“A Green Valley or A Grey Corridor?”

                    

The Future Dehradun

​By Bharti P Jain

Dehradun’s rivers, the Rispana and Bindal, are not vacant strips of land waiting to be converted into traffic corridors. They are living rivers — the ecological spine of the valley. For centuries, they have recharged our groundwater, cooled our climate, and carried memory and culture alongside their waters. To reduce them to concrete channels beneath elevated roads is not only to erase their identity but to erase our own.​

A city that truly aspires to “Smart City” status must recognise that its strength lies in protecting its natural backbone, not tearing it apart for the illusion of faster travel.

Single Project, Two Corridors :-

The proposed 26-km elevated road for Dehradun is often spoken of as a single project, but in fact it is split into two separate flyovers — one over the Rispana Corridor, the other over the Bindal. This distinction is critical. Instead of one intervention, the city gets two giant concrete structures cutting across neighbourhoods and river valleys.

The impact is therefore doubled: Two rivers permanently scarred, the valley skyline broken in multiple places, and the neighbourhoods cut off from walkable access.

The whole city bears the cost. What appears as progress on a planning map could, when built, overwhelm Dehradun’s landscape, economy, and identity.

City Scale & Urban Form :-

Large metropolitan cities already carry dense skylines, wide arterials, and multiple expressways. In such contexts, elevated corridors blend into the existing built form. Dehradun, however, is different. It is a valley town with mid-rise, low-density character. Its heritage has always been tied to open vistas — rivers, canals, colonial bungalows, and forested ridges.

Having two separate flyovers will fracture this identity. The Bindal and Rispana are not drains, but heritage water systems, once lined with canals, ghats, and trees. By placing columns and decks above them, we bury rivers in shadow, making any future riverfront revival impossible.

“From streams to flyovers, from destination to bypass—Dehradun risks losing its very identity.”

Tourism, Economy & Identity :-

Dehradun’s economy thrives on its charm — tourism, education, bakeries, cafés, and a walkable lifestyle. Two flyovers instead of one means multiple localities lose their riverfront appeal, skylines, and walkability.

Visitors may increasingly bypass the city, treating it as a transit corridor to Mussoorie, Rishikesh, or Char Dham, instead of a Destination.

The project also risks splitting the city’s economy into two unequal halves:

Above-road economy: fast traffic, malls, chain outlets.

Below-road economy: heritage markets, cafés, small hotels left in shadow.

Winners will be a few big investors along the new corridors, while the city’s traditional core declines. This is not mobility planning — it is economic restructuring by concrete.

Ecological Risk: Rivers as Living Systems :-

Unlike rocky riverbeds in the plains, the Bindal and Rispana flow over soft, spongy alluvium that absorbs and filters stormwater. These natural beds recharge groundwater and regulate floods. Inserting concrete piers and decks into these systems disturbs the balance, leading to erosion, flooding, and loss of aquifer recharge.

In ecological terms, what appears as an engineering shortcut is in fact the death of living rivers.

Smart Alternatives Exist :-

• Dehradun does not need metro-scale flyovers. Smaller, distributed interventions can ease traffic without overwhelming the city.

• We can Improve choke-point junctions with flyovers or underpasses where necessary.

• Develop short bypasses outside congested hubs to divert through traffic.

• Strengthen public transport and shared mobility to reduce dependence on private cars.

• Restore rivers as green spines, with walking and cycling tracks, open ghats, and shaded riverfronts.

Such measures cost less, fit better with the city’s scale, and safeguard heritage.

​Citizens’ Appeal :-

This is not about opposing progress. It is about choosing the right kind of progress. Dehradun must decide whether to remain a city of hills, rivers, and open skies — or become a valley of concrete columns.

If we silence the rivers under flyovers, we lose not only ecosystems but also our economic vitality and cultural identity. Once buried, rivers cannot be revived; once lost, heritage economies cannot be rebuilt.

The choice before us is stark :-

A green, hill-view city that honours its rivers and heritage, or a concrete-view city that sacrifices identity for speed.

Dehradun has long been admired as a valley of schools, orchards, rivers, and culture. Let us ensure that visitors still come for its charm, not just pass through its shadows.

The Rispana and Bindal have given life to this valley for centuries. It is now our responsibility to give them a future.

​

(Bharti P Jain is Principal Architect at P Jain & Co.;

Convenor, Intach Dehradun Chapter, and Member of Dehradun Citizens’ Forum.)

Elevated Roads in Dehradun are a Seismic Gamble

                 

​By Bharti P Jain

Fault Lines Beneath Our Feet :-

Dehradun has always been admired for its valley, its rivers, and its quiet charm between the Shivaliks and the Himalaya. But beneath this beauty lies a reality we often ignore—our city sits on active fault lines and in one of India’s highest seismic risk zones. In this context, the proposal to build massive elevated roads across the Rispana and Bindal Rivers is deeply troubling.​​

Living on Fault Lines :-

The Doon Valley is framed by some of the most active tectonic features in the Himalaya. The Main Boundary Thrust (MBT) runs along the valley’s northern edge, while the Himalayan Frontal Thrust (HFT) lies just south. In addition, smaller fractures crisscross the valley itself, especially near the Song, Rispana, and Bindal catchments.

