The $1bn plan to connect Delhi and Mumbai with a high-speed railway and 24 ‘smart’ cities is touted as the world’s largest infrastructure project. But how do people living on its route feel about the seismic changes being proposed?
One scorching July morning, not far east of Delhi on National Highway 58, my car is waved down by a young boy. Despite the sweat trickling down his brow – evidence of the relentless Indian summer – the smile on his face seems genuine.
Soon two more boys are crowded around the car, competing for my attention. Perplexed at the sight of hawkers on a highway, I strain to see what they are trying to sell me. They thrust blue and red brochures on my windscreen, mouthing something I can’t catch. Lowering the window, I hear a cacophony of voices attempting to sell me a new property:
“We offer a two-bedroom flat for only 22 lakh rupees [£21,500], ma’am!”
“We have better amenities and a brilliant location to boot, ma’am!”
“Ma’am, our company has been building flats for more than 20 years and has a brilliant reputation!”
The scene is reminiscent of vegetable vendors hawking in crowded market places throughout India. The informality with which the boys are selling property worth millions of rupees makes the flats sound like cheap, dispensable goods.
All day long, they sit in tiny, makeshift plastic shelters on the highway pavement, awaiting cars driving down from Delhi. When a car stops after they wave it to a halt (most regular commuters do not), the boys hurriedly put their case forward – plots of land at throwaway prices; yet-to-be-constructed apartments that will fulfil a house owner’s dream. Wanna buy, ma’am?
The exchange is not instant. If a customer shows interest, the boys take their phone numbers and a senior executive from the company gets in touch. According to the boys, they manage to hail down at least seven or eight cars every day. Once stopped, most people apparently give their contact details. I feel that I have glimpsed the undecorated face of India’s urban expansion: desperate, all-consuming, ruthless.
The goliath driving this expansion is the US $1bn Delhi Mumbai Industrial Corridor (DMIC), touted as the world’s largest infrastructure project. While the project was conceived in 2009 by the previous Congress-led government, current prime minister Narendra Modi has made it one of his leadership’s top priorities. The corridor claims it will urbanise 12% of India over the next 30 years.
“When a maelstrom approaches, it uproots even larger trees,” says land-rights activist Sagar Rabari, of the dramatic changes the proposed corridor is expected to inflict on the people and landscape of western India. “What hope can the small shrubs harbour?”