photo by Andrew Biraj
‘Homo urbanis’
Welcome to the urban century. According to projections made by the United Nations Population Fund, the world’s urban population will outnumber its rural counterparts sometime this year. Keeping with the global trend, Bangladesh is no exception. Urbanisation is more predominant than any other time in history. The facts are staggering, and alarming.
As the fastest growing urban entity, Dhaka will become the sixth most populous in the world and third in Asia in by 2015, according to urban experts. Twenty-two million urbanites cramped within the mega city will worsen what is already one of the highest urban concentrations in the world. Dhaka currently ranks as the world’s 11th largest city with a population growth of 3.2 per cent. The national average growth is 1.7 per cent, and presently almost 10 per cent of the population lives in the capital. While our mufassils have been growing at a constant pace over the decades, the major cities have seen the most phenomenal growth in recent years. But nothing compares to what our capital has witnessed: an enveloping nightmare!
The urban sprawl of Dhaka is going wrong: anyone who lives in the city will readily tell you this. Or as most of those living inside this cocoon of chaos, will tell you without batting an eyelid: Dhaka has gone wrong. The city that had once revolved around ‘fifty-two bazaars and fifty-three lanes’ has metamorphosed into a behemoth of unplanned and uncontrolled urbanisation. While the spatial expansion has been unbridled, as Bangladesh’s capital it has become the all-encompassing central hub for all kinds of economic activity.
With its population growing exponentially, their civic needs as urbanites have not only been able to keep up, they are ignored. No planning, no vision for a megacity, has driven our tilottoma Dhaka to her present madness, with some planners denouncing her state as ‘beyond the point of no return’.
Of all the elements that make a city liveable, and gives it a unique identity, nothing is more emblematic than the neighbourhoods we live in. The residential areas that house millions are the lifeblood of a city. Modern-era Dhaka started, in accordance with the 1959 plan drawn up under the Dhaka Improvement Trust, with some well-planned residential areas. Dhanmondi, though barely resembling its umbilical vision, was to be a prime example of Dhaka’s best residential area. Almost as a sign of what is going wrong with the city as a whole, our malfunctioning residential areas are a scarred face of the city. They are dysfunctional and growing without any plan. For any city as big as Dhaka, and for its residential areas, probably the most important requirement, which had been lacking, was a master plan for the megapolis. And specifically on an operations scale, a full-fledged building code that would entail a holistic vision of the future of this city. The good news is, now we do have a master plan and we have a new detailed and visionary building rule for Dhaka: Dhaka Metropolitan Area Building Construction Rules 2006. The bad news is that as with most plans for Dhaka (there have been several over the decades), it has the possibility of not being implemented to its true intentions. The results can be catastrophic. To understand what Dhaka needs to be, one has to fathom where Dhaka stands today.
Where exactly is the new Dhaka?
While the territorial idea of Dhaka is quite vague to most of its residents, it is imperative to understand what Dhaka encompasses. With its origins on the eastern banks of the river Buriganga, Dhaka lies between three rivers: the Buriganga, the Turag, and the Balu. This has a big impact on the way the city has evolved. The idea of Dhaka as a territorial entity has several meanings. The Dhaka City Corporation’s official boundary entails the ‘city’: it stretches from the northern bank of Buriganga in the south to Tongi khal in the north and Gandaria in the southeast, Badda in the east to Rayerbazar in the west and Mirpur in the north-west. Uttara also forms a part of this area, though it extends north of Dhaka Cantonment, which is not a part of Dhaka that can be built on or developed.
‘To solve Dhaka’s problems and to make it liveable one must grasp what this city is,’ explains Professor Nazrul Islam, honorary chairman of the Centre for Urban Studies and professor in the Department of Geography and Environment of Dhaka University. ‘There are no less than four connotations of Dhaka. While the DCC is the official entity, with an area of 145 square kilometres, the Dhaka Statistical Metropolitan Area is what has made the city a mega city,’ the professor says.
The DSMA covers a huge patch of land: 1,353 square kilometres, which along with the DCC area covers Narayanganj, Kadam Rasul, Tongi, Gazipur and Savar. From a planning perspective, the regulatory and planning authority Rajdhani Unnayan Kartipakkha covers 1,528 square kilometres.
‘RAJUK’s planning area is the actual Dhaka Metropolitan Development Planning area and the idea of Dhaka city as just the few areas that house mid- and upper-income families is highly deceptive,’ says Professor Islam. He rightly points out that Dhaka’s millions do not live in Dhanmondi, Gulshan or Uttara. ‘Rather the future of Dhaka, the prospect of having a liveable city, lies in grasping the concept of Dhaka with all those who live and work off it. Actually, the new building rules and the master plan of Dhaka implies for all areas. To make Dhaka’s residential areas better or rather save them from their doom, we have to make the city work,’ he says.
So, what went wrong with Dhaka?
