Shrinking shared spaces in a growing cityscape

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-changing Hyderabad, the 40-year-old product manager wanted his seven-year-old daughter to have a safe place to ride her bike.

Learning to ride a bike in Moti Nagar turned out to be a task. The apartment blocks had little space other than a cramped parking area filled with vehicles. Speeding traffic outside left no safe space for a child to swing around during his first cycling lessons.

“I tried for days to get him out. There was no safe place, no open space. Even something as simple as riding a bike became difficult,” he recalls.

Today these concerns seem far away. Her daughter cycles through the parks and paved roads within the housing complex every evening before heading to Kuchipudi class on the site. Families gather near the clubhouse, children venture out into the open spaces, and residents wander around without setting foot on a busy road.

But for Kalyan, the move also brought about a disturbing realization. “In the colonies where we grew up, we met people from all over. Here, everything exists within a boundary. You mostly interact with people living in the same community, so your exposure to different social groups and cultures is limited. These are not truly open spaces, but closed spaces,” he says with a sigh.

This contradiction increasingly defines Hyderabad’s changing urban landscape: a city where private comfort is expanding while shared public life is slowly but surely contracting.

A new urban model has been adopted across Hyderabad, especially in its western parts, defined by gated communities, IT campuses and self-contained developments that function as private islands within the city.

In these areas, parks, walking paths, clubhouses and cultural areas are well landscaped, well designed and easily accessible. But finding truly shared public spaces beyond these borders is becoming increasingly difficult, and the consequences are beginning to surface in daily life.

Families are increasingly moving in search of safer neighborhoods and open spaces for their children. Young people gather on overpasses, outside cafeterias, and on main roads because there is no place left for them to spend free time. Even meeting up with friends now often revolves around cafes, food courts and commercial areas.

Earlier this month, one such gathering outside the Gowra Palladium near the City of Knowledge attracted attention when large groups of young people gathered late at night, dancing, making videos and performing bike stunts before police arrived and dispersed the crowd. Videos from the scene soon went viral on social media, with many users dubbing it Hyderabad’s newest “meeting place” or “Reels adda”.

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

Describing Hyderabad’s developing landscape as a “city of islands”, he said, “Each development creates its own internal open spaces. But these are isolated and not interconnected.”

I’m searching for space and I can’t find anything

For 27-year-old private school teacher Chris Adams, even meeting friends has become an exercise in logistics and expense: “I’m staying in Sun City. Catching up with a friend from Alwal starts with scrolling through apps like Swiggy or District to pick a cafe with good discounts. But after a point, every place starts to feel the same, with the same menus and the same layout. And you’re always spending money just to sit and talk.”

What bothers him more is the disappearance of what urban planners call “third spaces,” places that are neither homes nor workplaces. “You start wondering if there is a place where you can exist, where you can sit and talk and exchange ideas without paying,” he says.

The lack of an accessible public space for adolescents shapes daily expression. Keerthana Rao, 15, of KPHB Colony, who makes dance videos for social media, says finding space to practice or record is often a challenge.

“There is not enough space at home. That’s why I go to parks or empty roads. But in some places, especially near office areas, you are not allowed to be. Even in places where I find space, people stare or comment. It is disturbing,” he says, and adds: “As many young people are now trying to express themselves, we need spaces where we can do this freely.”

The lack of such spaces is perhaps most visible on Hyderabad’s roads and flyovers. The crowds at the Durgam Cheruvu suspension bridge have repeatedly attracted attention, with people stopping to take photos, pass the time or just take in the view, despite traffic and safety concerns.

Similar scenes are playing out on other major roads and commercial areas; The outside of cafes, food streets and office centers temporarily transform into informal gathering spaces after dark.

Even Cyberabad Police Commissioner M. Ramesh, while admitting that the demand for such spaces has increased recently, also raised concerns about unsafe public gatherings. “There is a clear need for spaces where young people can come together, socialize and express themselves,” he says, emphasizing that activities that endanger public safety will not be tolerated.

Urban researcher T. Pavan Kumar, who has lived in Saidabad for over 27 years, says Hyderabad’s older areas once offered much more organic public interaction. He remembers playing cricket and badminton in the open field at a local park in Subramanyam Nagar Colony during his childhood. These spaces no longer exist in the same form.

