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PROFILE:
ARADHANA SHUKLA
Lady
of the lake
An IAS
officer with ideas and idealism is authoring a little people's revolution
in Nainital. And the famed Naini Lake is getting its beauty back.
By
S.
Prasannarajan
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HOUSEKEEPING:
The district magistrate of Nainital in a clean up act
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Look
for the lake through the colonial windows of Pant House, a vintage English
bungalow on the hilltop, now submerged in wintry night, solitary with
a kind of Wuthering Heights mystery. Down below, the lake is a laminated
stillness, protected by seven never-sleeping hills.
In the dead darkness of Kumaon, this magnificence is a distant, partially
lit vision, less than real, as the hills of frozen memories make
the lake a footnote in water. Suddenly, a spasmodically breathing automobile
engine heralds the arrival of this-worldliness. The wooden staircase creaks,
and the first one to enter is the messenger. "It's the madam."
The madam.
You have heard about her: Her little revolution in Nainital. The lady
who wants to cleanse the lake - and Nainital is defined by the lake. The
administrator of restoration and determination who is ready to defy the
system to make it reasonable, humane. The officer who is more comfortable
with the people than with the files. The district magistrate as a folk
heroine who can be sighted at the lakeside at midnight, guarded by one
gunman and seven hills. The let's-get-it-done leader who can be sighted
at the same lakeside in the morning, this time in the backdrop of fiercely
active Tata Hitachi excavators and black heaps of wet silt. You have heard
the ballads of adoration from the Mall. Now, here she is, Aradhana Shukla,
37, an IAS officer of the 1989 batch from the Uttar Pradesh cadre, the
district magistrate of Nainital, welcoming you from the rectangular hallway
of what was once the official residence of Govind Ballabh Pant.
She settles
down in an antique sofa to give you a brief summary of her lake story.
It has been happening, slowly but steadily. The lake was losing its beauty,
accumulating dirt and losing its depth. There were half-hearted initiatives,
but they didn't go beyond the files. When she was posted here, she couldn't
ignore the obvious. What's Nainital - the summer retreat of the Raj, home
of the late hunter-humanist Colonel Edward James Corbett, and India's
most sought-after hill station-without the tal (lake)? Even impersonal
statistics were frightening: the original depth of the lake was 27.97
m; today it's only 19.6 m, thanks to rapid siltation and pollution. And
the lake, with a superficial area of 4,87,639.4 sq m, was shrinking, thanks
to periodic landslides, partly caused by illegal constructions on soft
soil. She thought she could do something for the lake, something for Nainital.
Oh, it would cost Rs 42 crore to clean the lake, said the dusty files
of the lake development authority. Forty-two crores! That meant: no salvation,
tal. "Still, I thought I could do something. So I reached out to
the people." And the response was overwhelming. Is it some kind of
idealism, or is it a romance? "Well, I'm an idealist, and true, it's
a romance. But I'm not doing anything so great."
That's not
what the Nainitalians think. They think she is doing something really
great. Also, she is a little bit of an enigma for them. They see her,
they hear her, they talk to her. She is so immediate and intimate, yet
so distant. "As a district magistrate, I've never eaten from a restaurant
in Nainital. I don't attend parties. Now they have stopped inviting me,"
she admits. "I evoke affection, adoration and fear." Maybe not
in that order. Also, she is aware of the reputation. "When I was
the dm in Hardwar, I had some problem with the mining mafia." But
she didn't succumb. She stopped the large-scale smuggling of boulders
from the river. People supported her, sadhus endorsed her. When she was
transferred six months ago to Nainital, the sadhus went on a fast unto
death in protest. "Didn't I give you enough history?" It's close
to midnight, and the district magistrate is driven away home. At least,
that's what you think. A few minutes later the phone rings and the chowkidar
says it's madam. "Want to see some work at the lake? Then come down."
So you reach
the lakeside. There she is, a lone woman amid so many men and officious
looking cars and jeeps. She is putting a necklace on the sleeping lake.
They are lighting up the lake. She can't afford gold, but the illuminated
lake looks beautiful, nevertheless. For lampposts they have no choice
but to use pipes which are otherwise used for water supply. Naseer Khan,
travel operator, stops by to say, "Nobody has done this much for
Nainital." Again alone with the lake, she demythicises her little
revolution: "For me, it's housekeeping."
The next
morning, what you see is the mythology of housekeeping unfolding at the
lakeside. She is there to supervise. Her hair swept back, a black jacket
protects her from the wintry wind from the hills of Kumaon, and in the
morning sun, golden grains shine from her red bindi. The team is there,
also two overworking excavators donated by a lake-conscious businessman,
Mehboob Alam. The trucks, also provided gratis by the lake-conscious Truck
owners association, are waiting to take the silt away. And a crowd of
heart-felt approval is growing in size. Today there is space for it: illegal
hawkers' stalls have gone from the areas around the band stand-an orphaned
legacy of Corbett's benevolence. Once upon a time, Nainitalians danced
to the drumbeats of Ram Singh. Now, they are almost willing to dance to
the rhythm of silt-lifting excavators. Or to the redeeming tune of the
district magistrate. Hotelier Praveen Sharma: "She is an iron lady."
Jogaram, the oldest boatman of the lake: "I've been living on the
lake for 35 years. I would have lost the lake but for her." Bachiram
Pant, the priest of Naina Devi temple which sits almost on the lake: "Water
is divine. She knows it, and she has become another devi of the lake.
She comes here every Tuesday to pray." And frail old Durga has no
words, she just hugs the district magistrate and holds back her tears.
But the
district magistrate has other duties as well. Elsewhere, complaints and
decisions are waiting for her. So you take a ride with her in her official
white Ambassador, the other passengers being a gunman, an assistant and
quite a few little gods and goddesses. Is she very religious? "I
am. I do my puja every day." Any favourite god? "Balaji of Tirupati.
I've even named my son Venkateshwar." It's a long downhill ride through
treacherous winding road. She has time to talk a little about herself
over peanuts (the car is well stocked with peanuts and biscuits the label
of which proclaims: Eat healthy, think better). Father is a retired revenue
service officer, mother a writer. They live in Lucknow. She is the youngest,
one brother is in the IAS, now posted in Madhya Pradesh, the other is
an economist with the World Bank, now based in Riyadh. Schooling in Delhi,
at Jesus and Mary. When father was transferred back to Lucknow she too
had to go back. Strict father, he didn't want her to be alone in an alien
city. College at Avadh Girls Degree College at Lucknow. Marriage immediately
after graduation, at 18, an arranged one, to an IAS officer. Her own entry
into the IAS was rather late, much after the marriage... "Late, late,
the story of my life," she soliloquises during a meeting at her Haldwani
camp office.
A suppressed
rebel? "I'm a quintessential Aquarian." Uranus, the ruling planet
of Aquarians, symbolises rebellion. Their presiding element is air. Here
too, this Aquarian is rebellious. Water, stored 1,935 m above sea level
in a lake, defines Aradhana Shukla, the district magistrate of Nainital
in the state of Uttaranchal.
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