Planned Utopia, Unplanned Periphery

How Housing Pressures Erase Cultural Heritage, Identity, and Citizenship – The Chandigarh Story

Loveneet Thakur
Advocate, Punjab and Haryana High Court, Chandigarh, India

Introduction: A City That Once Defined Citizenship

What does it mean to lose cultural heritage? Often, we think of crumbling monuments, forgotten rituals, or silenced languages. But there is a quieter, more pervasive loss: the destruction of urban planning as heritage and the erosion of citizenship through bad housing. I write this from Chandigarh – India’s first planned city, designed by Le Corbusier in the 1950s. For decades, this city was a living symbol of modern citizenship: every resident, regardless of income, had access to parks, schools, markets, and pedestrian-friendly roads. The very layout of the city affirmed that a citizen is not just a taxpayer or a voter, but a person entitled to light, air, community, and dignity.

But today, Chandigarh tells another story. While the original city remains protected, its periphery – towns like Zirakpur, Kharar, Mohali, Panchkula, and Naya Gaon – has become a cautionary example of how unplanned housing can strip people of their cultural identity, their sense of belonging, and their basic rights as citizens. This article is an attempt to understand that loss, and to ask: Can we still build homes that nurture citizenship?

Part 1: Chandigarh’s Planning as Cultural Heritage

After India’s Partition in 1947, the state of Punjab lost its former capital, Lahore, to Pakistan. The need for a new capital was urgent – not just for administration, but for healing. Chandigarh was conceived as a symbol of hope, modernity, and order. Le Corbusier’s master plan was

radical: the city was divided into sectors, each self-contained with a school, health centre, market, green park, and community spaces. The famous “7V” road system separated pedestrians, cyclists, and fast traffic. Heritage is not only monuments. It includes systems of living that embody a community’s values. In Chandigarh, the value was egalitarian citizenship. A judge, a professor, and a shopkeeper all lived in similar-looking houses, all within walking distance of a park. The Capitol Complex (High Court, Assembly, Secretariat) is a UNESCO World Heritage site, but so is the idea of the sector – a spatial expression of social democracy. (Imagery 1.1)

For decades, strict laws preserved this identity. The Punjab New Capital (Periphery) Control Act, 1952, restricted unplanned growth within a 16-kilometer radius. The Chandigarh Master Plan limited floors to three and banned encroachment on green areas. The Supreme Court of India and the Punjab and Haryana High Court, through a series of judgments and orders, have done their best to uphold the dignity and quality of life of people from a housing perspective. The Supreme

Court has repeatedly affirmed that the core 30 sectors of Chandigarh must be protected, warning that unauthorized construction would “injure the lungs” of the city. These judicial interventions have been instrumental in keeping the original city livable, even as other Indian cities collapsed into chaos.

Part 2: The Periphery – Where Heritage Ends and Loss Begins

Chandigarh is a Union Territory serving as the capital of both Punjab and Haryana. It is a hub for the Punjab & Haryana High Court, major hospitals (PGI, GMCH), educational institutions (Panjab University), and administrative bodies. Thousands migrate here daily from Himachal, Jammu & Kashmir, Rajasthan, and beyond. The city’s population has long exceeded its planned capacity. Land is scarce, and real estate is astronomical. Since new construction inside Chandigarh is heavily regulated, development has exploded in peripheral areas: Mohali, Zirakpur, Kharar, Banur, Lalru, Derabassi, and Panchkula. These towns are marketed as “affordable Chandigarh” – but they lack almost every feature that made Chandigarh humane.

The loss manifests in multiple dimensions. First, there is the loss of physical health and environmental citizenship. High-rise buildings packed with no spacing block sunlight and cross-ventilation. There are no designated parks, trees, or green buffers. Construction on seasonal water channels (locally called “N-choes”) leads to flooding, waterlogging, and diseases like dengue, malaria, and typhoid. Residents are effectively denied the right to clean air and light – a basic citizenship entitlement in any planned city. (Imagery 2.2) Second, there is the loss of social identity and community. Unlike Chandigarh’s sectors with community centres and markets, these new colonies have no shared spaces. People live in vertical silos, rarely meeting their neighbours. Children do not play outdoors – a fact noted by cardiologist Dr. Amit Gupta, who warns of early lifestyle diseases. Social isolation leads to depression, anxiety, and domestic stress.

