Once a veritable pensioner’s paradise, Pune has regressed into a decaying metropolis gasping under the weight of its own progress.
It is a rare event when a 47-year-old American is the cause of outrage amongst Indians, but that’s what happened after entrepreneur Bryan Johnson left billionaire Nikhil Kamath’s podcast midway through. Exposed to an AQI of 130, Johnson is visibly uncomfortable and equates it to “smoking 3.4 cigarettes for 24 hours of exposure”.
Indians, who are unfortunately accustomed to much worse weather, will not bat an eyelid, and some may even think of 130 as a good air day. I am guilty of this normalisation myself when, once upon a time, I joked that I would need to plug my lungs to the nearest exhaust pipe to make them feel alive when I was overseas surrounded by clear air, the AQI of which never went beyond 4. This is how immune we have become to poor air quality, but our immune systems are crying inside.
The health toll of polluted air has been documented to death by being linked to inflammation, immunosuppression, strokes, COPD, cancer and even type 2 diabetes. In cities like Pune, where construction dust, traffic fumes and burning garbage shroud the skyline, residents inhale a perpetual haze of fine particles with little choice but to adapt.
To top that crown jewel, Pune now ranks fourth in a TomTom Traffic Index survey of 500 cities across 62 countries measuring traffic congestion, leading to an average travel time of more than 30 minutes per 10 kms in the city centre. Commuters are losing hundreds of hours stuck in traffic annually.
What, then, is the root of this urban malaise? Pinning it solely on overpopulation and the influx of migrant workers - a favorite refrain among Pune’s so-called original residents - may offer a convenient scapegoat, but it obscures a far more troubling and complex reality.
Once known as the ‘pensioner’s paradise,’ Pune’s employability value skyrocketed after it transformed itself into an IT hub, following in the footsteps of the city’s automobile industry. IT parks, Special Economic Zones, gated housing societies and rapid development in the suburbs contributed heavily to its attractiveness.
The pandemic, with its surge in digital adoption, sent companies into a hiring frenzy, swelling Pune’s workforce almost overnight. But as the world reopened and the demand for online services waned, the layoffs came just as swiftly. Yet those who lost their jobs did not simply pack up and leave. Many stayed, adding to a city already bursting at the seams.
7.2 million - that’s how many vehicles ply on Pune’s roads (including Pimpri Chinchwad) as of last year. That’s nearly as many people as live in the city now, if not more. While Pune’s estimated population is 7.3 million, it feels more like 10 million, thanks to its roads choked with metal tins. When commuting, if one looks around in any direction, they’re likely to see a common sight: a single person in each car. Imagine the space taken up by three cars consecutively, carrying three people, or even six, if we’re lucky. That’s how much space a bus would take carrying at least 40 people. That aside, each car driver brings their own brand of lawlessness on the street, adding to the potent cocktail of road rage, splintered by the poor state of the roads and the hurry to get somewhere.
Pune’s crumbling public infrastructure has been visible to its residents, new or old, for at least a decade now. Nine years ago, work for the Pune Metro began, and the face of the city has not been the same ever since. If we keep aside the overpopulation for a minute, the municipal corporation’s inability to trace the source of the recent ‘man-made’ GBS outbreak should make anyone shift in their seats. There aren’t enough public transport buses to cater to the city’s population, and bus drivers call the shots on the road, paying no heed to traffic signals nor public safety.
The rise of cheap mobile internet plans, access to information and an explosion of food delivery and quick commerce platforms has facilitated employment amongst low-income families. Dressed in company-branded uniforms, these gig workers operate under tremendous pressure, often flouting traffic rules in order to get to their destination in a stipulated and challenging period of time. While transportation companies claim to train their drivers about local rules and etiquette, there is a blatant disregard for traffic rules, putting the lives of others in danger.
This leads me to think aloud a chicken-and-egg problem: did driver aggression come before asphyxiating traffic or vice versa? I asked ChatGPT “why do people drive like maniacs in Pune?” to which it reasoned:
Traffic density = congestion = impatience and aggressive driving
Blatant disregard for traffic rules
Lax law enforcement
Pathetic road conditions
Newcomers or visitors from other cities might struggle to adjust to the local driving culture, where honking, lane-switching, and overtaking are more common.
Shocker, right? Pune is certainly not a leaf out of model cities seen in a developed nation, but it can become the paradise it once was, leading the way for other Indian cities to follow.
(The author is an independent journalist with a keen interest in environmental issues and urban ecology.)
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