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Research Thisai — where cities change direction Filter by Theme Select Theme The elephant in the room: Addressing wildlife-inclusivity in the design of the urban environment Animals reveal hidden urban ecologies, showing how cities function as shared habitats shaped by planning choices. Read more Mapping the challenges in Pallikaranai Marshland Chennai’s last major wetland shows how labelling marshes as wastelands enables ecological loss and urban vulnerability. Read more Whose City Is It Anyway? The Battle for Belonging in Nochikuppam Nochikuppam once ran on care, proximity, and everyday labour long before masterplans arrived. This article looks at how planning broke a working system and what the city still refuses to learn from it. Read more Cooum Conundrum A once-living river reshaped into an urban drain, revealing how planning failures and social exclusion flow together. Read more Why does Velachery flood? Encroachment and broken governance around Velachery Lake amplify flooding, exposing the cost of ignoring catchment-based planning. Read more Examining Otteri Nallah A stormwater channel turned marginal space, where infrastructure decisions deepen ecological damage and social inequality. Read more Virugambakkam-Arumbakkam canal Engineered drainage replaces living systems, questioning whether concrete solutions can ever restore urban water resilience. Read more Ennore: Ashes and Echoes A non-fiction glimpse into Ennore’s intertwined landscapes and lives, revealing resilience amid exploitation and echoes. Read more Waste as Public Space? Chennai’s garbage mountains hide injustice. Can reimagined public spaces transform waste into collective responsibility? Read more Knowledge emancipates urban poor: Case studies in the Indian context When citizens understand urban systems, knowledge becomes power, enabling better decisions and stronger collective action. Read more Smart Cities in India: The case of commodification of ‘smart’ India’s Smart Cities promise progress, but commodify democracy, and inclusion Read more

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< Back Mapping the challenges in Pallikaranai Marshland Chennai’s last major wetland shows how labelling marshes as wastelands enables ecological loss and urban vulnerability. Thisai and Prakriti March 2024 A longer article is coming soon. For now, we urge you to read the core of our research and join the conversation it invites. In a riveting spectacle of nature’s fury, a huge surge of water shattered the compound wall of an apartment complex in Pallikaranai, a district in south Chennai. With an unbridled force, the water seized control, washing away numerous automobiles and motorcycles and mercilessly tossed them about. As the residents of Chennai watched this disastrous event with utter dismay play out as a “viral” video on their smartphones, a profound query echoes through the collective conciousness: are we in reality exercising smartness and wisdom in our pursuit of progress and development? Despite the availability of resources for future steps, eight years later, in 2023, citizens of Chennai seem to be back in square one. Let’s take a step back to explore this. Graphic credit: Author The importance and vitality of the Pallikaranai marshland for the city of Chennai has been well established by many experts from different fields through their respective standpoints - ecological, environmental and hydrological. Home to around 381 species of flora and fauna, the marshland has been recognised as a biodiversity hotspot and natural habitat of certain endangered species. It is important to note that though the Pallikaranai marshland is known as a single entity, it is actually a system of multiple wetlands, part of the South Chennai Wetland complex. This complex consists of over 30 wetlands which drain into the Pallikaranai marshland. Further, the water held by it drains into the Bay of Bengal through the Okkiyanmadavu canal and the Kovalam creek. On the whole, the marsh acts as a watershed for roughly an area of 250 sqm. The marsh is a low lying area that runs parallel to the Buckingham canal constituting pockets of aquatic grass species, water, scrub and marsh. Throughout history, the Pallikaranai marshland and the area around it have acted as a sponge for excess storm water runoff and as a natural water holding zone for the entire city. However, the Velachery-Tambaram main road, 200ft radial road and the Rajiv Gandhi salai that cut through the marshland have cut off drain connectivity at many places. Today, the extent of the Pallikaranai marshland is only 600 Ha - an alarming 90% reduction from its span of 6000 Ha in the 1990s due to multi-various industrial, educational and civic development activities.The January 2024 survey submitted to the National Green Tribunal (NGT) by the GoTN, states that out of 1,206.59ha of the Ramsar certified marshland, 38% has been legally and illegally occupied by the GCC (173.56 ha), ELCOT(163.25 ha), Railways (46.92 ha) and an IT Park (5.85 ha). The forest department controls only 749 ha. Large portions of the marshland falling under the districts of Thoraipakkam, Pallikaranai and Perungudi have been reclaimed and converted into residential colonies. Roads, infrastructure, municipal solid waste landfill, sewage treatment plant have further fragmented the marsh greatly disturbing the natural drainage patterns. Till when are we going to validate mindless construction in the name of development? The CAG Report released in 2017 on Flood Management and response in Chennai and its suburban areas in the aftermath of the 2015 floods, clearly state that the GoTN’s decision to allow construction, on a stretch of 500m, on either side of the Rajiv Gandhi Salai to facilitate development of the IT industry is a major reason for this decline. CareEarth trust states that this problem is much more deep rooted and attributes its origin to the wrong land classification of the marsh as a ‘wasteland” by the revenue department up until the early 2000s. Owing to this classification, the marsh was seen as a rare greenfield site located in the immediate outskirts of the city. This misjudgement paved the way for various development projects, narrowly avoiding a golf course and a waste to energy plant. Over the course of many years, a massive 300ft high dumpyard has been formed in the marshland. Several studies show that extremely high level of toxins are present in the marsh’s water and soil. This has undoubtedly had some severe health impacts - ranging from skin disorders to lung ailments to contamination of breast milk - on local residents In 1998, the National Environmental Engineering Research Institute (NEERI) of India recommended protecting government lands in Pallikaranai between the MMRD scheme road and the Shollinganallur-Perumbakkam road from urban development. However, the subsequent establishment of the ELCOT SEZ contradicted this advice. It is shocking to learn that as recent as 2010 the Madras High Court ruled that the “marshy land” was not worthy of protection as a wetland. Ironically, parallel to construction activities that persistently encroach upon the ecologically sensitive wetlands, the marshland was also part of several conservation strategies. Firstly, it was identified as one among 94 wetlands of the National Wetland Conservation and Management Programme (NWCMP) by Govt. Of India in 1985-86. Following the 2015 Chennai floods, the GoTN has been meticulously drafting proposals of no less than Rs. 100 Crores, dedicated towards the preservation of the marshland and its surrounds. In 2018, the Tamil Nadu State Wetland Authority was established in accordance with the Wetlands (Conservation and Management) Rules, 2017 mandated by the Union Environment Ministry. In April 2022, environmentalists placed substantial hope for the preservation of marshland after it attained recognition as a Ramsar site of international significance.However, the aftermath of the Michaung Cyclone raises profound concerns about the efficacy of the conservation efforts in marshland. Despite some successful funding, tangible efforts on site seem to be absent. Only specific portions delineated as a reserve forest in 2007 by the Forest Department of Tamil Nadu, are safeguarded against encroachment. This classification was was secrued through relentless lobbying by the Save Pallikaranai Marshland Forum, spearheaded by passionate local residential associations and through interventions of Tamil Nadu Pollution Board. That we are losing the marshland to the plethora of urban-centric anthropogenic activities, in spite of the above-mentioned conservation strategies, would be an understatement. These activities have permanently altered the fundamental geographic characteristics of the land. Reclamation efforts would yield only buffer zones, lacking their original sponge-like properties. The GoTN’s proposal in 2023 for regular dredging of the Pallikaranai marshland, once dismissed in 2020 due to heightened waterlogging risks, underscore the need for scientifically informed solutions balancing conservation and development goals. What is necessitated is an adaptive management strategy - one characterised by flexibility, inclusivity and knowledge-based decision making. Reimagining the marshland as interconnected wetlands systems, rather than an isolated entity, is crucial for effective management and addressing Chennai’s waster stagnation. The Comprehensive Management Plan for Pallikaranai marshland (CMPPM), drafted by the CareEarth Trust echoes these sentiments. Annexing the remaining portions of the marshland to the existing Pallikaranai Marshland reserve forest would aid in maximisation of its hydrological efficiency. Prioritizing the biomining of the garbage dump present is crucial due to several compelling studies highlighting alarming levels of mercury, cadmium and lead contamination in the marsh’s water and soil. It is imperative that the CMDA approach the marsh with a resolute commitment to its conservation, halting any future construction immediately. As there are multiple authorities that extend some form of control over the marsh, it is crucial for the various departments to work in harmony in order to create a positive impact and swift change. Amidst this bleak scenario, a ray of hope may yet emerge. The Union Budget 2023-24, under one of its seven priorities, Green Growth, has initiated the “Amrit Dharodar” scheme that aims to promote optimal use of wetlands around the country. Last year, the GoTN has initiated the ‘Tamil Nadu Wetlands Mission’ for a period of five years from 2021-22 to 2025-26, with a budget of Rs. 115.15 Crores. This mission falls under the stewardship of the Tamil Nadu Green Climate Company, a special purpose vehicle (SPV) set up by the state government to achieve climate resilience in the state. However, despite its theoretical brilliance, conscientious citizens can’t help but recall another SPV - the Smart Cities Mission - and its unfortunate impact on stormwater drains of Chennai. Following the land survey conducted on the Pallikaranai marshland in 2024 and its subsequent submission to the NGT, the directive has been issued for the GoTN to vacate the occupied 38% of the marshland. Challenging as it may be, optimistic citizens hope for a distinctive outcome this time, deviating from 1998 scenario described above. There is an urgent need for political will, local legeslative bodies and judiciary to work in unison to preserve what is left of this ecologically sensitive marshland. Sudden, short episodes of intense rainfall are poised to become more frequent and increasingly severe as a result of climate change. If we persist in maintaining a nonchalant attitude towards the conservation of Chennai’s wetlands - only awakening in the aftermath of disastrous episodes, engaging in discussions for a few weeks post-incident and subsequently relegating the issue to oblivion - then the city is bound to face even more severe water stagnation events starting as early as November or December 2024. It is high time we realise that the pursuit of construction in the marshland in the guise of “development” has proven futile, as nature inevitably asserts its supremacy in the end. Up Up

Explore Thisai’s urban learning programmes—workshops, play-based learning, and public conversations that build critical awareness of cities as they are lived. The Full Story Services At Thisai, we create learning spaces that invite people to read, question, and reimagine the city . Our programmes are grounded in place, shaped by everyday urban realities, and designed to make complex systems legible and relatable . Through workshops, play-based learning, and public conversations, we foster critical urban awareness across ages, disciplines, and lived experiences, bridging theory, practice, and the city as it is lived. Workshops We design interactive workshops for children, students, and adults that build urban awareness through observation, discussion, and making. Each workshop is tailored to age, context, and place. Learning through play Cities are complex, and play helps us understand them. Through games, role-play, and creative simulations, we make urban systems intuitive, engaging, and accessible. Seminars & Public Conversations Our seminars create space for critical dialogue on cities — climate justice, gender, ecology, informality, and resilience — connecting academic thought with lived urban experience. Get in Touch Interested in opening a space to think, learn, and engage with the city? Write to Thisai to collaborate on workshops, seminars, or shared explorations. contactthisai@gmail.com First Name Last Name Email Message Send Thanks for submitting!

