Editor,
In the rugged, breathtaking terrain of the Mechukha valley, the village of Dorjeeling stands as a testament to both natural beauty and systemic abandonment. While official records and tourism brochures paint a picture of a developing paradise, the reality on the ground is a stark narrative of isolation.
The recent dismantling of the primary bridge connecting Dorjeeling and several neighbouring villages without the provision of an alternative route has left a community stranded and ignited a firestorm of questions regarding political accountability.
The dismantling of the original bridge was not a routine upgrade or a relocation necessitated by safety; it was a relocation of public resources that borders on the surreal. Reports from the ground indicate that the very materials from the communal bridge were repurposed to construct a new passage over the Yargap Chu.
However, this new bridge does not serve the public. Instead, it leads directly to the Gautse tourist lodge, a private enterprise reportedly operated by the brother of the rural works department (RWD) minister.
This leads to a troubling question that the administration must answer. Diverting public infrastructure materials to facilitate a private business – especially one tied to a sitting minister’s kin – is a move that defies ethical governance and prioritises personal gain over the survival of an entire constituency.
The absence of a bridge is not merely a logistical inconvenience; it is a ticking time bomb for the residents of Dorjeeling. In the event of a medical emergency, the lack of access can be the difference between life and death. How can an ambulance or emergency transport reach a village that has been effectively turned into an island?
On paper, Dorjeeling is credited with modern amenities like electricity and telecommunications. In reality, the most basic physical link to the town has been severed.
If a life is lost because a patient could not reach a hospital on time, who will take responsibility? When the state fails to provide basic connectivity, it isn’t just negligence; it is a violation of the fundamental rights of its citizens. Are we truly living in an era of progress, or have we regressed into an ‘era of darkness’ where the common man is left to fend for himself?
The irony of this situation is sharp. The constituency is represented by a leader who holds the dual portfolios of RWD and tourism.
The RWD is specifically tasked with rural connectivity – yet it has overseen the destruction of a vital lifeline.
Simultaneously, while the minister promotes Mechukha valley as a ‘must-visit’ destination, one of its primary gems, Dorjeeling, remains inaccessible to tourists because there is no way to reach it.
It is difficult for the electorate to find solace in a representative who rarely stays in or engages with his own constituency. The construction of a bridge for a private lodge while the public bridge lies in ruins is a visual metaphor for the current state of local politics: private luxury built on the back of public deprivation.
The people of Dorjeeling and the surrounding villages are not asking for a miracle; they are asking for the restoration of a basic right that has been taken from them. Using dismantled public materials for a private project is an act that demands an immediate, transparent investigation.
The silence of the local leadership is deafening, but the voices of the isolated villagers are growing louder. It is time for the political leadership to step out of their lodges and look at the broken paths they have left behind.
Anonymous