This makes Dehradun highly vulnerable to earthquakes. In fact, India’s seismic zoning map places us in Zone IV—high risk.

Why Elevated Roads Are Unsafe :-

Elevated roads rely on long viaducts and rows of pillars, often founded on riverbeds. But the Rispana and Bindal beds are not solid rock—they are loose alluvium: sand, gravel, and silt. In an earthquake, these soft layers can liquefy, behaving like quicksand. No amount of concrete can truly stabilise such ground against fault movement.

Even moderate tremors can crack pillars, tilt foundations, or cause sections of viaducts to settle unevenly. And if a major quake occurs, collapsed spans could block evacuation routes instead of helping mobility—turning the project into a death trap.

A Hidden Maintenance Burden :-

Fault lines are not static. Continuous micro-movements stress expansion joints, bearings, and foundations. This means the elevated corridor will require constant repair and retrofitting. What looks like a one-time investment today may become a long-term financial drain tomorrow.

A Safer Path Ahead :-
Rather than gambling with seismic risks, the government should focus on restoring rivers—cleaning them, safeguarding floodplains, and reinforcing embankments. Traffic management can be improved by upgrading surface roads and spreading the load through several smaller connections instead of relying on a single massive corridor. Above all, transport planning must integrate seismic resilience, moving beyond short-term engineering fixes to long-term safety.​

A Call to the Authorities Concerned :-

Building elevated roads over Rispana and Bindal may appear modern, but beneath the surface it is unsafe, uneconomical, and ecologically destructive. In a valley sitting on active faults, this is not just an engineering decision—it is a gamble with public safety and finances.

For Dehradun, the wiser path lies not in burying rivers under concrete, but in respecting the land we stand on.

​

​

(Bharti P Jain is Principal Architect at P Jain & Co.;

Convenor, Intach Dehradun Chapter, and Member of Dehradun Citizens’ Forum.)

Mobility or Identity

 Dehradun’s --- economy largely come from shopping hubs, hotels, bakeries and restaurants catering to both locals and tourists.

Proposed Elevated Road Project could change this trajectory in several ways:

 

1. Shopping Hubs:

Malls (Pacific, Centrio, Crossroads) and high-street markets (Rajpur Road, Astley Hall, Paltan Bazaar) depend on through-traffic and tourist stopovers. Elevated corridors may divert vehicles above these zones, reducing casual shopping visits. New commercial centers may sprout near entry/exit ramps,  

 

2. Hotels & Guest Houses:

Mid-segment hotels thrive on overnight stays from tourists halting in Dehradun en route to Mussoorie, Rishikesh, or Char Dham.Elevated express travel could encourage direct journeys, cutting down stopovers and hotel occupancy.Only luxury hotels with destination branding may withstand this shift; budget/mid-range hotels risk losing business.

 

3. Restaurants & Cafés:

Dehradun has become a food destination (Rajpur cafés, Clock Tower eateries, bakeries).Tourist and transient traffic forms a big share of customers. If cars bypass the inner city, restaurants lose incidental diners. Food courts, highway dhabas, and roadside cafés near elevated corridors may benefit, but the character cafés of Dehradun could suffer.

 

4.Dehradun’s old bakeries:

 Where the aroma of fresh bread and plum cake has drifted through the lanes for generations. In the 1950s, Ellora’s and Sunrise Bakers became household names—serving buttery rusks, sticky-jaw toffees, and rich fruit cakes that carried the warmth of home. Their counters were not just shops, but meeting places where locals, students, and travellers shared stories over biscuits and buns.

 

Broader Economic Shift: Elevated roads risk creating a “twin city”:

Above-road economy: fast movement, chain outlets, roadside malls.

Below-road economy: traditional hubs, heritage markets, small hotels struggling for survival.The winners will be big investors along new corridors, while small businesses in the city core may decline.

 

Warning for Dehradun:

The proposed elevated road project may look like faster travel, but it comes with hidden costs:

In short: Elevated roads don’t just change traffic—they can reshape Dehradun’s economy, hollowing out the city’s identity as a shopping and food stop and replacing it with a pass-through expressway.

Elevated Roads or Elevated Risks?

      

 ​By Bharti P Jain

​As an architect and long-time resident of the Doon Valley, I feel compelled to raise a concern that has been absent in much of the discussion on Dehradun’s traffic projects: the limits of our valley’s carrying capacity and the ignored geology beneath our feet.

Carrying Capacity cannot be ignored for both Dehradun as well as Mussoorie :-

Mussoorie is a hill station with natural limits—terrain, ecology, and services cannot endlessly expand. Yet, projects like the proposed Rispana Bindal Elevated Corridor (RBEC) are being promoted as traffic solutions without addressing these limits.

Ask yourself: where will the cars go once they do reach Mussoorie? There is still no proper public parking plan! Without parking and visitor management, every new road is just pushing the problem further uphill.