< Back Waste as Public Space? Chennai’s garbage mountains hide injustice. Can reimagined public spaces transform waste into collective responsibility? Madhulikaa November 2025 Image 1: Mountains of mixed waste at Kodyungaiyur dumpyard (Raj, 2019) Picture this: You are driving on the roads of your city and have hilly landscapes for company everyday. Beautiful right? But what if these are not the lush green mountains you just thought about - rather, they are massive piles of filthy garbage resembling mountains. Unnerving isn’t it? Spanning 345 acres, these 300 ft high piles of waste are a result of 4 decades of indiscriminate dumping at Kodungaiyur in Chennai. Residents here are victims of respiratory issues, skin allergies, and contaminated groundwater (Shekhar, 2021). While most of the city ignores its waste management problems, areas near dumping grounds suffer the most - which is plain injustice. If this trend continues, we will undoubtedly end up in a situation like Kevin Lynch’s “waste cacotopia” (Lynch & Southworth, 1990), where many animals are extinct, humans are struggling to live and where waste is disposed to outer space. Figure 1: Map showing the 15 administrative zones of Chennai along with transfer station sites denoted by T1, T2, T3, T4, T5, T6, T7. Graphic is author’s own adapted from GCC’s website. As per data available in Greater Corporation of Chennai’s (GCC) website, the city of Chennai generates a staggering total of 5.4 million kilograms of garbage daily. 68% of this waste is generated by its residents alone. In a country where waste management is not perceived as a shared responsibility and where we have been conditioned to accept that cleanliness is only reserved for private spaces and not public spaces (Bisen, 2019), it has become a common practice to discard waste without any seconds thoughts like - What happens to my waste? Where does it go? Will this affect the environment and in turn my well being? Though the GCC lists all available waste management infrastructure in the city in its website, the exact location of these facilities, especially transfer stations, are not easily accessible. Additionally, due to insufficient maintenance, these transfer stations have become mini dump yards themselves. While the government makes multiple announcements on the adoption of different methodologies and technologies to get rid of municipal waste, the waste management debate in Chennai has not yet made a strong overlap with the fields of architecture and spatial planning. Architecture and urban planning have the potential to act as a “device” (Nobile, 2018) to weave waste management infrastructure into the urban fabric. What if spaces of waste management can become public spaces that foster important conversations on recycling, upcycling, composting and mindful waste management amongst residents, government authorities and waste pickers alike? When waste infrastructures and its associated spaces become public spaces, they open up closed processes of waste management (Lhendup and Dorji, 2022) and expose the complexities associated with it. The “out-of-sight-out-of-mind” attitude is making people complacent when it comes to taking action towards scientifically-sound waste management practices. Data supports the fact that people become exceedingly uncomfortable when put face to face with huge amounts of waste and start questioning their consumption levels (Eckardt et al., 2012). Re-imagining places of waste infrastructure as public spaces offers a dual advantage: it enhances public awareness and motivation for action while encouraging the maintenance of the facility. Image 2: CopenHill Energy Plant (Luftfoto, 2019) and a graphic (courtesy BIG architects) to depict the recreational activites on the roof In this regard, Chennai can take a leaf out of Copenhagen’s urban fabric. Through the CopenHill Energy Plant and Urban Recreation Centre in Copenhagen, BIG architects envision a space where public facilities and a waste to energy (WTE) plant intersect, creating a medium for retrospection and reflection. Although the usage of a WTE plant in solid waste management (SWM) process in Chennai or any Indian city - where 50% or more of waste generated is biodegradable and unsegregated - is debatable (Bhushan et al., 2018), it is the concept of community integration that is to be taken into consideration. Image 3: Sydhavns Recycling centre (courtesy BIG architects) In a similar fashion, nestled within a man-made hill that functions as a public park with fitness tracks, the Sydhavns Recycling centre at Copenhagan performs the dual function of a public recreation space and a recycling centre where people can drop off waste. As BIG eloquently puts it, “In its simplest form the recycling station is a way to start thinking of our cities as integrated man-made ecosystems, where we don’t distinguish between the front and back of house. But rather orchestrate all aspects of daily life, from consumption to recycling, from infrastructure to education, from the practical to the playful into a single integrated urban landscape of work and play,” While many garbage dumping sites around the world in Brazil, Seoul and the USA (Harnik et al., 2006) have been transformed into green spaces, this is a petition to “visibilise” the process of waste management and seamlessly amalgamate it in the quotidian lives of people in an effort to make them sensitive towards management of waste. Creating a public space that inventively integrates waste management processes and recreational/educational activities will elevate these processes as a community-oriented responsibility and encourage greater participation, thereby progressing towards harmonious coexistence with nature. Applying this concept, a systemic strategy for the city of Chennai can be formulated: The existing transfer station sites in Chennai (as shown in Figure 1), situated at various locations at the heart of the city, have been rendered useless due to indiscriminate dumping. These sites can be upcycled into dynamic public spaces to contain waste processing units that cater to both dry waste and biodegradable waste. Reduce, reuse and recycle are the golden words when it comes to efficient municipal waste management. Being true to this theme, many studies (Srivatsava et al., 2014) show that a network of decentralised integrated solid waste management (ISWM) is best suited to simultaneously tackle dry and wet waste. Apart from dealing with day-to-day waste, this system will ensure sustainability in the municipal SWM process in the long run - which is undoubtedly the need of the hour. It is crucial that the methods adopted are sensitive to the local context as “waste is not a mathematical problem”(Eckardt et al., 2012). Figure 2: An overview of Mylapore and the location of the transfer station. Graphic credits: author’s own For instance, consider the 2-acre transfer station site at Mylapore. Regarded as the culture centre of the city, Mylapore is famous for its places of worship and cultural centres to foster classical art and dance forms. It is also one of the city’s oldest residential areas. Apart from the general municipal solid waste generated, a lot of flower waste is also generated which is unique to this area. Therefore, in addition to a Material Recovery Facility to tackle dry waste, composting and biogas infrastructure at the site, there should be facilities to compost the flower waste. Natural dyes can be extracted from the processed waste and used in the manufacture of associated goods. A community space can further help foster public engagement with the up-cycling process and to hold educational discussions and workshops. Figure 3: Proposed up-cycle treatment to Mylapore transfer station. Graphic credits: author’s own Another potential site is the transfer station at Athipet. Athipet lies within the industrial hub of Chennai. Hence, it can be activated to process metal, plastic, wood and industrial waste. Being a larger site of 5-acres, it will also have the ability to provide for up-cycling studios, workshop spaces, a training centre for waste pickers and recreational elements like play area and rooftop walking tracks. Similarly, other transfer station sites located at Saidapet, Pulinathope and T.Nagar can be activated by being sensitive to the type of waste generated in their locality. Conversely, the landfill sites at Kodungaiyur and Perungudi are inherently wetlands (Khan, 2020). The most ecologically conscious course of action would involve remediation of legacy waste through the process of bio-mining. Following this, it is imperative that these locales are maintained as sanctuaries of biodiversity. Figure 4: Conceptual depiction of the overlap of waste management infrastructure and architecture. Graphic credits: author’s own As architects and urban planners, the objective at hand is to up-cycle the waste management site’s identity from an unpleasant eye-sore to a vibrant public space; concurrently up-cycling the collective consciousness of the public. This attempt to reinvent the system is the first step towards counteracting the negative perception of waste, bringing in meaningful public participation in Chennai while simultaneously giving the city its much needed quota of public space. The amalgamation of waste infrastructure and public space ought to serve as a catalyst, galvanising all relevant stakeholders to collaborate to address one of the most pressing urban challenges of our time. Finally, picture this: People of all age groups actively engaging in good waste management practices through the help of the above envisioned public spaces. Do you see a cleaner, greener Chennai city in the background? Bibliography Bhushan, C., Sambyal, S.S. and Agarwal, R. (2018) To burn or not to burn: Feasibility of waste-to-energy plants in India. New Delhi, New Delhi: Centre for Science and Environment. Bisen, A. (2019) Wasted: The messy story of sanitation in India, A manifesto for change. New Delhi, India, New Delhi: Pan Macmillan India. Eckardt, F., Morgado, S. and Arici, F. (2012) ‘The space of waste is public space’, in Understanding the Post-Industrial city. Würzburg: Königshausen & Neumann, pp. 72–96. Harnik, P., Taylor, M. and Welle, B. (2006) ‘From Dumps to Destinations: The Conversion of Landfills to Parks’, Places, 18(1). Khan, A. (2020) Destruction of marshlands due to Garbage dumping, CAG. (Accessed: 05 September 2023). Lhendup, S. and Dorji, J. P. (2022) “Redesigning waste: An exploration into the role of architecture in an integrated solid waste management system”, Zorig Melong- A Technical Journal of Science, Engineering and Technology, 7(1), pp. 1–9. (Accessed: 5 September 2023) Luftfoto, D. (2019) Ariel view of the CopenHill Energy Plant and recreation Centre, CopenHill Energy Plant and Urban Recreation Center / BIG. (Accessed: 05 September 2023). Lynch, K. (1990) Wasting Away. Edited by M. Southworth. San Francisco: Sierra Club Books. Nobile, M.L. (2018) ‘Architecture as a device: The design of Waste Recycling Collection Centres’, Detritus, 2(1). doi:10.31025/2611-4135/2018.13654. Raj, G. (2019) A mountain-like mixed waste heaped up in the Kodungaiyur dumpyard, My first visit to the Kodungaiyur dumpyard. (Accessed: 05 September 2023). Shekhar, L. (2021) Nearly a third of Kodungaiyur residents have difficulty breathing, but no action on waste dump, Citizen Matters, Chennai. (Accessed: 31 August 2023). Srivastava, V. et al. (2014) ‘Urban solid waste management in the developing world with emphasis on India: Challenges and opportunities’, Reviews in Environmental Science and Bio/Technology, 14(2), pp. 317–337. doi:10.1007/s11157-014-9352-4. Up Up

Thisai is an urban collective that sees architecture as memory, politics, and possibility—using research and storytelling to explore how design, policy, and people shape our cities. Our Story What is a street without its people? Can a city breathe if its policy does not listen? Can direction come from chaos? Amid a time of flux, India’s colliding histories and futures became our muse and battleground, urging us to question louder and deeper . To heal our cities, we must shift our lens; seeing architecture not as structure, but as a language of people, power, and possibility . This is the story of two architects turning quiet rage and hope into a movement to revive neglected cities . So, we present to you, our world : திசை (திசை - Thisai; pronounced as “thee-sai”, meaning direction in the Tamizh language) At its core, Thisai sees architecture as the mirror of civilisation—shaped by its people, politics, culture, and time. That’s why we’re here. To translate complex urban systems into stories people can understand, engage with, and be inspired by. To flap our wings, however small the motion, and change the direction of the wind. Thisai is a gathering place of divergent ideas. A collective of thinkers, doers, dreamers who are committed to exploring how individual actions, policies, and design decisions reverberate through the broader urban ecosystem. We believe that architecture is not just form, it is memory, it is possibility, it is politics, it is protest . Our practice is interdisciplinary, intersectional, and deeply rooted in context . We navigate the messy, beautiful intersections of environment, culture, governance, and community. For us, a city is not a problem to be solved, it is a conversation to be deepened . Thisai is not a place. It's a momentum; A storm waiting to be born And you are invited Let’s Work Together E-Mail: contactthisai@gmail.com First Name Last Name Email Message Thanks for submitting! Send