Dhaka’s growth has been its undoing. Dhaka is the magnet that pulls the entire nation’s attention. Be it commerce or culture, the capital draws people in from every corner of the country. As a result, the unbridled demand for space — residential or commercial — as the city grew over the decades made all plans irrelevant. The plan and regulation of urbanisation, especially building construction in residential areas went without the required supervision or overview.
‘From a provincial town, Dhaka has grown into a mega city. It is the nerve centre of the country’s entire economy,’ said Dhaka University Economics Professor Wahiduddin Mahmud, while chairing a seminar on ‘Urban Issues and Challenges in Dhaka’ organised by the World Bank this November. ‘But the city’s governance system has developed more by default than by design,’ said Professor Mahmud.
Mahmud raises the key question of planning. Dhaka city’s growth has been unchecked, and her residential areas have been no exception. The formulation of the Building Construction Act 1952 gave Dhaka’s residential areas their first sense of direction. While it had been formulated based on the premise of ‘controlled urban growth’, and was subsequently followed up by several ‘Building Regulations’ to authorise and guide all types of construction activities, it was its implementation that saw the city having some well-planned residential areas.
‘However, the subsequent regulations were never based on any studies as to the actual need or reflecting the context. These rather were outcome of whimsical decisions by people in the power. Thus these failed to bring the desired growth in the one hand, while on the other hand encouraged and facilitated violations that became hazardous to public safety, accountability and aesthetic,’ says Dr Mahbubur Rahman, professor of architecture at North South University and also general secretary of the Institute of Architects, Bangladesh.
The Rajdhani Unnayan Katripakkhya (Rajuk) is the regulatory body responsible for permitting and overseeing all construction within the Dhaka metropolis. Rajuk’s work is done following Building Construction Rules, which are a combination of planning and design guidelines regulating construction of any building — residential or commercial.
‘The Building Construction Rules for Dhaka started with only 5 lines of instruction on the backside of the application form in 1955. Gradually newer requirements (rules) were inserted — one page in 1970, three pages in 1984, and 12 pages in 1996. Bureaucrats, with no technical know-how, mostly framed all these rules where a building was conceived only within the bounds of the plot, without any reference to the surrounding neighbourhood,’ says Dr. Rahman.
The rules hardly used any tool other than minimum setback requirements and in later times relating allowable height with road width in addition to restriction on height in certain areas, explains the senior architect. He further points out that all of these requirements were set arbitrarily with no input from relevant professionals and without being thoroughly researched as to their suitability in developing a desired physical and climatic environment. This unplanned growth is what has made things go out of control. To the query as to why Dhaka, and its residential areas, are going wrong, Rahman puts it simply: ‘Damages inflicted by such inconsiderate rules were multiple. Coupled with weak implementation, it meant that these rules could neither control unabated unplanned growth and violations, nor could these give any direction towards a planned development of the teeming city. The often ambiguous, contradictory and counter-productive rules cultivated corruption, deteriorated the environment, encouraged illegal construction, destroyed neighbourhood harmony, wasted space and resources, and threatened lives.’
‘The problem started with a miscalculation in the target population. While a reasonable number might have been a cosy during the sixties, but as the population grew out of proportion, the services and amenities accommodated by the city were no longer viable,’ explains Zarina Hossain a human habitat expert and architect with the firm Odhibash. 'Sustainability is the crucial question here. And that is where a holistic plan coupled with proper implementation comes in,' says Zarina.
Dhaka's new vision
The need for a proper rule to govern Dhaka's growth, and to direct the nature of its residential areas, has been felt for many years now. In the backdrop of some severe building disasters in the 1990's costing lives and an increased awareness of the renewed threat of earthquakes pressed subsequent governments to attempt a groundbreaking new vision. But as with most new expectations, bureaucratic entanglement kept the new rules from being formulated.
An act - the 'High-rise Building Cnstruction Rules 2002' - for buildings above six stories in height resulted in a plan 'full of contradiction, technically flawed, mostly devoid of logic and with complete disregard for the wider perspective,' according to one senior architect. After that act was rejected by most practiotioners, the Institute of Architects Bangladesh in collaboration with the Bangladesh Environment Movement, the Real Estate and Housing Association of Bangladesh, and the Bangladesh Institute of Planners, embarked on the daunting task of formulating rules that would redefine the building norms of the capital. An interesting, and pioneering attempt in terms of legislative process: 'participatory planning and public-private cooperation'. The result: from 12 April, 2006, the city of Dhaka had a new Buildin rule - Dhaka Metropolitan Area Building Construction Rules 2006.
GIVE US BACK OUR ‘HOOD’
If Dhaka belongs to its residents, as more and more citizens are realising, they have to seize their neighbourhoods back from commercial occupants. As Mahfuz Sadique, a Dhanmondi resident himself, finds out, one residents’ movement is trying to rescue Dhanmondi nad has the makings of a model for other such movements
The residential neighbourhoods of Dhaka have become dysfunctional: Dhanmondi with its English-medium schools, doctor’s chambers, private universities; DOHS with its wiped out greenery and consultancies; Gulshan with its corporate offices and eateries; Banani with its fast-food joints and private universities. While a growing city might need space, keeping up with growth sacrificing the homes that its residents live in is an illusion of integration.
