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In a part of India where nothing seems to work, the steel cities are a saving grace. By Saibal Chatterjee
A river named Subarnarekha – ‘streak of gold’ – runs through it. But even as the price of the precious yellow metal crosses the Rs 19000 per 10 grams mark, the stocks of the crisis-ridden state of Jharkhand continue to be in free fall. Is anybody surprised?
Well, you might be a touch baffled if you happen to be a denizen of the steel city of Jamshedpur, which is in more ways than one an oasis of order surrounded by a choppy sea of chaos. Its neatly numbered streets are tree-lined and perfectly carpeted, its parks are well looked after and its numerous residential colonies and markets are wrapped in an orderly feel. The upkeep of the city is done by the Jamshedpur Utilities and Services Company (JUSCO), a Tata Steel subsidiary. No wonder.
But drive just a few minutes away from the JUSCO-maintained part of town – into the messy suburb of Mango or the grimy industrial belt of Adityapur – and you know you are in God-forsaken Jharkhand. The private enterprise-public governance divide could not be any sharper than it is here.
In Jamshedpur, JUSCO is responsible for power and water supply, municipal solid waste management and maintenance of roads and parks. No matter what the power situation is in other pasrts of the state - it is usually very bad – the street lights of this city are always aglow from sunset to dawn.
In every civic sphere that one can think of, Jamshedpur usually runs like a well-oiled machine. Much the same is true of the other steel city of Jharkhand, Bokaro, which is a bustling industrial hub located on the banks of the Damodar. Like the rest of Jharkhand, it abounds in natural beauty.
Nature has indeed been gloriously kind to Jharkhand. Unfortunately, the politicians of the state have been anything but. As one drives from Dhanbad to Jamshedpur, Ranchi or Ghatsila, the splendour of the sylvan landscape can take your breath away on a clear day. But this is Maoist country, just a landmine away from mayhem. You cannot afford to let your guard down. Wherever possible, commuters in these parts prefer to travel in a convoy, seeking safety in numbers.
So, you retreat to the safety of Dimna lake, an artificial water body constructed by Tata Steel 13 km outside Jamshedpur, at the foothills of the lovely Dalma hills, or to the lush green Jubilee Park in the heart of the city that is lit up in many hues when the sun goes down. There is much here to commend.
A recent study commissioned by the Union urban development ministry has ranked Jharkhand among the worst states in India in terms of sanitation. However, Jamshedpur and Bokaro figure among the 50 cleanest cities of India. Of the 423 cities surveyed across the country, the former ranks 7th and the latter 48th. Ranchi, the state capital which was until 1967 the summer headquarters of Bihar, is placed a lowly 118th on the list. And therein lies a tale. Mango, which is in Jamshedpur but isn't a part of the Tata Steel command area, is 279th on the list, while Hazaribagh is 310th and Adityapur 399th. Endemic poverty, widespread squalor and an air of lawlessness are visible wherever you go, be it Ranchi, Dhanbad or Hazaribagh. Little has changed in these places since Jharkhand became India's 28th state. If anything, things have only deteriorated.
A road that emerges from the Dhanbad railway station and winds its way into the heart of town provides a classic demonstration of what is wrong with this part of the country. For three decades and more, this thoroughfare and the connecting lanes around it have remained exactly the way they were in the 1970s. Progress has bypassed this street and chaos reigns supreme on the stretch. Traffic rules in Dhanbad are followed more in the breach. People of this congested city where the coal mafia calls the shots are resigned to their fate.
When Jharkhand came into existence nearly ten years ago, a spark of hope had been ignited. But the potholed roads of Dhanbad have remained untouched by anything positive that might have happened in the rest of India. When Indian cricket captain Mahendra Singh Dhoni is in his hometown, Ranchi, he does drive around in his Hummer, but the ride in a chaotic city can be anything but a humdinger. Ranchi, once known for its salubrious climate, is now just another small town struggling to keep pace with unplanned urbanisation.