Ecology The elephant in the room: Addressing wildlife-inclusivity in the design of the urban environment Animals reveal hidden urban ecologies, showing how cities function as shared habitats shaped by planning choices. Read More Mapping the challenges in Pallikaranai Marshland Chennai’s last major wetland shows how labelling marshes as wastelands enables ecological loss and urban vulnerability. Read More Ennore: Ashes and Echoes A non-fiction glimpse into Ennore’s intertwined landscapes and lives, revealing resilience amid exploitation and echoes. Read More Explore all research

< Back Why does Velachery flood? Encroachment and broken governance around Velachery Lake amplify flooding, exposing the cost of ignoring catchment-based planning. Thisai May 2025 Making of a Flood-Prone Neighbourhood in Chennai Urban Expansion and the Loss of Permeability Image 1: Residents wading through flooded streets of Velachery during Cyclone Michaung in 2023, Source: AFP Flooding in Velachery, a southern neighbourhood of Chennai, is often framed as a consequence of extreme rainfall or inadequate municipal response. However, a closer examination reveals that Velachery’s vulnerability to flooding is neither incidental nor inevitable. Instead, it is the cumulative outcome of decades of urban expansion, ecological transformation, and planning decisions that have systematically altered the region’s natural hydrology. The case of Velachery exemplifies how cities, when developed without regard for ecological systems, create their own disasters. Velachery’s transformation accelerated particularly after the 1970s and 1980s, as Chennai’s population grew and the city expanded southward. Survey of India maps from the 1970s depict Velachery as a landscape marked by lakes, grazing land, and sparse settlement. Over time, these permeable surfaces were replaced by roads, apartment complexes, IT parks, and commercial developments. This shift fundamentally altered the area’s hydrology. Concrete and asphalt drastically reduce the land’s ability to absorb water, increasing surface runoff and overwhelming drainage systems. High-rise developments and gated communities often emerged without adequate stormwater infrastructure, placing additional pressure on already compromised waterways. In this context, flooding becomes not a failure of nature but a predictable outcome of impermeable urban form. Velachery’s Ecological Context, Shrinking Water Bodies and Encroachment Velachery lies at the southern edge of the Chennai Metropolitan Area (CMA), a location that historically placed it within a network of lakes, wetlands, and grazing lands that played a critical role in flood moderation. Much of the land surrounding Velachery and neighbouring areas such as Adambakkam was classified as meikal poromboke or common grazing land. These landscapes were not “empty” or “unused,” as later colonial planning narratives would suggest, but multifunctional commons that supported livelihoods, biodiversity, and hydrological balance. Wetlands and grazing lands act as natural sponges, absorbing monsoon rainfall, slowing surface runoff, and allowing water to percolate into the ground. In Velachery’s case, these landscapes were integral to floodwater management and groundwater recharge. Their presence ensured that excess rainwater was dispersed and stored rather than channelled rapidly into low-lying residential areas. From top left to right : Vintage image captures the early construction phase of the Velachery flyov er | Source: Rakesh Ashok; Extent of Velachery Eri as mapped in 1970 | Source: Survey of India, 1970; Current extent of velachery Eri; Ariel view of the Velachery lake, captured by photgra pher Raj Mohan, 2020 One of the most striking indicators of ecological loss in Velachery is the dramatic shrinkage of Velachery Lake itself. Historical records show that the lake once covered approximately 265 acres. Today, it has been reduced to less than 55 acres due to illegal encroachments, land reclamation, and unregulated construction. This reduction has significantly diminished the lake’s capacity to store floodwaters during the monsoon and recharge groundwater during drier months. Encroachments along the lake’s banks, often informal settlements lacking basic sanitation infrastructure, have further exacerbated the problem. Direct discharge of sewage into the lake has increased nutrient loads, depleted oxygen levels, and degraded water quality, undermining the lake’s ecological function. What was once a living water body capable of self-regulation has increasingly become a stagnant basin overwhelmed during periods of heavy rainfall. Issues of Velachery Lake: Informal Encroachments, Drainage Failures, Blocked Waterways and Environmental degradation Velachery’s stormwater drainage system reflects decades of piecemeal and reactive planning. Many drains are outdated, undersized, or poorly maintained, making them incapable of handling intense monsoon rainfall. In several areas, drains are clogged with solid waste or sewage, causing water to stagnate rather than flow. Compounding this issue is the blockage of natural watercourses. Historically, channels from areas such as Pallikaranai Marsh allowed water to flow freely into Velachery Lake and other downstream systems. Roads, buildings, and encroachments have since obstructed these pathways, forcing floodwaters to spill into streets and homes instead of draining naturally. As a result, Velachery’s roads routinely transform into waterways during the monsoon, highlighting the cost of disregarding natural drainage patterns. Flooding in Velachery is not merely an inconvenience; it is closely linked to environmental and public health concerns. Polluted floodwaters often contain untreated sewage and industrial waste, increasing the risk of waterborne diseases. Reports have documented high levels of bacteria and chlorides in Velachery Lake, underscoring the severity of contamination. Moreover, the degradation of wetlands and lakes reduces urban resilience to climate variability. The Living Planet Report (2024) notes a significant decline in Chennai’s wetland areas due to rapid urbanisation, weakening the city’s ability to cope with both floods and droughts. In Velachery, this paradox is evident: the neighbourhood experiences severe flooding during the monsoon and water scarcity during dry seasons. Governance Gaps and Unfulfilled Promises Image: Timeline depecting the "proposals that remain on paper", Graphic credits: Author Despite repeated recognition of Velachery Lake’s importance, restoration efforts have often remained fragmented or unfulfilled. Over the past decade, multiple proposals ranging from walkways and boating facilities to comprehensive lake rejuvenation, have been announced, delayed, or partially implemented. Encroachments continue to persist, and enforcement remains inconsistent. Recent interventions by institutions such as the National Green Tribunal (NGT) have brought renewed attention to the issue, including concerns over lake pollution and surrounding development. However, long-term solutions require more than isolated projects; they demand systemic change in how urban land, water bodies, and commons are governed. Rethinking Urban Growth: A Choice for the Future Velachery’s story reflects a broader pattern seen across Indian cities, where rapid urbanisation prioritises short-term growth over ecological sustainability. The framing of wetlands, grazing lands, and lakes as “vacant” land has enabled their conversion into real estate, often without accounting for the environmental services they provide. This approach externalises ecological costs, which later manifest as flooding, infrastructure damage, and public health crises. Balancing growth with sustainability requires a fundamental shift in planning philosophy. Protecting and restoring water bodies, enforcing building regulations, upgrading drainage systems, and recognising the value of urban commons are essential steps. Equally important is community engagement, ensuring that local knowledge and lived experiences inform planning decisions. Following severe flooding in Velachery, residents proposed a 4D strategy- Deflect, Drain, Desilt, and Deepen to restore the lake in 2024. The plan includes diverting sewage with sluice gates and interceptors to treatment systems followed by desilting and deepening the lake. A GIS analysis by consultant Dayanand Krishnan highlighted obstructed drains, encroachments on nearby Ullagaram lake, and blocked natural outflows worsened flooding across surrounding neighbourhoods. Velachery’s flooding is not simply a consequence of heavy rainfall; it is the result of deliberate choices made over decades. Choices to build over wetlands, to narrow lakes, to block water channels, and to treat natural systems as expendable. Yet, this trajectory is not irreversible. Velachery can either continue to drown under the weight of neglect or emerge as a model for resilient urban planning—one that integrates ecological restoration with development. As climate change intensifies monsoon patterns and urban populations grow, the lessons from Velachery become increasingly urgent. The future of Chennai’s neighbourhoods depends on whether cities choose to work with their landscapes rather than against them. From top to bottom: People travel on a boat as they move to safer places through a flooded road in Chennai, December 2, 2015 | Source: REUTERS/Stringer; A drone visual shows an area that is flooded after the landfall of Cyclone Michaung | Source: PTI; People; Residents push a stranded car through flooded city streets | Source: Balu via Flicker; People wading through flood waters | Source: The New Indian Express Velachery's story doesn't have to be one of sinking streets and lost landscapes - it can be a testament to resilience and smarter urban planning. Imagine a Velachery where rainwater doesn't choke the city but replenishes its lakes, where wetlands thrive alongside high-rises, and where floodwaters drain effortlessly instead of turning roads into rivers. This isn't wishful thinking, it's the future we must build. Restoring water bodies, enforcing stricter building regulations, revamping drainage systems, and integrating nature into the urban fabric can transform Velachery from flood-prone sprawl into a model of sustainable development. Every monsoon serves as a warning - Velachery can either continue drowning in neglect or rise as a city that values its past while planning for a future that is both liveable and resilient. The choice is ours. Up Up

< Back Whose City Is It Anyway? The Battle for Belonging in Nochikuppam Nochikuppam once ran on care, proximity, and everyday labour long before masterplans arrived. This article looks at how planning broke a working system and what the city still refuses to learn from it. Mridhula Mani December 2025 In the ever-evolving coastal landscape of Chennai, Nochikuppam stands as a testament to survival and resilience. Built on sand, sweat, and community bonds, this fishing settlement has watched decades of urban plans surge and recede like the tides itself. Yet the most persistent changes do not emanate only from the sea, but from those who plan the city and prioritize a certain vision often at odds with the people rooted in these spaces. Image 1: Photo credits: Aloysious, @skyrawdrones & Rathna To study Nochikuppam is to uncover how government policies, urban renewal projects, and visions of modernization have marginalized the knowledge and contributions of women, upending ways of life that have endured over generations. From Dawn Markets to Displacement: A Timeline of Struggles Before the 1970s, Nochikuppam was a lively, self-reliant community. Women went to the landing point at dawn, bought fish from men returning from sea, cleaned and sorted it, then sold along the roadside. Their labour animated the street: bargaining, children nearby, neighbours ready to help. Women’s work held together both income and community rhythm. From the 1980s, “beautification” projects began disrupting this everyday economy. Under the Marina Beach Beautification Plan, fisherfolk were pushed from their traditional spots to the Adyar and Cooum. For women sellers, this meant heavier burdens and harder access to customers. In November 1985, the AIADMK government cleared boats and nets overnight. The community protested for a month. On November 7, fisherman Godhandapani set himself on fire outside the Secretariat (Radhakrishnan, 2022a). The Supreme Court later ordered seized materials returned. Image 2: The government seized the catamarans and boats of the fisherfolk in Marina without any prior notice on November 4, 1985 by deploying police force. Pic Courtesy: K Bharathi In 2002, the AIADMK’s Marina Foreshore Development Scheme, tied to a Malaysia deal for an administrative city, again threatened eviction, especially from women’s market spaces. Protests ended only when the DMK returned to power (Radhakrishnan, 2022a). The 2004 tsunami devastated the kuppam. Later, World Bank funded housing projects faced resistance, particularly from women who saw how resettlement severed ties to sea and street markets. Between 2013–15, the Loop Road plan was introduced as a “traffic diversion,” supposedly harmless to livelihoods (Tamil Nadu: Eviction and Displacement: Fisherwomen of Chennai’s Nochikuppam…, n.d.