for everyone to see: heaps of garbage, filth, foul smells and overflowing dumping points across Dehradun. Apparently, waste management has been outsourced not just to contractors but also to individual imagination!
And why should anyone worry about dirt, filth and stench when we have learnt to live with them? The much-publicised Smart City project is perhaps the finest example of this contradiction. After years of promises, expenditure and endless digging, one wonders whether Dehradun is becoming a Smart City or merely a city where smart people have learnt to avoid the roads. One thing seems certain, becoming smart is taking considerably longer than digging.
These observations are based on what I have witnessed from July 2019 onwards, and unfortunately, very little seems to have changed.
Almost every colony, residential road and pedestrian pathway (the latter, incidentally, are practically non-existent in much of Doon Valley) has been dug up at some point or another. Some stretches appear to be under permanent renovation. Roads are excavated, filled, resurfaced and dug up again, often within weeks. It is almost as if the city has entered into a long-term contract with excavators, with no provision for completion!
The situation becomes particularly amusing, if it were not so frustrating, when the Assembly is in session. Main roads are dug up to install those rather unattractive barriers, only to be left in a state of disrepair for days. Perhaps the idea is to remind the public that democracy may be in session, but convenience is definitely not.
Whenever I have tried to enquire from the workers carrying out the digging as to which government agency is responsible, the answer, nine times out of ten, is, “The contractor would know.” That is quite reassuring! The contractor knows, the department presumably knows, and yet the citizen, who has to suffer the consequences, knows absolutely nothing.
Depending on the nature of the excavation, one can only guess which department is involved. The list is impressive: PWD, Jal Nigam, water supply authorities, electricity department, irrigation department, highway authorities and several others. Each seems to have its own independent schedule, priorities and perhaps its own map of the city. Unfortunately, none appears to have a common map or a common calendar.
A road may have just been resurfaced or newly constructed, only for another department to arrive shortly afterwards and dig it up. There is apparently no system of informing one another, let alone coordinating the work. The contractor, who is supposed to restore the road after completing the job, invariably does so in the most casual manner. The public is then rewarded with potholes, uneven surfaces, open drains, missing sewer covers, exposed or hanging electric wires and abandoned poles that seem to have acquired permanent residency on the roadside.
Some of these poles and cables remain for months, perhaps waiting for the department concerned to remember that they exist. One wonders whether the poles are awaiting removal or have simply been promoted to permanent urban landmarks!
In several old colonies, drains are being repaired, but the excavated muck is dumped along the roadside and left there for days, sometimes months. Pedestrians, motorists and residents are expected to negotiate these obstacles as part of their daily exercise routine. The electricity department cuts tree branches, but the debris often remains scattered along the road until some economically challenged resident decides to take it home. At least somebody finds a use for the waste!
The Municipal Corporation is another important player in this grand arrangement. One sometimes gets the impression that getting elected is considered a more important achievement than actually serving the community. The citizens, meanwhile, continue to pay taxes and wonder what exactly they are paying for.
The most fascinating transformation takes place whenever a VVIP is scheduled to visit the city. Miraculously, roads are resurfaced overnight, garbage disappears, potholes are filled and the entire city suddenly looks presentable. One almost begins to believe that Dehradun has finally found its lost civic sense.
But the miracle has a very short shelf life. A couple of days later, or after the first sharp shower that Doon frequently experiences, the newly repaired roads return to their familiar condition. Potholes reappear, garbage resurfaces and the old familiar stench returns. It is almost as if the city itself refuses to cooperate with the temporary cosmetic treatment.
Clearly, good roads, clean surroundings and basic civic amenities are considered privileges reserved for visiting dignitaries. The ordinary citizen must be content with the original version of Dehradun!
Meanwhile, substantial public funds are allocated for road construction, repairs, drainage, sanitation and other development works. Yet the obvious questions remain unanswered. Who is responsible for the quality of the work? Who certifies its completion? Who audits the expenditure? And, most importantly, who is held accountable when the same road is dug up repeatedly or falls apart within weeks?
There appears to be no shortage of departments, officials, contractors, tenders or funds. What is conspicuously missing is accountability.
Corruption, of course, has become a convenient explanation for almost everything. One can always look back and blame previous governments or administrations. But the present has, in many respects, managed to outdo the past by considerable distance. Apparently, political change does not necessarily translate into administrative improvement. The public is left wondering whether accountability is a concept meant for textbooks rather than government offices.
And then there is the other favourite excuse: development. In its name, trees are felled by the thousands, hillsides are disturbed, forest land is encroached upon or converted for plotting, and natural landscapes are sacrificed for extensions, roads and construction projects. The art of digging has now been complemented by the art of felling trees. This particular skill seems to be spreading across Uttarakhand at an alarming rate.
One wonders whether anyone has paused to consider the environmental cost of all this so-called development. Dehradun and the surrounding hills are not an inexhaustible resource. Forests, natural drainage channels, streams and green spaces are not obstacles to development; they are essential to the survival of the region. Disturb them indiscriminately and nature will eventually present its own bill, and unlike government contractors, it will not accept excuses or extensions.
The day may not be far when a major disaster strikes, leaving behind destruction on a scale that no amount of emergency roadwork or overnight resurfacing can repair. And if that happens, there may be nothing left for the diggers to dig! Perhaps they will then have to perform a special Vishwakarma Puja of their beloved excavators, praying for another development project to come their way.
Which brings us to an intriguing question: why have the numerous Gods and Goddesses of Devbhoomi become such silent spectators? Are they patiently watching the destruction of their own land, or are they waiting for the right moment to intervene? Perhaps even divine patience has its limits!
But jokes apart, Dehradun deserves much better. It deserves planned development, accountable administration, coordinated public agencies, transparent expenditure and, above all, respect for its environment and citizens. Development cannot simply mean digging up every available road, cutting down every inconvenient tree and spending public money without ensuring results.
Perhaps it is time for the so-called Gen Z, the young and energetic generation, to step forward. They must raise their voices, take to the streets peacefully, demand answers and insist on action. If those entrusted with public responsibility cannot perform their duties, they should have the moral courage to step aside. Public office is a responsibility, not a permanent entitlement.
The people of Dehradun must stop accepting this as normal. A city cannot function indefinitely on temporary repairs, cosmetic makeovers and endless promises. Nor can citizens be expected to treat potholes as part of the city’s heritage!
Until then, a word of caution to all residents and visitors: watch out for potholes, open drains, loose cables, abandoned poles and the occasional surprise excavation. Protect yourself, your vehicle and your patience. You may need all three.
And to our dear diggers, contractors and the many departments involved: please do let us know when you finally intend to finish digging. Some of us would still like to travel on a road rather than participate in an obstacle course.
Welcome to Dehradun — the city where roads have a shorter life than the contracts to repair them, where every department digs independently, and where development seems to have only one direction: DOWN!
From a citizen who believed in green hedges and grey hair of erstwhile Dehradun.
(Satish Aparajit is a retired Wing Commander of the IAF and a Shaurya Chakra awardee.)
