Shrinking shared spaces in a growing urban environment

Four years ago, Halley Kalyan moved from Moti Nagar to a gated community in Manikonda for a reason that had little to do with luxury or status. In fast-moving Hyderabad, a 40-year-old product manager simply wanted his seven-year-old daughter to have a safe place to ride her bike.

In Moti Nagar, learning to ride a bike proved to be a task. Their apartment building had little space beyond the cramped parking lot full of vehicles. Outside, due to the fast traffic, there was no safe section left for a child to slouch during their first cycling lessons.

“I spent days trying to get her out. There was no safe stretch, no open space. Something as basic as riding a bike became more difficult,” he recalls.

Today, these worries are far away. Every evening, his daughter cycles through the parks and paved paths of the residential complex before heading to her Kuchipudi class, held right on the premises. Families gather near the clubhouse, children spill out into the plaza, and residents move about without stepping onto a busy road.

But for Kalyan, the move also brought a disturbing realization. “In the colonies we grew up in, we met people from everywhere. Here, everything exists within borders. You mostly interact with people who live in the same community, so exposure to different social groups and cultures is limited. They’re not really open spaces, they’re closed,” he says with a sigh.

This contradiction increasingly defines the changing urban landscape of Hyderabad: a city where private comfort expands even as shared public life slowly but surely shrinks.

A new urban pattern has taken hold in Hyderabad, particularly in its western areas, defined by gated communities, IT campuses and stand-alone projects that act as private islands within the city.

Within these spaces, parks, hiking trails, clubhouses and cultural spaces are well landscaped, well designed and easily accessible. But beyond these boundaries, truly shared public spaces are becoming increasingly difficult to find, and the consequences are beginning to show in everyday life.

Families are increasingly moving in search of safer neighborhoods and open spaces for children. Young people congregate on flyovers, outside cafes and along main roads, as there are few places left to spend their free time. Even meetings with friends now often revolve around cafes, food courts and commercial spaces.

Earlier this month, one such rally outside the Gowra Palladium near Knowledge City attracted attention after large groups of youths gathered late at night, dancing, filming videos and performing bicycle stunts before the police arrived and dispersed the crowds. Videos from the place soon went viral on social media with many users calling it the latest ‘hangout spot’ or ‘Reels adda’ in Hyderabad.

According to city planners, the episode reflected something larger than a concern for law and order. “When a city doesn’t design spaces for people, people start creating their own,” says architect and urban planner Shankar Narayan.

Describing Hyderabad’s developing landscape as a “city of islands”, he says: “Each development creates its own internal open spaces. But these are isolated and not connected to each other.”

He looks for space and finds none

For 27-year-old private school teacher Chris Adams, even meeting friends has become an exercise in logistics and spending: “I stay in Sun City. Meeting a friend from Alwal starts with going through apps like Swiggy or District and picking a coffee shop with good discounts. But after a while, every place starts to feel the same with the same menu and the same setup. And you’re always sitting and spending money.”

He is more concerned about the disappearance of what urbanists call the “third space”, places that are neither home nor workplace. “You start to wonder if there’s any place left where you can just exist … where you can sit and talk and exchange ideas without having to pay for it,” he says.

Adolescents’ lack of accessible public space shapes everyday expression. Keerthana Rao, a 15-year-old girl from KPHB Colony who makes dance videos for social media, says finding a space to practice or record is often a challenge.

Public spaces shrink in Hyderabad and privileged private spaces grow as the city expands. | Photo credit: NAGARA GOPAL

“There’s not enough space at home. So I go to parks or empty roads. But in some places it’s forbidden, especially near office spaces. And even if I find a space, people stare or pass comments. It’s annoying,” he emphasizes, adding: “With so many young people trying to express themselves now, we need spaces where we can do it freely.”

The lack of such spaces is perhaps most visible on Hyderabad’s roads and flyovers. The throng of people on the Durgam Cheruvu Rope Bridge has repeatedly attracted attention, with people stopping to take photos, pass the time or simply enjoy the view despite traffic and safety concerns.

Similar scenes play out on other thoroughfares and business districts, where sections in front of cafes, food streets and office centers are temporarily transformed into informal gathering spaces after dark.

Even Cyberabad Police Commissioner M Ramesh recently acknowledged the growing demand for such spaces while addressing concerns about unsafe public gatherings. “There is clearly a need for spaces where young people can gather, socialize and express themselves,” he says, stressing that activities that threaten public safety will not be tolerated.

Urban researcher T. Pavan Kumar, who has lived in Saidabad for more than 27 years, says the older parts of Hyderabad once offered much more organic public interaction. He remembers playing open field cricket and badminton at the local park in Subramanyam Nagar Colony during his childhood. These spaces no longer exist in the same form.

