The effect of liberalisation on the Indian landscape is that story — of the opening up of a socialist, conservative economy that led to the entry of multinational corporations, that opened the purse strings of banks, and gave 25-somethings the dream of owning a home.
“I could not get married for many years because I didn’t have a house of my own, because no bank would give me a loan. It was the early 1980s, and the only way you could buy a house was if you sold your land in the village, married rich, or saved up till you retired,” says Mumbai-based architect Hafeez Contractor, 66.
One is all too familiar with the cumulative tale of the “House that Jack Built”, of the lady who milked the cow, who tossed the dog, who worried the cat, who ate the rat. The effect of liberalisation on the Indian landscape is that story — of the opening up of a socialist, conservative economy that led to the entry of multinational corporations, that opened the purse strings of banks, and gave 25-somethings the dream of owning a home. Government-led bodies such as HUDCO (Housing and Urban Development Corporation) and CIDCO (City and Industrial Development Corporation of Maharashtra) made way for private players, and to free land for real estate policy decisions such as amending the Urban Land Ceiling and Rent Control Acts, fiscal incentives for the private sector and manufacturers of building materials followed.
Farmlands were appropriated, green landscapes turned grey and blue, with towering steel-and-glass high rises. In the late Eighties, the Hiranandani Group built a township in Powai, which was until then a picnic spot, and DLF turned Gurgaon into a city. “When I first visited Gurgaon, there were fields as far as your eyes could see. At the turn of the century, when the DLF Gateway Tower was built, we put a beacon on the top. The building became a gateway to the entire township,” says Contractor.
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The 12-storied building, with its curvilinear facade wrapped in granite and glass, could not have been possible even 10 years earlier. “The availability of glazed facades, imported marble, vitrified tiles, high-quality vinyl flooring, ready-mix concrete, different window types, like uPVC, was the result of liberalisation,” says Bangalore-based architect Prem Chandavarkar, “With the opening up of the economy, material choices expanded, people became more aware. They also bought into the seductive appeal of visual imagery.”
While MNCs were setting up offices in the metros, there was the need to reflect that India had arrived to the party. To prove it, they dressed to the nines. In the decades that followed since 1990, steel and glass were on almost every design menu. Mumbai, which hadn’t seen buildings beyond 14 or 16 floors, suddenly woke up to 22 storeys. “The reference points of the young generation had changed. They were aware of what was happening in the rest of the world, and wanted to be modern too. Glass facades became easy references,” says Delhi-based Ashish Bhalla, managing director, Viridian Group.
The image of a city and its meaning was transformed as well. Till then, the city was built and shaped by the activity of many individuals, all of whom were involved in its daily life and politics. In the 1990s, it began to be built by a few large players, and a standardisation set in.
One couldn’t tell one millennium city from the other. “The idea of a city changed from a square yard to a square foot of FSI (floor space index). Homes and offices were now bought and built based on FSI, as opposed to ground references. For instance, when Lutyens planned Delhi, he drew the city keeping in mind other references such as Jama Masjid or Purana Quila. His designs were rooted to the land. FSI, which is a derived product, cut that cord with the ground,” says Bhalla.
The turn of the century also saw the entry of foreign architects. Indian architects were now competing with Singapore and Hong Kong. It caught the attention of the private builder. In a week, from buying a plot to putting out an ad on Sunday, the turn-around speed was incredible. What Indian architects turned down their noses at, was a great opportunity for architects in Singapore. “It was a factory-like environment, where without any detailing or sensitivity to climate and terrain, they would convert everything into a tropical paradise by Friday evening. The builder could claim it was a Singaporean design, and the Indian buyer would book his house by Monday morning. There was no longer any engagement between architect and land. For the first time, you were buying a house; it was a product off the shelf. The commodification of architecture had begun,” says Delhi-based Sanjay Prakash, of SHiFt Architects.
The texture of cities began to change. If the small cooperative housing societies of the ’70s and ’80s saw a relaxed diversity, high-rise private residences of the ’90s were witness to aggressive posturing. “There was a time you knew everyone on your street, and the scale of activity was such you could take care of a defunct light or a dead dog. But when 500 to 1,500 people lived in the same building, everything was directed to admin. Insecurities began showing up on the street,” says Neelkanth Chhaya, academic and practising architect in Ahmedabad.
Rahul Mehtrotra’s book Architecture in India since1990 (Picador; 2011) chronicles that “private capital doesn’t carry the burden of ‘place making’, necessary in a real city. The state (which until then was into housing) moved away from built and physical environment and began focusing on routes of approach — highways, flyovers, airports and telecom.”
“The government became the enabler,” says V Suresh, former chairman, HUDCO. “City planning, especially utility services such as waste management, sewage lines, power and water supply, took a back seat. What also took a beating was inclusive housing, however, that is currently being included into the rules for private builders,” he says. The Economic Survey of Delhi of 1991 showed that 90 per cent of the population lived in urban areas, compared to 57.5 per cent in 1911. Tackling density and providing a home for all were the first fruits of liberalisation — the fact that one needn’t wait until retirement to be a homeowner was not just a physical upgrade, but a cultural and social one.
“The first time we built a 22-storey building in Powai, more than two decades ago, we were asked, who will buy? People wanted to live closer to the ground. Naturally, nobody realised how beautiful the breeze would be as you went up higher; the horizon was your spectrum. Today people want to stay in penthouses. In the outskirts of Delhi and Mumbai, builders are advertising 70 and 80 floor-high residences. Certainly, things have changed,” says Contractor.

