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By:

Bhalchandra Chorghade

11 August 2025 at 1:54:18 pm

Infrastructure moment in MMR

Mumbai: The Mumbai Metropolitan Region (MMR) stands at a critical inflection point as the Mahayuti alliance secured near-complete control over key municipal corporations across the region. With aligned political leadership at the state and civic levels, the long-fragmented governance architecture of India’s most complex urban agglomeration may finally see greater coherence in planning and execution. For a region grappling with mobility stress, water insecurity and uneven urban expansion, the...

Infrastructure moment in MMR

Mumbai: The Mumbai Metropolitan Region (MMR) stands at a critical inflection point as the Mahayuti alliance secured near-complete control over key municipal corporations across the region. With aligned political leadership at the state and civic levels, the long-fragmented governance architecture of India’s most complex urban agglomeration may finally see greater coherence in planning and execution. For a region grappling with mobility stress, water insecurity and uneven urban expansion, the question now is not what to build—but how quickly and seamlessly projects can be delivered. Urban mobility remains the backbone of MMR’s infrastructure agenda. Several metro corridors are at advanced stages, including the Andheri West–Vikhroli Metro Line 6 and extensions of the Colaba–Bandra–SEEPZ Metro Line 3. While construction has progressed steadily, coordination issues with municipal agencies—particularly related to road restoration, utilities shifting and traffic management—have often slowed execution. With elected civic bodies now politically aligned with the state government and agencies like MMRDA and MMRC, these bottlenecks are expected to ease. Decision-making on road closures, permissions for casting yards and last-mile integration with buses and footpaths could see faster turnarounds. Suburban rail projects such as the Panvel–Karjat corridor and additional railway lines on the Central and Western routes are also likely to benefit from smoother land acquisition and rehabilitation approvals, traditionally the most contentious municipal functions. Regional Connectivity MMR’s road infrastructure has expanded rapidly in recent years, but execution has often been uneven across municipal boundaries. Projects such as the Mumbai Coastal Road, the Goregaon–Mulund Link Road, the Thane–Borivali tunnel and the Airoli–Katai connector have regional significance but require constant coordination with local bodies for utilities, encroachments and traffic planning. Under a unified civic dispensation, authorities expect fewer inter-agency delays and greater willingness at the municipal level to prioritise regionally critical projects over hyper-local political considerations. The next phase of the Coastal Road, suburban creek bridges, and arterial road widening projects in fast-growing nodes like Vasai-Virar, Kalyan-Dombivli and Panvel could be streamlined as municipal corporations align their development plans with state transport objectives. Water Security Water supply remains one of the most politically sensitive infrastructure issues in MMR, particularly in peripheral urban zones. Projects such as the Surya Regional Water Supply Scheme and proposed dam developments in the Karjat region are designed to address chronic shortages in Mira-Bhayandar, Vasai-Virar and parts of Navi Mumbai. While these projects are state-driven, municipal cooperation is critical for distribution networks, billing systems and sewerage integration. With elected bodies replacing administrators, local governments are expected to accelerate last-mile pipelines, treatment plants and sewage networks that often lag behind bulk water infrastructure. Unified political control may also reduce resistance to tariff rationalisation and long-delayed sewage treatment upgrades mandated under environmental norms. Housing Integration One area where political alignment could have an outsized impact is redevelopment—particularly slum rehabilitation and transit-oriented development. Many large housing projects have stalled due to disputes between civic officials, state agencies and local political interests. A cohesive governance structure could fast-track approvals for cluster redevelopment near metro corridors, unlocking both housing supply and ridership potential. Municipal corporations are also likely to align their development control regulations more closely with state urban policy, enabling higher density near transport nodes and more predictable redevelopment timelines. This could be transformative for older suburbs and industrial belts awaiting regeneration. The return of elected municipal councils after years of administrative rule introduces political accountability but also sharper alignment with state priorities. Budget approvals, tendering processes and policy decisions that earlier faced delays due to political uncertainty are expected to move faster. Capital expenditure plans could increasingly reflect regional priorities rather than fragmented ward-level demands. However, challenges remain. Faster execution will depend not only on political control but on institutional capacity, contractor performance and financial discipline. Public scrutiny is also likely to intensify as elected representatives seek visible results within fixed tenures.

