The next morning, taking the guide book's advice about visiting some of the government buildings, I headed to the tourism office to get a special permit to visit the Capital Complex, three ordinary buildings in this sprawling city where the government of the states of Punjab and Harayana are administered. The tourism office was closed at 9:30, with only a tea drinker at the main desk. I was told to wait for five minutes and the official who'd give the permits would be right along. So like India, 20 minutes later, no one was around and the tea drinker disappeared into the belly of this enormous bus station.
Eventually, after a phone call from yet another tea drinker (there's lots of people in India who sit around "subbing in" for the workers. They direct and misdirect inquirers who might need assistance), the official showed up. A rather rotund man with a swarthy mustache, he admonished me for being impatient and reminded me that, as a guest in his country, I "should be appreciative for being here" and in not so many words, "shut my trap!" Of course, after that I did, for I really wanted the permit.
Taking an auto (rickshaw) to the complex proved short and breezy. However, after being dropped off at the point of no return, I walked in the blazing sun for at least one km past several officers with stern faces who directed me to the first building.
Five checkpoints later, each one requiring that I show my passport and get my bag ad body checked, I finally was escorted to the top of the legislative building. Waiting in one of the offices for clearance, I noted the over-stuffed worn files bound with fabric straps piled haphazardly on tables, stacked vertically in large filing cabinets, etc. The computers looked like the ones we used in the 80's and everything was covered with a layer of dust and old age. It was a sad place, indeed.
I was allowed to take pictures from the top floor of the legislative building looking out at the hazy skyline (the legislature is the tallest building in the city at 11 stories tall). I was not impressed with the view, but my guide, a bright young soldier, spoke English very well and answered all my questions knowledgably. Needless to say, when we returned to the ground floor for an exit security check, I recommended him for a promotion!
It was on my way to the next building in the Capital Complex that the fun began. I met the officers below on the way to the Secretariat Building (where the Assembly meets). Their stern faces gave way to smiles and lots of laughs as we exchanged information about jobs, salaries, cost of living, etc. They were typical of the "real" India for me!
After a phonecall, it was discovered that visitors were not allowed in or near the Secretariat Building on that day due to the Assembly being in session, so I wandered (another km) to the High Court. Traffic there is bumper to bumper. There are 30 million untried cases in India and the lawyers and judges are always busy. Parking is a problem, especially because there are few parking lots. So...if there's no place for your whole car to fit, just fit part of it... on the sidewalk!
This photo shows a couple of Sikh lawyers speaking to a client. Not sure if you can notice the paper tie the attorney on the right is wearing. All lawyers are required to wear these around their necks whether they are men or women. For every 20 lawyers I passed, about five were women.
In my walk through the High Court building, I met a notary. In these courts, oaths is taken outside of the courtroom and the officials who administer them are lined up in the hallway at small desks. The notary gave me a private, but short tour of the ground floor of the building, including the library (all the books are written in English) where studious young men and women were poring through law journals. He brought me to meet the President of the BAR Association in Chandigarh. We had a "spot of tea," but it was soon time to go, according to the notary who suggested, "Please drink up, madam, as you can see the president is a very busy man!" I quickly slurped and we left the poor man to his signing of a million papers.
Although the notary had to get back to work (it seems like Indians can make their own work schedules), he brought me to the courtroom of the Chief Justice. I was ushered into the Public Audience section and listened to a gentle but firm Sikh judge ask questions and make sensible decisions. Again, I was surprised to learn that only English is spoken in the courts.
The most attractive part of the complex is this monument, called the Open Hand Monument. It is solar powered and makes one full rotation every 24 hours. It is a symbol of justice and equality. Standing in an open field, surrounding pathways are used by walkers and bicycle riders.
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Here are a couple of photos from the High Court Museum, opened in 2007. The displays include some life-sized replicas of the actual courtroom and assembly conference rooms (how do you like the life sized models?). In each courtroom, there are tapestries hanging behind the judge. These, like the rest of the city, were designed by Le Courbusier, a French architect who's vision for Chandigarh was to design a city where streets ran in a grid design. No other city in India, at the time, was designed in this way. It made sense and made Chandigarh a city of distinction.
My last noteworthy stop of the day was a Rock Garden, a complete contrast to Le Corbusier's dream of a symmetrically designed city. Nek Chand had another dream about reusing waste materials in ways that might please the eye. He spent years building (the city supported his work with funding and a crew of 20) this delightful but rather endless garden of rock and other stone-like material. He created some magnificent sculptures and dream-like scapes for the mind's eye. I thought of our very creative Odyssey of the Mind teams while wandering through this labyrinth.
I'll end here with a sweet photo that sort of sums up the feeling of this fair land. Due to the heat, population and lack of space, everyone finds the place where they belong. Anyone need a haircut?
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