-b). By 2022, nearly ₹10 crores were sanctioned for a “modern” fish market on Loop Road. In 2023, vendors were evicted even before it was finished. Women blocked roads in protest. By 2024, vending on Loop Road was banned and fisherwomen were forced into the enclosed market, with too few stalls and poor sales. Their message: “you excluded us from planning and destroyed our livelihoods” (Radhakrishnan, 2022a). Promised roadside shelters and a community hall never came up. Today, Nochikuppam is celebrated in policy as a modernised fishing hub but lived as displacement. What is consistently under threat is not only the community’s tie to the sea, but also the street economies sustained by women. Fishing here has never been just work, it is a way of life where women’s labour and presence are central. “Development” has repeatedly undermined that balance (M, 2024). This paper describes Nochikuppam’s fisherfolk, with focus on the women, and how city planning and development projects have affected their work, relationships, and daily comfort. It shows how each new project has made life harder for them and points out the need to truly listen to women from these communities when making plans about the city. The experience of Nochikuppam is important because it shows us what happens when city planners ignore the people who actually live and work in these spaces. Image 3: Nochikuppam resettlement housing with wall art. Source: Author When the new market was finished in 2023, most vendors were told to move in. People were not consulted about the layout, location, or cost. The stalls were too few for everyone, and many women reported that fees were too high. The market building was also away from their regular customers. Where women could once see and talk to buyers, now they were hidden inside a structure that fewer people wanted to enter. The impact was immediate: business declined, incomes dropped, and more women felt the risk of being pushed into poverty. Their ability to make small amounts of daily money, a crucial part of family income, was threatened. Many could not pay school fees, repair homes, or cover health costs. “If I don’t sell enough fish, who will pay for my children’s fees?” Geetha asks. She has two children. One goes to school, the other is in college. “I can’t depend on my husband to go fishing every day. I wake up at 2 in the morning, travel to Kasimedu 15 kilometres away, buy fish, and get back in time to set up the stall. If not, forget school fees, we won’t even be able to eat.” Image 4: Housing developments along coastal road, Nochikuppam. Source: Author Women at the Helm of the Market In Nochikuppam, almost all market work is done by women. Men usually go to sea to catch fish, but it is the women who carry, sort, clean, and sell the fish. They manage the money and make decisions about how to use or share their income. They learn how to bargain with wholesale buyers, navigate the changing moods of local officers, and keep earning money against many odds. Often, these women take care of small children while working. Their houses and stalls are close together, so mothers can check in on kids, cook meals, or help aging parents while still selling fish. Because they are on the street, they can be seen by friends, neighbors, and other customers, this visibility builds trust and makes it harder for outsiders to take advantage (M, 2024). The job is not easy. The work is physical and means long hours. Women often spend time on their feet, carrying heavy loads, or sitting and dealing with the early morning cold and mid-day heat. Even so, they value the chance to control their own day and not depend solely on others for income. Being forced into new spaces with more rules takes away this control and independence. When Rules Replaced Rhythms What made the change much harder for these women was losing their control over how they did their work. Instead of each vendor choosing her spot, setting up her stall, and interacting with buyers outdoors, now there were many new rules. Market hours were fixed. Security guards watched over the area. Competition grew fiercer, since only a small number could get formal stalls. The trusted helping system: neighbours supporting each other, became weaker inside the walls of the building. When women were told to move to the new fish market, they quickly faced serious problems. There were not enough stalls for everyone. Some women ended up without a place to sell. Many said the cost of having a stall was much too high, especially since their earnings had dropped. The closed market space did not have the same flow of customers as the street. Image 5: Fish market stalls in Nochikuppam settlement. Source: Author Some buyers felt uncomfortable entering, and others just did not know where the new market was. Many women stood around outside hoping to catch one or two customers, but this was much less effective than before. Now, some had to walk much further to reach their new selling place or to get back home and carrying baskets full of fish became much tougher. Inside the new market, selling was more competitive and less friendly. The old networks of friendship and help broke down. If a vendor left her stall for a few minutes, she could easily lose customers or not get her stall back at all. Everything felt more tense and less secure. With less money coming in, many women could not continue paying for their children’s schooling or felt guilty about cutting back on essentials. Some families skipped meals or bought cheaper, less nutritious food. Rani says,” I never fought with my neighbour. We were like sisters until the fish market opened up. Now we have this competition going on as to who sells more fish and who gets the best spot at the fish market.” Children lost access to informal childcare. In the open market and old-style homes, children learned to help their families, joined in work, and were constantly watched by the “eyes of the street.” In the new, separated buildings and markets, families felt less safe leaving children unsupervised, and there were fewer places for them to play or mix with others. Women also spoke of feeling invisible and disconnected. Before, the road market was lively. Customers would return to their favorite sellers out of friendship or habit. Children could stay close and help or play nearby. Other vendors watched out for them. But the new marketplace shut away these possibilities. Rules now discouraged people from gathering, lingering, or building spontaneous relationships. If a dispute happened, there was less room for informal negotiation. This was about more than just space. In Nochikuppam, women were proud to run their own businesses. They saw themselves not as passive “victims” but as skilled workers, leaders, and important earners. The loss was not simply financial it was a loss of confidence, standing, and social ties. Image 6: Women selling fish in Nochikuppam Different people can use the same space differently. A fisherman puts it simply: “Walkers come from 6 to 8 in the morning. At that time, we are at sea. By the time we return and the women set up their stalls, the walkers are gone. There’s no issue between us and them. It’s the authorities who create problems.” Social sustainability already existed in Nochikuppam. Just not in the way textbooks define it. It didn’t meet official standards of hygiene or cleanliness, but it worked. Families survived. Women ran households and businesses side by side. There was rhythm, balance, care. Every iteration of city development in Nochikuppam has come soaked in narratives of modernisation, order, and efficiency. These projects frequently adopt a language that exalts wide roads, formal stalls, concrete boundaries, and fenced-off “public” spaces. Less visible in this vision is the steady labor of women, the informal networks ‘greasing’ everyday business and the careful folding of market and home into one seamless cycle. Modern city planning tends to imagine progress through infrastructures that align with male participation like large trucks, vehicular movement, and standardized sales. Women operating from portable stools, balancing children alongside work, or moving in and out of household and vending responsibilities, exist outside this narrative of progress. Their contribution slips into invisibility, the energy and ingenuity required to maintain household and market erased or sidelined. (Saxena, 2024). Image 7: Nochikuppam beachfront market structures. Source: Author Urban planning rarely acknowledges the multitasking, risk management, and timesensitive decision-making central to women’s work. The “modern” market, in its physical form, presumes a buyer who drives, a vendor who is stationary, and a clear separation between commercial life and domestic life. But the private and public were never truly separate, especially not in places like Nochikuppam. Space is Never Neutral Feminist geography asserts that space reflects and reproduces power structures. It is never neutral. In Nochikuppam, spatial interventions are actively disconnecting women from their rhythms, autonomy, and everyday spatial practices. Feminist thinkers like Ana Falú argue that the right to the city must be gendered. You don’t design for women by painting a pink wall or adding a safety sign (Falú 2017). You plan by understanding how women move, care, work, rest, and survive. Image 8: Unoccupied stalls by the fish vendors in the back rows of the Modern Fish Market on a usually expected busy Sunday. Source: Lalitha M Nochikuppam had all of that. The city just refused to see it. So when the women protest, when they drag their boats onto the road, when they refuse to move into the indoor market they’re not being difficult. They’re demanding that the city remember who built it. They’re claiming the right to live and work without being pushed aside for the sake of order. For these fisherwomen, the right to the city isn’t an abstract idea. It’s daily survival. Every time they set up a stall, stand their ground, or refuse to disappear, they are practicing feminist urbanism not through slogans, but through living. In the name of beautification, the state disrupted a living ecosystem. Women were stripped of their rhythms, pushed indoors or upwards, and left without meaningful support. Urban planning here hasn’t simply forgotten women. It has actively reshaped space to make them less visible, less mobile, and less powerful. The GCC housing blocks and the indoor fish market are textbook cases of this. They present as upgrades, but function as tools of control. This isn’t just about bad lighting or inconvenient stalls. The city has been rebuilt for a specific kind of citizen: able-bodied, male, mobile, and formally employed. Women like Nochikuppam’s fish vendors who juggle unpaid domestic work and informal street-based economies don’t fit that mold. So, they are excluded. Not symbolically, but physically. When homes were verticalized and vending was pushed off the streets, the urban fabric didn’t just shift it redefined who counts. In the name of order and sanitation, planners erased a living model of feminist spatial knowledge. The street was once a kitchen, a workplace, a care space, a stage for survival. That system was not broken. It was just inconvenient for the city’s new image. Now, it has been replaced by corridors, gates, and surveillance. “They say the place stinks, looks unclean, is filled with rubbish,” says N. Geetha, pointing to the row of fish boxes and vendors lined up on both sides of the road. “This rubbish is our wealth; this stench is our livelihood. Where can we leave this and go?” Image 9: Nochikuppam roadside eatery with customers. Source: Author What we keep circling around in Nochikuppam is not just about vending, housing, or displacement. It’s about the right to the city. The right not just to live in it, but to shape it. To belong. To make decisions. To move through it without feeling like you're trespassing. And the women of Nochikuppam have always done that. They were already socially sustainable. They didn’t need a masterplan to tell them how to use space. They cooked, sold fish, raised children, kept an eye on the street, talked to neighbours. That street was everything; workplace, kitchen, network, safety net. That was their version