India, Aug. 31 -- Recently, Chandigarh has been waking up to headlines that sound less like news and more like deja vu-batteries stolen from CCTV cameras at busy junctions, break-ins at PGs in Sector 22-C and homes in 37-D, even brazen thefts in bustling neighbourhoods. Thieves seem to be working double shifts, while citizens are left wondering whether the very systems meant to protect them are themselves being picked apart. And as festive lights and shopping lists brighten our streets, shadows lengthen for those with darker plans. Festivals, ironically, are open season not just for discounts but for burglars too. Yet theft is more than a police matter. It exposes cracks in how our urban lives are safeguarded-how our cities are designed, how communities relate to one another, and how governance anticipates (or fails to anticipate) patterns of crime. When crime spikes, the first instinct is to demand more police patrols. While visibility reassures residents, the deeper challenge lies in strategy. Petty theft thrives in predictable voids: dimly lit stretches, unguarded equipment, houses left empty for weddings or holidays. Effective policing means recognising these rhythms, not merely chasing incidents. When CCTV cameras themselves are disabled by stolen batteries, we are reminded technology is not infallible. Surveillance can aid safety, but without safeguarding the system, we risk an illusion of security which thieves quickly puncture. True policing is anticipatory, adaptive and collaborative-working with residents and urban managers, not just after crime scenes but before vulnerabilities turn into statistics. Chandigarh's open planning-its sectors, boulevards, and greens-was meant to create transparency and order. Yet open layouts can cut both ways. Quiet service lanes, blank compound walls, and parks silent after dusk provide cover to mischief. Urban designers long argued the best deterrent to crime is not walls but eyes. A well-lit street, a shop open late, a balcony overlooking a footpath-these create natural surveillance far stronger than an abandoned cul-de-sac with a lone lamp-post. The lesson is not to barricade the city, but to make it lively, observable, and inconvenient for shadows to linger. This calls for small but crucial interventions: trimming hedges that block sightlines, encouraging mixed-use streets where evening activity sustains presence, and ensuring no corner is left unattended. Safety is not separate from design-it is embedded in how space invites or discourages human eyes. Even the best lighting and smartest patrols cannot substitute for something simpler: neighbours who notice. Theft flourishes in anonymity. When residents know little about those next door-or don't check a neighbour's home when they travel-cities become easy hunting grounds. Festivals and holidays, when households are distracted, are also when collective watchfulness matters most. A WhatsApp group that circulates alerts, a shopkeeper who calls out unusual activity, a neighbour who checks if your gate is locked-these are small acts, but together they weave the fabric of safety. Theft will never disappear; it is as old as settlement. The test for a city is not whether incidents occur, but how quickly systems, spaces and people respond. Chandigarh's reputation as a "planned city" must now evolve to a "resilient city"-one where planning includes safety, policing adapts with precision and communities stitch vigilance into daily life. Because security is not simply the absence of thieves. It is the presence of light, of neighbours who care, of streets alive and watched over. It is a city that doesn't retreat behind locks, but steps forward into trust and attentiveness. That is not just crime prevention. That is civic imagination at work....