Indian cities are failing their people. As architects, urban designers, urban planners, and decision-makers, we must confront an uncomfortable truth: our urban environments are woefully inadequate by any global standard. Take a hard look at the streets of Hyderabad, Mumbai, or Bangalore – crumbling or non-existent footpaths, chaotic traffic, and the absence of inviting public spaces have become the norm. This isn’t due to a lack of resources or talent – India boasts world-class engineers and architects – so why do our cities remain so hostile to the very people who live in them? It’s time for a sharp, honest critique of our urban status quo and an inspiring call to action to finally design the livable cities Indians deserve.
What We See Abroad vs. What We Accept at Home
If you’ve ever traveled to European cities or well-planned cities in Southeast Asia, you’ve likely felt something different—something that lingers in your mind long after you return. These cities have a certain ease, a certain logic, and above all, a deep respect for human movement and public life. Streets feel inviting, not just because they are aesthetically designed, but because they function effortlessly for people. You notice continuous, obstruction-free footpaths, well-placed crossings, intuitive public transport connections, and public spaces that genuinely welcome people from all walks of life.
Now, come back home and step into one of our cities. The contrast is impossible to ignore. Here, the very fundamentals of urban living seem to have been overlooked or actively disregarded. Walking is a daily struggle, navigating around potholes, encroachments, and broken sidewalks. Traffic is an unregulated chaos where pedestrians are an afterthought, forced to weave through speeding vehicles because designated crossings are either absent or ignored. Public spaces are either non-existent or hostile—walled off, poorly maintained, or simply designed without an understanding of how people actually use them.
The truth is, it isn’t difficult to create well-designed, functional urban spaces. We have seen it done elsewhere. The problem is not a lack of knowledge or resources—it is a systemic indifference to quality urban life. While other cities around the world evolve, shaping environments that prioritise dignity, efficiency, and public well-being, we continue to tolerate a dysfunction that should never have become the norm. Why? Why do we accept mediocrity when we know better?
Living with the Consequences
This failure of urban design isn’t just an aesthetic issue—it has real human costs. Indian city-dwellers endure daily discomfort and danger unimaginable elsewhere. With missing or encroached footpaths, pedestrians are forced onto roads, dodging traffic, hopping over open drains. Simply walking to the store or bus stop is a life-threatening ordeal. How did we let this become normal?
The discomfort goes beyond physical risk. Navigating Indian streets is mentally exhausting—constant honking, squeezing between moving vehicles, and staying hyper-alert to avoid accidents. The elderly and disabled are completely sidelined, with sidewalks that are either too high, broken, or blocked. Children lack safe routes to school, and women feel unsafe in poorly lit, empty, or overbuilt spaces that discourage pedestrian presence at night. Public spaces fail at being truly public, excluding anyone who isn’t young, agile, or willing to take risks just to move through the city.
This car-centric approach has paradoxically worsened mobility for everyone. The more we prioritise cars, the worse traffic gets. Poor public transport and unwalkable streets force more people into private vehicles, creating an endless cycle of gridlock, pollution, and wasted time. Our cities aren’t just chaotic—they are a direct result of neglecting human-scale planning.
Pride & Ownership?
The greatest loss is not just broken infrastructure—it’s the loss of ownership and pride in our cities. A well-designed city engages its people, while a poorly designed one pushes them away. Where are the plazas and parks that invite people to gather, stroll, and connect? Without them, cities feel indifferent and fragmented. Public spaces should belong to everyone, yet in their absence, citizens feel no connection—no shared stake in their city’s future.
Instead, our streets are zones of survival, not places to belong. Garbage piles up, heritage decays, and people stop expecting better. Neglect breeds apathy.
A city that doesn’t care for its people teaches its people not to care for it.
This is the cycle we must break. Pride and ownership don’t come from policies alone—they come from cities designed for people, not just traffic.
It's not Rocket Science. We Know the Solutions. So What’s the Excuse?
