Business Standard

Open house

Indulekha Aravind
You can spot it looming in the distance when you have driven about seven kilometres out of Belgaum towards Bangalore on National Highway 4, a grand edifice perched on top of a bald hillock. The four-storey, Rs 438-crore Suvarna Soudha is meant to be a replica of the Vidhana Soudha, the imposing seat of Karnataka's legislature 550 kilometres away in Bangalore, and it fulfils that role as far as appearances go, if you set aside the fields of sugarcane with white plumes nodding in the wind.

Karnataka had felt it imperative to spend hundreds of crores and construct another legislative building in the northern district headquarters so that it could reassert its hold on the border district of Belgaum, parts of which Maharashtra had been laying claim to since the linguistic reorganisation of states in 1956. Two sessions have been held in the Suvarna Soudha since its inauguration last year by President Pranab Mukherjee and the latest, spread over ten days, came to an end on December 6, a Friday. The session began at 10.30 am and less than two hours later, the assembly adjourned, after members paid tribute to Nelson Mandela who had died the previous night. With the conclusion of the brief winter session, which had seen the passage of 13 bills crammed into the ten days, legislators could return to Bangalore or their respective constituencies, and the Suvarna Soudha to stupor for the rest of the year.

While the session may have been for less than a fortnight, preparations had begun two months in advance. After all, making arrangements for transport, accommodation and food for the 10,000 people that descend on the city, including close to 5,000 policemen, is no small task. "The legislative secretariat, from the speaker and chairman to the field marshals all have to come, as well as staff from 52 other departments," says N Jayaram, the deputy commissioner of Belgaum and the man overseeing preparations. A media contingent of around 350 also has to be taken care of. The biggest challenge, he says, is finding accommodation in a city that has no four- or five-star hotels. According to their rank and seniority the ministers, officials and others are put up in state guest houses, one of the 30 hotels in the city, university guest houses or even in wedding halls, in the case of policemen. "This time, we made arrangements for the protesters too. We rented land roughly 2 kilometres away from the Suvarna Soudha and provided drinking water and toilets," says Jayaram, with a hint of pride.

Apart from the efforts of moving the government machinery 550 kilometres for 10 days in a year, there is the cost the elaborate exercise entails. While no official figures have been released about the cost of holding the session, the New Indian Express cites a figure of Rs 11 crore estimated by sources in the district administration. Maintaining the 60,398 square metre structure is also not inexpensive, with the electricity bill alone coming to Rs 5 lakh a month, peaking at Rs 7 lakh during the month of the session.


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The intent behind the elaborate bandobast is to promote Belgaum as the second capital of Karnataka, akin to Jammu in Jammu and Kashmir, or Nagpur in Maharashtra, and thus lay to rest the language dispute in the region and promote its development. Members of the Maharashtra Ekikaran Samiti, an organisation devoted to the cause of reunification of parts of Belgaum with Maharashtra, quite naturally deride the government's efforts and claim that most Marathis in the region want to be reunited with their brethren in the neighbouring state.

The border dispute had made Belgaum sensitive territory and a stroll through quarters like Chowaat Galli, where several houses have saffron flags called the 'bhagwa dwaj,' supposed to have been used by Shivaji, fluttering outside, would make a casual visitor inclined to accept the Samiti's perspective. But talk to the people, whether Marathi or Kannadiga, and a different narrative emerges. Uday Kinjawadekar, a 37-year-old Marathi resident of the city who also runs a blog about the city called allaboutbelgaum.com, says language is hardly a contentious issue for local residents, especially among the youth who would have studied mostly in English-medium schools. Kinjawadekar runs a Bombay Dyeing outlet near Samyukta Maharashtra Chowk, a junction where the saffron flag is hoisted on a long pole and a police van permanently stationed below. It is also the site where linguistic chauvinists collide, usually on Karnataka Day which falls on November 1, though a friend of Kinjawadekar's who drops in says these protesters are almost always hired. "If you live in Belgaum, it's inevitable that you would end up speaking both Kannada and Marathi," says Kinjawadekar. The dispute would lose much of its steam if the state government did something as simple as ensuring that all government forms, currently in Kannada, are available in Marathi as well, he says - an easier solution to the language kerfuffle, one would think, than constructing a monument.

The question of joining Maharashtra is only raised during elections, says Venkappa More, a PhD student in Belgaum, currently writing his dissertation on the border dispute between the two states. More, who says he has visited 70 villages surrounding Belgaum as part of his research and describes himself as a Maratha who does not speak Marathi, says the villagers even in Marathi-dominated regions do not consider it a major issue. "It's the elders who keep the issue alive, the youth don't want to get involved," he says. Ashok Halagali, a lawyer and Right to Information activist, says the language dispute is mere political posturing, with no relevance for the common man. "I'm a Kannadiga but I don't care whether my client is Kannadiga or Marathi. And I read, write and speak in both languages."


