top of page

By:

Asha Tripathi

14 April 2025 at 1:35:28 pm

High-Rise Living, Low-Rise Bonds

While we have gained privacy and independence, we have lost the ease and warmth of everyday connection. As I look around at life in today’s high-rise buildings, particularly in a dense and fast-moving city like Mumbai, one thing becomes increasingly and unmistakably clear—our homes have grown taller and more vertical, but our connections, in many ways, have grown quieter and more distant. We live stacked floor above floor, often separated not just by concrete walls and closed doors but also...

High-Rise Living, Low-Rise Bonds

While we have gained privacy and independence, we have lost the ease and warmth of everyday connection. As I look around at life in today’s high-rise buildings, particularly in a dense and fast-moving city like Mumbai, one thing becomes increasingly and unmistakably clear—our homes have grown taller and more vertical, but our connections, in many ways, have grown quieter and more distant. We live stacked floor above floor, often separated not just by concrete walls and closed doors but also by an unspoken silence. We may recognise a familiar face in the elevator and exchange a courteous smile or, at most, a brief and polite "hello", but beyond that surface-level interaction, relationships rarely deepen or evolve into anything more meaningful. This reality stands in sharp and almost poignant contrast to the world I grew up in. I come from a small town, where everyday life unfolded in narrow, bustling lanes lined with houses that were physically attached to one another. Doors were rarely fully shut, and even when they were, they never felt closed in spirit. People would sit outside—on simple chairs, on steps, or even on the floor—talking for hours, laughing freely, and sharing stories that moved easily from one household to another. Neighbours were not just people who happened to live next door—they were, in every sense, an extension of family. There was warmth in those interactions, a sense of easy familiarity, and above all, a deep and reassuring feeling of belonging. Of course, that kind of closeness was not without its own set of challenges and complications. There was interference at times. There was curiosity—sometimes excessive and overwhelming. People often knew the details of each other’s lives, whether that knowledge was invited or not. Privacy, as we understand it today, was limited, and personal boundaries were frequently blurred or crossed. Yet, even within that lack of space and occasional overreach, there existed a certain kind of emotional security—a quiet but constant reassurance that someone was always around, always available, always aware. Today, in the context of high-rise living, the situation feels almost entirely reversed. We enjoy a greater degree of privacy, independence, and clearly defined personal space. There is no unsolicited advice offered at every turn, no constant observation from those around us, and no routine intrusion into our daily lives. We are free to live on our own terms, make our own choices, and maintain our own boundaries—and that freedom is undeniably valuable. But alongside that independence, there is also a subtle and often unspoken sense of isolation. In moments of need, urgency, or even celebration, we sometimes realise just how little we truly know about the people living around us. Both ways of living, in their own ways, come with distinct advantages and equally notable drawbacks. The open-lane culture offers a strong sense of connection and community, but sometimes at the cost of personal privacy. High-rise living, on the other hand, offers independence, autonomy, and space but can gradually lead to emotional distance and detachment. So the question is not really about which way of living is better or more desirable. The more meaningful answer, perhaps, lies somewhere in the idea of balance. We do not need to return entirely to the ways of the past, nor should we remain completely enclosed within our private, individual spaces. Even a small and conscious effort—getting to know your neighbour beyond a passing greeting, engaging in occasional conversations, or simply being available and approachable in times of need—can help bridge this growing gap. At the same time, maintaining a respectful awareness of personal boundaries ensures that connection does not unintentionally turn into intrusion. Nothing, in reality, is entirely right, and nothing is entirely wrong. Life, as it often does, works best when it finds a balance—where doors may not always be wide open, but they are not firmly or permanently shut either. (The writer is a tutor based in Thane. Views personal.)

