can a post-industrial waterfront treat the city's waste and its floods with the same landscape?
Thirty hectares of Mumbai's eastern waterfront redesigned as a machine that lets the sea in and cleans what the city sends out.
Mumbai mismanages 93 per cent of its waste; a great deal of it goes into the drains, and the drains go into the sea. The same drains carry 2,142 mm of rain a year through a storm-water system sized for 25 mm a day, and by 2050 sea-level rise puts two-fifths of the city under regular flooding. Both problems meet at the eastern waterfront: 966 hectares of docks, sixteen kilometres of post-industrial edge. This studio took thirty hectares of it and asked one question: what is the inclusionary script, and how do we re-think the relationship between land and sea while addressing toxicity and flooding?
- (role)
- research · systems design · urban design
- (period)
- 2020 · one semester
- (context)
- eastern waterfront · mumbai · cept L3 studio
- (status)
- studio

Sixteen kilometres nobody can reach
Mumbai's eastern waterfront runs sixteen kilometres from Sassoon Dock to Sewri: 966 hectares of docks and bunders built between 1865 and 1915, most of it owned by the port trust, much of it dilapidated or unused, all of it closed to the city behind it. A koliwada, a fish market, oil and chemical factories, ship-breaking yards and metal scrapping share the edge with proposals for a coastal road and reclamation.
The studio took 300,000 square metres of it at Prince's and Victoria Docks, a post-industrial wasteland, and read it as the meeting of land and water: the one place where what the city sends out and what the sea sends back could be dealt with in the same ground.


Where 93 per cent goes
Mumbai produces 40,00,000 tonnes of waste a year, 7,025 tonnes a day; 93 per cent of it is mismanaged, and 37,000 tonnes a year end in rivers and drains. Globally, most of the plastic in the oceans arrives the same way: through city drains and waterways.
The nallahs are where it goes first: the open drains that stitch the city together and poison it at the same time, lined with the people who have nowhere else to live. A nallah shows a city everything it discards in one continuous section, and every one of them ends at a waterfront like this one.




Two thousand millimetres through a twenty-five-millimetre pipe
The same drains carry the monsoon. Average rainfall is 2,142 millimetres a year, 96 per cent of it in four months, into a storm-water system able to accommodate 25 millimetres a day. The map of the low-lying drains and the map of the areas that flood are the same map. By 2050, with sea-level rise, forty per cent of the city is projected to be under threat of regular flooding.
Toxicity and flooding are usually two departments. On this site they are one system, because the water that floods the city is the water that carries its waste, so the design treats them as one problem.




Let the water in
The move is to let the water in. Mud dykes and wetlands as a natural buffer; drainage networks brought onto the site rather than piped past it; public functions above ground; waste-to-energy, recycling and water-treatment facilities underground; floating structures off the edge that collect the harbour's waste and hold public programs: recreation, culture, sport as crossing infrastructure.
Nothing in it is a single building. The site is a transition between land and sea and a starting point for a design that can be repeated across both ends and the edge: the interventions are modules, decentralised, connected underground through the treatment system and above ground through the programs, repeated wherever the sixteen kilometres allow.


A landscape that treats
The name is borrowed from ecological engineering. An eco-machine is a sequence of living systems, wetland cells, root zones, settling pools, each one a treatment step. Strung along the edge, they turn a dock into a working landscape: the wetland is the flood buffer and the filter, the public terraces are the roof of the plant, the plaza sits on a treatment cell, and the people beside the water are its operators rather than its victims.



