Cut-Paste: 2007, the year Delhi's trees were massacred

And Sheila Dikshit does it again and again and again. By the time the Hon'ble Chief Minister of Delhi goes out of power, she would have raped the city of its water, its trees and every single thing that makes Life. At times, she is so much like a locust, sucking life out and destroying everything. Delhi had always been known for its greenery... But if this lady and her so-called development loving government are not stopped, there won't be much recognisable in the city that was once Indraprastha. For those NOT aware of Sheila's other development plans -- Yarra to Yamuna anyone? -- please follow these links.

Commonwealth Games 2010: The real-estate and environment SCAM

1. Games village: Delhi's death trap
2. Games village: Flouting ALL environmental laws
3. Games village: Sitting duck for disaster
4. Games village: The REAL estate SCAM
5. INTERVIEW with Sheila Dikshit: 'Delhi should be second to none' (at what cost?)

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From the blog: Parvinder's Space
As the National Capital prepares to usher in the New Year, the year that steps into the past will be remembered most for the massacre of thousands of trees of Delhi that have seen many New Years come and go.

An unofficial count of the trees felled in the past four to five years is estimated to be around 40,000, the official figures are not forthcoming and vary as per the individual departments. However, the felling in the year 2007 was the most brazen and painful, as the chainsaw drew closer and closer into the very heart of the city's green lungs, with the trees planted when the capital was envisioned, and some even older, were cleared for the High Capacity Bus Service (HCBS) corridors and road-widening.

The needs of a "transport plan" to see the light of the day made the Delhi Government sacrifice its green heritage, even at the cost of losing its most recognised character and rejecting concerns of eminent citizens, who rallied together through a petition against the felling

But the outcry against slaughter of old neighbourhood trees was answered by Chief Minister Sheila Dikshit, heading a government that up to now has projected a strong green image, by stating that the trees will have to go and the citizens of Delhi will have to sooth themselves with images of planned sapling plantations on the outskirts of the National Capital Territory.

Many present at the meeting kept fumbling for an answer to the question of what happens to our neighbourhood trees, right where we live?

The meeting with the Delhi Chief Minister was a high point for a citizen's forum, "Trees for Delhi", that sprung up almost spontaneously and grabbed media attention through very visible candlelight vigils at traffic intersections along the route of the proposed HCBS.

The trees of Delhi, gained a voice and the attention shifted to the neighbourhood trees. From housewives, to students and from the local vendors to academics, all began reacting through various platforms. A singular demand that was raised by this very diverse movement was "Plan around the trees and not without them".

While the chainsaw massacre continued in the capital, surveys were done by volunteers to show that the trees were being felled and chocked unbated as the planners, officials and contractors saw them as dispensable items in a city starved for space. The markings were wrong, trees were being cut mistakenly, machine were ramming into the exposed roots of those still left.

Remember the headline grabbing incident of 1,000 trees to be axed for a rugby match? For those who are willing to axe thousand trees without a blink for an exhibition match, trees have little meaning, global warming or not.

Different parts of the city started witnessing silent residents suddenly step out to claim the ownership of the city's green space. Retired civil servants and housewives started informing press and demanding answers. Some even physically stopped the felling, forcing the contractors to seek the cover of the dark to pace up the massacre.

The debate of transport versus trees was resurrected, by transport planners, who so far have failed in offering any hopes of a usable mass transport on the roads of Delhi. Trees of Delhi became, enemy of the grand plan for a seamless flow of cars and buses that will run on a platform one day.

A conversation between those talking for the trees and those cutting them never really took-off, as the planners never believed that the trees ever had a chance. Call it the death of reason or something deeper, while thousands of trees were cut this year, and many more will continue to be felled, we will wait a long while to see the strange and deadly diversions on Delhi roads to metamorphose the Capital into a world class city one day.

Lesson 29: Charansparsh... We can stoop reallly low!