And it isn’t just the exploited tribal population that is deserting the state in search of a better life elsewhere. In the Civil Services Examinations of 2009, two girls schooled in Ranchi, Iva Sahay and Tanvi Sundriyal, ranked first and second among women candidates. But when it came to choosing their IAS cadre, they skipped their home state and instead opted for Rajasthan and Uttarakhand respectively. Political instability, a rising crime rate and rampant corruption have made Jharkhand a difficult place to work in.
Disillusionment runs deep in Jharkhand and it is difficult not to be caught in the debate surrounding the need to empower the indigenous people of the state. At the moment, the balance is loaded heavily against the marginalised tribal communities. In Ab Aur Waqt Nahin (Running Out of Time), a 2006 documentary film made by Abhijay Karlekar, an Adivasi says: “Sarkar badalne se kya hota hai? Hamari bhasha to woh samajhte hi nahin hain (So what if the government changes? They do not understand our language).”
The indigenous population of Jharkhand, which has been at the forefront of India’s industrial development strategy since Independence, has been left out of the growth curve. In the industrial units of Ranchi, Jamshedpur and Bokaro, the presence of tribals in the workforce is rare. Unskilled, they are condemned to look for odd jobs as daily wage labourers because agriculture has become an increasingly unviable option for the marginalised.
The tribes that the state was carved out for are today in grave danger of dropping off the map. If they do, will Jharkhand survive?
For more articles, Click on IIPM Article.
Source : IIPM Editorial, 2010.
An Initiative of IIPM, Malay Chaudhuri and Arindam chaudhuri (Renowned Management Guru and Economist).
For More IIPM Info, Visit below mentioned IIPM articles.
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In a part of India where nothing seems to work, the steel cities are a saving grace. By Saibal Chatterjee
A river named Subarnarekha – ‘streak of gold’ – runs through it. But even as the price of the precious yellow metal crosses the Rs 19000 per 10 grams mark, the stocks of the crisis-ridden state of Jharkhand continue to be in free fall. Is anybody surprised?
Well, you might be a touch baffled if you happen to be a denizen of the steel city of Jamshedpur, which is in more ways than one an oasis of order surrounded by a choppy sea of chaos. Its neatly numbered streets are tree-lined and perfectly carpeted, its parks are well looked after and its numerous residential colonies and markets are wrapped in an orderly feel. The upkeep of the city is done by the Jamshedpur Utilities and Services Company (JUSCO), a Tata Steel subsidiary. No wonder.
But drive just a few minutes away from the JUSCO-maintained part of town – into the messy suburb of Mango or the grimy industrial belt of Adityapur – and you know you are in God-forsaken Jharkhand. The private enterprise-public governance divide could not be any sharper than it is here.
In Jamshedpur, JUSCO is responsible for power and water supply, municipal solid waste management and maintenance of roads and parks. No matter what the power situation is in other pasrts of the state - it is usually very bad – the street lights of this city are always aglow from sunset to dawn.
In every civic sphere that one can think of, Jamshedpur usually runs like a well-oiled machine. Much the same is true of the other steel city of Jharkhand, Bokaro, which is a bustling industrial hub located on the banks of the Damodar. Like the rest of Jharkhand, it abounds in natural beauty.
Nature has indeed been gloriously kind to Jharkhand. Unfortunately, the politicians of the state have been anything but. As one drives from Dhanbad to Jamshedpur, Ranchi or Ghatsila, the splendour of the sylvan landscape can take your breath away on a clear day. But this is Maoist country, just a landmine away from mayhem. You cannot afford to let your guard down. Wherever possible, commuters in these parts prefer to travel in a convoy, seeking safety in numbers.
So, you retreat to the safety of Dimna lake, an artificial water body constructed by Tata Steel 13 km outside Jamshedpur, at the foothills of the lovely Dalma hills, or to the lush green Jubilee Park in the heart of the city that is lit up in many hues when the sun goes down. There is much here to commend.
