How Indian Cities are Squeezing the People out of Public Spaces

Areas where people engaged as citizens are gradually being replaced by spaces of consumption, dividing our cities even more and shrinking the realm of public discourse.

The recent controversy over the disruption of namaz in several public places in Gurgaon raises questions about the rights of the people over public spaces and their utility in modern Indian cities.

Great cities across the world have historically been defined by the quality of their public spaces  more than the architectural beauty of individual buildings. We have now come to terms with the Manhattan skyline devoid of the Twin Towers, but can we imagine New York without the hustle and bustle of Times Square? Or Delhi without people enjoying ice-cream on the India Gate lawns? Or, for that matter, Varanasi without its majestic river ghats? A city cannot be experienced without imbibing the publicness of it.

European cities, influenced by classical Greek and Roman urban design, often have charming paved plazas at the centre, surrounded by impressive public buildings. While large uncovered paved plazas are not suitable for India’s hot climate, neighbourhood chowks, bazaars and streets in Indian cities have for long been functioning as public spaces, where people gather not just to buy their daily necessities, but also to pick up the ‘gossip of the day’.

Egyptians attend an anti-military council protest at Tahrir Square in Cairo November 18, 2011. REUTERS/Asmaa Waguih

The best public spaces in the world are multifunctional and multicultural, much like the river ghats of Varanasi. Here, tourists take selfies, young couples find anonymity in the crowd, the elderly savour the evening breeze, devotees experience salvation through the spectacle of sandhya-arati and chaiwallahs earn their livelihood.

The public realm is embedded in our vernacular urban fabric – where we encounter the ‘other’, the  people who are different than ourselves. This diversity enriches our everyday experience of life.
Vibrant public spaces draw crowds from all walks of life and have also been vital platforms for political discourse since the ancient times. Greek Agoras and Roman Forums were places where discussions and debates were held. Political scientist John Parkinson, who extensively studied public spaces in 11 major cities across the world, notes that ‘safe’ and ‘accessible’ public spaces are vital for participatory democracy. As ‘physical sites’ of politics and legitimate protests, these are the places where rallies are held, dharnas and morchas are organised, and civil society activists light  candles in protest.

A Left Front rally in Kolkata’s Brigade Parade Ground. Credit: PTI Files

Political communication has a ‘dramatic’ or ‘performative’ aspect, and public spaces are anchors that bring political actors and audience together. Kolkata’s Brigade Parade Ground, with the iconic Shaheed Minar as backdrop, is one such grand venue, as is Delhi’s Ramlila Maidan. The tallest political leaders – from the Left, Right and Centre –  have ‘performed’ here to a thunderous applause. At a more intimate, neighbourhood level, parks and street corners often take the shape of a stage for such performative political communication.

But, how relevant are such forms of communication in the age of social media, when people spend more time on Facebook rather than talk face-to-face?

Today, one can build a movement through WhatsApp, propagate it through Twitter and document it on Instagram. The Arab Spring movement of 2011 was mobilised through smart phones. “But they [angry Egyptians] still needed Tahrir Square” argues Parkinson, just as the angry Chinese students needed a Tiananmen Square in 1989.

Closer home, the Bharatiya Janata Party’s highly effective electoral campaign in 2014 buttresses the point. The BJP fully exploited the potential of social media for political communication. But that did not diminish the importance of ‘chai-pe-charcha’ in community spaces. Cyber space has stepped in to co-exist and complement public space, not to replace it, just as online shopping or shopping malls have not eroded neighbourhood kirana stores.

However, the moot point about public space is how it is constructed and controlled. This brings us back to the Gurgaon episode and its contradictions.

Without any discernible centre or visible urban structure, Gurgaon is a most unusual city – rather a motley collection of privately developed gated enclaves that stretch endlessly along the Delhi-Jaipur highway, separated from each other by old villages. It is a landscape of glaring inequalities between manicured private lawns and messy slums. The concept of public realm has been squeezed out of this privatopia.

For lakhs of those who live outside the gated enclaves of aspirational new India – the rural folks, whose villages have been engulfed by the galloping pace of urbanisation, or the new migrants trying to make ends meet through the informal economy of the millennium city – community life revolves around the leftover spaces between buildings.