Four existing roads and an under-construction Dehradun Mussoorie Ropeway :-

Dehradun already provides four access routes to Mussoorie: Rajpur, Kimadi, Maldevta and Misrajpatti (proposed). If tourist traffic were distributed across these four roads, the city traffic congestion at Rajpur and Kimadi could be eased naturally.

The Dehradun–Mussoorie ropeway is the single biggest addition to the hill town’s connectivity. It is designed to carry thousands of visitors daily without adding cars to already choked roads. Between the ropeway and the four routes, we already have the framework for sustainable mobility—what is needed is management, not more concrete.

This was, in fact, the vision of the Smart City Plan: manage inflow at entry points, not dump it all into one road.

The Geological Blind Spot :-

Traffic engineers are debating lanes and spans, but few are asking: what happens to our rivers when their beds are excavated and concreted for pillars? Riverbeds in Doon carry metres of loose silt and boulders. Foundations will mean massive excavation and disposal of soil—lakhs of cubic metres.

If dumped along rivers, beds will rise, increasing flood risk. If concreted, seepage into aquifers will be blocked. These rivers are not just seasonal drains; they are the veins that recharge our groundwater. By obstructing them, we risk floods in the monsoon and droughts in the summer.

Why This Matters to All of Us :-

Dehradun already faces falling groundwater levels. RBEC may give us a temporary traffic bypass, but it will take away something far more precious—our water security and ecological balance. We, the residents of this valley, must decide: do we want short-term relief at the cost of long-term survival?

​A Call to Residents  :- 

This is not just an engineering issue. It is a citizens’ issue as well. Our city’s future cannot be decided by traffic charts alone- while geology, ecology, and daily life are left out of the conversation.

I urge fellow residents of Doon to come forward, speak up, and insist on solutions that respect both mobility and nature. If we stay silent, we may one day find our valley trapped between congestion above ground and crisis below it.

  

(Bharti P Jain is Principal Architect at P Jain & Co.;

Convenor, Intach Dehradun Chapter, and Member of Dehradun Citizens’ Forum.)

Metro Mirage

                                   Why Long Flyovers Don’t Belong in Dehradun

The proposed 26-km elevated road for Dehradun isn’t a single stretch — it’s split into two major corridors. That means instead of one oversized intervention, the city gets two giant flyovers cutting across different neighbourhoods and river valleys. This distinction is critical, because the impact is not concentrated in one zone — it spreads disruption across the city’s landscape.

 

City Scale & Urban Form:

Big cities already have dense high-rise skylines, wide multi-lane arterials, and many existing flyovers or expressways. A long elevated corridor blends more naturally into that built form. Dehradun, by contrast, is a valley town with a mid-rise, low-density character. Having two separate elevated roads doubles the visual intrusion, creating twin concrete spines that dominate human-scale streetscapes.

Length vs. City Size:

In metros, a 20–30 km elevated expressway is only a fraction of the overall road network. In Dehradun, two flyovers together spanning 26 km proportionally overwhelm the city’s road system. Instead of easing traffic discreetly, they slice through its heart in two directions — like putting metro-style corridors on stilts across a mid-sized hill town. Both proposed flyover sections run along fragile riverbeds, the Bindal and the Rispana rivers with soft , spongy river beds. Elevated roads will erase their visibility, destroy their cooling microclimate, and erodes any chance of riverfront revival. Two separate elevated roads mean both rivers — once heritage water systems — get buried under concrete.

 

Visual and Cultural Fit:

In big metros, flyovers look “normal” because residents expect massive infrastructure in a concrete jungle. In Dehradun, however, heritage has always been tied to open vistas of rivers, canals, colonial bungalows, and forested ridges. Two elevated corridors running across different parts of the city fracture this identity and turn the valley into a transport corridor.

 

Tourism & Economy:

Dehradun’s charm is a key driver of its economy — tourism, education, cafés, bakeries, and a walkable lifestyle. Two flyovers instead of one ensure that multiple city hubs lose their riverfront, skyline, and walkability appeal. Visitors will increasingly bypass Dehradun, treating it as a transit city instead of a destination. We see limited private gain at massive public loss.

 

Dehradun is a two-wheeler city, with the majority of daily trips on scooters and motorcycles. These vehicles already weave through traffic easily and gain little from long flyovers. Pedestrians, cyclists, rickshaws, and bus users — who form the city’s mobility backbone — won’t benefit at all. The main winners are a minority of private car users who may save a few minutes. But the whole city bears the cost: Two river corridors permanently scarred. Valley skyline broken in multiple places. Neighbourhoods cut off from walkable access.

Smarter Alternatives:

Dehradun doesn’t need metro-scale flyovers. Smaller interventions can solve traffic pain points. CMP and Smart City have proposals for widening choke-point intersections, Building short bypasses outside congested hubs, and Strengthening public transport and shared mobility. We can restore rivers as green transport spines with walking and cycling tracks.

