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V Gangadhar

A tale of two cities

Manchester of India. Manchester of the south. That is what people called Ahmedabad in Gujarat and Coimbatore in Tamil Nadu. I had close links with both these cities. Today, these links cannot be renewed but I am not sorry about that.

Ahmedabad, of course, is just an overnight journey by train from Bombay. The flight takes around an hour. Yet, I am not very enthusiastic about visiting the place. It is not longer the city where I spent 19 years of my youth.

Ahmedabad is now consumed with communal hatred and intolerance. Riots break out on the slightest pretext. Most of the 60 odd textile mills which brought prosperity to the homes of millions of textiles workers are now closed. The unemployment rate is high. Disillusioned people are now prepared to do anything to make a living. And that includes falling a prey to communal propaganda and attacking their neighbours if they belong to a different community.

It is all so sad. Ahmedabad was one of the most peaceful and prosperous cities in the country. Unlike Bombay's Shiv Sena, which frowned on the entry of outsiders seeking jobs, Ahmedabad welcomed everyone. The local Gujaratis were keener on self-employment and preferred to employ qualified people from any part of the country in their enterprises. They knew that, despite business their acumen, they were not academically inclined.

There were no protests when eminent Ahmedabad-based institutions like the Indian Institute of Management and the National Institute of Design had only a token representation of the local youth. There were no cries of 'Gujarat for Gujaratis' and no one thought of forming 'Sardar Senas' on the lines of Bal Thackeray's Shiv Sena in Bombay.

That was why the communal riots of 1969 came as a distinct and unpleasant surprise. Today, people talk of the massacre of the Sikhs following the assassination of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. But the 1969 Ahmedabad riots were more gruesome and the death toll much higher. The Congress had just split. While Indira Gandhi's Congress ruled at Delhi, Morarji Desai Congress (O) was in power in Gujarat.

The incompetent chief minister, Hitendra Desai, a puppet of the Morarji Desai clique, delayed the calling of the army and the carnage continued for weeks. I was new to reporting then, and saw with horror man's inhumanity to man. Every morning, municipal trucks, under army control, removed hundreds of bodies from the streets. My affection to Ahmedabad began to sour.

More riots followed during the next few years. The Nav Nirman agitation launched by the supporters of Jayprakash Narayan, despite all the ballyhoo in the media, was only the sign of a political struggle. Then came the anti-reservation agitations of the 1980s when high caste Hindus held the city to ransom over the issue of some additional reservations to the backward classes. Gujarat lost its primary place in peace and industrial production.

Since then, communal or caste riots occur at the drop of a hat. Neighbours would not trust neighbours. Several of my Muslim friends who were living in Hindu localities shifted to Muslim areas. This was a sad development. That is why I do not enjoy visiting Ahmedabad anymore. It is now a barren, hostile, hateful city.

My links with Coimbatore were not that close. In fact, I had never lived in that city. My first impression of Coimbatore came in the early 1950s. Father had been transferred from Vellore in north Arcot to Fort Cochin which was then part of Tamil Nadu. We drove all the way and our ancient Ford gave us endless trouble on the road. We were hungry and deadbeat when we reached Coimbatore.

But our mood changed when we entered Venkateswara Lodge run by Palghat brahmins. The food was sumptuous and I still remember the curds served to us. It was thick, creamy and delicious. The dinner and the overnight rest restored our faith in humanity. The car performed better and we reached Cochin without further mishap.

I renewed my association with Coimbatore while doing my graduation in the Palghat government-run Victoria College. Now, Coimbatore was only 90 minutes away by bus or train from Palghat and I visited it as part of the college cricket team. We played the PSG College of Technology XI on their home ground and managed to hold them to a draw. I think I made six, not out, but batted for a long time.

On other occasions, I travelled to Coimbatore to represent my college in various competitions like debates, elocution and essay writing organised by the Rotarians, the Lions and other organisations. These were welcome opportunities to 'see the world' on one's own. Eat hotel food and snacks and sample a bit of the 'night life' of the city.

Oh, don't get ideas. Night life was usually a late night movie, ice cream (then a rarity) at the railway station stand, paan and then to bed. But that was enough excitement for an 18-year-old boy brought up in a traditional home. Occasionally I caught the two am passenger train, slept for a while at the Palghat railway station and then walked home. My walk was jaunty whenever I managed to bag a trophy in any contest.

These were happy memories of Coimbatore. But then things never remained the same. I read with distress accounts of the recent communal riots in the city where more than 20 people died. Somehow, it is more difficult to visualise such riots among the more civilised south Indian cities of which Coimbatore was one.

I will be shocked if Coimbatore goes the Ahmedabad way. A state where classics like Tirukaral and Silapadhikaram originated should be an example to the rest of the country. I hope the citizens of Coimbatore learn their lessons from these riots and see to it they do not recur.

Illustration: Dominic Xavier