View of Bengaluru city.
Credit: DH Photo
The Karnataka government’s plan to build the Greater Bengaluru Integrated Township (GBIT) at Bidadi, touted as India’s first ‘AI City’, is nothing short of audacious. Spanning 9,000 acres, it is envisioned as a second central business district (CBD) for Bengaluru, powered by Artificial Intelligence and digital twin technology (which uses historical and real-time data to mirror current conditions and simulate future scenarios). With its promise of sustainable living, cutting-edge industries, and lakhs of jobs, GBIT could become a global showcase of futuristic urban planning. But the warning signs are clear: unless the government avoids the mistakes that brought Bengaluru to its knees, GBIT will collapse under the same weight of poor planning, unchecked growth, and civic apathy. Karnataka is being offered a second chance, and it must not squander it.
The first hurdle is land acquisition, with a section of farmers raising the red flag. The government has floated a ‘landowner-as-partner’ model, offering compensation and developed plots to affected families. However, unless this process is transparent, fair, and participatory, GBIT will follow the ill-fated Aerospace City, where years of protests forced the state to abandon the project. Without the trust of farmers and other land owners, GBIT will never take off the ground. Equally crucial is to ensure that GBIT does not become a carbon copy of Bengaluru’s dysfunction. The capital’s endless traffic snarls and crumbling infrastructure are the product of car-centric planning and unregulated real estate. GBIT must flip this model on its head. Public transport should form the backbone of the city, with metro, suburban rail, or bus rapid transit tightly integrated into compact, walkable neighbourhoods. Wide, obstruction-free footpaths, cycling lanes, and car-free zones should be non-negotiable. If GBIT is designed around cars, it is doomed from the start. Environmental safeguards are also vital. GBIT must embrace ‘sponge city’ principles with permeable pavements, rejuvenated lakes, and ecological corridors to guard against flooding. Zero-waste policies and strict enforcement against violators should define governance, not remain hollow promises. The pledge of 1,100 acres of green space must be sacrosanct, not quietly eaten up by builders.
Governance will ultimately decide GBIT’s fate. A powerful, politically insulated, and accountable township authority must be created to enforce zoning laws, demolish illegal constructions without hesitation, and use technology for real-time monitoring. GBIT is Karnataka’s rare opportunity to build the city Bengaluru should have been. If the government succumbs to short-term greed, it will create not a model for the future, but Bengaluru 2.0 – another sprawling, broken, and unlivable metropolis.