 

Citizens’ Appeal:

What looks like progress on a planning map could feel like concrete domination when built over the Bindal and Rispana. We don’t oppose progress. We oppose outsized solutions that erase the very soul of Dehradun. As citizens, we ask for a green, hill-view centric city rather than a concrete-view city. Let visitors see the Shivalik hills, trees, and open blue skies.

Dehradun at the Crossroads !

 

                 A Vision for a Slow, Livable Valley Town

The Dehradun I Remember:

A Town, Not a City: Dehradun was chosen by my late husband Pawan Jain as his hometown, he wanted to live with nature, greenery, orchards, flowing clean rivers and canals. 

“For me too, Dehradun became a place of belonging. Its soothing weather, peaceful views, unhurried rhythm, and the friendships I found here gave me warmth and time to discover both myself and this town.”Dehradun offered human scale living at a peaceful pace.

The Doon valley was once synonymous with litchis, basmati fields, and shaded sal forests.

 Rispana and Bindal carried clean water year-round, acting as lifelines and flood regulators.

Walking and cycling were natural modes of movement; traffic jams were unheard of.

This heritage of slow living is not nostalgia alone—it is an ecological and cultural asset that can be the city’s strength in the 21st century.

Thirty years ago, Dehradun was cherished as a quiet valley town—green, unhurried, and deeply human in scale. It was a place where time felt generous: the rivers flowed openly, roads were lined with litchi orchards, and conversations spilled leisurely on verandahs and chai stalls. Today, as Dehradun races ahead with urban expansion, flyovers, and mega infrastructure projects, it risks losing the very soul that made it special.

This article is not about resisting development. Rather, it is about asking: what kind of development? Can we imagine a future where Dehradun remains prosperous, but also retains its identity as a slow, livable town—where nature, culture, and community continue to thrive?

What We Risk Losing:

Unchecked development has already reshaped the valley:

Encroached Rivers: Covering and choking riverbeds for roads and housing projects not only kills ecosystems but worsens flooding.

Traffic and Air Pollution: Rapid motorisation has erased the calm streets once central to Doon’s charm.

Vanishing Green Cover: Orchards and open spaces are giving way to concrete sprawl, raising temperatures and cutting biodiversity.

Identity Crisis: Instead of being a green valley town, Dehradun risks becoming just another crowded, anonymous city.

If this trajectory continues, the “sleepy town” that once nurtured generations will survive only in memory.

A Slow, Livable Future:

Instead of chasing the model of a mega-metropolis, Dehradun can pioneer a different urban identity—one rooted in ecological balance, cultural heritage, and livability. By focusing on :

Rivers as Central Public Spaces Restore Rispana and Bindal by removing encroachments, treating sewage, and reimagining riverbanks as green promenades, cultural plazas, , cycling lanes and floodplains—not as roads.

Human-Centered Mobility Invest in surface roads, shaded footpaths, and small feeder connections instead of massive elevated highways. A network of “many small roads” distributes traffic better than one giant spine.

Green Spine and Orchard Belts Revive Doon’s orchard identity with protected belts of litchi and mango groves, urban forests, and community gardens. These are not luxuries—they are carbon sinks, biodiversity havens, and tourism magnets.

 Livelihoods Rooted in Nature and Knowledge:

Leverage Dehradun’s strengths in education, forestry, agriculture, and eco-tourism, rather than overdependence on real estate or quick urbanisation.

Governance with Local Voice:

A “slow city” requires participatory planning—citizens, not just consultants, should define what kind of growth they want. Public hearings must go beyond token exercises.

Why Slow is the Future:

Around the world, the “slow city” or Cittaslow movement has shown that quality of life, not speed, defines urban prosperity. Towns in Italy, Germany, and even parts of Japan have embraced this philosophy: smaller scale, ecological integrity, and cultural rootedness.

Dehradun, with its valley geography, rivers, and educational legacy, is uniquely positioned to join this global network—not by resisting modernity, but by redefining it on its own terms.

A Call to Citizens and Planners:

The real choice before Dehradun is not between growth and no growth. It is between chaotic growth that erases identity and thoughtful growth that sustains it.

Citizens can push for ecological restoration, smarter mobility, and cultural revival. Planners can integrate seismic safety, river protection, and heritage into transport and housing plans. Together, they can ensure that Dehradun continues to be more than just another Indian city: a place where life flows slowly, like its rivers once did, nourishing generations.

 If we succeed, Dehradun in 2050 can still feel like the Dehradun of 1990—green, calm, and human in scale—yet resilient, modern, and prosperous. A city where progress and peace walk hand in hand.

The Living Waters of Dehradun

               Geology, Hydrology, and Vanishing Swamps

The Valley of Rivers:

Dehradun, located in the fertile Doon Valley, has always been known as a city of rivers and wetlands. Surrounded by the Yamuna in the west and the Ganga in the east, the valley is a natural bowl where countless Himalayan streams descend from the Shivaliks and Mussoorie hills. Within the city itself, the Rispana and Bindal once flowed perennially, joined by the Suswa, Tons, Asan, and Song and formed a dense network of waterways. These rivers not only nurtured the land but also shaped Dehradun’s earliest settlements, orchards, and cultural landscapes, giving the valley its timeless identity as a “valley of rivers.”

