Alibaug, Maharashtra, used to be a quaint seaside getaway of mango gardens, paddy fields, and ancient villages, but now it is the fast-paced development that is distorting not only the physical structures but also the identity of this place. The area is getting more connected to the metropolis of Mumbai, and an influx of real estate investment is turning the formerly blue-green pastoral idyll into a grey, urban suburb of the metropolitan sprawl.
Alibaug was the trendiest weekend destination of the Mumbai elite, with many decades of tradition of its quiet immersion in nature, history, and human trust. Now it is being destroyedto the root by the construction of concrete villas, gated neighbourhoods, and shopping centres in the same places, rolling in the hearts of environmentalists and old proprietors.
Vanishing Greens: Infrastructure and Accessibility
The driving force behind this development has been the RORO (Roll-On/Roll-Off) ferry services and the inauguration of the longest sea bridge in India, by the name Atal Setu Bridge. The bridge has reduced travel time between Alibaug and Mumbai to less than 45 minutes, which has resulted in a real estate gold rush. Land that was formerly used as rice paddies or mango orchards is being sold now as top-grade villa land. Developers have not been late in doing so. Through places like Zirad, Mandwa, and Kihim, builders and developers are acquiring land parcels, frequently consulted and obtained without any concrete environmental clearances. What this has left is a violent and, in most instances, indiscriminate spread of concrete on the ground. Trees are cut down as buildings increase. Lakes are drying up seasonally, paddy land is reducing, and biodiversity is being threatened. People living in the area are complaining of the shortage of migratory birds, water scarcity in the peak summer season, and soil erosion. Many villagers used to rely on rain-based agriculture it has become difficult to produce traditional crops, such as rice, pulses, or even vegetables. “The water table has gone down. Earlier, we used to dig 15 feet to get water, now it’s over 40,” says Shantaram Patil, a farmer from Mapgaon village. “These buildings are not just blocking views; they’re blocking nature.” Those requiring protection, such as the mangroves and the wetlands, which act as natural shock absorbers during the monsoon period, will be lost. Worried environmentalists fear that such unregulated urbanisation will turn Alibaug into an area susceptible to floods, erosion, and ecological imbalance even in the future.
Decaying Structures Under High-End Facades
The infrastructure in Alibaug is still primitive, despite the plush resorts and elite villas. Internal roads are narrow and full of potholes, the sewage systems are old-fashioned and inefficient or non-existent in certain places, and power outages have become common. “The irony is striking,” says Vidya Patil, owner of Alibaug’s first bakery. “You have people living in ₹10-crore houses, but the garbage outside is not picked up for days. The local systems can’t handle this sudden influx.” People are also complaining that the development is not serving the needs of the resident population, but that it is serving the outsiders. A lot of small sellers, artisans, and farmers are feeling sidelined in their ancestral land as inflation explodes and farm land is becoming unaffordable to natives. It is not purely a physical change but a cultural one too. The presence of remains of Portuguese forts, ancient Marathi constructions, and a prosperous Bene Israeli community is making way gradually to designer cafes, boutique stays, as well as gated villas in Alibaug. Traditional community events and markets are dwindling. “Earlier, we all knew each other. Now, there are so many outsiders that even festivals feel different,” says Sunita Joshi, a school teacher in Revdanda. “It feels like a different place every year.” Several families that have been residing in Alibaug generation after generation have sold off their ancestral land either due to financial compulsions or due to the temptation of the easy money and shifted to other places. With a change in the ownership of the land, the control over the future of the region also changes.
Lack of Planning: The Way Forward
Authorities caution that Alibaug could soon meet the fates of other once idyllic places in India that have now fallen prey to unchecked urban developments. “We have seen this in Goa, in Shimla, in Mussoorie—when development outpaces infrastructure, it leads to collapse,” says urban planner Rajiv Bendre. At the moment, no holistic policy of coastal development is available in the area. Despite the existence of CRZ (Coastal Regulation Zone) laws, the loopholes and poor enforcement have enabled builders to go to extremes. Additionally, the boundaries between conservation areas and development are not clear; hence, ecosystems have been exploited. “There is no long-term vision here,” says Bendre. “Without zoning, without impact assessments, this will be a ticking time bomb.”There is still time to course-correct. Experts suggest that the government must implement: Tight zoning regulations to preserve farmlands, forests, and wetlands. Local communities' consultations before giving a large project the go-ahead. A requirement of an upgrade to infrastructure (roads, sewage, electricity) before the building licenses may not be given. Sustainable development incentives: eco-resorts, community-owned tourism development, etc. Few green initiatives have started to surface. Even some property developers are promoting so-called eco-friendly villas that have rainwater harvesting and alternative energy sources such as solar panels. Some villagers have been complaining about massive constructions without proper control. Such initiatives are, however, scanty and sporadic to reverse the strong current of profit-making development.
Conclusion: A Choice That Defines the Future
Alibaug is up to a turning point. Its heritage and natural beauty have been the greatest assets. The dilemma is whether they will be used as a sacrifice on the altar of unrestrained growth or will players unite efforts to find a sustainable and inclusive way forward? With additional vehicles descending the Atal Setu and cranes continuously emerging over former coconut plantations, the future of Alibaug resides in decisions that are critical to the present. The blue-green countryside is already disappearing - whether it will be obliterated or whether it will live with development, will determine what sort of legacy we have left.