of planning. What’s happening in Nochikuppam isn’t just development. It’s erasure. When vending is banned on Loop Road and women are pushed into enclosed markets, they’re not just being relocated. The space they built is being destroyed. Their freedom to exist on their own terms is being stripped. Their version of the city is being dismissed as unimportant. The complexity of Nochikuppam’s experience cannot be explained by gender alone. The lives of fisherwomen here are shaped at the crossroads of class, caste, and the informal sector. Many belong to historically marginalized communities, denied long-term formal employment and legal tenure over land. Their work, often unregistered and unprotected, leaves them vulnerable to sudden shifts in policy or market conditions. (Verso, 1994). Intersectionality here is not an abstract framework but a lived condition. Gender, caste, class, informality, and geography intersect in complex, material ways. If feminism is to remain relevant, it must locate itself on Loop Road. It must engage with the ways these women navigate survival through embodied knowledge, habitual routines, social networks, and an intimate understanding of the sea. Class and caste barriers, although not always spoken openly, shape who gets heard and who is ignored. When government meetings happen, many women say, “We are called to listen, not to speak. It is always someone else who decides.” (Tamil Nadu: Told to Move, Fisherfolk Shut Shop in Protest - ICSF, n.d.). Within this context, every disruption is magnified. It is not merely a battle for space, but a struggle to maintain dignity, continuity, and the possibility of upward mobility for children. The street, the home, the market, all are sites of contestation and adaptation, places where multiple identities shape everyday choices and limits. The Cost of Not Listening Image 10: Nochikuppam fish market near resettlement housing. Source: Author Most of the development solutions tried in Nochikuppam failed because they did not start with the real needs of the people living there. The pattern was almost always the same: the city sees a problem (like “too much noise,” “too many crowds,” or “messy streets”) and responds by building something new or moving people around, but without proper consultation or listening. Planners do not recognize that the so-called “mess” or “disorder” is actually the healthy sign of a living, working community. Geography as a discipline has long been masculinist, built on work that, while claiming to be objective or exhaustive, simply forgot women existed. It concerned itself only with men and public life, actively erasing women’s concerns from the study of space. As Jane Darke put it, “our cities are patriarchy written in stone, brick, glass and concrete.” Urban planning often centers the “male-dominated” public sphere like politics, commerce, law while neglecting the so-called private sphere, the space to which women have historically been relegated for domestic work, care work, and child-rearing. (Darke, as cited in Kern, 2019, p. 13) But the private and public were never truly separate, especially not in places like Nochikuppam. Urban space is not neutral. It is structured by power and that power has a gender. In Nochikuppam, this plays out every day. Different people can use the same space differently. A fisherman puts it simply: “Walkers come from 6 to 8 in the morning. At that time, we are at sea. By the time we return and the women set up their stalls, the walkers are gone. There’s no issue between us and them. It’s the authorities who create problems.” Social sustainability already existed in Nochikuppam. Just not in the way textbooks define it. It didn’t meet official standards of hygiene or cleanliness, but it worked. Families survived. Women ran households and businesses side by side. There was rhythm, balance, care. City officials believed that moving everyone into regular stalls or apartments would solve problems. In practice, it broke down support systems, made earnings fall, and created loneliness for many people. It even increased tensions between people who used to be good neighbors. Many public promises (like shelters for vendors or fair stall allocation) have not been fulfilled.The labor of women in Nochikuppam is not merely disregarded as untidy; it is targeted for removal. The chatter, the physical messiness, and the flexible adaptation that anchor the local economy become problems to be solved. Built from shoreline-up So I’m going back to my initial question now. Who gets to shape the city? Whose survival is inconvenient to planning? What would Chennai look like if it were built from the street up, not the masterplan down? In Nochikuppam, these questions aren’t theoretical. They’re lived realities. TNM Staff (2023) When women vendors are pushed out of Loop Road or boxed into smaller, costlier markets, the message is loud: your labour, your space, your presence; it’s all negotiable. A feminist Nochikuppam wouldn’t begin with blueprints. It would begin with people. Especially the women who rise before dawn, balancing fish baskets, boiling rice, settling school fees before the city stirs. Their work isn’t “informal” it’s the foundation. Visakha (2024). Image 11: A woman standing outside her tent in Nochikuppam, Chennai. Source: EPS/Ashwin Prasath Markets would no longer be tucked away as “temporary” chaos. The fish market, in a feminist Nochi, is the civic centre. It smells of sea and spice, unapologetically. Its design honours the fisherwomen as entrepreneurs: cold storage units, cooperative stalls, child-care corners, spaces to sit, eat, and breathe. The shoreline wouldn’t be barricaded or pushed back for “beautification.” It would remain porous and accessible, with shaded drying platforms designed around women’s needs, spaces to mend nets, water taps at working height, storage areas that don’t require bribing the watchman of some gated complex. Houses wouldn’t be cloned concrete boxes stacked in resettlement blocks. The streets? Wider only where they need to be. Not highways for cars, but safe passage for women walking back from the market at 4 AM, when the city still sleeps but the fishing economy has already started. Lighting would be designed not like floodlights of surveillance, but pools of warmth and safety. Most importantly, planning would not be done by distant consultants with satellite maps. A feminist Nochi is co-drawn by the people who know it best- the fisherwomen, the youth, the elders who remember the sea’s moods. Their voices aren’t “stakeholder feedback” tacked on at the end, they are the blueprint. A feminist Nochikuppam wouldn’t look perfect on a map. But it would feel whole. That’s the kind of city worth fighting for. A feminist Nochikuppam isn’t some far-off utopia. It’s right here, waiting to be claimed. This kuppam’s women aren’t passive beneficiaries of the city, they’re its real architects. If planning has to mean anything, it has to start by listening to them. Not as an afterthought, but as the centre of the whole process. Imagine markets shaped with their input, not dropped on them. Streets where their right to move, sell, and gather is non-negotiable. Policies that grow from their everyday expertise, not erase it. The city shouldn’t wipe out their spaces in the name of development it should strengthen and build on them. A feminist Nochikuppam won’t look like a sterile drawing on a planner’s desk. It will feel whole, alive, grounded. That’s the kind of city worth fighting for. References Visakha, S. (n.d.). A feminist approach to urban planning is vital for the future of cities. Arathimenon. (2025, February 3). Fisherwomen ride rough waves while India’s blue economy blooms. Mongabay-India. Karnad, D. (2024, June 18). Between the city lords and the deep blue sea. ruralindiaonline.org . Kern, Leslie. 2019. Feminist City: A Field Guide. Toronto: Between the Lines. Fasal, F. R., & Manalodiparambil, S. (2023b). Urban fragments in the politics of infrastructure: land claims and livelihood spaces of a fishing community in Chennai. Environment and Urbanization, 35(1), 220–237. Falú, Ana. 2017. “Women’s Right to the City.” URBANET. June 7, 2017. Greenpeace India. (2021, February 11). A CASE FOR THE FEMINIST CITY - Greenpeace India. Institute for Transportation and Development Policy. (2018b, March 14). Women and transport in Indian Cities - Institute for Transportation and Development Policy. Institute for Transportation and Development Policy - Promoting Sustainable and Equitable Transportation Worldwide. Iturralde, F. (2021). FEMINIST URBANISM FOR CITIES THAT RECOGNISE a PLURALITY OF VOICES a COLLECTIVE ASSESSMENT OF THE SANT ANTONI SUPERBLOCK. Javaid, M. (2015, December 9). The City Where Hundreds Of Women Must Use The Same Toilet & Wait In Line For Hours. Refinery29. M, L. (2024, November 20). Eviction and Displacement: Fisherwomen of Chennai’s Nochikuppam face livelihood crisis - The Wire. Mitra, B. R. (2017, November 19). 100 Women: How the “urinary leash” keeps women at home. Palifrovska, B. (2024, November 2). Feminist Urbanism Approach to Urban Planning. Urban Design lab. Punt 6. (n.d.). Col·Lectiu Punt 6. Radhakrishnan, S. (2022c, October 10). Why fisherfolk in Chennai are opposed to beach beautification projects. Citizen Matters. Saxena, S. (2024). Gender, caste, and street vending in India: Towards an intersectional geography. Area, 56(3) Tamil Nadu: Eviction and displacement: Fisherwomen of Chennai’s Nochikuppam face livelihood Crisis - ICSF. (n.d.-b). ICSF. Tamil Nadu: Told to move, fisherfolk shut shop in protest - ICSF. (n.d.). ICSF. TNM Staff. (2023, April 30). Chennai: After eviction threat, fisherfolk faced with neglect in house allotments. The News Minute. Verso. (1994, July 17). Reversed realities. Visakha, S. (2024, January 4). Feminist Urbanism: Smashing the patriarchy in urban design. Urbanet. Up Up

< Back Knowledge emancipates urban poor: Case studies in the Indian context When citizens understand urban systems, knowledge becomes power, enabling better decisions and stronger collective action. Madhulikaa January 2020 Introduction The participatory approach to solving problems involving squatter settlements of the urban poor has been greatly debated in recent times (e.g. Kothari, 2001; Hickey and Mohan, 2004). Almost every urban developmental scheme or proposal involving informal settlements of the urban poor aims to include ‘participatory methodologies’ as a part of its project with the aim of becoming more ‘inclusive’ and ‘pro-community’. In this situation of conflict, knowledge – not just plain information - has the potential to guide planners and communities on the path towards real, positive change (Rydin, 2007). As Appadurai (2012) points out, “Information is neutral, impersonal and generally passive. Knowledge is situational, social and active.” Therefore, one can argue that knowledge in not a singular entity but multiple, having different sources, claims and forms – dialogue, experience and local knowledge amongst others (Sandercock, 1998; Rydin, 2007). It is broadly accepted that local knowledge stemming from everyday life experiences is situational and is much better suited to resolve issues that arise in contextual policy practice (Rydin, 2007), though this instinctive prioritization of local knowledge has been criticized by Forsyth (2002). On the other hand, knowledge is instrumental in being a “capacity for action” (Stehr, 2015). Further along this line of thinking, Appadurai (2006) calls for the capacity to do research as a catalyst for “changing the playing field for ordinary citizens”. People are constantly finding innovative ways “for expressing their agency in development arenas” (Hickey and Mohan, 2004). They further go on to state that a transformatory approach to development can be achieved only when a participatory exercise is rooted in citizenship. Knowledge that is rooted in everyday life, cannot be free from social implications (Kothari, 2001). Thus, knowledge has the power to bring about change in society and within power dynamics. Moose’s (1995) apprehension about the generalization of opinions and Kothari’s (2001) concerns regarding the prioritization of certain knowledge sheds light on the “performance” aspect of knowledge in the participation process adopted by communities that may result in manipulation of the outcome. The challenge for transformative change to occur would be to find appropriate linked strategies that cut across different dimensions of power (Gaventa, 2006) This essay aims to explore the role of knowledge in empowering informal settlements of the urban poor in India – via participatory processes in development projects – to alter power dynamics that may result in “transformatory approach to development” while being pro-poor. The different methodologies of knowledge accumulation namely involving NGOs and self-mobilization will be analyzed along with the effect of this knowledge on power dynamics - as defined by Gaventa (2006) and VeneKlasen and Miller (2002) – towards ushering a pro-poor outcome. All these