Tamil Nadu farmers during their protest at Jantar Mantar in New Delhi in April. Credit: PTI

Tamil Nadu farmers during their protest at Jantar Mantar in New Delhi in April. Credit: PTI

Roads and pathways in such amorphous organic settlements are not just for motorists to drive past, but for trading, festivities and occasionally playing cricket. These are vibrant community spaces in the true sense of the term for people to congregate, deliberate and celebrate, as opposed to the sterile homogeneity of ‘people like us’ within the compound walls.

Tensions and conflicts in such in-between areas are, therefore, inevitable, but most of these are usually negotiated and settled within the community. The traditional Indian spirit of accommodation prevails. But, interventions by external vigilante groups to impose majoritarian will and forcibly deny prayer space to other communities weakens the neighbourly space relations, threatening to turn mixed neighbourhoods into urban ghettos.

It is, however, not sufficient to limit the discussion to the civic dysfunctionality of Gurgaon, or even to the motives of vigilante hoodlums to sow social discord at the behest of their political masters, without addressing the bigger issue of changing space relations in Indian cities.

There are two interrelated points here.

First, authoritarian state agencies are attempting to reduce the scope of civic protests in central areas, such as Jantar Mantar in Delhi or College Square in Kolkata. In the garb of public interest (to prevent noise pollution or traffic congestion), the state agencies are trying to dislocate public demonstrations, a lawful civic activity, from the spaces in the heart of cities to places of insignificance – away from the masses they seek to mobilise.

Second, the urban pattern in India in the neo-liberal era is getting more and more fragmented. The urban middle class is moving away from cities to gated communities on the outskirts. The ‘Gurgaon model’ of developer-driven consumerist urbanism is being actively replicated across the country. Devoid of accessible and pluralistic public spaces, this new urban pattern is dividing our cities more and more.

Social Scientist Richard Sennett attributes the gradual shrinking of public realm in neo-liberal cities to the fall of the public ‘man’. Spaces where people engaged as citizens are being replaced by spaces of consumption. Spaces of everyday political discourse are disappearing. Parallelly, there are growing attempts at place-making. The Sabarmati Riverfront in Ahmedabad and the Ganges (Hooghly) Riverfront in Kolkata are two such examples. Token beautification exercises – devoid of linkages with the larger urban fabric of the city – are being showcased as new public spaces.

The very idea of the urban public space as a forum for democratic deliberations, discussions and debates rests on the notion of acceptance of the ‘other’, pluralism, multiculturalism, and the rights of the people over the city. The decline of meaningful public spaces, therefore, weakens opportunities for participatory democracy.

Tathagata Chatterji is Professor of Urban Management and Governance at Xavier University Bhubaneswar. Souvanic Roy is Professor of Urban Planning at IIEST Shibpur. Views expressed are personal.

The Cycling Sisters of Gurgaon, Pedalling Furiously to Stay in the Same Place

Though the city moves ahead, and so does the country, it seems that the fate of India’s migrant workers is to remain perpetually in the same place.

For the many migrant domestic workers in Gurgaon, city life has meant a new-found independence but has not really improved their standard of living.

Representative image. Credit: Abhisek Sarda/Flickr CC BY 2.0

Representative image. Credit: Abhisek Sarda/Flickr CC BY 2.0

Gurgaon is one of India’s IT centres – almost all big tech players and many Fortune 500 companies have a presence in the city. A visitor to the IT district will see gleaming steel and glass, with many iconic buildings and shopping areas, but there are parts of the city that are dirty, with bad roads and poor infrastructure. What a visitor will not see unless she wakes up early in the morning is the large number of women – mostly domestic workers – cycling along the roads to work, to cook and clean in the city’s many high-rise buildings. Gurgaon has a large population of young professional couples where both partners work and therefore need household help.

The interesting phenomenon of women cycling alone in a socially-conservative state such as Haryana, where most women from the Jat community use a veil and stay at home, is tied to larger circuits of migration, development and poverty in the country.

According to local accounts, this began over 20 years ago, when land began to be acquired from local farmers and a large number of high-rise buildings came up, leading to the demand for domestic labour. The cycling women are not local but are almost entirely Bengali, hailing from some of the poorest districts of Bengal such as Malda; some are from Bangladesh as well. Another feature is that large numbers of them are Bengali Muslim, who constitute the most disadvantaged group in Bengal. Some are single mothers, with husbands who have deserted them or are drunkards. Many have acquired good cooking skills, making themselves indispensable to the households they work in. Their husbands (when they’re around) also constitute part of the city’s service class, cleaning cars and working in hotels and malls.

