Who cares for the kids?

Cars drove them from their compounds to the park. The park forced them out. Now, they’re back among cars, trying to live out a childhood they’ve been denied by our world-class city, writes Dilip D’Souza   

A small park in Bandra was once little more than an expanse of scraggly lawn ringed with trees. Nevertheless, it was the only park in the area for children to play in. Being so, it was always full of kids and as full of life as our large cricket stadiums are dead.
Every evening for years, dozens of kids would arrive here to play cricket and football and catching-cook, or simply run around excitedly as kids must. Rich kids, street kids, just kids. Many from nearby buildings.
Now there was a time when they played in their compounds. But now those compounds are flooded, chest- and head-high, with cars. Cars, two and three and four to a family, more cars in these buildings than there are kids, their evident convenience and prestige like a maw that insatiably gobbles play areas. “No football” is already a rule in buildings I know of, instituted after precious car windows were broken.
So kids would traipse down to this park, bringing it alive with energy and joy. So who would have imagined that there were people who saw this joy as undesirable?
First, some faceless Municipal authority decided to lay concrete “paths” through the grass. That didn't stop the kids. Next, they erected foot-high concrete borders along the edges of the paths. Still didn't stop the kids. They played as enthusiastically as before, leaping nimbly over the barriers as they raced after balls. What if they tripped ... but no, that was no kind of question to ask.
Foiled in their efforts to keep kids out, the faceless men turned to a private group. With much expense and effort, they have “beautified” the park. The lawns are manicured, there are bountiful bursts of canna, a new fence and a lockable gate. There's an airy gazebo, where the private group and others interested attend discourses and meetings, prayers and much else of lofty import.
The park looks lovely. Only — as anyone whose memory goes back just a few years knows — it has far fewer kids. The board outside announces that “All are permitted to enjoy” this “smiling peaceful zone”. But along with many other things listed, “playing cricket/any games” is “strictly prohibited.”
Just as in the compounds. “No football”, anyone?
And if you want to find the children who would be so exuberant in this park, you need not go far. They still play their cricket and football and catching-cook, or simply run around excitedly as kids must. They do it just a couple of hundred yards away. On the road. Dodging the Scorpios and Lancers parked everywhere, the Swifts and Accords that zip so prettily past them. Through them.
Cars squeezed them from their compounds, to the park. The park drove them out. Just so does the circle close. Now, they're back among cars again.
Gotta love the cars. Gotta love the beautified park. Gotta love how we develop, love our world-class city. Never mind the kids.