This post has been written by Citizen Kavitta

The reason for us to be there: To get an interview of the CM. We were doing this story on the Commonwealth Games Village. A story about how the banks of the poor Yamuna are falling prey to the greed of some influential well-connected people. A story about how the fragile, ecologically sensitive river bed is getting consumed, first in the name of God with the Akshardham and now in the name of development with the Commonwealth Games Village.

Anybody who is a Somebody was there. That was the day when the palatial lawns of the CM's house were open to the Khaas Admi. The vote bank or the people who could generate the vote bank. Some 500-odd people; young and old, politicians and political aspirants, men and women, industrialists and beauticians. Hindu fanatics and Musalman Fundamentalists. We were the only two people there who were the actual aam admi.

But wasn't this the same CM that we had elected five years back? Why was she available to only a selected people and that too only on a special day? Why did it take us a week to get an interview that we wanted to air for the public? Why meeting the same CM – who we, the aam admi elected – an almost impossible task? We were not there out of choice. There was no commonality – except perhaps one – in all those were present. They all had the same desire: Madam ke pair choone hain. Madam ke saath photo khinchwana hai. Sole motive: Madam ko khush karna hai. (Have to touch madam’s feet. Have to get clicked with madam. Have to make madam happy.)

The party went on. Silver-haired men and women, children in all sizes, their mothers, everyone had this sudden pang, to touch the CM’s feet every time she came out of her Special Enclosure (The enclosure: A brilliantly white shamiana, with twinkling fairy lights meant for the special invitees, the 'more' influential and the 'more' powerful). The aroma of good biryani and tender kebabs filled the air. It took special security services to protect this space from the visiting throngs and visiting bats.

I was in awe. Wondering what was everybody up to. And why? I always knew that ‘this’ happened. I always knew that the pair choona policy was the only way the politics of this country functioned. To see any, especially this performance LIVE was a warped celestial experience. Big stars and small, the politicians, were performing: Continuous, uninterrupted performances with utmost brilliance. One star falling down to another's feet and rising; shining brighter with the I-am-suddenly-more-powerful look. This repeated, bending-double action lasted for over four hours.

Caught between the shooting stars and falling ones were us.

I tried to justify: We are a country with temples for film stars and the Chief Minister should them belong to more hallowed circles. She was our leader, our big GOD. She had the power to turn, immortalise other non-Gods into smaller gods when they touched her feet. I wondered: Could I be the next youth leader if I touched her feet enough enough number of times at such iftars? The concept of Parmeshwar suddenly became clearer.

Maybe this is a country progressing. From the days of black and white movies with their pallu-covered, milk-glass bearing woman, a sati-savitri, now we have a woman as our CM, our God. She is neither sati nor savitri. She is a woman in power and the men touch her feet instead. My head was in a mess: Wanting to accept, to ignore or just wanting to forget about the interview and run. But we couldn’t: This was the Chief Minister of Delhi. We had pitched really hard for this interview. We stay.

We stand in a corner quietly while the others are busy putting up this act. She notices, walks up to us almost five in the middle of the chaos and insists we eat. There are biryani and kebabs goddammit. She invites us inside the Special Enclosure. We insist each time we need the interview first.

After her second invitation to join in the enclosure, even the others started approaching us. Primarily to find out who we were and WHY their God was so interested in us. Others came, some just to drop in their visiting cards others with their visiting stories. One needed to talk about other politicians, another one wanted to show off his community initiative and the third wanted to report a scam being perpetrated by a man in a green kurta. Apparently, someone really big’s son.

People now start to bend double for us, this time with their hands folded in a namaste. Probably I was mistaken about being the Aam Admi. Probably after the politicians the media is God. Probably they could not tolerate my harem pants anymore.(hahahaha) Probably they are showing us the way out. No. They were inviting us to eat! I did understand it was another trick to please the CM. Impress people she talks to.

We got the interview. The CM nearly convinces us that Delhi, now a developed city is the best place in the world to say. Water problems were a thing of the past. The year 2010 will see a new face of Delhi, courtesy the Commonwealth Games. We eat in the white enclosure, food perhaps bought with the taxpayer’s money. My money. I enjoy and appreciate the biryani and her charm and hospitality work on me. The charisma of the woman who had for years been a mother, a home-maker and a true politician hits me in the face. I feel a sense of her power too.