Swamps and Lake-like Features:

Alongside its rivers, Dehradun once nurtured shimmering swamps and jheels (lakes) that dotted the valley floor.

Urban Lakes:

The Clement Town Jheel is the most remembered — a reflective waterbody that arose from swampy ground. Similar wetlands once existed at Kargi, Majra, Raipur, and the Shastradhara foothills, though many have since been lost to urban encroachment.

Geological Origin:

These wetlands were formed in natural depressions of the valley’s porous sediments, where groundwater surfaced or rainwater collected.They served as natural sponges, storing rainwater, recharging aquifers, supporting fisheries, grazing lands, and providing resting grounds for migratory birds.

Hydrological Function:

These wetlands connected directly with the Rispana, Bindal, and Suswa systems. During the monsoon, they absorbed excess flows and overflowed into rivers; in summer, they quietly recharged them through underground seepage.

 

The Secret Reservoir: Doon Gravel:

Beneath the valley lies its greatest hydrological treasure — the Doon Gravel. This vast deposit of sand, pebbles, and boulders, laid down over millennia by Himalayan rivers, acts like a hidden reservoir. Its porous structure allows rainwater and stream flow to percolate deep underground, creating aquifers that once fed the valley’s springs, swamps, and perennial rivers. In the monsoon, these gravel beds absorbed floodwaters; in the dry season, they released a slow, steady flow that sustained rivers like the Rispana and Bindal even in the hottest months. This natural system made Dehradun one of the most water-abundant valleys of the Himalaya.

 

The Drying Sponge: Falling Water Table:

Despite this rich geology, Dehradun’s water table is falling at alarming rates. Over-extraction through borewells has outpaced natural recharge. Wetlands and swamps have been drained or filled, cutting off storage. Encroachment on floodplains and the burial of seasonal streams (raus or gadheras) have severed vital recharge pathways. Urbanisation has sealed the earth with concrete, preventing rain from soaking into Doon Gravel. Deforestation in the surrounding hills and the impacts of climate change — erratic rainfall, heavier downpours, fewer rainy days — have accelerated runoff, eroding soil instead of nurturing groundwater. What was once a valley of flowing streams is now a city where rivers dry in summer, and the water table retreats deeper each year.

 

Fruits of Water and Climate:

Dehradun’s fertile soils, rich aquifers, and gentle valley climate created ideal conditions for unique crops that became part of its heritage.

 

Dehradun Basmati rice:

fragrant and delicate, thrived in the well-irrigated paddy fields nourished by swamps and river canals.Tea plantations, introduced in the 19th century, took root on the valley’s moist, well-drained slopes.Orchards of litchi, mango, jackfruit, and chacotra (pomelo) flourished because of the steady groundwater and the valley’s humid subtropical weather.
Together, these crops turned Dehradun into a landscape of abundance, where rivers and orchards existed sustaining both people and biodiversity.

 

Forests and the Living Waters of Dehradun:

The forests that encircle the Doon Valley are as vital as its rivers and swamps.

 

The Green Catchments:

The Mussoorie Hills and Shivaliks act as the valley’s first sponge, capturing rainfall and mist, slowing its descent, and guiding it into the porous Doon Gravel. The Rajaji and Asarori ranges to the south protect the valley’s edge, feeding streams like the Suswa and Song that recharge wetlands in the lower Doon.

Hydrological Services:

Forest canopies intercept rainfall, reducing sudden runoff. Their soils, rich in humus, absorb water deeply, nourishing aquifers. Springs and seasonal gadheras rise from these slopes, their flows directly linked to tree cover. Forests also buffer the valley’s microclimate, cooling air and reducing evaporation from rivers and swamps.

 

Heritage and Biodiversity:

The sal forests of Mothrowala and Lachhiwala, the pine and oak belts above Mussoorie, and the riparian forests along the Suswa all sheltered birdlife, deer, and elephants. They ensured that rivers and swamps were not just water, but thriving ecosystems.

 

Heritage Reflection:

“Dehradun’s waters do not flow alone. They are escorted by forests — oak and pine cradling the springs of Mussoorie, sal guarding the swamps of the valley floor, and riparian thickets binding the Suswa and Song. These forests are the valley’s first reservoirs: catching rain, feeding aquifers, and holding the balance between flood and drought.

Falling water tables are a result of reduced absorption and increased evaporation due to declining tree cover.But it can be mitigated by planting native species, preventing tree felling, and restricting excessive concreting in the valley. Without these green guardians, the ‘valley of living waters’ risks turning into a valley of vanishing streams.

Towards Conservation: Restoring the Balance:

The story of Dehradun’s living waters is not only one of loss but also of possibility.The valley’s geology and forests still hold the key to revival — if cared for wisely.

