The jacaranda trees are in full bloom on the drive into Chandigarh, this early spring morning. The streets are wide and lined with tall, shady trees: mango, laburnum, gulmohur and eucalyptus. Bougainvillea plants grow in the concrete strips that divide the roads. There is nothing haphazard about the design of this city. Bus shelters and lamp posts complement the buildings nearby. The roundabouts have manicured gardens, each more spectacular than the last.
In the Sector Ten part of town, the market has shops with the latest fashions, bakeries that sell croissants, cafes where you can take away a cappuccino and a pastry. Two girls dressed in jeans and skimpy tops come out of a café called Coffee, Conversations & Beyond… and ride off on a scooter.
The smartly dressed women of the city, driving drive cars and scooters to work or college, might give an observer the impression that women in Chandigarh have gained full freedom of decision over their lives. That observer would be wrong. In Chandigarh, an Indian girl has one of her poorest chances of surviving – in the womb. Modern technology and ancient customs ensure that one-fourth of all the girls that are meant to be born in this thriving city do not live to see daylight. Here, today, there are 128 men for every 100 women. It is a matter of female foeticide.
After the division of Punjab in 1947, the historic capital, Lahore, was left in the newly created Pakistan. India's first prime minister, Jawaharlal Nehru, wanted Punjab's new capital to be a symbol of the country's faith in the future. The iconic modernist architect Le Corbusier was invited to come from Switzerland and give shape to the new city, a capital that would match the splendour of Lahore. In 1966 the Indian state of Punjab was divided once again, but Chandigarh remained the capital of both resulting states, Haryana and Punjab. It was already a city full of research institutions, technology parks, hospitals and schools.