The Mumbai Coastal Road is not just a stretch of asphalt; it's a 35 km, ₹13,060 crore urban mega‑project that began all the way in December 2018. The purpose of this road was to link South Mumbai to Kandivali through reclaimed land and underpasses. At its heart lies a tension between technocratic visions of a "world‑class" city and the lived realities of those whose homes, livelihoods, and environment are being reshaped.
To build the road, the Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC) reclaimed 111 hectares, with over a quarter for the road, the rest for the seawall and “green” buffer. But these “green” zones exist over the surface of such incredibly vital fishing grounds, core to Koli communities whose families have lived off the sea for generations.
A recent TISS‑commissioned study found fisherfolk experienced a 50% drop in daily catch post‑construction: from 14 kg/day to just 7 kg/day, especially hurting women who fish manually. Another research project confirms that Kolis’ incomes have nearly halved, and they’re forced to fish far deeper, increasing their costs and risk.
Who Defines “Green”?
The BMC and supporters point to 70 ha of open spaces, cycle tracks, and promenades—as if reclaiming and “greening” equals ecological care. But locals see this as ornamental greenwashing: replacing complex ecosystems with manicured promenades, devoid of healthy biodiversity.
Environmentalists have also slammed the BMC’s socio-ecological impact report as “flawed” and partisan, accusing officials of ignoring seasonal fishing patterns and long-term marine damage. The worst of it? Phase 2 (Versova–Bhayander) threatens 60,000 mangroves, including ~9,000 that will be cut—cornerstones of coastal resilience.
Legal Pushback & Community Resistance
Legal disputes have stalled sections of the project. In July 2019, the Bombay High Court halted work due to inadequate environmental clearance. Fisherfolk were left out of statutory environmental impact assessments, and their traditional occupational rights were overlooked.
Despite these legal setbacks, construction resumed. Pro‑project voices emphasize traffic relief for 120,000 cars a day, monsoon-proofing, new bus bays, underpasses, and promenades. However, residents report day‑night closures, safety concerns from vehicles halting on high‑speed lanes, and incomplete infrastructure.
Whose Mumbai?
This project shines a spotlight on class‑based planning in Mumbai. Private car owners, who are also the city’s affluent, stand to gain the most from the coastal road, reinforcing dependence on vehicles. Meanwhile, public transport remains underinvested, and vulnerable fisherfolk are disproportionately harmed.
In a report by GroundXero that documented protesting Koli fisherfolk, activists have asked bluntly, albeit from a sense of desperation:
“They keep saying we need wider and faster roads… Why can’t the Government… put a limit on the maximum number of vehicles each family can own?”
This is one of the few public questions raised by the Koli community. These enquiries, while also being deeply and essentially democratic, underscore a city planning bias that privileges elite mobility over collective welfare and communal rights.
Beyond loss of livelihood, fishing communities face loss of common spaces—beaches, jetties, mangrove-lined edges that nourish both environment and culture. Reclamation permanently seals off natural drainage paths, raising flood risk during monsoons and stacking disaster vulnerabilities.
Despite installing dysfunctional pumping infrastructure, communities report repeated tidal flooding near their jetty, highlighting how “modern development” often neglects local knowledge and ecological systems. This naturally raises some questions- Why were traditional fishing communities not involved in planning or EIA? Will compensation ever measure cultural loss? Even if the human angle is not considered, we should look at the purely inhuman environmental questions at hand - Does 70 ha of reclaimed “green” offset the loss of tidal ecosystems and mangroves?
One might even question- How does democratic support for mega‑projects trade collective good for elite convenience? Indeed, what *does* happen when Mumbai’s cultural geography—its jetties, tidal marshes, Koli histories—is paved over?
The Coastal Road is more than a transport fix: it’s a sociological prism through which we can view competing notions of progress. It magnifies who defines Mumbai’s future and who gets erased in the process. The immediately visible and stark drop in income among the Koli folk and degraded marine access show an uneven burden of development. The very visible environmental critiques challenge the greenwashed promises resting on reclaimed land. Displaced communities and erased commons expose the cost of “world‑class” infrastructures.
This is Part 1 of a two-part sociological analysis of the continuous negotiation of the commons that is taking place along the Mumbai Coastal Road Project. Part 2 of the series will look at the intersection of public aspiration with the BMC’s lens of visual progress. We will explore how mainstream Mumbaikars rationalize the project as essential modernization, how they advocate for greener spaces, and how the livelihood of the Koli community is shaped by these structural changes
Nitin Kumar