 

Wetland Restoration:

Protecting and reviving swamps like Clement Town Jheel can rebuild natural sponges that recharge aquifers.Similarly restoring the Rispana and Bindal to perennial health by de-silting, cleaning, and reviving their catchments can bring water back to the city’s heart.Also by protecting and planting trees in the Mussoorie, Shivalik, and Rajaji forests we can ensures the valley’s water sources.

Urban Planning and community involvment :

Permeable pavements, rainwater harvesting, and protection of floodplains must replace the unchecked sealing of soil.From school students to resident welfare associations, citizens can revive traditional wells, naulas, and gadheras, reconnecting the city with its heritage of living waters.

 

Most Importantly:

Dehradun was never meant to be a city of scarcity. Its geology, forests, and wetlands made it a natural reservoir — a valley of living waters. If restored, these rivers, swamps, orchards, and forests can once again sustain not just the city, but the memory of a landscape where water flowed in abundance, mirrored the sky, and nourished both people and crops.

Rivers of Dehradun:-Rispana & Bindal as Living Heritage

Dehradun was once known as a “City of Streams”. To erase these rivers is to erase part of our identity.

The proposed Rispana–Bindal Elevated Corridor threatens to do exactly that.

Construction will mean years of dust and disruption, but worse, it will permanently seal floodplains and groundwater recharge zones. At best, a small fraction of commuters may benefit, while the ecological, financial and cultural loss will affect all citizens.

The Doon Valley, cradled between the Shivaliks and the Himalaya, has always been defined by its rivers. Among them, the Rispana and Bindal flow through the very heart of Dehradun, carrying not just water but also memory, culture, and life. Once celebrated as lifelines, today they are at risk of being buried under concrete in the name of development. As a resident and an architect living here, I believe it is time we pause and reflect: what will Dehradun be without its rivers?

More than Just Water:

These rivers are more than waterways—they are part of Dehradun’s identity!

The Rispana and Bindal originate in the foothills and aquifers of the Shivaliks, eventually merging with the Song River, a tributary of the Ganga. Their sandy, stony beds act like sponges, recharging the groundwater that sustains wells and homes across the valley. Even when the surface appears dry, the riverbed carries hidden reserves that keep ecosystems alive. Their floodplains have, for centuries, protected the city from the worst of the monsoon.

Our Shared Heritage:

These rivers are not just natural features—they are part of our culture and urban identity. Older residents recall bathing, farming, and celebrating festivals on their banks. Colonial-era maps show canals linked to them, carrying fresh water across neighbourhoods. Rispana and Bindal are living systems not drains.Dehradun was once described as a “city of streams,” where orchards, schools, and settlements thrived alongside clean waters. 

Why We Must Be Concerned:.  

This road project will flood parts of Dehradun faster than ever before—because it's choking two rivers.You think traffic will improve? It won’t. But pollution and heat will definitely get worse. But the bigger danger lies beneath! The proposed Rispana–Bindal Elevated Corridor threatens to seal floodplains and aquifer recharge zones.

Globally, cities have chosen revival over destruction. Seoul restored the Cheonggyecheon stream, London revived the Thames’s urban edges, and Ahmedabad revitalized the Sabarmati riverfront. Each became healthier and more vibrant because of it. Why should Dehradun choose the opposite path?

A Choice for Dehradun:

We can either treat Rispana and Bindal as drains to be built over, or as Natural and Cultural Heritage Corridors—spaces to be protected, restored, and celebrated. By treating sewage before discharge, reviving riverbanks with green public spaces, and protecting floodplains, we can transform them into living assets once more.

A Call to Residents:

A city that buries its rivers buries its own soul. As residents of Dehradun, we must come forward, speak up, and remind our planners and leaders that mobility projects cannot come at the cost of our living heritage. The rivers have sustained us for centuries. It is now our responsibility to sustain them.

PARAMJIGYASU

THE WONDERFUL REAR ENGINED DIESEL AUTO

 I am probably not wrong in assuming that the design of The Rear Engine Diesel Auto is developed in India.  It is no Lamborghini. It stands in the front row to win the prize for being the most unwieldy, uncomfortable, unsightly, dangerous and noisy passenger vehicle in the world.  I f I introduced this beast to you all as a textile mill with three wheels, you would easily believe me.

If you have week knees and you have just got down at the railway station with 15 kilos of luggage, it is simpler for you to walk a few kilometres to home rather than try to get in one of these monstrosities.  You could politely ask the driver to get you a six inch high step to climb onto before you step on the floor of the auto but the chances of getting it are bleak.  They don’t  have a six inch step or any other step.

When you sit on the passenger seat and it has not started, you get a good commanding view of the surroundings. Then the driver disappears towards the rear of the auto and starts it with a rope.  The drivers need fairly good back muscles to start the auto because they bend and tie a piece of rope on a shiny wheel and then pull with all their might as if trying to pull out a fat carrot from the soil by grabbing its top.  This `rope trick’  wakes up the giant from its sleep and it goes  `THUK’ one time and then another time after a second  and then   many  quick THUK THUK s in a row, until the driver comes out of his hiding from behind the auto and takes the controls. He puts his hand on the accelerator and hell breaks loose, THAKKAAD, Thukk, chick thakkad THUK DUK Thakkadd, Thuk chick chchick, tuk  tuk tuk tuk tuk tuk THAKKAD, THUK THUK  Dhik DHIK Dhik Thakkadd .