analyses will be situated in case studies. Case Studies: Analysis and inferences In Mumbai, the National Slum Dwellers Federation (NSDF) realized that public demonstrations, protests and picketing have resulted in low success rates throughout history (Patel et al, 2012; d'Cruz, and Satterthwaite, 2006). The rise of eviction cases was proof of that (Patel et al, 2015). Hence a new methodology was required to confront these episodes of eviction and secure their homes. At this juncture, the NSDF, in association with the Alliance, decided to equip themselves with information of the squatter settlements with the aim that this knowledge would enable better negotiations with the government. This became a precursor for many other squatters in India and around the world (see dCruz and Satterwaite, 2006) for using knowledge as a means of mobilization. The first step towards bringing about real change would be to educate oneself about the situation. Blindly acting on any issue may not yield a positive impact. Knowledge gained from analyzing information critically enables communities to formulate strategies to overcome them. And who better than the local community to appropriate the information available into actionable knowledge. This helps them progress from the stage of “tokenism” to one of “citizen power” (Arnstein, 1969) making a significant change that would have a lasting impact on their lives. An urban development project is participatory in the complete sense only if communities themselves “learn to design, own, manage and utilize the knowledge that is created from their own information gathering.” (Patel et al, 2012). These forms of empowering knowledge range from enumeration to mapping and surveying. Community-led enumeration and other related activities help them to exactly pinpoint what is that they require to be changed and developed (Patel et al, 2015; Patel et al, 2002; Arputham, 2008, 2012). Thus, time and resources are better utilized. Specific enumeration processes undertaken by the Alliance include settlement profiles, household surveys and vacant land surveys. A combination of these methods helped resolve some myths prevalent about the squatter settlements and gives the federation the conviction to push for pro-poor initiatives and negotiate on better and stronger grounds (Patel et al, 2012). It is observed that the Alliance treats the community as a “valued partner” and works with them on equal terms (Patel et al, 2012), thereby minimizing manipulation of knowledge and the act of “performance of participation” (Kothari, 2001). In the case of securing shelter for pavement dwellers alongside the milieu of multiple evictions in Mumbai, the Mahila Milan were intransigent that they would carry out negotiations themselves (Patel et al, 2015). As the first step in the quest to educate themselves, they engaged in dialogue with the dwellers who had just then been relocated to Dindoshi Nagar (DN) from the pavements of the E Moses road. They learnt valuable lessons from the unfavorable living conditions faced by the other community. When it came to designing the houses they would like to live in, after grounding their grand thoughts in reality, the women started measuring their current houses and comparing them with width of their palms, length of the saris they wore and length of their necklaces (Patel et al, 2015). After the failure of scaled models (see Figure 1) to make the women understand the actual proportions of the house, life-sized models were put up which were also converted into an exhibition of sorts for the Mahila Milan to communicate their ideas to the local authorities, architects and other residents. The appropriation of knowledge accumulation based on familiar local conditions and co-production, helps communities to understand the scenario and strategize accordingly and in the process “become aware of their own central contribution to progressive social change” (Mitlin, 2008). Figure 1 Models made by the women squatters (SPARC, 1998 as citied in Patel et al, (2015), p.232) During the unforeseen February-March 2001 evictions, a prior knowledge empowered the women of Mahila Milan to negotiate favourable terms with the Mumbai Metropolitan Region development Authority (MMRDA) and MUTP project leaders for resettlement of its people living perilously adjacent to the railway tracks in Mumbai. Co-operation and flexibility of the World Bank, MMRDA to the changing situations and demands, quick thinking on the part of the Alliance along with the community being an organized unit, provided for the construction of transit accommodation for the 2,500 households to be displaced (Patel et al, 2002). The “two-phase resettlement strategy” was beneficial for the authorities as well as the squatters. This strategy provided immediate access of land to the former and the assurance of housing to the latter, thus allowing for the community’s proactive participation in the design of the permanent settlement. With close to 60,000 people being relocated, it undeniably came along with its share of predicaments relating to employment, daily commute and other quotidian activities. The strong will to be relocated from a dangerous area and the supporting loan schemes from the Mahila Milan were major factors in the triumph of the relocation procedure. A strong coalition was formed between the communities - through the NSDF - and the MMDRA. Similar to the case described previously, women used their unmatched management skills to reach an amicable solution. Support from the concerned government agencies, the World Bank’s policy and pressure from organized slum dwellers further helped in accelerating the process. Knowledge empowered the grassroots democracy which in turn created an environment of favorable outcomes at the policy level and on ground. Thus, Patel et al (2002) stress on the “need to reconceptualize resettlement as a part of development rather than as the underfunded, top-down, poorly organized management of the ‘cost’ of development” and necessitate the involvement of the displaced people in “designing, implementing and managing the resettlement so that their interests are served, as well as ‘public good’ on which resettlement was justified”(Patel et al, 2002). Hence, in the cases elaborated above, the communities were able to circumvent a “power over” situation by equipping themselves with enough knowledge and creating a “power to6” and a “power with6” scenario. Here, although “power with6” is being facilitated in an “invited space”, a horizontal association between the squatters and the Alliance ensured that genuine data is used, and a pro-poor outcome is achieved. In the Ponmudi Nagar case, the community took the initiative to educate and empower themselves on their own and were successful in persuading the government to achieve what they wanted by being flexible and reflexive to the changing circumstances – political and economic. This case is unique since the bottom-up process of self-mobilization of knowledge and direct lobbying with government representatives at various levels yielded positive results for the community (Bhuvanaswari et al, 2016a). The threat of eviction and the implications of this action urged dwellers to take initiative into their own hands. They were able to avoid eviction from their settlements by constantly (re)appropriating and creatively maneuvering through various government schemes, procedures and practices - all with close to no external aid. While in the previous cases illustrated above, grassroot organizations were instrumental in facilitating pro-poor outcomes, in this scenario the residents deicded to take it up on themselves to bring about transformatory development. Surveys and enumeration activities were conducted by the community themselves, generating relevant maps and data. This in turn was used to co-produce information for official documentation (see Figure 2) purposes with the government and revenue department officials to ultimately provide all residents with legal identification through “patta” documents. Armed with this knowledge, the community could put back the power within itself, where it truly belongs, taking it from the external agencies. The process of co-production, apart from serving the immediate need of creation of pattas, builds within residents a feeling of self-worth and makes them aware of their part in creating a better future for themselves (Mitlin, 2008). Possessing the capacity and the “right to research” is substantially a better tool than being skeptical about a third party’s research data (Appadurai, 2006). The power here was held by every individual resident of the squatter settlement in their act of self-mobilization. Additionally, when this process of education happens collectively, a “power with” situation arises from a “power to” situation in the community, enabling them to tackle the problem with confidence. It also contributes towards community building and further strengthens their feeling of belonging. As a result of this process, “deepening of democracy” (Appadurai, 2001) is achieved. The residents creatively and cleverly appropriated certain existing schemes/policies to their benefit to serve as proof of occupancy and persuaded for titling of their settlements, thus shattering assumptions that communities in general don’t have the skills for the same. They were able to link their strategies across the various levels of the government in the path to achieving their goal. Pragmatism was the basis for all strategies adopted by the dwellers. Identifying the need for official recognition of land ownership as their top priority to avoid eviction, the community persistently lobbyed with institutional representatives, through changing political powers; since this is what could guarantee definitive change at the end (Bhuvanaswari et al, 2016a). Figure 2 The co-produced legal sketch map of Ponmudi Nagar showing all the settlements (Bhuvanaswari et al, 2016b, p.223) Transformative action in all the cases elucidated above was predominantly a result of the communities equipping themselves with knowledge. Complemented with capacity building activities, one cannot stress enough about the importance of self-mobilization. In both the cases situated in Mumbai, the Alliance had a massive role to play in initiating action as they were the ones interacting with the government. The “learning cycle” which is persistently reviewed as outlined by Patel and Mitlin (2004), is central to the functioning of the Alliance. The “ritualization” of certain activities that tend to be alien to the communities, makes them culturally acceptable and practiced by the community regularly (Appadurai, 2012). Although there have been many situations where NGOs and external parties have included communities merely to show that there is a “participatory approach” in their project, this was never the case where the Alliance was involved. In the case of Ponmudi Nagar, actionable results were seen due to the continuous efforts of the residents, constantly adapting to the demands of the circumstances, spanning over three decades. The creation of a “claimed/created space” as opposed to an “invited space” further contributed to the success. It is also important to note that Bhuvanaswari et al (2016a) acknowledge that the community’s connection to the elected representatives also played an important role in impacting the decisions and actions of the public institutions. It is vital to note here that due to the availability of proper data, the institutions were left with no other choice but to cooperate with the communities and work with them as partners. There have even been cases where the government has called upon the Alliance to help them out in resettlement matters in Mumbai. It is crucial for communities to identify the intersection of knowledge and action to produce desired results. One must remember that these results were not obtained overnight. Patience is a key virtue in this process (Appadurai, 2001; Kothari, 2001). Actions invested in long term goals are ones that are most beneficial to the community in question. Long term process of knowledge mobilization is something practitioners and researchers should aim for. Ideally it should also be one that is revised periodically and updated with the changing times. Sustenance becomes key here. But as Appadurai (2001) notes, in the contradictory scenario of urgency, patience is almost a luxury due to financial and time constraints. One must not fail to acknowledge the limitations of knowledge accumulation and the gap in knowledge-action transformation. The steps involved in translating the acquired knowledge and inferences into action are constrained by factors. These contextual factors might be situated in the environment, organizational factors, community perceptions towards the PUD approach or factors related to practitioner and researcher as outlined by Read et al (2014). One of the limitations in the cases illustrated above, concerns the length and breadth of participation by the local community (Vincent, 2005). Commenting