When Mr. Ulrich Gehmann visited India, I had the privilege of accompanying him to meet Dr. Amit Gupta, a renowned cardiologist in Chandigarh. During that meeting, Dr. Gupta shared some deeply concerning observations. He explained that due to the lack of proper design in these peripheral housing colonies – with no open spaces, no parks, and no grounds – children simply cannot play outdoors. They cannot cycle or engage in any physical activity. What makes this even more alarming, Dr. Gupta said, is that younger children do not see their older peers playing or cycling. There is no modeling of active behaviour.

Consequently, the younger children develop no desire to play, to cycle, or to engage in any physical activity at all. Dr. Gupta called this a very bad trend that will severely impact the health of future generations. (Image 2.3) He further noted that because residents have no access to good sunlight, fresh air, or proper water, people are falling ill, becoming depressive, and suffering from a range of diseases. He emphasised, with the authority of a cardiologist who has seen thousands of patients, that proper architecture and proper design are absolutely essential for a long and healthy life of citizens. His words stayed with me: without design, there is no dignity; without dignity, there is no health.

Third, there is the loss of safety and civic order. Narrow, unlit lanes with no service roads cause daily traffic jams. Ambulances and fire brigades often struggle to reach their destinations on time. Poor lighting and unplanned layouts increase crime and substance abuse – there is no “eyes on the street.” Fourth, there is the loss of economic citizenship. Families take large bank loans to buy homes that are legally and structurally defective. They become trapped: loan EMIs continue, but quality of life collapses. Broken marriages, health crises, and financial distress are routine. In short, these peripheries are not extensions of Chandigarh’s heritage – they are anti-Chandigarhs. And in losing the plan, residents lose their identity as citizens who deserve a humane habitat.

Part 3: Government Efforts – Acknowledging Progress Without Hiding Gaps

It would be unfair to say the government has done nothing. In fact, successive state and central governments have recognised the crisis and initiated several legal and policy measures. The Punjab Apartment and Property Regulation Act, 1995 (amended 2013), made it mandatory for developers to provide open spaces, parking, and community facilities, with non-compliance leading to cancellation of licenses. The Real Estate (Regulation and Development) Act, 2016 (RERA), a landmark central law, requires registration of projects, disclosure of layouts and amenities, and establishes fast-track dispute resolution for homebuyers. Under RERA, builders can be penalized for deviations from approved plans. The Punjab Regional and Town Planning Act, 1995 (as amended), empowers authorities like the Greater Mohali Area Development Authority (GMADA) to enforce master plans for peripheral areas. The Chandigarh Periphery Control Act, 1952, has also been amended to include stricter penalties for unauthorized colonies.

On the ground, GMADA has prepared a Regional Master Plan for 2031 covering Mohali, Kharar, Zirakpur, and surrounding villages, mandating minimum green area per capita, road width standards, and drainage systems. The Punjab government has launched affordable housing schemes that require basic infrastructure, though implementation has been uneven. Between 2022 and 2024, the government also carried out demolition drives against illegal constructions in Zirakpur and Derabassi.

Despite these efforts, the scale of the problem – driven by rapid urbanization, migration, and the deep cultural value attached to owning a house – far exceeds the current pace of reform. Enforcement remains weak because local bodies often lack staff, technical expertise, or political will. Many illegal buildings receive “post-facto” approval, a loophole that encourages violations. Builders exploit the emotional need for homeownership, cutting costs on parks, roads, and drainage, while buyers – desperate for affordable homes – do not ask questions until it is too late. Additionally, jurisdiction is fragmented: Chandigarh is a Union Territory, Mohali and Panchkula are in Punjab, and Panchkula is partly in Haryana. Coordinated regional planning is still weak, though memoranda of understanding exist. The government is trying, but the gap between law and implementation remains significant.

Part 4: The Deeper Wound – Loss of Cultural Identity and Citizenship

For a resident of a planned Chandigarh sector, identity is tied to spatial memory: the corner park where you played as a child, the shaded market where you bought groceries, the cycle track you used daily. That identity is relational – it connects you to neighbours, to nature, to the state as a provider of public goods. In the periphery, that identity is erased. There are no landmarks, no shared stories, no public realm. People become mere occupants, not citizens. Citizenship is not just a legal status – it is the ability to claim rights: to health, safety, association, and participation (Imagery 4.1). When your colony has no park, you cannot claim the right to recreation. When roads are too narrow for an ambulance, your right to life is compromised. When there is no community hall, your right to assembly is hollow. The peripheries of Chandigarh thus produce a second-class citizenship – one where people pay taxes, vote, and take loans, but receive no spatial dignity in return.

