BANGALORE: The
government of the fastest growing city in Asia believes providence,
not planning will help it manage growth.
CHENNAI: India's hottest IT
destination has water for all right now, thanks to plentiful
rains, but dry taps are just a season away.
GURGAON: No public transport,
no laws worth speaking of, yet more companies and individuals
keep heading for this Delhi-satellite.
HYDERABAD: Business is yet
to boom enough to make Hyderabad unlivable, but for a city
its size, the air pollution is killing.
PUNE: With some 1.2 million
vehicles on its roads (Mumbai has just a million), Pune is
a commuter's nightmare.
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On the first day of November this
year, Bangalore celebrated Karnataka Rajyotsava, the anniversary
of the formation of the state of Karnataka. Every year, the day
is occasion for supra-chauvinists to bemoan the fact that the state's
indigenous residents, the Kannadigas, are a minority in Bangalore.
Some years, shop signs that are in English are daubed over with
black paint by extremist elements of Kannada-organisations. This
year, even the moderates signalled their unhappiness at the state
of the city. "A mere 27 per cent of Bangaloreans are Kannadigas,"
says G. Narayan, a former mayor of Bangalore, and a former President
of the Kannada Development Authority, an organisation that seeks
to promote the Kannada language. "It is a tragedy that in the
name of development, Kannadigas are being deprived of their rightful
share."
The impending social fracture implied by Narayana is something
Bangalore, a city of 7.2 million that stakes claim to being Asia's
Silicon Valley, can ill afford. The city is already dying. That's
right, you read it right the first time. Your city, Bangalore, Chennai,
Hyderabad, Pune, even Gurgaon, is dying. Its arteries are choked
with traffic, lungs corroded by pollutants, throat parched with
thirst, and body labouring under a weight its heart cannot sustain.
New Delhi and Mumbai, the nation's political and commercial capitals,
players in an all-too-Indian version of The Tale of Two Cities,
the two largest cities in the country, cannot die. Kolkata, once
the capital of British India, died in the 1990s and discovered an
after-life involving a modicum of business, a mini real-estate boom-the
huge out-of-Kolkata Bengali diaspora believes in buying a piece
of condominium-paradise back home-and a full-fledged retail boom,
attributable, in part, to Bangladesh's rich. No one, apart from
the Government of Gujarat, talks of Ahmedabad any longer as a serious
centre of business although this may have more to do with perception
than fact. If you live in any of the other notable Indian cities,
especially ones that are at the forefront of the economic boom the
country finds itself in, however, we have news for you. Your city
is dying. Victims of their own ability to attract investments, create
jobs, and become dream-destinations for young professionals with
dollar dreams in their eyes, they are, slowly but surely, choking.
As Bob Hoekstra, the indophile CEO of Bangalore-based Philips Software
who has just signalled his company's unwillingness to participate
in it.com, a state government sponsored jamboree targeted at positioning
Karnataka, and Bangalore, as the destination for it companies, puts
it: "It is not right to attract more companies when the city
does not have adequate infrastructure for the existing ones."
The faster these five cities grow, the closer
they get to total systemic collapse |
That's a problem that finds an echo across India's booming cities.
If it isn't bad roads, it is power. And if the pollution does not
get you, the lack of water sure will. "There is a perpetual
shortage of 20-30 mw and the power goes off for three to four hours
every day," complains A.H. Firodia, Chairman, Kinetic Engineering,
a Pune-based two-wheeler manufacturer. "Growing traffic and
pollution are a source of concern, and many times we have to think
twice before venturing out," says B. Ramalinga Raju, Chairman
of the Hyderabad-based Satyam Computer Services, one of India's
largest software services firms. "There is adequate security
inside the apartment-complexes (where we live)," says Arun
Tadanki, CEO, Monster India, a jobs site, and the resident of an
up-market condominium in Gurgaon, "but I would think twice
before stepping out at night."
