In April this year, just before the Eid holiday, the Horticultural Department that manages Cubbon Park announced a list of rules for visitors. Among other things, quintessential park activities such as picnicking and playing were to be stopped with the help of uniformed guards totting megaphones, whistles, lathis and fines.
The periodic imposition of rules or norms for ‘securing’ park spaces is not a new phenomenon. Over the years, there has been a series of battles fought between the authorities and Bengalureans over rules that restricted the use of Cubbon Park, plans to ‘beautify’ it, and changing the nature of land use within it. City-based organisations have fought to retain the park as public commons. In many cases, these restrictions have been withdrawn, only to be reintroduced in newer forms later.
This conflict between park authorities and people suggests that there is a basic difference between how public spaces are viewed by residents who use them and those that manage them.
The new ‘rules’ of April 2023 set off a string of stories in the media as Bengalureans pushed back against these measures that would reduce the park to a sterile and policed space. If imposed, the park authorities would succeed in keeping most people out.
The authorities informed the media that the rules were not being enforced and that the public was allowed to ‘play, eat and relax’ inside Cubbon Park. This, incidentally, was just before the state elections.
When I walked into Cubbon Park last week, I expected not to encounter mega-phones and uniformed guards. I was wrong. The entrance at the General Post Office end is now manned by a guard in a kiosk. The shelter, apart from shielding him from the elements, acts as a prop that gives him the legitimacy to act as an ‘official’ and a gatekeeper.
As I was entering, the guard stopped a woman with a badminton racquet and asked her to leave as there was a ‘no playing’ rule. An argument followed which ended with me showing him a message from a legitimate source that claimed that ‘the rules were not being enforced.’
The guard called another official who insisted that the rules were in place. In the melee, the lady-with-the-racquet passed through and moved quietly away.
Absence of clarity
However, the incident is a symptom of a problem. In the absence of a clear ‘notification’ that gives these so-called rules ‘official’ status, we are left on slippery ground and unanswered questions. Since there is nothing concrete, there are no specific grounds for challenging ‘the rules’ legally by invoking the Karnataka Government Parks (Preservation) Act, 1975.
The law states that the government’s duty is to ‘take action as may be necessary to improve the utility of such parks and such gardens’ (Sec 4 .1). This translates into a direction to the authorities to ensure better use of the park—for leisure, recreation and refuge from the congestion of city neighbourhoods, and not a restriction on activities.
The capricious use of the alleged rules begs the question: Where do they stand? Are they, in effect, diktats that can be invoked when it suits the whims of the guards or the authorities? The rules seem to allow the gatekeepers the choice to use it against certain kinds of the public who are seen as a ‘nuisance’ or potentially troublesome. Often, these labels are pegged onto people of socially disadvantaged communities, youth, and in these communally divided times, minorities.
Sometimes, some rules are revoked on paper but continue to be practised. Recently, the BBMP announced that neighbourhood parks would remain open throughout the day for visitors. But how many of them do so in practice? And how many of them open their gates to tired manual workers or the over-worked gig employee on the lookout for a cool place to rest and eat? Some parks in up-market neighbourhoods prevent even children from entering.
Restriction, not a solution
We live in what is fast becoming an ‘unliveable’ city, especially for those who do not have the luxury of airy homes and private open spaces. Densification and loss of green commons like avenue trees, old sacred groves and the shrinking of parks and playgrounds for infrastructure projects have put pressure on the few remaining lung spaces.
Authorities point to the ‘crowding’ of parks. Their response is to restrict use by including a list of ‘don’ts’. Instead, they should be working with city planners to add more free and open green spaces proportional to the growing number of city dwellers. Two large parks and neighbourhood parks with restricted access are not enough for a growing metropolis like Bengaluru where rising daily temperatures and air pollution are driving people to seek greenery and fresh air.
The importance of urban lung spaces and parks for a cheerful and healthy society was acknowledged by town planners in the early days of urban growth. Well-known landscape architect Olmsted who designed Central Park in New York City envisioned urban parks as a mix of curated and wild ‘nature’ to reflect pastoral spaces. These common spaces were believed to promote good health and take away the hard edge of urban life for all classes of people.
The push for making parks exclusive domains of the elite by shutting out sections of society—vendors, ‘loiterers’, poorer youth and others who are seen as potentially disruptive of order is problematic. Public spaces need to be accessible to all those who wish to enjoy the delights they offer. Bengalureans need to push the concerned authorities to become transparent and consultative so that the actions that affect the park or its use are discussed with a cross-section of park users and citizens. After all, isn’t that what the law dictates—that park spaces are to be used?
(The author is a Bengaluru-based urban anthropologist and media-maker)