Building on Shaky Ground, Bengaluru’s Premium FAR and the Peril of Prioritizing Revenue Over Resilience

Building on Shaky Ground, Bengaluru’s Premium FAR and the Peril of Prioritizing Revenue Over Resilience

Bengaluru, once celebrated as India’s Garden City and later as its premier IT hub, stands at a critical urban crossroads. The city’s latest developmental turn—the introduction of a “premium floor area ratio (FAR)” policy—has ignited a fierce debate about its future. Despite explicit caution from the Supreme Court regarding the perils of unbridled vertical growth on the city’s already failing infrastructure, the Greater Bengaluru Authority (GBA) is pushing forward with revised building bylaws that favor real estate expansion. This move, framed as a tool for revenue generation and bureaucratic ease, fundamentally pits short-term economic gain against long-term civic survival, raising a pivotal question: in the relentless growth of a metropolis, whose interests should ultimately prevail—those of citizens or those of developers?

The premium FAR policy is a masterclass in monetizing urban density. It allows property owners and developers to purchase additional building rights, specifically up to 40% beyond the original permissible FAR, by paying a “premium fee” calculated at a staggering 28% of the area’s guidance value. Coupled with an additional 20% FAR accessible via Transferable Development Rights (TDR), this unlocks a potential 60% increase in built-up area on any given plot. For the GBA, this is a lucrative fiscal engine, projected to generate approximately ₹2,000 crore annually, funds ostensibly earmarked for urban infrastructure upgrades. For developers, it is a license to build taller and denser, maximizing returns on investment. However, for the citizens of Bengaluru, it represents an ominous acceleration of the very forces that have brought the city to its knees.

This policy did not emerge in a vacuum. It is the latest episode in Bengaluru’s long-running tragedy of the commons, where private gain systematically erodes public good. The city’s infrastructure is a case study in chronic collapse. Its road network, famously inadequate, succumbs daily to gridlock, a problem compounded exponentially by every new high-density residential or commercial tower. The city’s water crisis is existential; groundwater tables have plummeted, and the long-distance dependence on the Cauvery River is fraught with political and environmental strain. The addition of thousands of new residents via vertical growth, each with substantial water demands, is a recipe for acute scarcity. Furthermore, Bengaluru’s pathetic drainage and lake system, largely encroached upon and choked, turns into a devastating floodplain with every heavy monsoon, a phenomenon worsening with climate change. The Supreme Court’s advice to rethink vertical development was not an abstract concern but a direct response to this stark, lived reality of infrastructural bankruptcy.

The GBA’s concurrent move to streamline approvals for small plots, including doing away with mandatory occupation certificates, further reveals the policy’s underlying ethos: deregulation in the name of “ease.” While intended to regularize legacy properties (like converting 7 lakh B-khata to A-khata) and unlock revenue, this erosion of checks and balances is perilous. Occupation certificates are not mere bureaucratic hurdles; they are vital affirmations that a building complies with sanctioned plans, safety codes, and environmental norms. By diluting this, the GBA is effectively legalizing violations post-facto and incentivizing future non-compliance. The promise of “tough checks” on safety, waste management, and groundwater usage rings hollow in an environment where the core regulatory philosophy is one of facilitation, not enforcement.

The citizenry’s apprehension is palpable and well-founded. Long-term residents, or “old Bengalureans,” witness not development but degradation—the erosion of their city’s livability, ecological heritage, and basic functionality. Their opposition, which led to a Karnataka High Court challenge, stems from a direct understanding that the city’s carrying capacity has been breached. The court’s upholding of the policy, albeit with conditions on plot size, road width, and parking, offers little solace. Bengaluru’s planning history is littered with such conditions being ignored, circumvented, or blatantly violated. Without transparent, tech-enabled, and ironclad monitoring and a punitive disincentive structure for violations, these conditions remain paper tigers.

The philosophical conflict here is between two visions of a city. One vision, championed by the GBA and the realty lobby, sees the city primarily as an economic machine. Land is a financial asset, FAR is a tradeable commodity, and citizens are consumers (or hurdles) in a market-driven urbanization process. Revenue generation becomes the primary metric of success. The alternative vision, echoed by the Supreme Court and citizen groups, sees the city as a shared, finite, ecological and social habitat. In this view, infrastructure—water, sewage, transport, energy, waste processing—is the non-negotiable foundation upon which any growth must be carefully calibrated. The citizen’s right to mobility, clean air, water security, and public safety is paramount.

Bengaluru’s current trajectory, fueled by the premium FAR, chooses the former vision. It is a gamble of monumental proportions: betting that revenue collected from creating more strain can be efficiently deployed to relieve that same strain. This is a circular and dangerous logic. The infrastructure deficit is not a static problem but a widening gap. The ₹2,000 crore per year, even if fully and honestly utilized (a significant if), must chase a deficit that grows with every new square foot of premium FAR sold. It is an urban Ponzi scheme, where the livability of today is mortgaged for the promise of a fix tomorrow, a tomorrow that never arrives because new liabilities are continuously added.

The path to a sustainable Bengaluru requires a radical inversion of priorities. It necessitates a moratorium on such density-boosting policies until core infrastructural milestones are met. It demands a comprehensive, scientific assessment of the city’s carrying capacity—water balance, traffic load capacity, sewage treatment limits—and a binding development plan that respects those limits. Revenue generation must shift from selling density rights to leveraging betterment charges, congestion taxes, and stringent penalties for violations. Most critically, urban governance must be democratized, moving away from the closed-door, developer-influenced decision-making that the premium FAR policy exemplifies, towards a model where citizen welfare committees and independent technical bodies have a decisive say.

