Just Like That: The collapse beneath our feet

Every few weeks, another Indian city offers us a grim reminder of pervasive municipal failure or neglect. A spell of heavy rain is enough to paralyse traffic for hours. Roads disappear beneath water or, worse, cave in altogether. Newly laid asphalt develops potholes within months. Garbage piles up despite expensive municipal contracts. Sewage overflows into residential colonies. Water shortages coexist with flooding. Electricity supply remains uncertain in vast stretches of the country. Public transport is either grossly inadequate or overwhelmed. The air is increasingly unbreathable, while open spaces disappear beneath relentless concrete.Water shortages coexist with flooding.The collapse of India’s urban infrastructure is no longer episodic. It is systemic. It affects almost every metropolitan city, but nowhere is it more visible than in India’s rapidly expanding Tier-II and Tier-III towns. The obvious question is: why?The first instinct is to blame a shortage of funds. Certainly, India’s urban infrastructure requires enormous investment. The World Bank has estimated that India needs hundreds of billions of dollars over the coming decades merely to keep pace with urbanisation. Municipal corporations remain financially weak, property tax collections are poor, and many local bodies depend almost entirely on state governments for resources.Yet, lack of money is only part of the explanation.India today is the world’s fourth-largest economy. We possess the resources to build expressways stretching thousands of kilometres, airports that rival the best in the world, impressive railway stations, and spectacular bridges. We have demonstrated extraordinary engineering capability whenever political priority has aligned with administrative determination.Why, then, do ordinary citizens continue to live amid broken drains, overflowing garbage, erratic water supply, and collapsing roads?The answer lies less in economics than in governance.Urban administration has become one of the weakest links in India’s democratic architecture. Responsibility is fragmented among municipal corporations, development authorities, state governments, public works departments, water boards, electricity agencies, transport corporations, and numerous specialised bodies. Accountability disappears in this bureaucratic maze. Every institution possesses partial authority, but none bears complete responsibility.Corruption aggravates the problem immeasurably. Contracts are frequently awarded not on the basis of competence but patronage. Roads are repeatedly dug up by different agencies because coordination is absent. Repairs become lucrative opportunities rather than permanent solutions. Preventive maintenance, which costs relatively little, is ignored until expensive reconstruction becomes unavoidable.Yet there is another explanation. Those empowered to make decisions are often insulated from the consequences of their own failures. This has deep historical roots. Colonial India institutionalised spatial inequality. The British created Civil Lines—expansive, tree-lined enclaves with broad roads, dependable services, and meticulous maintenance. Indians inhabited congested settlements beyond these privileged zones. Urban planning itself became an instrument of hierarchy.Independence transformed political authority but did not fundamentally alter this geography of privilege. Today, Civil Lines has acquired different names but survives with remarkable resilience. In Delhi, Lutyens’ Delhi remains conspicuously different from large parts of the capital. Wide avenues, uninterrupted electricity, efficient sanitation, carefully maintained parks, and prompt municipal attention contrast sharply with neighbourhoods where citizens contend daily with overflowing drains, broken pavements, and neglected civic services.The same pattern exists across state capitals. Those responsible for urban governance often inhabit islands protected from the realities experienced by the overwhelming majority of citizens. It is difficult to develop urgency about potholes one never encounters, overflowing garbage one never smells, or public transport one never uses.Our goal of building ‘smart cities’ is laudable. Digital governance, intelligent traffic systems, surveillance networks, integrated command centres, and data-driven planning can improve urban management. But no amount of digital sophistication can compensate for unreliable drinking water, dysfunctional sewage systems, collapsing roads, or inadequate drainage. Sensors cannot replace sanitation. Artificial intelligence cannot substitute for competent municipal administration.Nor are gated communities the answer. Across India’s cities, affluent citizens increasingly retreat behind high walls, private security, captive power generation, independent water supply, and privately managed sanitation. These enclaves provide an illusion of insulation from urban dysfunction. But cities cannot survive as archipelagos of privilege surrounded by oceans of neglect.There is also an uncomfortable truth that citizens themselves must confront. We have become excessively tolerant of civic failure. A road collapses; we complain for a day and adjust our route. Garbage accumulates; we avert our eyes. Encroachments multiply; we navigate around them. Illegal construction proceeds; we assume nothing can be done. We reconcile ourselves to what ought to provoke sustained public outrage.Democracy cannot function merely through periodic elections. It requires continuous civic engagement. Resident Welfare Associations, citizen groups, urban planners, civil society organisations, and local communities must demand measurable standards of governance and transparent accountability.The true measure of a nation’s progress is not merely the height of its skyscrapers or the speed of its expressways, but the quality of life its citizens can lead. Until that happens, our dreams of global leadership will continue to stumble over the potholes beneath our feet.(Pavan K Varma is an author, diplomat, and former member of Parliament (Rajya Sabha). The views expressed are personal)