on the diversity of the community participation – the ones who were represented and who were not – becomes impossible as there is no information provided regarding this. In the Indian context with a history of social segregation and hierarchy in the form of caste system, the statistics of participation becomes crucial to ensure a fair process of knowledge accumulation. In the case of Ponmudi Nagar, though Bhuvanaswari et al (2016a) have outlined the profile of the residents in the settlement, there is no data about the number of people who participated and their backgrounds. A generalized term of ‘community’, ‘slum dwellers’ or residents has been used to describe the participants in all the cases. In any participatory process, there could always be people who choose not to participate due to a plethora of reasons (see Read et al, 2014). This greatly affects and modifies the outcome and can be classified as an act of subversion (Kothari, 2001). Also, one cannot be sure if to arrive at a decision under a time crunch or for the sake of efficiency, the many diverse opinions that might have emerged could have been masked and presented in a homogeneous fashion reflecting only the popular ideas amongst the community. From the cases stated above, it is obvious that local settlements must be armed with multiple knowledges and ways of engaging with the local authorities with various cleverly placed strategies. While staying cautious of sounding “formulaic”, Gaventa (2006) suggests, “those seeking to challenge power in all of its spaces, levels and forms need to search not for one solution, but to build multiple, linked strategies and in different sequences, depending on the starting point in any given context.” Conclusion Using the case studies, it has been established that knowledge is crucial for transformative action and development. Knowledge is instrumental in building capacity which will benefit the community in the long-term rather than just meet their immediate needs. Power dynamics can be greatly modified through the appropriate use of knowledge by communities, giving them a hold over the development processes. In both the case studies discussed here, though the outcomes, may have been different, multiple strategies targeted and implemented at several tiers were instrumental in attaining pro-poor outcomes. Political will was observed to be central in the process of transformative change. References Appadurai, A. (2001). Deep democracy: urban governmentality and the horizon of politics. Environment and Urbanization, 13(2), pp.23-43. Appadurai, A. (2004). 'The Capacity to Aspire: Culture and the Terms of Recognition', in Rao, V. and Walton, M., (eds.) Culture and Public Action, Stanford University Press, Palo Alto, California, pp 59-84. Appadurai, A. (2006). The right to research. Globalisation, Societies and Education, 4(2), pp.167-177, DOI: 10.1080/14767720600750696 Appadurai, A. (2012). Why enumeration counts. Environment and Urbanization, 24(2), pp.639-641. Arnstein, Sherry R. (1969) A Ladder of Citizen Participation. Journal of the American Planning Association, 35(4), pp 216-224 Arputham, J. (2008). Developing new approaches for people-centered development. Environment and Urbanization, 20(2), pp.319-337. Arputham, J. (2012). How community-based enumerations started and developed in India. Environment and Urbanization, 24(1), pp.27-30. Bhuvanaswari, R., Denis, E. and Benjamin, S. (2016a) From slum[1] to ordinary neighborhood in a provincial town of South India: Resident-induced practices of participation and co-production. Agnès Deboulet. Rethinking Precarious Neighborhoods, AFD, pp.211-231 Bhuvanaswari, R., Denis, E. and Benjamin, S. (2016b) From slum[1] to ordinary neighborhood in a provincial town of South India: Resident-induced practices of participation and co-production. Agnès Deboulet. Rethinking Precarious Neighborhoods, AFD, pp.223 d'Cruz, C. and Satterthwaite, D. (2006). The Role of Urban Grassroots Organizations and their National Federations in reducing poverty and achieving the Millennium Development Goals. Global Urban Development, 2(1). Gaventa, J. (2006). Finding the Spaces for Change: A Power Analysis. IDS Bulletin, 37(6), pp.23-33. Hickey, S. and Mohan, G. (2005) Toward participation as transformation: critical themes and challenges. In: S. Hickey and G. Mohan, ed., Participation - From Tyranny to Transformation: Exploring New Approaches to Participation in Development, 1st ed. Zed Books. Kothari, U (2001) Power, Knowledge and social control. In: B. Cook and U. Kothari, ed., Participation - the new tyranny? London: Zed Press. Mitlin, D. (2008). With and beyond the state — co-production as a route to political influence, power and transformation for grassroots organizations. Environment and Urbanization, 20(2), pp.339-360. Patel, S. and Mitlin, D. (2004). Grassroots-driven Development: The Alliance of SPARC, the National Slum Dwellers Federation and Mahila Milan. In: D. Miltin and D. Satterthwaite, ed., Empowering Squatter Citizen: Local Government, Civil Society and Urban Poverty Reduction, 1st ed. Routledge. Patel, S., Arputham, J. and Bartlett, S. (2015). “We beat the path by walking”. Environment and Urbanization, 28(1), pp.223-240. Patel, S., Baptist, C. and D’Cruz, C. (2012). Knowledge is power – informal communities assert their right to the city through SDI and community-led enumerations. Environment and Urbanization, 24(1), pp.13-26. Patel, S., d’Cruz, C. and Burra, S. (2002). Beyond evictions in a global city: people-managed resettlement in Mumbai. Environment and Urbanization, 14(1), pp.159-172. Read C., Earnest J., Ali M., Poonacha V. (2014) Applying a Practical, Participatory Action Research Framework for Producing Knowledge, Action and Change in Communities: A Health Case Study from Gujarat, Western India. In: R. Tiwari, M. Lommerse, D. Smith, ed., M² Models and Methodologies for Community Engagement, Springer, Singapore Rydin, Y. (2007). Re-Examining the Role of Knowledge Within Planning Theory. Planning Theory, 6(1), pp.52-68. Stehr, N. (2015). Enabling Knowledge. In: P. Meusburger, D. Gregory and L. Suarsana, ed., Geographies of Knowledge and Power. [online] Springer, pp.75-88.[Accessed 5 Jan. 2020]. VeneKlasen, L., Miller, V., (2002) Power and empowerment. PLA Notes, 43: 39-41 Vincent, S. (2005). Participation, resistance and problems with the 'local' in Peru: towards a new political contract?. In: S. Hickey and G. Mohan, ed., Participation - From Tyranny to Transformation: Exploring New Approaches to Participation in Development, 1st ed. Zed Books. Up Up

< Back Smart Cities in India: The case of commodification of ‘smart’ India’s Smart Cities promise progress, but commodify democracy, and inclusion Madhulikaa January 2020 The Smart Cities Mission (SCM) announced by the Government of India (GoI) in 2014 has been the government’s answer to the force of rapid urbanisation in the country at the start of the 2014-2019 term. As Prime minister Shri. Narendra Modi, leader of the Bharathiya Janta Party (BJP), famously claimed at the launch of the SCM in June 2016: “Let’s consider urbanisation as an opportunity. Gone are the days when it was seen as a challenge or obstacle.” “Smart cities are about modern facilities and becoming centres of development.” (Modi, 2016) Concomitantly the following claims were also made by the prime minister of India: “People of India are smartest. Once their skills are harnessed, wonders will happen.” “People of cities have to decide about the development of their urban spaces.” (Modi, 2016) India is a relatively new entrant in the Smart city (SC) field. The Modi government’s idea of development seems to lie in providing modern, information communication technology (ICT) solutions, along the lines of the global urbanisation trend of smart cities and new urbanism propelled by the neo-liberal thinking, to address the existing social-economic difficulties that Indian cities face. In the global scheme of things, smart cities raise concerns of privacy, autonomy of technology and data security; in the Indian milieu, one should be more interested in consequences like gentrification, privatization of government and dilution of democracy, (Kitchin, 2013; Hollands, 2008) before we can think about turning into a city like Bentham’s panopticon. With the BJP continuing to stay in power for the consecutive 2019-2023 term, they have proposed a likely extension of the SCM to all the 4000 cities in India (Khan, 2019; The Hindu, 2019a).This essay aims to focus on the incoherence between the way the GoI has defined the mission and the actual modes of implementation of the strategies. Rightly pointed out by Sampth, (2016) that “the problem with Indian cities is not that they are ‘unsmart’ but that they are dysfunctional”, a revamp of the definition of the word ‘smart’ becomes crucial before the extension of the mission. The inherent disjunction in the above-mentioned sets of quotes will be explored through the context of the commodification of smart cities in India. However, this essay does not try to redefine the word ‘smart’ but rather analyse the consequences the GoI’s definition of smart cities has caused and hence urge for such a reinterpretation. There has been a sizeable increase in urban population of India over the last few decades, from 17.96% in 1961 to 27.8% in 2001 and to 31.16% in 2011 - a 3.3% increase just in the last decade, 2001-2011 (Census of India, 2011). For the first time ever, India will have more of its population living in cities than in villages in five of its largest states (McKinsey & Company, 2019). The number of metropolitan cities has seen a dramatic increase from 35 in 2001 to 53 in 2011 (McKinsey & Company, 2019). Currently, 34% of India’s population lives in urban areas and this is only projected to increase (United Nations, 2019; The Hindu, 2019b). Further by 2030, it is estimated that Indian’s urban population will touch the 600 million mark. (McKinsey & Company, 2019) These staggering statistics further increase the pressure on the GoI to act on this dramatic urban transformation in the country. While the statics stated above cover the country in its entirety, the GoI’s solution seems to be narrow and restricts itself to just a few cities. The vision for 100 ‘smart’ cities had been put forth by the Ministry of Housing and Urban Affairs (MoHUA), GoI, in 2015, in the hope of achieving a status close to “Ramrajya” or a “good city” - a modern day version of utopia, giving hope for a better life (Datta, 2019). Throughout the history of India, in terms of post-colonial urban policies, one can see that the tabula rasa type of planning has been very popular. The answers to most of problems caused by rapid urbanisation were these top-down, neo-liberal agendas. The SCM was a very active part of the 2014 election manifesto of the BJP (Bharatiya Janata Party, 2014) albeit in the form of greenfield projects. Following up on a very postcolonial thought of urbanism, the BJP rooted its thoughts of development in mythology and used technology as a means of escape from the shackles of the past. As Datta also notes, it further helped the agenda that most of the citizens, belonging to the younger generation believe that “to be patriotic is to believe in the power of technology.” (Datta, 2019) The MoHUA has tried to be ‘smart’ by not providing the definition of a smart city. Instead the interpretation of the term ‘smart city’ is rather vague and is to be built around the guideline of improving the quality of life of its citizens by the city authorities and residents. (GoI, 2015) This kind of “definitional impreciseness” regarding the clarity of the word ‘smart’, has been addressed in detail by Hollands, (2008). This can be problematic and result in misleading city authorities about the approach to be taken. Global development companies like IBM, Cisco, BOSCH were among the first to capitalize on this ambiguity in India and put out their proposals for smart cities. Manipulating this fluid definition, the MNCs formulated blueprints for urban placemaking pivoting around ICT solutions (Praharaj & Han, 2019). The strategic components of the Smart Cities Mission (SCM) has been structured in a way to include models like “retrofitting, redevelopment, greenfield development and pan-city development” with the objective to “provide core infrastructure, decent quality of life to its citizens, a clean and sustainable environment and application of ‘Smart’ Solutions” with the focus on “sustainable and inclusive environments”. It further goes on to state that the purpose of SCM is “enabling local area development and harnessing technology” that leads to “Smart outcomes” (Ministry of Housing and Urban Affairs, Government of India, 2016). Although these terms, definitions and approach of the mission read very well on paper, the reality is completely different as elaborated in this essay. Another point to be noted here is that while the MoHUA’s definition does not seem top-down in its approach - by not providing a universal vocabulary and instead allowing the