Bombay’s municipal corporation intends to solicit citizens’ views on the reformulated coastal road project linking the city’s southern tip and its north-western suburbs which has been in the making for two decades. Only one segment, the Bandra-Worli Sea Link, has been built so far, although the celebration when it was inaugurated created the illusion that the entire scheme was complete. A second small portion, connecting Worli with Haji Ali, started up five years ago, but went into hibernation, and now seems dead. The design for the link as a whole originally consisted of a necklace of sea bridges, but then some politicians proposed a memorial to Shivaji on an artificial island at a spot one of those bridges was supposed to traverse. Why not build a memorial in a region connected with the Maratha ruler that would benefit greatly from tourist footfalls? Maybe because the greatest proof of power lies in its arbitrary use, and if that means messing with a crucial infrastructure project, so much the better.
While the Shivaji memorial remains a pipe dream, it caused the abandonment of the original Sea Link concept. The bridges were replaced by a succession of tunnels, including one passing under Malabar Hill, one of Bombay’s most sought-after residential areas and the place where Maharashtra’s Chief Minister lives. Even before that, delays in the project had led authorities to propose, as a stopgap, a flyover on Peddar Road, an affluent area in the city’s south. Lata Mangeshkar, who lives on that road, complained the construction would affect her voice, which was enough to stall it.
It must be clear by now to those unfamiliar with the city that the development of its infrastructure is a nightmare of shortsightedness, pandering to the powerful and succumbing to special interests. Forget the ambitious attempt at speeding passage between the city’s far corners; even connecting neighbouring precincts is often beyond the ken of authorities. If you live in Versova, and wish to dine in a hotel in Madh, the distance you need to travel is about 2 km as the crow flies.
Ferry tale
However, since municipal administrators have been unable, in all these decades, to convince the fisherfolk of Versova that a bridge or tunnel across the narrow creek separating the two northern suburbs would be in the city’s larger interests, you have to drive for over 20 km to get to your destination, as Google maps shows. Or walk to a ferry that operates neither round the clock nor round the year.
With this history in mind, what I would say to the officers of the municipal corporation is, if you expect to bore a tunnel through Malabar Hill, forget it, it’s not going to happen. It is foolish, when you have proven unable to build bridges across places where nobody lives, to expect some of the richest and most powerful people in the state to allow your machines to dig up the ground under their feet. There may not be a noise about it during your consultations, but once your machines are ready to get gouging you will be hit by lawsuits and stay orders, complaints from environmentalist groups, and strife between state ministers in favour of and opposed to the plan.
Some friendly warnings
If you decide to use explosives rather than boring machines, your chances of completing the tunnel will shift from slim to none, for opponents will insist you’re going to cause earthquakes and bring all the buildings on the hill crashing down. In fact, they’ll make that claim anyway. It will not matter what facts you have on your side. These are people who, once convinced that cell towers cause cancer, not only ignored established medical opinion, but also got politicians to line up on their side. What you’re proposing is far more overtly threatening.
The saddest possible outcome will be if the entire coastal road is somehow completed, but at a time when it has ceased to be relevant. Nariman Point is already half-empty. Its skyscrapers, once among India’s marvels, now look puny and outdated. The preferences of business owners have shifted decisively, with the best firms situating themselves in the Bandra Kurla Complex close to the airport or in refurbished mills in and around Lower Parel, and lesser companies thinking nothing of renting in Andheri or Goregaon. The daily rush hour traffic still follows its old pattern of moving south in the morning and north at day’s end, but the trend is less pronounced than it used to be, and getting weaker with each passing year.
Bombay’s grand coastal road might end up being a bridge to nowhere.
While the Shivaji memorial remains a pipe dream, it caused the abandonment of the original Sea Link concept. The bridges were replaced by a succession of tunnels, including one passing under Malabar Hill, one of Bombay’s most sought-after residential areas and the place where Maharashtra’s Chief Minister lives. Even before that, delays in the project had led authorities to propose, as a stopgap, a flyover on Peddar Road, an affluent area in the city’s south. Lata Mangeshkar, who lives on that road, complained the construction would affect her voice, which was enough to stall it.
It must be clear by now to those unfamiliar with the city that the development of its infrastructure is a nightmare of shortsightedness, pandering to the powerful and succumbing to special interests. Forget the ambitious attempt at speeding passage between the city’s far corners; even connecting neighbouring precincts is often beyond the ken of authorities. If you live in Versova, and wish to dine in a hotel in Madh, the distance you need to travel is about 2 km as the crow flies.
Ferry tale
However, since municipal administrators have been unable, in all these decades, to convince the fisherfolk of Versova that a bridge or tunnel across the narrow creek separating the two northern suburbs would be in the city’s larger interests, you have to drive for over 20 km to get to your destination, as Google maps shows. Or walk to a ferry that operates neither round the clock nor round the year.
With this history in mind, what I would say to the officers of the municipal corporation is, if you expect to bore a tunnel through Malabar Hill, forget it, it’s not going to happen. It is foolish, when you have proven unable to build bridges across places where nobody lives, to expect some of the richest and most powerful people in the state to allow your machines to dig up the ground under their feet. There may not be a noise about it during your consultations, but once your machines are ready to get gouging you will be hit by lawsuits and stay orders, complaints from environmentalist groups, and strife between state ministers in favour of and opposed to the plan.
Some friendly warnings
If you decide to use explosives rather than boring machines, your chances of completing the tunnel will shift from slim to none, for opponents will insist you’re going to cause earthquakes and bring all the buildings on the hill crashing down. In fact, they’ll make that claim anyway. It will not matter what facts you have on your side. These are people who, once convinced that cell towers cause cancer, not only ignored established medical opinion, but also got politicians to line up on their side. What you’re proposing is far more overtly threatening.
The saddest possible outcome will be if the entire coastal road is somehow completed, but at a time when it has ceased to be relevant. Nariman Point is already half-empty. Its skyscrapers, once among India’s marvels, now look puny and outdated. The preferences of business owners have shifted decisively, with the best firms situating themselves in the Bandra Kurla Complex close to the airport or in refurbished mills in and around Lower Parel, and lesser companies thinking nothing of renting in Andheri or Goregaon. The daily rush hour traffic still follows its old pattern of moving south in the morning and north at day’s end, but the trend is less pronounced than it used to be, and getting weaker with each passing year.
Bombay’s grand coastal road might end up being a bridge to nowhere.
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