The only thing that separates your own batootie from this desperate sounding machine is a thin piece of foam on a thin piece of ply wood or metal. It is inadequate to say the least.  The vibration and sound permeates to all parts of your being, you cant hear any thing else, you are shaking uncontrollably, you smell something burning under you and wonder if it is the seat of your pants, the seat also gets heated . You also cannot see any thing clearly because you including eyes are shaking, every thing is a blur.

Finally it starts to move, Please read the Thakkad thuk chick, thakkad thuck chchick three times faster and three times louder to get the effect right,  The feeling is the direct opposite of `simply heaven’  as described in a suiting’s advert.   Also the suspension of the bloody gizmo comes into action.  It seems they replaced the shock absorbers with two pieces of Bamboo of equal length and diameter.  The combined effect of the shock giving capacity of the auto and the unexpected-ness  and size of  Dehradun potholes can shift somebody,s  vertebrae inches away from their original position. To aid this readjustment of the spine comes the back rest which is a piece of wood, all of ten inches wide
.  

The seat is inspired by the old Hyderabad Pedal rickshaw. The seat of this auto was designed for midgets, if you are medium height and place your bum on the seat and your feet in the space in front , then your thighs will be up in the air because the seat is 12 inches higher  than the place where you put your feet, you can  semi squat or you can sit in a semi crossed leg position so that the sides of your shoes are resting below and there is no grip, you hold on to an assortment of pipes on which the canvas on top is strung to prevent yourself from falling off.

I got into one on a cold winter morning coming back from the railway station so I also experienced its wonderful device for preventing the draught from hitting the body .  There were two large rolled up curtains which came down on both open sides of the auto. These things were tied up somewhere near the floor with a long loose string. The draught was channelized onto my face rather than getting stopped. The whole curtain also kept  flying off totally and exposing me completely, it made a large sound,   a PHACHACK  SWISH  PHACHACK SWISH  when it came back after flying for a minute,  I was  powerless to stop it because I was hanging on for my spinal chord and  my life with my frozen hands, once or twice this huge dusty curtain hit me hard physically on my leg.  I wasn’t even able to prevent my luggage from shifting from left to right and polishing the dirty metal floor clean because i had no spare hands or legs.

It didn’t have to brake much because there wasn’t much traffic in the early morning but it all had to end and it had to stop when it reached my house, a loud screech emanated from under the auto but nothing else happened.   I thought he was going to overshoot my house, then the  screech grew louder and louder,  enough to wake the neighbours and then it stopped suddenly. So suddenly that I and my baggage got lifted from our awkward positions  and got plastered on the back of the auto driver and the cold metal pipes supporting his  seat.

Fortunately I got away with a mild backache, a head cold and a minor dacoity. No limbs were lost and vertebrae have more or less held, but  that is only because I eat my vitamins on time.  

I am going to do two things. One  I am going to strongly recommend that you first look at the auto before you agree to  get into one, reject the one described above.  India  still produces low floor, quiet  and comfortable autos. Secondly i am going to file a public interest litigation against those who allowed these horrors to come onto the road.  Join the petition.

Param Jigyasu

 

You can write to me at paramjigyasu7@gmail.com 

 

IF NOT THIS, WHAT IS FESTIVITY ?

 He weather is wonderful, a gentle breeze is blowing, somebody is playing a tune on the Surbahar, (a string instrument, a little bit like Sitar) some more people are accompanying on pakhavaj,  I am in the company of friends whose heads are nodding rhythmically to the tunes, occassionaly they open their eyes and raise their arms in appreciation of the mastery of the musicians. One teenaged girl is arranging some of the 200 odd `diyas ‘ lit in front of the stage . Interspersed with potted plants, the diya’s are kept on a `jaali’ made with red bricks.  A hundred flames flicker with the breeze and create a delight for photographers. The atmosphere is beautiful, even idyllic.  The setting is `other worldly’. 

I am not dreaming, All this is not happening on a posh house boat in the backwaters of Munnar and I haven’t paid a fortune to be here. In fact I have paid nothing, zero rupees and zero paisas to partake these pleasures.

I am in Viraasat, the 15 day annual cultural bonanza in Dehradun and have been lucky to get a seat in the third row from the stage. The performing group is Sh. Gundecha, the leading pakhawaj player of India.  The girl who is arranging the Diyas is a volunteer like dozens of others who are helping to organize this Jamboree of an event. It brings together Painters, singers, musicians, dancers, craftsmen, poets and many other performers of different hues and nationalities. No wonder the venue is bursting at the seams. It has become an annual habit for the ordinary citizens of Dehradun and a complete addiction for the `Culture Vultures’ of Dehradun. It is no surprise that performer after performer congratulates the people for being Quiet and patient.  Congratulations Dehradun, you have won a place in the hearts of performers who really appreciate an appreciative audience.