A recent study commissioned by the Union urban development ministry has ranked Jharkhand among the worst states in India in terms of sanitation. However, Jamshedpur and Bokaro figure among the 50 cleanest cities of India. Of the 423 cities surveyed across the country, the former ranks 7th and the latter 48th. Ranchi, the state capital which was until 1967 the summer headquarters of Bihar, is placed a lowly 118th on the list. And therein lies a tale. Mango, which is in Jamshedpur but isn't a part of the Tata Steel command area, is 279th on the list, while Hazaribagh is 310th and Adityapur 399th. Endemic poverty, widespread squalor and an air of lawlessness are visible wherever you go, be it Ranchi, Dhanbad or Hazaribagh. Little has changed in these places since Jharkhand became India's 28th state. If anything, things have only deteriorated.
A road that emerges from the Dhanbad railway station and winds its way into the heart of town provides a classic demonstration of what is wrong with this part of the country. For three decades and more, this thoroughfare and the connecting lanes around it have remained exactly the way they were in the 1970s. Progress has bypassed this street and chaos reigns supreme on the stretch. Traffic rules in Dhanbad are followed more in the breach. People of this congested city where the coal mafia calls the shots are resigned to their fate.
When Jharkhand came into existence nearly ten years ago, a spark of hope had been ignited. But the potholed roads of Dhanbad have remained untouched by anything positive that might have happened in the rest of India. When Indian cricket captain Mahendra Singh Dhoni is in his hometown, Ranchi, he does drive around in his Hummer, but the ride in a chaotic city can be anything but a humdinger. Ranchi, once known for its salubrious climate, is now just another small town struggling to keep pace with unplanned urbanisation.
And it isn’t just the exploited tribal population that is deserting the state in search of a better life elsewhere. In the Civil Services Examinations of 2009, two girls schooled in Ranchi, Iva Sahay and Tanvi Sundriyal, ranked first and second among women candidates. But when it came to choosing their IAS cadre, they skipped their home state and instead opted for Rajasthan and Uttarakhand respectively. Political instability, a rising crime rate and rampant corruption have made Jharkhand a difficult place to work in.
Disillusionment runs deep in Jharkhand and it is difficult not to be caught in the debate surrounding the need to empower the indigenous people of the state. At the moment, the balance is loaded heavily against the marginalised tribal communities. In Ab Aur Waqt Nahin (Running Out of Time), a 2006 documentary film made by Abhijay Karlekar, an Adivasi says: “Sarkar badalne se kya hota hai? Hamari bhasha to woh samajhte hi nahin hain (So what if the government changes? They do not understand our language).”
The indigenous population of Jharkhand, which has been at the forefront of India’s industrial development strategy since Independence, has been left out of the growth curve. In the industrial units of Ranchi, Jamshedpur and Bokaro, the presence of tribals in the workforce is rare. Unskilled, they are condemned to look for odd jobs as daily wage labourers because agriculture has become an increasingly unviable option for the marginalised.
The tribes that the state was carved out for are today in grave danger of dropping off the map. If they do, will Jharkhand survive?
For more articles, Click on IIPM Article.
Source : IIPM Editorial, 2010.
An Initiative of IIPM, Malay Chaudhuri and Arindam chaudhuri (Renowned Management Guru and Economist).
For More IIPM Info, Visit below mentioned IIPM articles.
Run after passion and not money, says Arindam Chaudhuri
IIPM BBA MBA B-School: Rabindranath Tagore Peace Prize To Irom Chanu Sharmila
IIPM Prof Rajita Chaudhuri: The New Age Woman
Award Conferred To Irom Chanu Sharmila By IIPM
IIPM’s Management Consulting Arm - Planman Consulting
IIPM Lucknow – News article in Economic Times and Times of India
Planman Consulting: The sister concern of IIPM
Planman Consulting
Social Networking Sites have become advertising shops
