Faaiz Dijoo
After the expenditure of crores to transform Srinagar into a “Smart City,” the results are, by all appearances, visible. The city is now, supposedly, smarter than ever. The evidence? Wider footpaths—seemingly the new global benchmark of modern civilisation.
A local politician recently remarked, “Thanks for making it more walkable.” Walkable, certainly. But drivable? That appears to be a secondary concern, as if vehicles themselves have become outdated.
Meanwhile, fundamental urban challenges—traffic congestion, bottlenecks, chaotic intersections, and inadequate parking—seem to have been quietly sidelined during the planning process. Instead of addressing these core issues, the focus has shifted toward aesthetic enhancements: artistic tiles, decorative kerbs, and surface-level beautification. The question arises: why resolve a problem when it can simply be masked?
Attempting to drive even five kilometres during peak office hours is no longer a routine commute; it is an endurance test. Commuters find themselves with ample time to reflect on life, on patience, and perhaps on whether walking those expansive footpaths might have been the better option.
The Traffic Police, despite commendable manpower, appear constrained by the absence of a cohesive system. While the Integrated Traffic Management System (ITMS) exists in theory and presentation, its presence on the ground is far less apparent. In practice, Srinagar continues to rely on its age-old improvisational culture called “jugaad.”
Across the city, one encounters ropes strung across intersections, makeshift diversions, and barricades placed seemingly at will. The urban landscape begins to resemble a maze. In response, commuters employ their own countermeasures: driving in the wrong lanes, executing abrupt U-turns, and navigating through impossibly narrow gaps.
Traffic personnel, despite sincere efforts, face an uphill task. Enforcing discipline among commuters often feels akin to an exercise in futility. As a result, manual control dominates—officers directing traffic with gestures reminiscent of air-traffic controllers operating under constant strain.
Barricading, however, has emerged as the defining feature of this new approach. When planning frameworks fall short, physical obstructions take their place. Residency Road, for instance, now presents the appearance of a perpetual construction zone. The logic appears straightforward: if intersections cannot be managed, they can simply be closed.
The Mominabad crossing stands as a case in point—sealed entirely, yet daily traffic jams persist. A significant contributing factor is the presence of an illegal taxi stand occupying the highway itself, leaving only a narrow passage for vehicles. The arrangement seems almost symbolic: movement is permitted, but only with constraint.
Elsewhere, the national highway increasingly resembles the narrow internal lanes of residential colonies, raising concerns about long-term urban planning standards.
The administration, it would seem, is aware of these issues. However, the underlying structural constraints remain unaddressed. Along key stretches such as Batmaloo–Sekidafar, Qamarwari–Parimpora, and Shaheed Gunj, bottlenecks persist—not as anomalies, but as enduring features of the city’s infrastructure.
Where encroachments are absent, deteriorating road conditions fill the gap, ensuring a consistent experience for commuters.
Amid these challenges, elevated infrastructure projects offer a glimpse of progress. The Jehangir Chowk–Rambagh flyover, for instance, provides temporary relief by lifting traffic above ground-level congestion for approximately 2.5 kilometres. However, this relief is short-lived, as the structure ultimately feeds back into the same problematic intersections it was meant to bypass—Jehangir Chowk and Natipora. The result is a convergence of traffic streams competing for limited space.
More recently, the Sanatnagar flyover has been introduced and is being favourably compared to earlier projects in Bemina and Nowgam. It is relatively straighter and smoother—a notable achievement. Yet, questions remain about consistency in engineering execution, as discrepancies between design and on-ground implementation continue to surface.
Ultimately, after significant financial investment, extensive planning discourse, widespread barricading, and visibly enhanced pedestrian pathways, a fundamental question remains:
Has Srinagar truly become a smart city,
or merely an expensive illusion of one?
