Unfortunately, my family had to move away from this well of happiness to another place for around half a decade. And when we came back?

The entire area was unrecognizable. Lots of flats had been constructed, naturally in places earmarked for them. More schools had sprung up, and bus services had increased, not causing jams yet but certainly moving steadily towards it. Shops had been set up in nearby areas, and many more doctors were around, some even practicing from their own homes. Immediate help was now available, along with more domestic assistance. Milk was delivered right to the doorstep. Kirana stores were now within walking distance. More buses and routes, with greater frequency, were making commuting easier. A small theater had even come up, and temples—so many of them. It had transformed into a bustling townish city. New roads connected the area to different places, enhancing accessibility.

Back in the 1970s, reaching the airport required a very circuitous route, taking hours. Now, a new 200-foot road cut through a much shorter route, connecting directly to the airport. This road became an arterial link, with many buses plying along it.

By the 1990s, with the opening up of the economy, small shopping malls and arcades, along with numerous individual shops catering to different needs, were set up. Bigger clinics and even hospitals sprang up everywhere.

However, I felt that with this sudden building activity and population increase, the dream of making this a unique, well-planned place was shattered. The rapid urbanization brought strains on water supply, drainage, and waste management. Cleanliness of the smaller streets suffered, with no central authority to manage garbage collection or street cleaning. Drains started getting blocked. By the second half of the 1990s, flooding became a significant issue. With so many buildings, roads, and concrete surfaces, rainwater was no longer absorbed into the ground. This exacerbated drainage issues, and the houses built during the early development phase were severely affected by flooding. Water entered homes, forcing some residents to sell and relocate. Those who had the means rebuilt, while others had their houses converted into flats in agreements with builders. The increasing number of multi-storied buildings further strained water supply, drainage, and electricity infrastructure.

During certain years, water was supplied through tankers. The irony of flooding during the monsoon and water shortages during summer became a frustrating cycle.

My beloved house was also affected. Many sleepless nights were spent in fear, wondering when and if water would flood the house. Despite various measures to prevent water from entering or draining it when it did, the efforts only led to more expenses without much relief. Fighting against nature seemed futile. Compounding the problem, the road level kept rising with each new layer of pavement laid atop the existing one, unlike in the USA, where the road is dug up and replaced to maintain the same level. This meant that the house, once comfortably above street level, was now increasingly submerged.

Dealing with the aftermath of flooding was an exhausting ordeal. My wife’s back, figuratively and perhaps even literally, was broken by the constant cleaning. It was painful to see how many residents, especially older ones who had built their homes decades ago, suffered due to these changes. The rising roads turned our beloved homes into flood zones, pushing many to leave with heavy hearts.

If only the roads had remained at their original levels, many of us might not have suffered so much.

Finally, after much deliberation with our children, we made a difficult decision. With their help, it was agreed that our old house—built with so much passion, pride, and happiness, a house that had witnessed countless nostalgic memories and joyous occasions—would have to be brought down, and a new one constructed in its place.

And so…

To be continued... 65. How and How Not - Pain and Pleasure - Part 5