The poor will inherit the earth. Yes, but how?

If the government is redesigning the metros for the rich, then these Shanghais might turn out to be urban disasters

Dunu Roy Delhi

How does a city grow? How should it grow? Is there any way of planning for chaos? Or does chaos itself involve planning? These are questions that have engaged many people over the years. As expected, many answers have been offered and they differ in approach, in methodology, in ways of seeing, and ways of believing.

Everyone has heard of Edwin Lutyens, a trained architect, and his enrapturement with a dominating imperial presence, embodied by the expansive layout of New Delhi, the placing of the Viceregal Palace (now Rashtrapati Bhavan) atop Raisina Hill, and the long sweep of the Central Vista ending at India Gate. These elements commemorated the acts of violence by the empire, the parades that would display the pomp and power of imperial might. At increasing hierachical distance from this centre of power, were located the bungalows and flats of the civil servants and the bureaucrats.

Some may have even heard of the revenge Herbert Baker, another trained architect, extracted on behalf of the civil servants by locating the administrative South and North Blocks in such a manner that they eclipsed the palace, whose black dome could now only be seen from a distance. In this curious manner, the clash of egos of two planners merely reflected the conflict between titular and real power, between social classes.

But few have perhaps heard of Patrick Geddes, the biologist who was a contemporary of Lutyens and Baker, and who was summoned by the prince to replan Indore after plague hit the city in the early part of the 20th century. Geddes asked to be appointed maharaja for a day and, on Diwali, he organised a grand parade, but it was through the alleys and bylanes of the city, sparking off a competition among different neighbourhoods to see who sparkled with the best cleanliness and sanitation.

In a salute to those who actually kept the city clean, Geddes ordained that the parade should be led by the lowly scavengers and sweepers and their bullock carts, and due honour accorded to them. He also persuaded the textile mills to build subsidised canteens for the impoverished workers, on the plea that the crumbs could be safely swept away after food had been eaten, making sure that the rats could not multiply and spread plague. Thus, he looked at the underbelly of empire itself.

It is such social conflicts – and the perspectives born out of them – that we need to recall when we look at urban planning today. Thus, when Prime Minister Manmohan Singh launched the Jawaharlal Nehru National Urban Renewal Mission a year ago with a massive budget of Rs 126,000 crores for 63 million-plus cities and towns, whom do we look to for inspiration – Lutyens, Baker, or Geddes?

The Mission statement specifies that it has been initiated to promote ‘reform’ and ‘sustainable development’. The mission’s objectives are, therefore, to develop infrastructure, set up management systems for effective maintenance, provide adequate capital investment, plan urban corridors and expansion, redevelop heritage areas, and provide civic services to the urban poor. It is, of course, never clear from the documents how the ‘problem’ of crumbling infrastructure has been analysed to arrive at the normative ‘solution’ of urban renewal (will it not crumble again?) – especially in the context of the urban poor.