I don’t want to think of the Yamuna, it’s still flowing, can’t we eat first? The aroma of power and food was intoxicating me. I felt part of some episode of Star Wars. Colleagues from rival channels were curious to know our special status to be sitting inside the special enclosure. Overfriendly people, sweet people, nice people, they were going out of their way to socialise with us. As we leave, the CM gives us a little bow and thanks us for coming. And oh my god, I am not the part of the crowd... I am the new God. I too was bitten by the power bug. Thank you madam ji aap ki kripa hai; ab hum bhi bhagwan hain. Charansparsh.

Liar, liar, pants on fire OR…

The river bleeds black

Circa September 2007: River bank, semi-naked men, soaking gods

It’s noon when we reach the banks of the river. And yet the harsh sun cannot pierce its black waters. It’s disgusting to think I wash my face with this water every morning. The government says it ‘treats’ this water. The government says many things.

There is a flash of blue in the water. It’s a polythene bag from the fancy store, Westside. A flash of gold. A recently immersed idol of Ganesha; next to a lump of…. One had recently eaten and did not want to verify that lump. Splash! A boy dives in… right amidst the plastic, Ganesha and lump. Only the top of his head and eyes can be seen. Then he goes under the surface of the water. Under the lump.

He comes out two minutes later and spits out something. What? He swims back and holds out his hand. A cube of some sort of metal rests on his palm. Apparently, devotees throw these cubes into the river and the boy (and more such boys) dives in to pull these out. The cubes sell at Rs 70 a kilogram and are inscribed with words, alphabets and symbols. One of the inscribed words is Ram. But the government says there is no Ram. The government says many things.

“Eww,” she says, holding her packet to throw in the river. “I didn’t know the river was this dirty,” she says to friend, as she pays another boy to immerse her Ganesha amid the floating lumps. “So don’t add to it then,” one had opened one’s big mouth again and instantly felt like a lump. “I know,” she said, with a weird look on her face, clutching her polythene packet tighter, “… I work for an NGO; but, years of habit, religion… Where else do we immerse our gods then?” Where indeed: The Arabian Sea, Hoogli, Ganga, are all taken. Teesta perhaps? We have many rivers, much water, says the government. The government says many things.

Flashback April 2007: Home, toilet flush, boiling babies

The nameplate reads, “So-and-so, DRYCLEANER.” This person’s neighbours are a butcher, three auto-drivers, Mishraji and yours truly, having recently moved to the colony. Most others have lived together for the last two decades or more. They ‘share’ everything: Parking space, water and cable connections and even helpfully borrow from each other’s electricity supply. But things changed.

Mishraji – in one of his let’s-read-the-paper-loudly-for-no-one moods – announced that our locality was one amongst many more to have ‘some’ water trouble. This was before Mishraji still read newspapers and had not declared violently that they were only good for thwacking people. So we had water trouble. Mishraji broke his back lugging water buckets. Mrs Mishraji cracked her voice rationing the water. Mishraji got into a fight with Colonol Sahab – lives on the floor above the Mishras – because the Colonel’s pots were overflowing while Mishraji’s Sintex-tank was dry. The drycleaner’s year-old baby erupted in ugly, pink boils because there was not much water to wash the baby properly. All private water tankers refused to enter the colony because they were beaten at the gates and the water was stolen.

One needed water as well and lugged two buckets of water every morning and evening. Water conservation is an art. One would stand inside one bucket and bathe, to reuse that water to flush the toilet. One considered using the open fields for further water conservation but was daunted by the sheer numbers already heading towards the fields. A good idea always has many takers. And the government says Delhi has no water shortage. The government says many things.

Circa October 2007: Sheila Dikshit’s iftar party

We stood there patiently, in dirty jeans and harem pants while the other media and bedecked politicians clamoured for Delhi Chief Minister Sheila Dikshit’s attention and her feet. The media bent high and low for the right angle, the visitors bent low for her benedictions. Everybody smiled, everybody ate and the Chief Minister posed with everyone, for everyone. With you, for you, always.