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Chennai's show piece: India's first elevated
railway will soon connect one extremity of the city to the other |
Underlying such sentiments is growth. Pune, a favoured destination
for software and automotive companies, is hot with the first growing
by 40 per cent a year and the second, 20 per cent. As is Chennai,
which has suddenly emerged a worthy rival to Bangalore. And Gurgaon
expects to see the addition of some 3 million sq. ft. of office
space and 5,000 apartments to its already crowded topography over
the next two years.
Bangalore was showing the way, till a new
government decided the city didn't matter |
More people, more cars, more houses, and more service establishments
(restaurants, hotels, malls) may help a city's economy in the short
term, but in the absence of adequate planning, it could result in
a collapse of civic machinery. That's only the beginning. Over time,
it could result in the destruction of the social and economic fabric
of the entire region surrounding the city. "Look at the village
of Bavdhan," gestures Aneeta Beeninger, Director, Centre for
Development Studies and Activities, Pune, from her office atop a
hill overlooking the village. Bavdhan is a village recently annexed
by a city on overdrive; the construction activity has already eaten
away most of the hillside in clear violation of regulations. Bangalore's
Commisioner of Police S. Mariswamy rues that he has a mere 2,800
traffic policemen to oversee a city of 17 lakh vehicles and seven
million people. And B.P. Acharya, Managing Director of the Hyderabad
Metropolitan Water Supply and Sewerage Board, admits that "this
year has been particularly bad with a 30 per cent to 40 per cent
deficit in the catchment areas".
TRAVEL TRAVAILS
Our writers live the life of commuters
in each of the five cities, albeit for a day. |
BANGALORE: The Bangalore metropolitan
transport corporation may claim its 3,207 buses make 45,000
trips a day, ferrying 28 lakh passengers to their destinations,
but that doesn't reflect this writer's experience in getting
from Jayanagar, a residential borough to Majestic Circle,
the heart of the city's business district. First came the
wait (a good 35 minutes); then, there were the crowds (it
was impossible to board the first two buses that came my way);
and finally, there was the quality of the ride. At the end
of the 50-minute journey, I thanked the heavens I drove a
car.
-Venkatesha Babu, Bangalore
CHENNAI: The MRTs is functional
only in parts, so this correspondent takes a bus from Tiruvanmiyur,
a happening residential area, to Arts College on Anna Salai,
the heart of the business district. The 15-kilometre ride
takes 50 minutes in peak morning traffic, which isn't so bad,
but the hazards include over-crowded buses replete with eve
teasers and pick-pockets (when I alight, I discover a neat
slit at the base of my handbag and my purse, missing). Ten
years ago, the local bus service was probably the best in
India with no bus being more than five years old. Today, alas,
the rot has set in.
-Nitya Varadarajan, Chennai
GURGAON: It is impossible
to live without a car or two in Gurgaon. The only way you
can get around the city-in-the-making is by auto-rickshaw,
rickshaw, or by hitching a ride from Point A to Point B on
an intra-state bus. The last is a function of the driver's
generosity (there are no scheduled stops), so this writer
braves it out in a rickshaw. It takes 10 minutes to get from
IFFCO Chowk, a main intersection to DLF Square, where lots
of companies have their offices. The pollution is killing
and part of the journey is completed on the wrong side of
the road.
-Kushan Mitra, Gurgaon
HYDERABAD: the first thing that
strikes you about an APSRTC (Andhra Pradesh State Transport
Corporation) bus ride is the pace. A ride from Mosapet to
Begumpet, a distance of 7 kilometres, takes 25 minutes, an
impressive average of 16.8 km/hour. And this is a faster Metroliner
bus, not a slower ordinary one. Another problem is frequency.
If you're travelling between two points on the highway (that's
NH 9), you get a bus every five minutes; otherwise, you're
in for a 30-minute wait. The only plus point: even on a working
day, the bus is not packed, so the journey is comfortable.
Not for women though. Occasional eve-teasing and no reserved
seats (in reality, not theory), a sprightly 25-year-old lady
confides to this correspondent, has prompted her to learn
to ride a two-wheeler.
