When road-building is a zero sum game

Rs21,00,00,000. That's Rs21crore. Can you properly count the number of zeroes in that figure? A Rs21crore road – that's even more mind boggling. A TV news anchor's voice broke on the incredulity of all those zeroes being used in the context of something as lowly as a road… was it to be paved in gold, he actually asked. A road for the Gods is possibly what he implied.
Nope. It was for mortals and what's more, mortals who travelled the 1.8 km stretch between St Stephens church and the J Mehta lane. In effect, the area called Nepean Sea Road. Which just happens to be the road I reside on.

I should consider myself privileged. 'The road is 'mostly used by VVIPs, ministers and industrialists', as related news reports put it. Though I come under none of the above, I'm sure I'm chuffed: I do have illustrious neighbours. Up the hill is state guest house Sahyadri, and I can count on glimpses of various high-profile guests of state on occasion. Not to mention their security entourages (I once counted 10 cars lined up, all zooming down Walkeshwar as traffic not-so-patiently waited for the blaring sirens to subside), their hangers-on and of course my own ilk - the camera crews - whenever a political story breaks. That's enough traffic to warrant a BIG road nearby, in any case.

Expensive? I'm missing the point, surely. Sunita (building), having to its credit the dubious distinction of harbouring some of the most pricey flats in the city as reported sometime ago, is in the same line as Sahyadri; and scattered around are the sundry bungalow habitats of Mumbai's ye olde money - the Birlas, Ruias, Kilachands. The sprawling premise of Dr Mallya is in a lane a stone's throw down. Within walking distance is the CM's bungalow. And the breathtaking beaches of Raj Bhavan aren't too distant either.

Surely I ought to have no problem with a new road for all these wonderful neighbours.  How about when I need to get to office, or the airport or pick up my four-year-old? Especially when the heavyweight politicos in our friendly neighbourhood area decide to leave their premises at the same time as I? Along with their cavalcades and crew, naturally. How unreasonable of me to bring this up. Surely I can suck up and smile, like the rest of Mumbai — it's only an hour or so of a wait till they pass. If there's an emergency situation in the meantime —fire, illness, and the like, I'll just have to be philosophical in the manner of the great Indian psyche: kismet mein nahin likha tha. Like that elderly citizen who reportedly couldn't reach her home for two hours when Hillary Clinton visited the store up the same road.

I couldn't be naïve enough to actually believe that because they're elected public servants, they should have any consideration for the public's time. Or money. I should understand that Nepean Sea road, after all, finds mention as one of the toniest areas of the city - real estate prices here touch the Rs 50-60,000 a square foot mark, which already is quite a lot of zeroes when neatly added up. So why make a fuss on a few zeroes extra on repairing that very road? Even if those repairs take ages in the manner of great Indian standard time and clog up an already space-starved, low-lying, flooded-like-an-overflowing-pool in the monsoon stretch.

If the hotly debated proposal actually goes through, I should realise enough to not protest and let my leaders and betters (?!) take decisions that are in the(ir) best interest. How very un-neighbourly of me to be concerned, about expense, about traffic and emergencies, about the sheer waste of the taxpayer's money - don't you think?