All people fit on her lawn and there was room for more. It was a huge lawn. It was moist. One saw sprinklers. They could perhaps fill 18 buckets of water. “Not now,” the Chief Minister told my colleague as our paths happened to cross. Happened to, because while we had not changed our standing-spot since entering her manicured lawns, the Chief Minister’s frequency of appearing exactly where we stood and generally looking in our direction had increased. Perhaps it was because we were the most inappropriately dressed for a party at the Chief Minister’s house. We didn’t know the Chief Minister would invite us for a party; she had so far refused any interview. We wanted a byte, she offered bites instead.

Five hours later, she spoke to us. She said development was needed for Delhi. Development for her means the Commonwealth Games village. It’s on the riverbed of a dead, black river. But the Chief Minister and her government say the river will be cleaned. The government says many things. The games village is also being built on a fault-line that will lead to earthquakes. But the Chief Minister says, “development has to take place.” The Chief Minister says a lot of things.

The Commonwealth Games village will also concretize the last ground-water recharge zone in the capital, the floodplains of the black river. But the Chief Minister says Delhi has no water trouble. Of course there are none in her house. The Chief Minister says adequate trees will be planted, so far no plans have been heard. We have proof the government doesn’t have the approvals. The Chief Minister says she has all. The Chief Minister says a lot of things.

PS1: And we believe her. Why?
PS2: READ the official stories -- we did two parts -- Delhi's death trap and Games village, sitting duck,
see the VIDEO 1 & VIDEO 2 and
the PROOF that we got for YOU (please go to end of story to read the documents). Decide for yourself.
Does the Chief Minister say the right things?

Lesson 16: Get. Up. Stand. Up. Rise for they are coming for Your child. Soon.

I have never voted in my life. I lost 10 years of that power. I WILL vote, I WILL find out about the right candidates and vote for them. THAT will be my contribution. Yours?

Goodmorning Readers and Fellow Citizens,

How did you sleep last night? Nice dreams, sweet thoughts, good sex? And where were your children? Do they sleep with you or do they have a nice little room for themselves?

For, while you were sleeping a 2 and a half-year-old was raped and her throat was slit. It was a very neat slitting, should be, a 2 and a half-year old child’s skin is very soft. She died. But before she died, can you IMAGINE how much she would have CRIED when she was raped? Have you ever pulled a child’s ears, they cry a lot. And here, the child was ENTERED into. How much it would have hurt her? But of course, sorry, so you HAVE a 3-year-old son and you are the big-time editor of some big-time newspaper. It cannot happen to YOUR son, na? Are you so sure? Do you trust your child’s school bus driver? Or the nurse in the swanky toilet of the swanky air-conditioned school your baby goes to…? Are you SURE that the ayah is NOT feeling up your child INSIDE that Rs 6 lakh per annum school? And the Ministry of Mayhem will NOT do anything.

Somewhere else, a man first strangled his two daughters, they were 12 and 16 I think. So he put his fingers around their necks and squeezed and squeezed till their eyes rolled in their sockets. The mother watched helplessly. She was helpless much before. NO, he was not raping his daughters, he was ensuring no one else did once he was gone. This father LOVED his daughters; but he knew that if he left them behind, they would be raped and perhaps sold to some brothel. So, once he killed his daughters…. He killed his wife. Then, he hung himself. Because since fathers are supposed to look after a family and he could not, how could he leave them for the hyenas? THINK… What was going on his mind as he spent all that time killing the Family he had created? But then, the Powers that be ensured that it was IMPOSSIBLE for him to provide his family with a simple meal. And you know what was said? The Ministry of Mayhem said that it was His mistake and the mistake of all those like him – poor farmers who give you and me the cereal we eat in our houses and the posh bloody restaurants – that he could not look after his family. The Ministry of Mayhem will NOT do anything.