I have often written that cities have a character much like people. This annual event makes Dehradun  a much culturally aware  and learned city.  It graduates to be counted in the list of  capital cities  as it grows taller every year with the completion of the event.  It has given us all  a chance to listen to a Galaxy of Performers at Virasat including many Padma honour holders and also Bharat Ratna’s.

Viraasat is organized by some crazy individuals who I am told beg and borrow money to organize this festival, they then beg the artists to perform here at reasonable prices. Then they beg the thousands of people who come to listen to the top performers of the country (and from abroad). They beg the people to not litter the venue, keep their mobile phones switched off and to remain seated during performances. (Lately they also have to beg some individuals to not disrupt the proceedings who are saying that local artists are not included).

Organizers please continue to be crazy, please continue to beg and borrow, we the audience promise that we shall behave, even pay a small entrance fee,  Sponsors please keep your Purse strings loose for making these events possible. Weather gods , please be kind as you have been this time. Protestors, join the fun and be a part of this movement, or become national level performers to be included. 

The primary purpose for writing this piece is to thank the organizers who no doubt think at some point that organizing Viraasat is a thankless job.  The media has stopped writing about the effort it takes to organize it because its regularity gives the impression that it all happens in `auto’ mode. 

I can speak for myself and maybe for some others too, that year after year, we enjoy the music,  the lights, the candles, the mela (fair) like atmosphere, the food, the handicrafts and the general `everybody wins’ sort of mood. Thank you very much organizers, you just made my year.

This for me is Diwali. If not this, what is festivity?

 

 

Param Jigyasu

published in GP on the 31st oct 2013

 

PLEASE LEAVE MY SUNDAY ALONE

 There seems to be something wrong with us as a society. We are working seven days a week. We will go crazy very soon, we might even get overheated  and explode. As it is we have a six days a week  I fear that  14.28 : 85.72 Ratio of holiday to working days  in a six day week  is much worse than 28.57: 71.43 ratio of a five days a week.  The ratio  is 1:6 compared with  2:5 of a five day a week.

My biggest complaint is against Schools. They have something happening every Sunday. Extra classes, registeration,  sports day practice, marathon race, marching practice, student body meetings, self improvement workshops, play practice  and what have you.

Why ? Is six days not enough, is one extra hour every day not enough. When will the children learn to wash their own sports shoes and help in the house, when will they get an oil massage and when will they learn to bind their own books, paint a fence, mend the bicycle, polish the car,  go for helping out their grandmother, buy vegetables,  when will they go to Church,  Arya Samaj and the Gurudwara who have their programmes on Sundays. Will the children ever be able to do `Kar seva’. Will they be able to do community service ever in their life if they have spent a majority of their Sundays in their formative years doing this that and the rest in Schools.

I have been planning a picnic with  some four families for the last 8 to 10 weeks on a Sunday. Children in these families are of various ages and go to different schools. Its  just not being possible. All the children and their parents have some or the other school duty.

Mothers, specially working mothers have so much work to do on a Sunday, wash some extra clothes, do some essential shopping, call on their own mothers, , get the sofa fabric changed, mend  some clothes, hang a picture, get their hair dyed, get some other stuff done at the parlour, tend to the garden, wash the window panes, make pickle, read a book, some magazines, do some special cooking, rearrange their cupboard, do some winter/summer putting away of clothes.  It is for this reason that mothers hate this business of having to get children ready and drop/pick children from School on a Sunday. Dear School `wallahs', please return my children to me, i have lent them to you for six days.

My second complaint is against people who are friends but who want to sell something to you. Dear friends , please don’t sell anything to me on a Sunday, unless i ask you for it.  

My third complaint and the most serious one is against those people who tend to keep those meetings/ pieces of work for a Sunday which require the maximum amount of uninterrupted time. If such a person is your boss, or a client if you are a working professional, then you are going to hate him with your guts. Dear Boss please  reform, finish your work latest by Saturday evening and leave your subordinates alone who are single and who have wash their clothes and meet their girlfriends,  you also go out  to fly a kite with your children, the fear is they will never learn from anyone other than their father.

There is a fourth group of people who are even more irritating. They ask what you are doing on a Sunday and when you tell them that you are thinking of re-potting some of the rose bushes and redoing the vegetable patch, they think that you are being ridiculous and you would be better off discussing balance sheets which are ` already overdue’.  They will tell you that picnics are for kids and watching movies is for bored housewifes and washing the car is a waste of time and going out cycling is giving too much trouble to your body. A big BOO to this kind.  Discussing and doing leftover work is a better use of time .

I hope the readers will agree that letting your hair down and roaming around the whole day in pyjamas and not doing too much sensible things on a Sunday is equally important.

Why don’t we work properly and really hard in the six available days?. We shall  discuss that another day but for the time being please have some fun on a Sunday and don’t ruin it for someone else too.

 

Param Jigyasu