Gandhi's Birthday and the "Beautification Plan"

Uncrowded streets make way for the 2010 Commonwealth Games

Delhi welcomed me back on a warm, balmy October 2nd, the day of Gandhi's birthday. I left my friend's apartment in good spirits, with parrots, crows, kites and pigeons adding to the cacophony of fruit vendors and rickshaws. We grabbed some eggs in the A Block market of Defense Colony, gently reminding me that I can enjoy the comforts of a good cappuccino with scrambled eggs and potatoes here on the other side of the planet. The culture shock was abated for the moment, and we left the market only to glide effortlessly through the city where my friend would drop me off at Gandhi's place of samadhi (where his body was displayed to the masses and immolated). Was this Delhi??? With a full belly of Western food, absolutely not one beggar or hovel beneath the new massive Delhi Metro platforms that curve throughout the city, and no traffic, I figured I must still be on the plane, snoring away in Melatonin-induced slumbers. Where were the people? Where was the traffic? Where were the poor?

People gather at the place where Gandhi was laid for public viewing and cremation

The most obvious answer to the question of traffic is that it was Gandhi's birthday, a national holiday emptying the streets of their usual gridlock as most shops and businesses were closed. Another possible answer of is that the Commonwealth Games begin today, where athletes from around the world will compete for a week after four years of preparation and implementation of the "Beautification Plan" that has disrupted the lives of most Delhi residents in one way or another. I have to admit that the city looked clean, the potted plants lining the center divides more appealing than slums with women and small children selling cigarettes and weaving through traffic, and the metro is impressive - it beats the BART by a long mile. But people don't just evaporate, all the fragile lives hanging in perilous balance between two screaming and choked lanes of insane traffic, and well-named plans often have sinister faces: especially for sporting events in developing countries. This smacked of Indira Gandhi's slum removal in the late seventies (here) so I decided to poke around.

Delhi inhabitants gather for Gandhi's cremation on January 31, 1948.

On reading a little about it, the beautification project can be seen as an incredible boon to the city and national pride, moving it out of sludge-swamped poverty (here) or as a simple mockery (here) and slap in the face to those who have run homeless programs on minimal budgets for years (here). I put forth the argument that the Delhi Metro cut down traffic and it's construction provided many with jobs (now them you do see, everywhere), but my friend quickly told me that in 2 weeks there will be about 100,000 migrant workers from Uttar Pradesh and Bihar without jobs and crime will definitely be a problem. He told me there is a mass removal plan in place already once the games are over, so I'll keep you posted on that situation. In any case, I'll let you decide for yourself what to make of the new New Delhi and its Commonwealth Games (Indians love to speculate and argue from all angles, proceed at your own peril!) but as our car zipped effortlessly past the World Health Organization (WHO) headquarters I saw them...the dispossessed and downtrodden, all shacked up as they always have been but shoved out of view a block off the expressway in an appropriately ironic locale.

With all these thoughts of beautification on my mind, I approached the place of Gandhi's final rest, wondering if I would have to battle hordes there to pay their dues to the "Father of the Nation." Gandhi is a contentious figure to this day in India (as I said, Indians love to argue) but I was still surprised by the tiny stream of mostly peasant looking pilgrims coming to pay their respects. I entered the area along a heavily guarded street with gun-toting police (the games have led to an increase in security) grabbed a handful of marigolds and laid them on the stone that held his tiny body in 1948. I then retraced my steps and made my way to the National Gandhi Museum to view the relics of this modern-day saint - from his wooden sandals to the blood-stained dhoti he wore when he was shot by a Hindu fundamentalist. Then I reentered the empty streets, filled with armed guards and not traffic, potted plants and not beggars, and marveled at the complexity of history, this place, and its unending approaches to its unending problems. Back in Delhi and summarily confused.

An appropriately dilapidated symbol for the nation's investment in Gandhi's ideas today; across the street from the Gandhi National Museum lined with armed guards. Notice the coal stack to the left of the frame.