It’s not as if we lack knowledge of how to build better cities. The principles of human-centric urban design are well-documented and often discussed in India’s planning circles. We know that streets must be designed for all users – pedestrians, cyclists, public transit riders, not just motorists. We know that adding a simple footpath can literally save lives and improve mobility. (Chennai proved this by building 100 km of footpaths in recent years – studies found that up to 29% of people using those footpaths would have otherwise taken private vehicles, meaning the new sidewalks actively reduced traffic and emissions). We know the value of public parks and squares in enhancing quality of life and community wellbeing. We even have policies on paper acknowledging these truths: the National Urban Transport Policy of 2006 declared that Indian cities must be designed for people, not cars. And yet here we are, nearly two decades later, with precious little to show for it on the ground.
So, the burning question is: why do Indian cities continue to ignore pedestrian infrastructure, public spaces, and human-centric design despite knowing the solutions? It’s a question that should make every urban professional uncomfortable. One answer is a persistent, myopic car-centric mindset among many decision-makers. For decades, our default “solution” to traffic has been to build bigger roads, flyovers, and parking lots – as if we can pave our way out of congestion. In this paradigm, footpaths and bike lanes are treated as residual spaces, optional add-ons after the “real” infrastructure (roads for vehicles) is built. The result is visible everywhere: massive highways and Metro lines get green-lit, while basic sidewalks and streetlights languish. Another factor is official apathy and skewed priorities – the wealthy minority who plan and finance cities often don’t personally walk or take buses; they glide by in cars. Thus, budgets favor what the powerful use (flyovers, expressways) and neglect what the common man uses (pavements, parks). This skew is tragically ironic, given that pedestrians and public transport users far outnumber private car owners in Indian cities.
There’s also a cultural resignation at play. Too many professionals and citizens have bought into the false notion that “this is just how Indian cities are” – chaotic, dirty, unplanned – and that our rapid growth leaves no room for aesthetics or nuance. This is a defeatist mindset that we must shake off. Other developing countries have overcome similar challenges; look at how rapidly cities in East Asia improved their infrastructure within a generation. We cannot keep blaming population or poverty for urban messiness when solutions are at hand. The truth is, continuing down this path is a choice – a choice to accept mediocrity. And that choice is simply unacceptable today.
Our Cities Are Failing. So Is Our Profession.
As architects and urban planners, we need to ask ourselves some tough questions: Why are we failing? Why has mediocrity become the norm in Indian urban design? We are the professionals trained to shape cities, yet much of our built environment is an embarrassment. Is it because we are too willing to compromise good design under pressure from clients, contractors, or politicians? Are we content designing flashy gated communities and malls, while the public realm – the streets and parks between those projects – rots from neglect? Our silence and inaction make us complicit in this failure.
Professional responsibility means advocating for the public good, even when it’s not explicitly asked for in a brief. It means fighting for that extra meter of footpath, insisting on trees and benches, pushing back against a plan that shoves a flyover through a residential area. It means using our knowledge to convince decision-makers that human-scale design is not a frill, but fundamental to a city’s function. We have plenty of guidelines and examples to draw on – from the Indian Roads Congress standards for pedestrian facilities to global best practices for “complete streets.” The failure is not knowing what to do; the failure is in not doing it. We as professionals must have the courage to say “no” to bad urban design and the vision to propose alternatives. Why should we accept, for instance, that a new commercial development doesn’t include a setback for a sidewalk? Why do we tolerate utility agencies digging up footpaths endlessly without repair? Why are we not raising an outcry when a city’s annual budget allocates peanuts for pedestrian facilities but crores for road-widening? These should be our fights – and yet, too often, we shrug and move on.