Perhaps most tragically, children growing up in these unplanned colonies will never know what a planned city feels like. They will normalise congestion, darkness, and isolation. Their cultural reference will be chaos – and they will not even know what has been lost. That is the deepest form of heritage destruction: the inability to mourn what you never experienced. The Supreme Court of India and the Punjab and Haryana High Court have, through numerous orders and judgments, consistently tried to uphold the dignity and quality of life of people from a housing perspective. They have struck down illegal constructions, restrained floor-wise fragmentation, and demanded accountability from authorities. Yet, judicial pronouncements alone cannot replace proactive planning and enforcement on the ground.

Part 5: What Must Change – A Roadmap for Policy and Law

Drawing from Chandigarh’s failures and the government’s ongoing efforts, I propose the following path forward – not as a distant ideal, but as urgent, actionable steps. First, we must strengthen, not replace, existing laws. RERA and town planning acts are strong on paper. They need autonomous enforcement bodies with technical experts, not political appointees. Strict pre-approval audits of drainage, green space, road width, and sunlight access must be conducted before any foundation is laid. Second, regional planning must have teeth. Chandigarh, Mohali, Panchkula, Zirakpur, and Kharar should be declared a single planning region under a unified authority – a Regional Development Council – with representatives from Punjab, Haryana, and the Union Territory. The authority’s master plan must be legally binding, with any deviation treated as a criminal offence for builders and grounds for dismissal for officials.

Third, we must incentivise ethical builders. Not all builders are predatory; many want to build well but fear being undercut by violators. Fast-track approvals and tax benefits should be offered for projects that exceed minimum green and community space requirements. A certification mark – “Chandigarh Standard for Human Habitat” – could be created that buyers can trust. Fourth, public awareness must be used as a legal tool.

Courts and governments should fund legal literacy campaigns for homebuyers: “Before you buy, ask for the park, the drain, the path.” Neighborhood Right-to-Information (RTI) networks can allow citizens to report violations directly to the High Court. Fifth, heritage designation should be extended to planned systems. Le Corbusier’s sectoral design and road hierarchy should be formally protected as intangible cultural heritage under UNESCO or national heritage laws. Any new housing project in the periphery should be required to demonstrate how it incorporates these principles – not as nostalgia, but as living standards. Finally, judicial leadership must continue. The Supreme Court and the Punjab and Haryana High Court have already shown remarkable commitment. This can be expanded into a continuous monitoring mechanism, with court-commissioned inspections and regular compliance reports.

Conclusion: From Housing to Homeland

Ladies and gentlemen, colleagues in this workshop on Loss of Cultural Heritage, Identity, and Citizenship – we often look for loss in ruins and relics. But sometimes, loss happens in plain sight, in the crowded lanes of a new town, in the lungs of a child who has never played in a park, in the silence of neighbours who never meet. Chandigarh taught India and the world that a city can be an act of citizenship. Its periphery teaches us that when planning is abandoned, citizenship is the first casualty. The government is making efforts. RERA, new master plans, and judicial oversight are not empty words – they are tools. But tools are only as good as the hands that wield them. We need more hands: courts, civil society, ethical builders, and above all, informed citizens who refuse to trade their dignity for a roof. A house is not a home. A home is not a habitat. And a habitat without heritage, without identity, without citizenship – is just a place to slowly fall ill and feel alone. Let us build differently. Let us build for light, air, earth, and each other. That is the only heritage worth leaving behind.

Thank you.

Author’s Note:

Loveneet Thakur is an Advocate practicing primarily before the Punjab and Haryana High Court at Chandigarh. He has worked on matters relating to urban planning, housing rights, and heritage protection. This article was prepared for the 3-day hybrid workshop on “Loss of Cultural Heritage, Identity, and Citizenship” at the Ideal Spaces Foundation, Karlsruhe, Germany, September 2026. The author acknowledges the ongoing efforts of the Indian government and judiciary while highlighting areas needing urgent attention.