Crime Today News
By Kumkum Chadha
While the country celebrated the inauguration of the Chenab Railway Bridge with much fanfare, the woman behind its engineering stayed away. Dr G Madhavi Latha, a geo-technical expert and professor at the Indian Institute of Science (IISc), Bengaluru, was in Madrid, Spain, far from the limelight.
Despite playing a pivotal role in the creation of the world’s highest railway bridge, Dr Latha remained characteristically modest. Andhra Pradesh Chief Minister Chandrababu Naidu proudly hailed her as a “Telugu daughter” and lauded her dedication—recognition well-deserved for someone who spent 17 years on the Chenab Bridge project.
A gold medallist and faculty member at IISc since 2003, Dr Latha led the project’s geo-technical work through its most difficult phases—challenging terrain, hostile climate, and seismic vulnerabilities. Yet, as accolades poured in, she downplayed her role, tweeting that the credit belonged to “thousands” and requesting the media not to make her “unnecessarily famous.”
Modesty aside, her contribution was central. Dr Latha adopted a “design as you go” method rather than sticking to rigid blueprints—a crucial decision given the constantly shifting Himalayan topography and complex engineering demands. Fixed designs, she argued, would not have survived the realities on the ground.
Earlier this month, the Chenab Railway Bridge was formally dedicated to the nation by Prime Minister Narendra Modi during Eid-ul-Adha. Towering 359 metres above the Chenab River—taller than the Eiffel Tower—the bridge connects the Kashmir Valley to the rest of India for the first time by rail. It is not just a feat of scale, but one of endurance and adaptability.
The 1,315-metre-long steel and concrete structure is designed to withstand powerful earthquakes, blast impacts, and winds of up to 266 km/hour. Its completion marks the final and most difficult leg of the Udhampur-Srinagar-Baramulla Rail Link (USBRL), a project that has spanned five decades and challenged successive governments.
Alongside the Chenab bridge stands another marvel: the Anji Khad Bridge, India’s first cable-stayed railway bridge, supported by 96 tensioned cables and situated in a high seismic zone. The entire USBRL project includes 943 bridges and 36 main tunnels, among them T-50—the country’s longest railway tunnel, stretching over 12.7 km.
Together, these efforts have cost nearly Rs 44,000 crore and taken India 70 years closer to a dream first envisioned in the 1970s during Prime Minister Indira Gandhi’s tenure. The Cabinet formally approved it in 1994, but construction only began in 2002 under Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee. Over the decades, bits of the link fell into place—Qazigund-Baramulla in 2009, Banihal-Qazigund in 2013, Udhampur-Katra in 2014, and Banihal-Sangaldan in 2023. Now, with Sangaldan-Katra operational, the Kashmir Valley is finally fully connected.
Even the Vande Bharat train has received “Kashmir-specific” modifications—winter heating systems, defrosting technology, and visibility features tailored to the harsh mountain climate.
Credit, in part, must go to the Modi government for fast-tracking a project long mired in bureaucratic inertia. Railway Minister Ashwini Vaishnaw called the bridge a “historic milestone”—and in many ways, it is. It’s a rare instance where infrastructure intersects with national psychology, attempting to integrate a region often seen as disconnected—physically and politically—from the rest of India.
But even as the Modi government showcases engineering marvels like Chenab, troubling signs persist. While its infrastructure rollout is unmatched in speed, durability remains an open question.
The newly built Central Vista, including the Rs 971 crore Parliament building, reportedly leaked during its first monsoon. Some MPs waded through waterlogged areas to reach the building. The Ram Temple in Ayodhya, inaugurated barely months ago, also developed leaks—though officials denied drainage flaws.
Likewise, the Vande Bharat Express experienced roof leaks, while Delhi’s Pragati Maidan tunnel showed structural cracks before the G-20 summit. In Mumbai, the Atal Setu Bridge developed fissures just three months after opening. And most recently, part of the roof at Delhi’s Terminal 1 airport collapsed following heavy rain, resulting in casualties.
Such incidents highlight a worrisome pattern. Grand structures, fast-tracked for visibility, may be falling short on quality. The drive to build quickly, meet deadlines, and create visual symbols of development is commendable—but without structural integrity and long-term planning, the achievements risk becoming cautionary tales.
The Chenab Railway Bridge stands as proof of what India can achieve when science, planning, and perseverance align. But its glory also throws into sharp relief the fragility of other mega projects born from haste.
—The writer is an author, journalist and political commentator
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