“The badminton court has been replaced by a two-storey building, while the ground has been transformed into a bustling multi-generational park,” he says.

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

As traditional recreation areas disappear, commercial alternatives begin to fill the gap. “People are clearing or renting their land for rooftop ‘cricket’ and pickleball courts, which are fast becoming new social spaces,” he explains.

Even established public spaces like the Tank Bund and People’s Plaza are seeing fluctuations in public participation driven by maintenance issues and usability concerns. Efforts to revitalize these areas, from traffic-free Sundays to streets reserved for dining, have waned over time. “It’s not just about creating space, it’s about understanding how people actually use it,” says Kumar.

For some, accessibility alone does not guarantee comfort or safety. M. Rachana, an IT worker from Basheerbagh, says he now avoids Tank Bund despite his objection. “It’s a beautiful place, but the smell by the water is very strong,” he shares. “As a woman, I have also seen groups come together in a frightening way. I avoid going there, especially on weekends.”

A model built for growth, not life

Urban experts trace this disconnect to a broader shift in planning priorities over the past two decades. Hyderabad, like many Indian cities, followed a priority growth model after the 2000s, focusing on IT corridors, Special Economic Zones, commercial real estate and large-scale infrastructure projects.

In this process, localized social areas such as parks, playgrounds, bazaars and squares were pushed into the background. Entire urban areas with limited space for informal interaction or large community gatherings emerged. In many new areas, commercial spaces have become the de facto default social infrastructure.

This was followed by an impromptu response from citizens.

As office districts and residential centers expanded, informal gathering spots began to pop up around chai stalls, roadside restaurants, food trucks and snack vendors occupying footpaths and vacant corners. From DLF in Gachibowli to Masab Tank, Tank Bund and Parade Ground near ITC Kohenur in the Knowledge City, food streets in Hyderabad have transformed into some of the city’s most active social spaces.

“This is now called placemaking,” says Narayan. “It is globally structured and intentional. In India, we are reinventing something that old cities already had.”

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

Hyderabad’s own planning framework once recognized the importance of such shared spaces. “The authority exists but is limited to project boundaries. Each development is self-sustaining. These spaces do not come together as shared public environments,” he adds.

Maheep Singh, urban planner and development expert, says intent has changed over time. “Open spaces have become a compliance requirement rather than a planning priority,” he says.

Observers say that despite numerous development norms, Hyderabad still lacks citywide criteria for accessible open space. The result is a city where parks and recreation areas exist, but are often fragmented, privatized, or inaccessible pockets disconnected from the larger urban fabric.

Private spaces filling public space

Inside the Knowledge City in Raidurgam, amid glass office towers and restaurants, a small stepped plaza with a grassy area attracts couples, families and groups of young people every evening.

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

But access comes with some conditions. “It’s never really open to anyone. There have been occasions where I’ve been asked why I’m here. But if you want a place to spend time, it’s a trade-off,” he says.

In the absence of a strong public infrastructure, private projects are increasingly stepping in to fill the gap. IT campuses and commercial centers now combine food courts, performance spaces and open plazas, creating vibrant interior ecosystems.

But planners are careful not to see them as a substitute for public space, arguing that the private sector is doing so from a business perspective. Stating that recreation infrastructure should be decentralized throughout the city, Singh said, “Each area of ​​the city or each company should have more than one large, accessible public space. This will also reduce travel distances and congestion.”

Due to the increasing demand for such spaces, the Telangana government has proposed the development of a ‘T Square’ in Raidurgam in 2024, a 24×7 public square inspired by New York’s Times Square. Designed as a multifunctional urban center in Hitec City, the project proposes digital billboards as well as designated spaces for events, performances and public meetings.

The initiative, led by the Telangana State Industrial Infrastructure Corporation, saw an RFP the same year, but little visible progress has been made since then.

The larger concern for planners remains unchanged. As Hyderabad continues its expansion and administrative restructuring, accessible, safe and inclusive public spaces must become a central priority, they say. “The government doesn’t need to fund everything, but it needs to act as an enabler. It should work with private players to plan and build truly open and usable spaces,” says Narayan.