As the ambitious Mumbai Coastal Road Project nears completion, the city stands at a pivotal moment, grappling with the potential consequences of this massive infrastructure venture.
The project, promoted as a toll-free road, has sparked significant debate, primarily due to its environmental implications and the social equity concerns it raises. The project involves extensive land reclamation and the destruction of vital inter-tidal zones, yet alternatives such as the Bandra-Worli Sea Link (BWSL) and Mumbai Trans Harbour Link (MTHL) were seemingly overlooked in favour of this more disruptive approach. The stark reality, however, Is that only a fraction—18%—of the 111 hectares of reclaimed land is necessary for the road itself. The remainder, intended for public use, represents a crucial opportunity for Mumbai’s 21 million residents.
Yet, there are growing concerns that this space may not truly serve the broader public but rather cater to a small, affluent segment of the population. The Coastal Road, serving merely 0.3% of Mumbai’s population, threatens to privatise access to the seafront, a public asset that should be universally accessible. Current plans for these open spaces reveal a disconcerting vision. Rather than creating a continuous, accessible waterfront, the design suggests fragmented green pockets, each fenced and gated, with controlled entry points. This approach not only physically divides the space but also symbolically separates the city’s social strata. The limited accessibility, primarily through inconvenient and unsafe underpasses, disproportionately affects women, children, the elderly, and differently-abled individuals, contradicting principles of universal access.
This flawed design reflects a broader disregard for inclusivity, safety, and public benefit. There is a looming irony that these spaces, theoretically public, might become gated, time-restricted, and possibly even chargeable, in stark contrast to the toll-free nature of the road itself. Despite the road being operational, the development of these so-called ‘open spaces’ lags behind, underscoring their secondary importance. The ongoing construction of car parks within these spaces further complicates the matter. The placement of parking structures, particularly in an area meant to be open and public, reveals a lack of cohesive urban planning and neglects the need for public transport integration.
Moreover, the Coastal Road is tailored exclusively for private vehicles, excluding motorcyclists, cyclists, and pedestrians. The absence of Non-Motorized Transport (NMT) options is particularly concerning. The 6 km stretch from Worli to Nepean Sea Road could have been a vibrant, walkable, and cycle-friendly route, promoting both transit efficiency and public health. Instead, the project seems to entrench social divides and prioritise private over public interests. Globally, coastal cities are focusing on resilience and sustainable development, yet Mumbai risks losing its iconic seafront to a 1960s-style highway project that fails to address contemporary needs for coastal and tidal resilience.
Lessons from the past, such as the underutilised BWSL promenade, contrast sharply with the bustling, inclusive waterfronts of Bandstand and Carter Road. The risk is that Mumbai’s seafront, once a symbol of inclusivity, may become a relic of a more accessible past. As the city moves forward, there is still an opportunity to rethink and redesign these open spaces. The upcoming tender for their development should not be constrained by the limitations of the road project but should instead embrace a comprehensive approach that addresses long-term needs for coastal resilience and social inclusivity. The Coastal Road’s impact on Mumbai’s future is far from settled, and the decisions made today will shape the city for generations to come.