Bengaluru is a warning to India’s rapidly urbanizing landscape. The story of premium FAR is not just about buildings; it is about values. Will Indian cities be designed as speculative real estate ventures, or as sustainable, equitable, and resilient homes for millions? For Bengaluru, the choice being made today risks transforming a city of promise into an unlivable concrete catastrophe. Putting citizens’ interests first is not an anti-development slogan; it is the only foundation for development that truly lasts. The other road, as the editorial warns, could indeed lead to disaster.

Q&A on Bengaluru’s Premium FAR Policy and Urban Crisis

Q1: What exactly is “Premium FAR,” and how does it work in Bengaluru’s new policy?

A1: Floor Area Ratio (FAR) is a critical urban planning tool that determines the maximum total floor area that can be built on a plot relative to its size. For instance, an FAR of 2.0 on a 1,000 sq.m. plot allows 2,000 sq.m. of total built-up area. Bengaluru’s “Premium FAR” policy is a mechanism that allows property owners and developers to purchase additional building rights beyond the base permissible FAR. Specifically, they can buy up to 40% extra FAR by paying a “premium fee” to the Greater Bengaluru Authority (GBA), calculated at 28% of the plot’s official guidance value. This is essentially a financial transaction where the government sells increased density rights. When combined with an additional 20% FAR available through Transferable Development Rights (TDR—rights earned from surrendering land for public purposes), a plot could see a total increase of 60% in its allowable construction. This directly enables much taller and denser buildings.

Q2: Why is the Supreme Court concerned about vertical development in Bengaluru?

A2: The Supreme Court’s concern is rooted in Bengaluru’s severe and documented infrastructural failures, which are exacerbated by increased density. Vertical development concentrates more people, vehicles, and demand for services in a single location. The Court recognizes that Bengaluru’s foundational systems—its road network, water supply, sewage treatment, stormwater drains, and electricity grid—are already operating beyond capacity. The city suffers from chronic traffic gridlock, annual monsoon flooding, and a dire water crisis. Adding more high-rises without first ensuring that the underlying infrastructure can support the added load is seen as a recipe for systemic collapse. The Court’s advice was to prioritize citizens’ quality of life and the city’s ecological sustainability over unplanned vertical growth that primarily benefits the real estate sector.

Q3: The GBA says the ₹2,000 crore annual revenue from premium FAR will be used for urban infrastructure. Isn’t this a good thing?

A3: While investing in infrastructure is imperative, the logic here is fundamentally flawed and reactive. It creates a vicious cycle: the policy itself generates the need for massive new infrastructure (by allowing more density) while simultaneously trying to fund infrastructure to cope with that very need. This is akin to digging a hole to fill another. The ₹2,000 crore will perpetually chase a deficit that is growing in real-time due to the new construction the policy permits. Furthermore, there is a significant trust deficit regarding the efficient and transparent deployment of such funds. Past experiences in Bengaluru and other Indian cities show that infrastructure projects are often delayed, mismanaged, or fail to keep pace with explosive growth. Citizens rightly fear that the revenue will be insufficient and poorly utilized, leaving them to suffer the consequences of intensified congestion and resource scarcity.

Q4: What are the risks of regularizing properties and diluting checks like occupation certificates?

A4: Regularizing B-khata properties and reducing scrutiny for small plots carries severe long-term risks. An Occupation Certificate (OC) is a vital safety and compliance document issued by authorities certifying that a building is constructed according to sanctioned plans and meets all safety standards (structural, fire, electrical, plumbing). Bypassing or diluting this requirement:

1. Legalizes Unsafe Structures: It can bring unsafe buildings into the formal system, risking lives in events like fires or earthquakes.

2. Rewards Violations: It creates a moral hazard, signaling that violations can be eventually regularized, encouraging further illegal construction.

3. Overburdens Infrastructure: Unauthorized constructions rarely provide for adequate parking, waste management, or water recharge, imposing externalities on the neighborhood.

4. Erodes Planning Integrity: It makes a mockery of master plans and zoning regulations, leading to chaotic, unplanned urban sprawl where infrastructure provisioning becomes impossible.

Q5: What would a citizen-centric approach to Bengaluru’s development look like?

A5: A truly citizen-centric approach would fundamentally reorder priorities:

1. Carrying Capacity-Based Planning: Halt density-increasing policies until a scientific audit of neighborhood-wise carrying capacity (for water, sewage, traffic, power) is completed. All new development must be strictly within these ecological and infrastructural limits.

2. Invest First, Grow Later: Prioritize massive, upfront investment in decongesting core infrastructure—completing the peripheral ring road, reviving and interlinking lakes for drainage, expanding treated wastewater reuse, and augmenting public transport (metro, buses). Revenue should be raised through mechanisms that do not directly worsen the problem (e.g., congestion pricing, betterment charges).

3. Transparent and Participatory Governance: Move decisions from closed rooms to public forums. Establish ward-level committees with real power to approve projects based on localized impact assessments. Use technology for real-time monitoring of compliance with building and safety norms.

4. Ecosystem-Centric Design: Mandate stringent rainwater harvesting, groundwater recharge, solid waste management at source, and green cover norms for all new projects, with zero tolerance for violations.
   In essence, it would mean building the city for its residents, not its real estate market, ensuring that growth is sustainable, equitable, and resilient.