state and local governments to define their own targets (GoI, 2015) – the introduction of a Special Purpose Vehicle (SPV) to implement the smart city projects dilutes the essence of democracy as elaborated below (Housing and Land Rights Network, 2018). Due to GoI’s inability to fund the entire project with the rhetoric goal of fast urbanism, it started encouraging participating cities to join hands with private companies through the creation of a SPV to execute SCM projects (GoI, 2015). The SPV, by definition, functions outside of the local municipal body and in most cases doesn’t constitute of any elected representatives. It is not mandatory on the part of a SPV to get the approval of the local body before sanction of any project. A direct violation of the Constitution (74th Amendment) Act 1992, the establishment of the SPV subverts the power and authority of a local governing body. Also, questions regarding the credibility of the local representatives elected by the citizens and in turn the whole electoral process itself are raised. Being independent in nature and having members from the private sector in its board most often sets up the motive of “chasing the moolah” (Datta, 2015a; Watson, 2015). With the government’s realization that cites hold the promise of future, the Ministry of Housing and Urban Affairs (MoHUA) has launched various schemes over the last decade following a policy of ‘fast urbanism’ (Datta, 2015b; Datta, 2017), the SCM being the latest one. They aim to address this problem by accelerating the process, turning a blind eye to the current inadequacies faced by other cities and towns and focusing on just providing immediate solutions, a method of “bypass urbanisation” (Graham & Marvin, 2001; Bhattacharya & Sanyal, 2011; Hoelscher, 2016). Upon detailed analysis of the Bhubaneshwar Smart City plan (SCp) by Praharaj, Han and Hawken, (2018), it has been found that the SCp’s observations of the city characteristics and corresponding project implementation have polarising views. Though the logical approch to the Area based Development (ABD) might have been to suggest a “peripheral district for guided compact land development for future urbanism”, upon observation of the existence of an urban sprawl, what has been proposed instead is the redevelopment of the already well-developed town center implying a tendency to select “easy to implement projects as future solutions, evading complex issues facing rapidly urbanising societies” (Praharaj, Han and Hawken, 2018) In the city of Chennai, one of the major projects under the SCM, is the development of a pedestrian plaza in T Nagar, situated in the heart of the city (Ministry of Urban Development, 2015). Being an ABD proposal in nature, it covers merely 4% area of the total city and is said to benefit a meager 3.4% of the urban population (Housing and Land Rights Network, 2018). Amidst this inequality comes the fact that even though Chennai has 1240 officially recognized slums as per the Census 2011, it has somehow disappeared from the city’s SWOT analysis in the SCp document (Housing and Land Rights Network, 2018). In an interview with Jessica Seddon in The Print’s What’s a smart city and why did Chennai succeed Raj Cherubal, CEO, Chennai Smart City (2019), CEO of the Chennai Smart city, Raj Cherubal, constantly references other mega cities like Singapore and Hong Kong and advocates that smart means “accelerating towards progress” which may call for “bypass urbanisation” as noted above. He is also in agreement with ABD projects, calling them “strategic pieces” of intervention. Avoiding the urgent problems to be addressed and leapfrogging to the solution of ‘smart’ cities just for the sake of matching up with global trend does no good for any Indian city. However, towards the end of the interview Cherubal acknowledges that there are impediments faced by the SPVs all over the country due to the lack of a “starter pack” of sorts containing essential information of model networks rudimentary to any city, on the lines of water, infrastructure. The SCM is the government’s current myopic intervention towards the betterment of the urban fabric - adding to an already existing plethora of urban schemes in the country (Housing and Land Rights Network, 2018; Center for Policy Research, 2018) – some of them launched almost simultaneously like the Atal Mission for Rejuvenation and Urban Transformation (AMRUT); Pradhan Mantri Awas Yojana (Housing for All – 2022); National Heritage City Development and Augmentation Yojana (HRIDAY); Digital India Program and the Swachh Bharat Mission. With the existence of multiple schemes that, by definition at least, aim to cater to the basic infrastructural needs of the city chosen, one can even question the necessity of the SCM for Indian cities. Many of these have overlapping goals. For instance, 92 out of the 99 smart cities finalized under the SCM also come under AMRUT. The way that cities and projects were selected to become a part of SCM did not add to the cause. The competitive format of selection favored the selection of the best SC proposals rather than the most deserving ones (Housing and Land Rights Network, 2018). When the same cities are benefiting from multiple schemes, it raises questions regarding development of the other 3900 odd cities and towns of India. These kinds of rushed and repeated myopic interventions are pushing the government to opt for public-private partnership models, steering the economy away from the managerial system towards one adopting an entrepreneurial urbanism (Datta, 2015b; Harris, 2015; Harvey, D. 1989). Entrepreneurial urbanism or “urbanisation as a business model” (Harris, 2015) has been the way of working right from the city of Dholera and Gujarat International Finance Tec-City (GIFT) in Gujarat, the pioneers of the concept of smart city in India (Datta, 2015b) and has now become a default mechanism for the implementation of the SCM. With private companies in the picture, they started viewing the SCM propositions through the lens of money and profit (Hoelscher, 2016). Their increased involvement through the SPV framework implied a situation of “privatization of government” and the “corporation of city”, as outlined previously. A system of entrepreneurial urbanism on a base of neo-liberal ideology has been set up in the process (Harvey, D. 1989). The capitalist view made the Area Based Development (ABD) the commonly adopted methodology under this scheme. Around 80% of the total budget allocated for the SCM are utilized for ABD projects whereas a mere 20% will be spent on pan-city initiatives (GoI, 2015). Cities like Chennai, Bhubaneshwar, Coimbatore, Indore, among others, have proposed ABD projects situated at their respective city centers. (Housing and Land Rights Network, 2018) This translates into most smart cities having just 0-5% of their total area and proportionately around 20% of their population benefiting from the implementation of the project and the funding (Housing and Land Rights Network, 2018). The staggering statistics begs us to ask the question “who are these smart cities made for?” The creation of specific areas where the intensity of development is very high, in a sense separates itself from its surroundings and excludes citizens based on economic, social grounds, similar in concept to the occurrence of “splintered urbanism” due to concentrated patches of development (Graham & Marvin, 2001). This phenomenon is not new to India. With the SCM still being in process, it is helpful to take a step back in time and look at previous such ideas to gauge the impact it might have on the general public. The ABD prospect of the SCM is reminiscent of the rhetoric of the gated communities’ ideology (Chakrabarty, 2019) – creating islands where infrastructural facilities, amenities are concentrated. In the past these kinds of “urban integrated mega-projects (UIM)” or “privatopolis”, as carefully noted and analyzed by Gavin Shatkin (2011), have been the result of the requirement to satisfy the needs of a “global citizen” through privatization of the planning process, land and damage to environmental sources. As he further observes, they operate with profit as their main agenda and consequently lead to the “wholesale commodification of the urban fabric.” (Shatkin, 2011: 77–78). SCM’s similarities can also be traced to the creation of Special Economic Zones (SEZ) in India. The SEZ were instrumental in changing the way space was managed (Roy, 2011) in terms of land use and public-private partnerships. The SC in India can be thought of as an SEZ with social infrastructure, or the appropriation of UIM with the additional feature of ‘smartness’. A kind of slow but definite exclusion of people has been observed in the various SCM initiatives through analysis reports of civic bodies like Housing and Land Rights Network (HLRN), an Indian charitable trust, based out of New Delhi, which have been carried out from a human rights standpoint. They claim that by adopting the ABD approach, only 8% of the total population or 22% of the total urban population of the country will benefit. As quoted by the HRLN’s analysis report on smart city initiatives, “INR 203,979 crore is being spent on only 99.5 million people, accounting for 22 per cent of India’s urban population and less than 8 per cent of India’s total population.” These “smart enclaves” will impose further pressure on its citizens in the form of higher taxes/user fee charges in exchange for the higher quality of goods and services provided, so that it enables investors to make back their money. This step is listed out by the SCM guidelines and further cemented by the vice president of India, Mr. Venkaiah Naidu (Najib and Khanna, 2016). The premium nature of the SC enclaves will increase cost of real estate. The influx of migrants aspiring for a better quality of life will increase the demand for affordable housing as well as the price of housing, thus not really making them ‘affordable’ anymore. Also, with eleven cities namely, Thiruvananthapuram, Tiruppur, Thootukudi, Dehradun, Jhansi, Puducherry, Muzaffarpur, Satna, Rajkot, Raipur and Trichy, propagating for a livable, slum-free environment (Housing and Land Rights Network, 2018), inclusion is really put to the test here. The urban poor of India are hence deprived and excluded from these ‘enclaves’ and are most affected by this sequence of events. Urban population densification leads to strain on environmental resources which would have a major impact on the ‘quality of life’ of the residents that the GoI (GoI, 2015) stresses upon improving through the SCM. The commodification of the idea of ‘smart’ has many ramifications ranging from economic, social to political. This essay has tried to establish that the GoI’s objective to achieve inclusivity and sustainability for the people of India through the definition of the SCM rhetoric is not panning out. It acknowledges that although focusing only on the effect of the GoI’s definition of SC - on aspects of inclusion and democracy, among others - may be a limitation, these definitions are what make up the foundational rubric of the SCM. Hence any rectification whatsoever must be started from here. In India, the drift towards globalization in the postcolonial era calls for “worlding of cities” (Roy, 2011: 259-278). Cities that are more tuned to work in the global scheme of things rather than the homeland. India is stuck in a vicious cycle of public-private partnership throughout history as illustrated previously, when it comes to the case of urban policies. These partnerships being business driven and do not nurture the complex amalgamation of stark dichotomies of Indian cities. This socio-economic paradigm rotted in cultural significance is what has come to define the heart of Indian cities and not the new swanky pedestrian walkways or the sky-high skyscrapers promoted by SCM. Operating at this level of dichotomy is what makes an Indian city a “stimulating smart city” as opposed to a “stupefying smart city” (Sennett, 2012). List of Acronyms 1 ABD Area Based Development 2 AMRUT Atal Mission for Rejuvenation and Urban Transformation 3 BJP Bharathiya Janta Party 4 CEO Chief Executive Officer 5 GoI Government of India 6 HLRN Housing and Land Right Network 7 HRIDAY National Heritage City Development and Augmentation Yojana 8 ICT Information CommunicationTechnology 9 INR Indian Rupees 10 MoHUA Ministry of Housing and Urban Affairs 11 SC Smart City 12 SCM Smart City Mission 13 SCp Smart City plan 14 SEZ Special Economic Zone 15 SPV Special Purpose Vehicle 16 SWOT Strength Weakness Opportunities Threat 17 UIM Urban Integrated Mega-projects References Bharathiya Janata Party (2014). Election manifesto 2014. [online][Accessed 28 Nov. 2019] Bhattacharya, R. & Sanyal, K., 2011. Bypassing the Squalor: New Towns, Immaterial Labour and Exclusion in Post-colonial Urbanisation. Economic & Political Weekly, 46(31), pp. 41-48. Center for Policy Research (2018). An Overview of the Smart Cities Mission in India . 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