“The land was converted into an overcrowded multi-generational park, while the badminton court made way for a two-storey building,” he says.

According to him, older neighborhoods today face many pressures such as diminishing land availability, poor maintenance of existing lots, safety concerns and changing perceptions of public spaces.

As traditional recreational spaces disappear, commercial alternatives have begun to fill the vacuum. “People are opening up or renting out their land for rooftop cricket and pickleball courts, which are fast becoming the new social spaces,” he explains.

Even established public spaces such as the Tank Bund and People’s Plaza have seen fluctuating public engagement shaped by maintenance issues and usability concerns. Attempts to revitalize these areas, from traffic-free Sundays to food streets, have faded over time. “The problem is not just creating space. It’s about understanding how people actually use it,” says Kumar.

For some others, accessibility alone does not guarantee convenience or safety. M. Rachana, an IT employee from Basheerbagh, says that Tank Bund is now avoided despite its appeal. “It’s a beautiful place, but the smell near the water is too strong,” he says. “As a woman, I’ve also seen groups gather in a way that intimidates me. I avoid going there, especially on weekends.”

A model built for growth, not life

City experts have traced the discrepancy back to a broader shift in planning priorities over the past two decades. Hyderabad, like many Indian cities, followed a growth-first model after 2000 that focused on IT corridors, special economic zones, commercial real estate and large-scale infrastructure projects.

Localized social spaces such as parks, playgrounds, bazaars and public squares receded into the background in the process. Entire urban zones have emerged with limited space for informal interaction or large community gatherings. In many newer areas, commercial spaces have effectively become the default social infrastructure.

This was followed by an improvised reaction from the residents themselves.

As office zones and residential centers expanded, informal hangout spaces began to pop up around chai stalls, roadside restaurants, food trucks and snack vendors, occupying sidewalks and empty nooks and crannies. Food streets across Hyderabad, from DLF in Gachibowli and the stretch near ITC Kohenur in Knowledge City to Masab Tank, Tank Bund and Parade Ground, have evolved into some of the city’s most active social spaces.

“This is what is now called placemaking,” says Narayan. “Globally, it’s structured and intentional. In India, we’re reinventing something that older cities already had.”

Cities around the world have long invested in such public spaces – from New York’s Central Park and Chicago’s waterfront to Hong Kong’s Tsim Sha Tsui Promenade and Prague’s Old Town Square. In India, major social anchors include Marine Drive, Bandra Reclamation and Bandra Bandstand in Mumbai, Cubbon Park in Bengaluru and Dilli Haat and Central Park in Connaught Place, New Delhi.

Hyderabad’s own planning frameworks once recognized the importance of such shared spaces. “The mandate is there, but it’s limited by the boundaries of the project. Each development is self-sustaining. These spaces don’t come together as shared public environments,” he adds.

Urban planner and development expert Maheep Singh says the very intention has shifted over time. “Open space has become a compliance requirement rather than a planning priority,” he says.

Despite numerous development norms, observers say Hyderabad still lacks a city-wide scale for accessible open space. The result is a city where parks and recreational areas do exist, but often as fragmented, privatized or inaccessible pockets disconnected from the larger urban fabric.

Private spaces fill the public void

Inside Raidurgam’s Knowledge City, amid glass office towers and restaurants, a small tiered square with a patch of lawn attracts couples, families and groups of young people every evening.

“This is one of the few places where we can just sit,” says a young woman and regular visitor.

But access comes with conditions. “It’s not completely open to anyone at any time. There have been times when I’ve been asked why I’m here. But that’s a trade-off if you want a place to hang out,” he says.

In the absence of strong public infrastructure, private construction is increasingly filling the gap. IT campuses and commercial centers now include food courts, performance spaces and open plazas, creating vibrant indoor ecosystems.

But planners warn against seeing them as substitutes for public space, saying the private sector is doing it for business. Stating that recreational infrastructure needs to be decentralized across the city, Singh says, “Each part of the city or each society should have several large, accessible public spaces. This would also reduce travel distances and traffic congestion.”

In view of the growing demand for such spaces, in 2024 the Telangana government proposed to build a ‘T-Square’ at Raidurgam, a 24×7 public square inspired by New York’s Times Square. Intended as a multifunctional urban hub in Hitec City, the project proposed digital billboards along with designated spaces for events, performances and public gatherings.

The Telangana State Industrial Infrastructure Corporation-led initiative saw a request for proposal in the same year, but there has been little visible progress since then.

For planners, the larger concern remains unchanged. As Hyderabad continues to expand and undergo administrative restructuring, they say accessible, safe and inclusive public spaces must become a top priority. “The government doesn’t necessarily have to fund everything, but it has to act as an intermediary. It should work with private players to plan and build spaces that are truly open and usable,” says Narayan.