The old city of Jaipur has a unique physical layout, emblematic of gentle order. But unlike many cities with neatly planned parallel streets, there is nothing monumental or contrived about this planned city. Quite the opposite: it suggested an intimacy that was never claustrophobic, as old cities can sometimes be. While traditional in its architecture, it facilitated that most vital of activities: commerce. It has reeled under the onslaught of the frenetic pace of activity that characterises so many Indian cities. The old city contained within it everything: the most bustling of religious activity, whether it be the Id namaz outside Johari Bazaar, or the astonishing array of temples; the fascination with the most worldly of possessions, gold and jewellery, alongside the most ardent symbols of renunciation, Jain temples; and it contained all that any modern city brings with change. The famous Lakshmi Mishthan Bhandar, near a blast site, had long since changed over from a font of traditional delicacies to a modern mass production outlet, leading some to wonder if Jaipur would retain its character. It had its share of social negotiations and hierarchies. But despite very occasional stresses, the city always triumphed, as if its layout would enjoin its citizens to believe that in the well-ordered city, there will be space for everyone. Its orderly pink structures were always there for an odd kind reassurance: no matter how bristling and chaotic the life of the city, order and grace were still always possible.

Alas, that reassurance has been irrevocably shattered by a series of bomb blasts, by an ideology that is the opposite of what the city stood for. The blasts are against commerce, against civic order, against aesthetic achievement, against sociability, against the idea that cities can be zones where we can overcome our vulnerabilities. But it is above all an attack against the state and people. An attack against the state, because it dares to say to the state: you claim to protect people, see what mockery we make of that claim. An attack against the people because it dares to say to them: we will take away the sense of security that is the precondition for the forms of sociability that make us a people. You thought this was a space where you would exchange goods, say your prayer, read your namaz, savour the delicacies, make a living, imagine other worlds through craft, fly your kites, shop to high heaven or even have the dignity of labouring, no matter how hard the work. You thought it were these quotidian activities that create the capillaries that connect us. Think again. The very site of these activities will now be the source of your vulnerability.

... contd.