Fall From Grace

Sonam Wangchuk, Ladakh’s most famous ‘innovator,’ risks becoming another case study in how local unrest is amplified for global agendas.

It is tempting to believe in fairy tales. A poor boy from Ladakh, mocked for his broken Hindi and English, rises to global fame, inspires a Bollywood blockbuster and wins an international award. He builds solar-heated schools and lectures the world about the dangers of climate change. That is the narrative surrounding Sonam Wangchuk, the 59-year-old engineer-turned-activist who has long basked in the glow of celebrity. But the Wangchuk saga, now tainted by accusations of inciting deadly violence in Leh, appears less about innocent innovation and more about the troubling nexus between romanticised activism and foreign patronage.


For years, Wangchuk has been presented to Indian audiences as a visionary. The character of PhunshukhWangdu in 3 Idiots (2009), played by Aamir Khan, turned him into a household name. In 2018, he collected the Ramon Magsaysay Award, the Asian equivalent of the Nobel Prize, for reforming education in Ladakh. Western foundations fawned over him. His Himalayan Institute of Alternative Learning (HIAL) attracted glowing coverage in climate circles. Yet, much like Muhammad Yunus in Bangladesh or Malala Yousafzai in Pakistan, Wangchuk represents a breed of civil society darlings who are celebrated in New York, Geneva and Oslo precisely because they fit the mould of dissenters against their own governments.


Now, the sheen is wearing off as Leh recently witnessed its bloodiest day in years which left four dead, nearly a hundred injured and several government buildings torched during statehood protests. The Ministry of Home Affairs laid the blame squarely on Wangchuk, accusing him of inciting the mob “through his provocative statements.” Even as Leh burned, the activist ended his much-publicised hunger strike and left in an ambulance, proclaiming that violence was not his way.


The government’s scepticism is not unfounded. For months, the Central Bureau of Investigation has been probing possible violations of the Foreign Contribution (Regulation) Act (FCRA) by his institute. Earlier this year, Wangchuk made a curious trip across the border to Pakistan, raising eyebrows in New Delhi. Meanwhile, the Ladakh administration has already cancelled HIAL’s land allotment, citing misuse.


Wangchuk’s life story is often narrated in plaintive tones. Born in Uleytokpo village near Leh, the son of a politician, he floundered in Srinagar schools where he neither spoke Hindi nor English. In later interviews, he has recounted humiliation so acute that he contemplated suicide. By 12, he had run away to Delhi, begged his way into a Kendriya Vidyalaya, and later studied engineering in Srinagar. In 1988, he co-founded SECMOL, a group that trained Ladakhi teachers and reworked school curricula.


The West adored this narrative. Earthen construction at SECMOL won an international architecture award. His ‘ice stupas,’ essentially frozen fountains designed to store water for farmers, made it to TED Talks. His fasts against climate change, filmed against the Himalayan backdrop, provided perfect visuals for global consumption. Wangchuk embodied the prototype of the indigenous genius who could shame India’s state into reform - precisely the kind of figure prized by Western NGOs.


But myth-making has its limits. Since 2019, when Ladakh became a Union Territory, Wangchuk’s demands have grown louder and more political. He has demanded Sixth Schedule status for Ladakh, constitutional safeguards and even hinted at quasi-separatist rhetoric about cultural survival. His long-drawn fasts, whether at Khardungla Pass or in Delhi, were less Gandhian satyagraha than calculated performance designed for international headlines. When his latest agitation turned violent, his calls for peace sounded hollow, even opportunistic.


The tragedy is not that Ladakh’s youth are frustrated. They clearly are by all accounts. It is that their anger is being funnelled through a personality whose incentives are not aligned with stability. “Gen-Z revolution,” as Wangchuk termed the unrest, is less revolution than reckless provocation.


That is precisely why Western recognition often attaches itself to them. Awards like the Magsaysay prize, granted with lofty rhetoric about ‘community-driven reform,’ are not innocent. They validate activists whose politics undermine state authority, especially in regions sensitive to national security. In Ladakh, perched against the borders of China and Pakistan, agitations carry obvious risks. New Delhi knows it. So, do Washington and Brussels.


For India, the lesson is not to romanticise every local hero turned global activist. Ladakh deserves stability and development. What it does not need is a cult of personality packaged for foreign audiences and bankrolled by opaque networks.

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