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The other purpose for building the Suvarna Soudha in Belgaum had ostensibly been to highlight the development challenges in the north Karnataka region, which has long lagged the rest of the state in growth and social indices. But Kinjawadekar points out that none of the issues specifically concerning the region was raised in the current session. The only 'development' the Suvarna Soudha has brought to the city itself is at a very superficial level. "The city's residents are happy only about the roads that are re-laid just before the session. But even then, it's just those roads that the politicians travel on that are repaired," he says, wryly.

Belgaum, or Belagavi in Kannada, is a city of around 600,000 and appears a world away from the cosmopolitan software hub Bangalore has become. Apart from the cantonment, which houses the Maratha Light Infantry Regimental Centre, and the more upmarket Tilakwadi area with its broad roads and bungalows, Belgaum looks more small-town India than a second capital of a state, and its citizens' thirst for development is understandable.

Lawyer Halagali, who has filed several RTI applications to get more information about how the municipal corporation is using the money meant for public projects, points out that the government's efforts to develop Belgaum as a second capital is hobbled by the fact that no government offices function from the Suvarna Soudha yet. If the principal secretary's office, for example, was to shift for part of the year people would go there and it would be of some use, but whether it would shift is the big question, he says. "As of now, it's just a monument. The only beneficiaries are hotels, and the contractors and engineers who built it. They could have spent the same amount on so many other development projects," says Halagali, who calls the Suvarna Soudha a white elephant.

Rajendrakumar Harkuni, the president of the local chamber of commerce, says the government has till date not considered the actual development of the district. "The only development has been related to the infrastructure of the Suvarna Soudha. They have neither raised the issue of industrial development in Belgaum nor given any concession to industry in north Karnataka," says Harkur, who runs a software export firm that has clients in West Asia and Europe. "By just saying Belgaum is the second capital of the state it won't become one," he fumes.

To highlight the neglect, Harkur and others cite the example of the Desur IT Park, roughly 20 kilometres from the city, off the road to Goa. Drive all the way there, and the reason is evident. The project was announced in 2008-09 and the 42-acre plot was to be developed and handed over to IT companies. But five years on, the only concrete structure on the land is a water tank - the rest of the plot is overgrown with grass and scrub as far as the eye can see. Ajit Patil, who relocated to Belgaum from Delhi where he used to help build data centres for government departments, says he wanted to open an office at Desur four years ago but there was no electricity, water or telephone cables there. "Not a single IT major has an office in Belgaum, though several have offices or distributors in Hubli. The Belgaum IT market is catered to by the offices in Hubli," says Patil. Political uncertainty and the risks involved, he says, have deterred companies from investing in Belgaum. The solution to the language dispute, he feels, would be to develop the region to such a degree that no Marathi would want to leave.

During the just concluded legislative session, Chief Minister Siddaramaiah announced the constitution of a committee to look into the possibility of shifting government offices to the Suvarna Soudha. He said that he was considering holding the next budget session in Belgaum. Speaker Kagodu Thimmappa also told the media the government was thinking of holding two legislative sessions at the Suvarna Soudha, instead of one. That would, of course, mean the gargantuan structure is put to slightly better use than at present. But even then, whether the Rs 438-crore structure used twice a year would do more to promote development and linguistic harmony than projects that actually generate employment and revenue for the region remains a question.

THE BORDER DISPUTE

Belgaum, a district in north Karnataka which borders Maharashtra, has long been a bone of contention between the two states, particularly Belgaum city. After India's independence in 1947 , the district became a part of the Bombay State up to 1956, when states were reorganised on the basis of language, following which it joined Mysore state, although Marathi is still spoken by a majority in some villages and towns in the district. In 1966, the government set up the Mahajan Commission to settle the dispute and several villages were exchanged between the two states in accordance with its recommendations but Belgaum city continued to be with Karnataka, a bitter pill for Maharashtra and pro-Marathi organisations.

According to the Maharashtra Ekikaran Samiti, which continues to keep the dispute alive, the Marathis' list of of woes is long, from being denied jobs in the government because the exams are in Kannada, to not being able to read signs on buses or official documents such as revenue records, for the same language barrier. In 2006, Maharashtra filed a petition in the Supreme Court, laying claim to Belgaum city. The verdict is awaited.

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First Published: Dec 20 2013 | 9:44 PM IST

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