It’s time to reclaim our agency as designers of the urban experience. Great architects and planners are problem-solvers, civic thinkers, and sometimes rebels. India has produced visionary urbanists in the past – from those who planned Chandigarh and Delhi’s central vistas to contemporary architects bringing humane design to private projects. But where is that vision when it comes to the city as a whole? We need to hold ourselves to a higher standard. The “chalta hai” attitude has no place in our work. If anything, we should be outraged that our talent is underutilised and our cities remain far below their potential. This is a call for professional soul-searching: We must acknowledge that tinkering at the margins is not enough – systemic change in how we plan and design cities is urgently needed, and we must lead that change.
Challenging the Status Quo: Designing a Better Urban Future
Enough is enough. We cannot let another generation grow up in cities that suffocate their potential and dignity. It’s time to challenge the status quo and demand a new paradigm for Indian cities – one that values livability, inclusivity, and design excellence as non-negotiable aspects.
How do we get there? We start by insisting on certain basics immediately:
Put pedestrians first. Every road redesign, every new transit line, every “smart city” initiative must begin with the question: How will people walk here? Restore footpaths wherever they’ve vanished; make them continuous, wide, and accessible. Add zebra crossings and pedestrian signals at intersections – not as token gestures, but as a fundamental right of way. The aim should be a city where a child or an elderly person can walk a few kilometers without fear. We have the money for grand flyovers – we can certainly afford paint, paving, and bollards for safe sidewalks and crossings.
Create public spaces that matter. Identify spaces for new parks, plazas, and playgrounds in every neighbourhood. It could be a disused traffic island turned into a little garden, or a parking lot converted into a public square. Imbue these projects with design quality – engage landscape architects, artists, the community. Remember that public spaces aren’t a “waste” of real estate; they are an investment in social infrastructure and civic well-being. Even densely built cities can find opportunities for small plazas or pedestrian-only streets (many European and Asian cities have done so in historic crowded quarters). We need to show that Indian cities can offer joy and relaxation, not only stress.
Design at the human scale. This means keeping sightlines low and inviting, building streets that feel like places to be, not just channels to pass through. Curb the obsession with mammoth flyovers and instead explore traffic solutions that are compatible with human activity at ground level (like better public transit or junction design). Encourage mixed-use, dense development that reduces travel distances and brings life to the street. A well-designed street has room for walking, lingering, shopping from a hawker, sitting under a tree. These elements aren’t costly – they just require prioritisation. A street’s success should be measured by how it feels to a person on foot, not how many vehicles zoomed through.
Foster accountability and participation. We must hold our municipal authorities accountable for maintaining basic urban infrastructure. When a sidewalk is broken or a public toilet is filthy, it is not acceptable to ignore it. Citizen groups, resident welfare associations, and professionals can unite to pressure governments for timely fixes and better standards. At the same time, involve local communities in the design of solutions – ask people what they need on their streets and in their parks. Civic pride grows when people have a hand in shaping their city.
Finally, and most importantly, dare to dream of cities that reflect India’s true potential. We are a country bursting with creativity, heritage, and community life. Our cities should reflect that vibrancy – not drown it in chaos and concrete. Imagine a Hyderabad where tree-lined boulevards connect lively public squares, or a Mumbai where the seafront and historic districts are largely car-free and full of cultural events. These are not utopian fantasies; they are achievable visions if we muster the will. Other nations have reinvented their urban spaces within years, with far fewer resources than we have now. So why not India? Why can’t Indian architects and planners lead a renaissance in urban design that the world will admire?
This is a direct challenge to all of us in the architectural and planning community: let’s stop making excuses and start making a difference. Let’s talk openly about the mediocrity we’ve tolerated and pledge to end it. Let’s use our skills to create streets that welcome people, parks that nourish communities, and cities that inspire pride rather than frustration. The next time you walk or drive through your city, don’t tune out its problems – feel that discomfort and let it galvanise you. We must channel our professional knowledge and civic passion into a movement for better urban spaces now. The people of our cities deserve nothing less. The question is not “Can we afford to build livable cities?” but rather, “Can we afford not to?
It’s time to reclaim our urban future. Let’s get to work...
The next part of this topic is coming soon!
(architectural education and urban responsibility)
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