These women cycle around as this permits them to work in a large number of houses and earn more money. In any case, there is no reliable public transport to speak of. My household help tells me Bengali women back home learn to cycle in order to go to school and the skill has come in handy in Gurgaon. Those who don’t know learn from their ‘sisters’, there being a fairly high degree of camaraderie among them as they have similar backgrounds and problems. Some, like my help, are innovative – she has bought a scooter in order to save on travel time and work in more houses to augment her income. The women, who mostly all know each other, see themselves as a community of sisters in an alien city which gives them a living but little else, despite which they remain cheerful and always ready to cook a bit more when guests arrive.

Gurgaon is a city that is rapidly building flyovers, underpasses and the Rapid Metro, which will all improve the life of middle-class professionals in the city. Very little has been done to improve the lot of the migrant working class, though, made up of construction labourers and the service class of whom the cycling sisters are a part. Most of them live in the urban villages in the city, which are practically slums with no basic facilities. Shubhra Gururani’s recent research on Gurgaon shows that in 2011, the Municipal Corporation of Gurgaon registered 40 urban villages, which she describes as ‘peri-urban’ areas, such as Tigra gaon or Wazirpur gaon. These villages symbolise the changing relationship between the rural and urban, and how planners have not been able to work out this relationship.

Many of these villages are nestled in between high-rises, gated  complexes, corporate towers, malls and highways. Some are situated close to, or on top of, the large drains or nullahs of the city that are meant to drain rain water. This is what causes tremendous flooding during the monsoon as there is no place for the water to drain out. The Gurgaon city administration is in a fix – it has to acquire that land in order to improve the drainage. However, in the meantime, they have done little to maintain the urban villages in terms of supplying clean water and sanitation facilities. The Swach Bharat scheme of Prime Minister Modi has yet to reach these villages, which are similar to or even worse than the jhuggi-jhopdi clusters of Delhi.

The level of inequality in the city is very high – visible in the contrast between the comfortable high-rise gated communities of the elite and the poor conditions of the urban villages.

Most domestic helpers live in huts constructed of tin, which heat up tremendously in summer, are very cold in winter and can’t keep the water out in the monsoon. Arguably, the migrant populations earn better and eat more than in their villages back home, and manage to send their children to government schools (though of poor quality). The aim is to earn over a period of 20-30 years and retire to their villages, where many have tiny plots and a house.

For the women, earning a living and cycling alone even in the late evening provides them with a sense of independence and empowerment, which they could not have experienced in their villages. However, the amount they save after their daily living expenditure is meagre and does not change their circumstances. It does not lift their children out of poverty, as educational attainments remain low, and they continue to provide services as their parents did before them. Very few manage to break out of the vicious circle of poverty and migration. In contrast, the local, or ‘native’, population, which owned agricultural land, has done better as they received compensation and have set up small businesses in villages and the city such as auto-repair stores, grocery shops, tailoring services, etc. Also, IT professionals with high educational levels, who work in MNCs in Gurgaon for long years, retire comfortably to the states they migrated from with good savings.

The comrades who ruled Bengal for almost 30 years have much to answer for, as they ruined the rural areas and could not provide employment to the local population. This population has been forced to migrate long distances to find work and feed their families. But this is a story of many parts of the country, particularly the Hindi heartland states of UP and Bihar, where development has not reached the common people, pushing them out of their local areas in search of a living.

The cycling women of Gurgaon remain part of the marginalised citizens of a shining metropolis that is making rapid strides professionally and is set to become a ‘world-class’ city which attracts foreign capital and companies. The state of the cycling sisters of Gurgaon, however, remains similar to that of much of the migratory labour in large parts of the country. Though there is no room for them in urban planning or economic policy making at the macro level, it is their labour which keeps the city – and others like it – ticking. Though the city moves ahead, and so does the country, it seems that the fate of India’s migrant workers is to remain perpetually in the same place.

Sudha Pai is a National Fellow of the Indian Council of Social Sciences.