The morning air at Bibibazaar in Moghalpura, a business thoroughfare of Hyderabad, crackles with the vibrant symphony of urban life. Around 8 a.m., the Victoria Restaurant fills the air with the intoxicating aroma of freshly-fried pooris, steaming shorba and freshly baked naan. Outside, the street is a kaleidoscope of motion — a blur of auto-rickshaws, State-run buses and sundry vehicles, even as groups of children stroll to school with carefree ease. Some, however, can be seen jumping past overflowing sewage, dodging two-wheelers or maneuvering around piles of construction debris and a new marker on the road that proclaims, ‘With Revanth Bhai as CM, Old City Gets Metro’.
A few of these children study at the 145-year-old Mufeed Ul Anam School in Aitbar Chowk, which, like many other structures in the area, is poised to lose part of its land for the metro rail corridor that will snake through the inner core of Hyderabad. “During the earlier road widening, we lost one room. Now, we stand to lose half of our original classroom,” laments school principal Rama Devi, an educator with 33 years of service.
A sense of loss
The impact extends beyond educational institutions. Syed Abid Husain, an octogenarian resident of a 120-year-old house with a wall-to-wall carpet, sits amid the remnants of a bygone era. With a heavy heart, he points to a mark on the wall. “This house will be demolished up to that point. This room, along with half the verandah, will be gone. We will be left with a mere shell of our home,” he says as his voice trails off, filled with a sense of profound loss.
“Every year, during the 10th day Muharram procession, the elephant graces our doorstep. We climb the ledge to make offerings,” says Husain, whose residence — a landmark designed by chief architect of Hyderabad State, Zain Yar Jung — stands opposite the Azakhana-e-Zehra, a place of cultural and religious significance.
The metro rail construction will not only diminish his living space but also sever a deep-rooted connection to his heritage. “The metro is unnecessary; they can use another route to build it,” he declares, his voice laced with anger. Husain is now preparing to challenge the project in court, a last-ditch effort to save his home from the impending demolition, a home that will be reduced by nearly 44 feet from the road.
But outside the house, there is no walking space for pedestrians. The narrow walkway is a chaotic mix of beggars, lemon sellers, sugarcane juice vendors, and haphazardly parked auto-rickshaws and abandoned vehicles. This very stretch undergoes transformation during the first 10 days of Muharram, becoming a spiritual wonderland filled with the soulful sounds of zikr, majlis, and the ziyarat of alams.
Beyond Ali Lodge lies the Princess Esin Girls High School, a relic of the Purani Haveli, the 18th century palace complex that was once the seat of power of the Asaf Jahi rulers (Nizams) and was gifted to Prince Sikander Jah as dowry.
Scattered along this street are the graves of individuals who played pivotal roles in shaping Hyderabad’s history. In one corner of a playground, one can find the final resting place of the kin of Mir Momin, who designed the city. In another part lies the grave of the statesman who succeeded Mir Momin as prime minister. Just off the road, the graves complex of the Kalyani Nawabs holds historical significance, for it is believed that the legendary Kalyani Biryani was first created within their kitchens during a time of hardship.
The proposed metro line zig-zags around these heritage sites, dodging some while bypassing others. “Will this tree be saved or will it fall too,” asks a gentleman about the banyan outside Dargah Bhole Shah Qalandar.
A makeshift shop selling naan in front of a site which was demolished for the upcoming Metro Rail project in Moghulpura of Hyderabad’s Old City. | Photo Credit: Siddhant Thakur
According to an estimate, the metro project will have an impact on 1,100 properties. Owners of 800 of those properties have received notices from the Hyderabad Metro Rail Limited (HMRL). Despite objections raised by some residents, the District Collector has overruled many of them. A notice by the official reads: “…the procession of Bibi-ka-Alam will not be impacted… there is no possibility of an alternate route of Metro Project, and property is to be acquired to achieve the required RoW (Right of Way). Hence, the request is not maintainable and is rejected.”
It is this five-kilometre stretch of road where the past, present and future collide to create a cocktail of an intractable problem. The metro’s construction threatens to disrupt the area’s rich historical, religious, and heritage fabric as towering pillars rise and ‘baby trains’ rumble towards Chandrayangutta and beyond, ultimately connecting to the Hyderabad Airport.
However, opposition to the metro project is now rife with political risks. Residents living beyond the Musi River, often feeling neglected from development initiatives, view metro rail as a much-needed catalyst for progress. Even those who are about to lose their property acknowledge its potential benefits. “Bahut achha hai; Dubai aa gaye jaisa lagta (Metro is good; we feel like we have reached Dubai when we go to other parts of the city),” remarks Jaffar bin Mubarak, a 30-year-old milk seller.
“It takes me half an hour to travel from Purani Haveli to Talabkatta, a distance of roughly 1.5 kilometres. How long can we continue to live with such limited mobility? With growing population, we need to embrace development for the sake of future generations,” he adds.