Also, while you ordered your bottles of Evian, the Delhi Development Authority, the Indian Railways and the Ministry of Mayhem in Delhi are all set to RAPE the Yamuna. By the way for those who did NOT know, the Yamuna is the DIRTIEST river in the WORLD. And you and I are drinking that water. Swimming in that water. Once that Commonwealth Games Village is up and running and it forever FINISHES the little water we have in Delhi, you will STILL have water to drink and to shower and to have bubble baths and swim? NO. No matter how many restaurants you own, you WILL suffer. The water source is the same.

And ah, the Indian Railways is going to spend Rs 125 CRORES on sound-proofing the area. WHY cannot that money be used in launching new trains? Or even improving the horrible seats in existing trains? NO, no, the Indian Railways is concerned about the 5,000 athletes who might be DISTURBED by the noise. DUDE, WHAT ABOUT THE GENERATOR NOISE AROUND MALLS THAT RESIDENTS SUFFER EVERYDAY? You, dear Ministry of Mayhem, are FOOLING us, taking OUR money, making an IDIOT out us. Rs 125 crore for TEMPORARY sound proofing. You mean we HAVE that kind of money and are NOT using it? And using it for 5000 athletes?! Delhi has 2000 times MORE people than that who will NOT get water. ALREADY in Vasant Kunj, Katwaria Sarai, Chittaranjan Park there is water shortage. And those are just three areas I have mentioned.

AND THEY WILL NOT STOP AT DELHI. They will encroach on your farm house. They will encroach on schools. They will encroach on ANYTHING that is not theirs. And if you stand up against them, they will rape your wife, have an encounter and kill you. Simple. FOR HOW LONG? And WHY are you quiet?

So Delhi has this BIG time DJ festival called BAARISH. It means Rain. Ha ha. Really? There will be NO rain once that Games Village comes up. HOW ABOUT FLATTENING THE GARDEN OF FIVE SENSES AND USING THAT LAND FOR THE VILLAGE? Would cost much less and that landscaping can be recreated after the games are over. AND please, there is NO OTHER land around Delhi for that village? ONLY the Yamuna with it's sound proofing?

I am going for a meeting today. WILL get you details, and THEN, you tell me WHY you are silent. Ok? Many of you cry hoarse about NO ONE doing anything… HOW about YOU showing some balls? Shy, are you? So fine, SHOW me spine.

For your 3 year old son. For your wife. For your mother. For YOU. This is NOT talking country, THIS is talking YOUR interest. WATCH THIS SPACE.

And remember, if you vote for an ass, you will GET an ass. Gadhe ko baap banaoge, to gadha hi baap banega. The gadha does NOT become a horse if you give it power. Look at George Bush. Hah. And remember, the East India Company FIRST got the Princes AGAINST their own people and THEN they took the states AWAY from them. WAIT and watch as it happens to You.

THIS IS CITIZEN CRIMSON’S TAKE ON THE GADHAS WE MAKE KING:

My contribution today: I pledge to vote and vote sensibly, in the next general elections. However trivial one out of a BILLION may sound (read tagline above to DRILL this in your head), I realise that MY VOTE COUNTS.

I will carry out my homework by finding out the truth about each candidate and spread the information among my peers. Thus I will make sure that the next government is chosen by majority agreement and NOT by majority indifference.

I completely believe that the quality of leaders reflects the quality of the nation. WHERE are we?

Like we conduct our personal financial planning and tax research – and even ask 16 people, from a fighter pilot to a rickshaw puller about what car to buy – let us start researching into a politicians’ caliber and credentials. The MEDIA can behave like a dependable tax consultant (and if not, you WILL read it here).

Let us make it hard for a politician to fool us. Let us gather information on these guys, from confirmed sources and spread THAT among fellow citizens and finally VOTE when there is an election. Let’s not choose our Government through majority INDIFFERENCE, but through majority agreement.

Those who cannot lead, should NOT be allowed to lead. But that will not happen till you and I VOTE for the people who CAN lead. OR find those people who can lead. Or BECOME the people who can lead. Don’t stay silent, the Ministry of Mayhem does not spare anyone.