-E. Kumar Sharma, Hyderabad
PUNE: for someone spoilt by
Mumbai's efficient best bus-service, the 15-minute, four-kilometer
ride from Model Colony, a residential area, to the Pune Muncipal
Corporation HQ in the city centre is a revelation. Lesson
1: you need to flag a bus down even if you are standing at
a bus stop. Lesson 2: You can enter and exit through either
door, front or rear. Lesson 3: No one takes a bus in Pune
if they can avoid it.
-Priya Srinivasan, Pune
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Worse, the wealth factor has resulted in an immigrant boom: with
business booming, people are earning more than ever before, and
apart from investing in homes, cars and consumer durables, also
looking to improve the quality of their lives by hiring more servants,
thereby attracting unskilled labour by the droves to these cities.
The result is an increase in the number and size of slums, even
total collapse of the law and order machinery and basic civic amenities
in certain parts of these cities. Money, or the lack of it, cannot
really be an excuse. "I would think all major developers would
have thus far contributed just under Rs 1,000 crore to the Haryana
Government in the form of external development charges (EDC),"
says Sanjay Chandra, Director, Unitech, a real-estate developer.
The question hidden in his statement: what has happened to the money?
In response, Dinesh Chauhan, District Town Planner, Haryana Urban
Development Authority, claims private developers are responsible
for the mess that is Gurgaon by "expanding faster than the
city administration can cope". Just how bad is the problem?
"Gurgaon cannot treat more than 20 per cent of the sewage it
generates and can barely meet 50 per cent of peak power demand,"
explains a senior executive at another real-estate development firm.
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The gold rush: Big cities attract immigrants
by the trainload |
Today, none of the five cities in question can claim to have an
integrated approach to urban planning. Sharad Mahajan, a town-planner
and architect who works with Mashal, a Pune-based non governmental
organisation that works in the area of environmental conservation,
points out that Pune has not had a town-planning exercise since
1970. All development since, he adds, has been through instruments
such as Transfer of Development Rights and Accomodation Reservation,
tools that facilitate ad hoc acquisition of land.
It is fairly easy to predict the long-term impact of the absence
of an organised approach to urban planning. In Guragon's case, for
instance, says Patu Keswani, the CEO of Krizm Hotels (he has just
opened a budget hotel, Lemon Tree, in the city) "the more labour
intensive industries will move to Manesar," a town a few kilometres
down the Delhi-Jaipur road from Gurgaon. And in Bangalore's case,
Wipro Chairman Azim Premji has already said the bulk of his company's
growth (in people terms) will be outside the city.
There is an even more important aspect to urban planning: it has
to be inclusive and cannot ignore the interests of those people
whose lives will be touched by the growth of the city. The Karnataka
Government did so and farmers in the village of Belandur near Bangalore
have taken it to court over the acquisition of land for an IT Corridor.
"Why should the state government forcibly acquire our agricultural
land that has been handed down from generation to generation?"
asks Bargur Muniyappa, a farmer. "Neither we nor our children
will benefit from all this computer stuff."
-Reported by Venkatesha Babu, Bangalore,
Kushan Mitra, Delhi, E. Kumar Sharma, Hyderabad, Priya Srinivasan,
Mumbai, and Nitya Varadarajan, Chennai
IMMIGRANT SONG
The wanting infrastructure of cities
is stretched thin by immigrants. |
Delhi and Mumbai
have problems all their own related to immigrants-the former
attracts an average of 800 people a day in search of better
livelihoods; the latter, 200 people a day-but these pale into
insignificance when compared to those of cities such as Bangalore,
Pune and Chennai. The main difference is what the CEO of a Bangalore-based
it major calls "the wealth effect". The rich (and
that description includes the salaried masses that work for
it and it-enabled services companies) make more demands of a
city's infrastructure, in terms of space (real-estate, parking
and road-length) and utilities (power and water), something
that Chennai, Bangalore and Pune, the new Meccas of organised-sector
employment, are discovering the hard way. The Chinese have their
own way of dealing with this, a clinical work-permit and quota-driven
regime. That isn't as inclusive or ideal a solution as improving
the quality of life for all, the rather lofty aim of this country;
then, it works. |
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