Take one good look at modern-day Dhanmondi and there is little to suggest that it was once a peaceful locality, where the neighbours knew each other, their children played together, and most houses were no more than two-stories high. ‘Can you believe there were patches of blue sky in between the houses,’ asks Fahmida Malik, as she reminisces about the Dhanmondi she grew up in. As a microcosm of what went wrong with quiet neighbourhoods in Dhaka, Dhanmondi stands out as a classic example of a residential utopia corrupted with the pressures of commercialisation and the urban deluge, say its residents.
But some of Dhanmondi’s residents have taken matters into their hands, so to speak. They have formed a residents’ rights group. The Dhanmondi Poribesh Unnayan Jote is causing heads to roll. Their activism is changing the face of Dhanmondi, for the better.
‘Just imagine no less than 148 structures within Dhanmondi are used by educational establishments. There are certain schools with eight campuses within the area. That point aside, while some might say that what they teach at these schools is of no concern for residents, but it is. These are like cages where our children are taught, and penalised for not naming apple or pears as fruits instead of say mango or guava,’ comments Sultana Alam, the convener of the resident’s rights group formed in July, 2002.
On their panel of advisors are eminent scholars and personalities, all residents of Dhanmondi, who are flexing their influence to bring about changes in their neighbourhood. Professor Serajul Islam Chowdhury of Dhaka University, a resident of Dhanmondi, is an advisor. ‘A community grows and thrives on the fulfilment of social needs,’ comments Professor Chowdhury. ‘With the break-up of one/two unit homes, and the formation of apartment blocks coupled with the basic shift in the nature of occupants, namely commercial ventures, has somehow eroded the fulfilment of the basic social needs this community has,’ he says.
Dhanmondi started growing as a residential area in the mid-1950s, and by the next decade had become the prime residential area of the capital occupied by growing educated upper-middle class. But as the city started expanding rapidly, gradually during the Pakistan era, and then at an alarming pace after liberation, Dhanmondi had to accommodate the pressures of rapid urbanisation.
In fact, today’s Dhanmondi is a hectic combination of towering residences, private English-medium schools, clinics, community centres, and a plethora of private universities. Though the roads on the periphery of Dhanmondi are allowed to have commercial operations, the encroachment is complete.
Sultana and her fellow residents have been campaigning for the past few years to change certain aspects of their residential area. One of their greatest successes to date has been the scrapping of the plans for a newly proposed bridge on Road 3, which holds the possibility of clogging the main arteries of the area.
‘We have always demanded that the Dhaka Metropolitan Development Plan 1995-2025 should be followed and enforced. And in doing so, the neighbourhood principle will be followed,’ explains Sultana.
’Just take the Dhanmondi Lake for example. Not following any guideline, Tk18 crores were spent and look what it has become. The concrete walkways may have stopped the encroachment of the Lake, but the area has become the city’s recreational spot. While that is all fine, this is a residential area and this doesn’t go with it,’ says Sultana.
‘Neighbourhood services must be prioritised in Dhanmondi. It’s imperative to have a designed way to improve the existing spaces in Dhanmondi. There are several enemy and vested properties under government supervision. They should be left untouched or not developed to give breathing space to the area,’ says Zarina Hossain, a human habitat expert, who grew up in Dhanmondi and is now an advisor in the panel.
‘Dhanmondi is a symbol. It stands for the dream of a quiet space that we used to call home. I miss that home,’ laments Fahmida Malik.
‘One of the main reasons why Dhanmondi’s character is so “confusing” is because Rajuk has not adhered to its original plans. While on one hand inefficiency plagues the regulatory body [Rajuk], corruption is the other big hole that eats through its plans. The plans for Dhanmondi have changed again and again. And even the ones that have been fixed are bent,’ explains Professor Islam. With the new Building Rules in place, while Dhanmondi and other such neighbourhoods have a chance of going back to their origins, with new developments over already jumbled up ones, Prof. Islam’s point on adhering to the rules is probably the slippery slope that might make the new vision of Dhaka uncertain again.
‘This situation will not change in one day. While residents’ rights groups, such as the Dhanmondi Poribesh Unnoyon Jote, are crucial in putting pressure on the authorities, a grand vision for the capital from part of the government is also necessary,’ opines Professor Islam, who is also advisor to the Jote.
‘A collective consciousness is the most important thing in this case. Dhanmondi is probably one of the few planned neighbourhoods with a chance to retain its true nature. It’s high time to save Dhanmondi,’ says Professor Islam.
‘Instead of giving away land to ministers, and letting more and more unplanned commercial enterprises to spring up, we must save Dhanmondi,’ Sultana’s hard stare resonates through the busy school traffic rushing through the street outside.