Jaffar, an avid goat breeder with a penchant for long-eared varieties, is set to lose 14 feet of his property, including his shop. “I will move it inside and resume my business,” he says matter-of-factly.
The political landscape surrounding the metro project has been marked by varying degrees of opposition. Former chief minister K.Chandrasekhar Rao, during the State’s inaugural Assembly session in June 2014, had said, “Only Hyderabadis know the importance of Sultan Bazaar.” He advocated for underground Metro lines near the Assembly building and Martyrs Memorial, reflecting concerns about the impact on these landmarks.
The Majlis Ittehadul Muslimeen (MIM) had initially expressed a more nuanced stance. In a 2012 interview with The Hindu, party leader and current MP Asaduddin Owaisi stated, “We welcome road widening projects and do not agree with some of the objections raised by heritage groups. But in the case of the proposed metro, we have recently submitted a letter requesting that one of the alignments be changed to save a large number of Islamic historical structures.”
Change in stance
This position changed in 2018, with party leader Akbaruddin Owaisi rhetorically asking, “Did we stop or obstruct the work on the original route?” The initial opposition from various quarters, including the MIM, has now largely subsided in the face of mounting public pressure. The narrow, congested roads are increasingly choked with trash, vehicular traffic crawls, ride-hailing app drivers often refuse service in the area, and public bus services are severely limited.
In 2008, architect Shankar Narayan teamed up with the Indian Institute of Architects and Goethe Zentrum to curate an exhibition ‘Metro Impact’, a visionary exploration of how the elevated transport system would transform the city. Now, he reflects on the unfolding reality with a tinge of irony. “Much like for the human body, rejuvenation and renewal are needed [for a city]. But the question is how sensitively it is done. The officials had ample time, from 2018, to refine the plan and address concerns. Yet, they are pushing forward with the original proposal,” he says, adding that public patience has worn thin, leading residents to reluctantly acquiesce to the project.
Narayan advocates for a single-loop metro line that connects the Old City and circles back to Mahatma Gandhi Bus Station. He argues that this configuration would offer greater coverage and reduce congestion more effectively.
“Walking is the oldest form of human locomotion and metro is the newest. Both can coexist if we develop pedestrian-friendly infrastructure, such as good footpaths, to increase ridership instead of looking for last-mile connectivity solutions,” he suggests.
Built in 1591, Hyderabad grew around the Charminar. This historic core boasted a blend of architectural styles, featuring graceful mansions, opulent palaces, and towering religious structures when it became part of India in 1948. At that time, the city was sparsely populated. Today, however, a sense of timelessness pervades the streets of this once-walled city, standing in stark contrast to the dynamic skyline of the surrounding areas, where skyscrapers, multi-level flyovers, shopping complexes and expansive parks and lakes dominate the landscape.
A growing city
The first effort to impose a plan on the city included the establishment of the City Improvement Board in 1912. Much later, in 1975, Hyderabad Urban Development Authority (HUDA) was formed and mandated to develop a master plan for the Municipal Corporation of Hyderabad.
During this period, the city’s population exploded, surging from 27.58 lakh in 1980 to an estimated 144 lakh today. However, as the city experienced rapid growth, comprehensive planning and design fell by the wayside. Draft master plans, announced in 1994 for the year 2011 and subsequently in 2008 for 2020, were effectively shelved. This lack of consistent planning has resulted in a complex web of regulations that remain only on paper in the absence of regulatory oversight.
New regulatory bodies, such as the Cyberabad Development Authority, Buddhapurnima Development Authority, and Hyderabad Airport Development Authority, were created then and buried equally quickly with the HUDA. Amid this bureaucratic labyrinth, a critical element of any successful city — transportation — was largely neglected. The metro rail system, along with the planned 100-foot road, is expected to bring in change. “Mobility systems in older city areas will typically be underground,” explains Chaitanya Kanuri, associate director of WRI India, a research organisation that works with local and national governments, businesses, and civil society to address development challenges.
“However, the cost of underground metro rail can go up to ₹500-600 crore per kilometre, which is more than double the cost of elevated metro rail systems. A major challenge is ensuring the structural integrity of centuries-old heritage buildings. This will not only take additional time but higher levels of safeguards, driving up costs further. An added challenge is that high-density older city areas often have a proliferation of unauthorised settlements or properties, so land acquisition and compensation challenges are expected,” adds Kanuri.
Sitting on the road, framed by the debris of a shop that he hired out, Mohd. Ghouse Mohiuddin now operates a makeshift stall, selling freshly baked naan for ₹12 a piece. “My 20-year-old shop used to be known as New Taj Mahal Naan. The owner took the compensation [due to metro construction], and the shop disappeared. Now, I am baking naan at home and bringing it here to sell,” he says.
A few kilometres ahead stands the iconic Munshi Naan, which started in 1851. Here, skilled workers bake fluffy sourdough naan. “We don’t know what will happen to this establishment,” says Syed Fariduddin, who has been working at the renowned bakery since 25 years.
Published – January 24, 2025 08:10 am IST