India’s ‘Caged Parrot’: The Compromised Integrity of Probe Agencies

Updated: Oct 21, 2024

India’s ‘Caged Parrot’: The Compromised Integrity of Probe Agencies

In a telling moment during the recent bail hearing of Delhi Chief Minister Arvind Kejriwal, the Supreme Court of India admonished the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI), warning that it must dispel its image as a “caged parrot.” The phrase, originally coined by the court a decade ago, once again highlights a persistent problem in Indian governance: the blatant politicisation of supposedly impartial investigative agencies. From the CBI to the Enforcement Directorate (ED), these institutions designed to uphold the rule of law, increasingly appear compromised, their autonomy eroded by the very state they are meant to serve.

The question of whether the CBI, ED, and their ilk have always been vulnerable to political manipulation is not new. But under the Modi government, their role has gained renewed scrutiny. Are these agencies merely continuing a tradition of subservience to the central government, or are they now operating under a more brazen form of political control than in previous administrations?

The CBI traces its origins to the Special Police Establishment, created in 1941 to combat corruption in the procurement of war supplies during the British Raj. After Independence, Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru institutionalised the CBI in 1963 as a premier investigative agency, charged with investigating corruption in central government offices. Over time, its remit expanded to include high-profile cases of criminality, economic offences and, increasingly, political scandals.

Despite the lofty ideals behind its creation, the CBI has always struggled to maintain its independence. Successive governments have used it as a tool to control dissent, intimidate political opponents and shield allies.

A particularly illustrative case occurred during Indira Gandhi’s tenure in the 1970s. During the infamous Emergency period (1975-77), the CBI was co-opted to suppress dissent against the government, pursuing opposition leaders with zeal while ignoring corruption within the ruling party. The agency’s neutrality was further questioned in the aftermath of the Emergency, when investigations against Gandhi herself were conveniently stifled after her return to power in 1980.

The tenure of Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi saw the Bofors scandal, in which the CBI was slow to investigate despite mounting evidence of corruption. Subsequent governments, including those led by the Janata Dal and United Front, also dabbled in using the CBI to settle scores.

The term “caged parrot” gained currency in 2013 during the United Progressive Alliance (UPA) government led by Prime Minister Manmohan Singh. The Supreme Court’s scathing remark came in the context of the investigation into the 2G spectrum scandal, one of the most significant cases of corporate and political malfeasance in Indian history.

Since Narendra Modi and the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) swept to power in 2014, the charge that investigative agencies are being misused has only intensified. Under the current regime, high-profile raids, arrests, and charges against opposition leaders have become almost routine.

Critics argue that these investigations are aimed at hobbling the opposition, a strategy employed not just to weaken rivals but to create an atmosphere of fear. The message is clear: dissent will be met with legal reprisal. Supporters of the Modi government argue that the agencies are simply doing their job. But the optics of such investigations, particularly when they disproportionately target those opposed to the government, are hard to ignore.

The Enforcement Directorate, too, has seen its powers vastly expanded under the Modi government. According to data from the Lok Sabha, the ED has registered over 1,700 cases under the Prevention of Money Laundering Act since 2014, a 500% increase from the previous UPA era.

While it is tempting to lay the blame entirely at the door of the Modi government, the truth is more nuanced. The politicization of the CBI and other probe agencies has long been a feature of Indian governance. The Congress party, which ruled India for much of its post-independence history, also wielded these tools of power.

The question now is whether the CBI and ED can ever return to their intended role as impartial enforcers of the law. The Supreme Court’s remarks offer a glimmer of hope, but words alone will not suffice. Institutional reforms are urgently needed. The independence of these agencies must be protected through greater accountability mechanisms, such as a more autonomous selection process for key officials, reducing the direct influence of the government of the day.

One solution could be to place the CBI under the direct oversight of a parliamentary committee, rather than the central government, ensuring that no single political entity can dictate its actions. Similarly, limiting the powers of the government to approve or withhold permission for investigations, especially in cases involving government officials or politicians, would help mitigate accusations of bias.

India’s democracy cannot thrive if its investigative agencies are seen as compromised. The parrot, as the Supreme Court suggested, must be freed—before the song it sings becomes irredeemably one-sided.

Comments

bottom of page