Kalimpong Calling

Transferred Jealousy

The tenth essay from my 2002 book Kalimpong Calling.

Some years ago, when the Gorkhaland agitation was at its peak and academics in their cosy chairs were theorising about its causes, one analyst proposed the idea of “transferred jealousy.” His argument was that the people of the Darjeeling hills were envious of neighbouring Sikkim’s fast-paced progress after statehood. If Sikkim, with its once-woeful administrative machinery, could rise so quickly, why couldn’t we — with our manpower and resources?

At the time, this seemed a watertight argument. After all, wasn’t it teachers, clerks, and officers from our hills who had staffed Sikkim in its early days? And if that state could flourish, surely we could too. The intellectual reasoning sounded persuasive enough.

But fifteen years on, what does a visit to Gangtok do to the average Kalimpong person? It does induce jealousy — the streets are cleaner, the roads smoother, traffic more disciplined, buildings swankier, tourists more numerous, and people seemingly less harassed. There is a well-ordered air about Gangtok. Even its police appear purposeful, and the relationship between law enforcers and drivers seems surprisingly functional. For a Kalimpong native used to four squeezed into the front seat of a van and the freedom to park or throw things anywhere, Gangtok’s order can feel a little repressive.

Recently, The Nepali Times carried an article by its editor Kunda Dixit, who, impressed by what he saw, claimed that even Kathmandu could learn governance lessons from Gangtok. For once, Gangtok was not being compared unfavourably to its cousin across the Teesta — it was being held up as a role model for a national capital. Cosmopolitan Kathmandu, trying to shed its hippie-hangout past, had finally found an ideal to aspire to.

And yet, Kalimpong’s rambunctious anarchy has its own charm. It reflects the “let live” attitude that epitomises India. If taxis here carried only as many passengers as in Gangtok, how would fares be kept affordable in these troubled times? And if our municipality suddenly blessed us with Gangtok-quality roads — the same ones that have already claimed motorists’ lives — where would we house the injured, now that even the new hospital often seems in a sickbed of its own?

Perhaps there is some truth in the theory of transferred jealousy. But it is also true that Kalimpong’s untidy vitality, however chaotic, offers freedoms Gangtok’s sleek order cannot. And maybe, just maybe, that is worth holding on to.