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K Roopa's home is nothing short of an oasis in Byramangala village in Karnataka’s Ramanagara district. Coconut trees shade one side of the house, while a mix of fruit-bearing mango, star fruit, and pomegranate trees helps ensure food security for her family of five.
A row of golden champaks, hibiscus, and lilies beside a porch swing can transport one to a pastoral idyll—until a breeze sweeps in, carrying a pungent odour that feels out of place in this bucolic landscape.
In the direction of the odour is a canal directly adjoining the house’s wall, filled with foamy dark water.
The pollution originates in Bengaluru, nearly 30 km away, and flows through the Vrishabhavathi river system into a network of canals and distributaries, eventually reaching Byramangala—to the canal running along the wall of Roopa’s home.
Bengaluru's unplanned urbanisation has taken a toll on Byramangala and the surrounding villages in the Ramanagara district, now within the Bengaluru Metropolitan Region.
“We did not push back a decade ago, and that’s why our water is polluted now,” says Roopa, who has been living here for more than 25 years.
The same villages, already burdened by Bengaluru's expansion, are now facing another transformation.
In March 2025, the Greater Bengaluru Development Authority issued a notification to acquire land in and around Bidadi for the Greater Bengaluru Integrated Township. Six months later, then Deputy Chief Minister DK Shivakumar said the long-pending project would be developed as India's first AI-powered integrated township.
In strong opposition, farmers, however, have been protesting against the land acquisition since March. According to Guardians of the Land, an online platform advocating "for rational growth that respects our ecological foundations", the proposed township development will impact on as many as 16,000 farmers. The Quint could not independently verify these numbers.
‘How is Money Useful For a Farmer?’
“The government cannot fool us every time,” says Roopa, as she scrapes the coconut harvested from her backyard to cook lunch. Just like almost every other farmer, Roopa’s family also cultivated ragi in their six-acre farm land, up until 10 years ago. But the water's toxicity made the soil unsuitable for ragi, a staple grain used for ragi mudde.
“We always cultivated the ragi needed for our family. But not anymore,” Roopa says, blaming the contaminated water.
Since their land is contaminated with toxic water, they transitioned to mulberry leaves, which are better suited to tolerate the toxicity than ragi. They now cultivate mulberry leaves, areca nut, and baby corn in six acres, which fetches them about Rs 20,000 a month.
Of the 754 farmers affected in the first phase of the project in 518.45 acres, only 200 of them have applied for the compensation ranging from Rs 2.07 to 2.14 crore per acre fixed by the Urban Development Department.
The government has offered affected landowners the option to participate in a 50:50 land-sharing model, allowing them to become stakeholders in the township's development.
But for farmers who have tilled these lands for generations and depend on them for food and livelihood, these offers were hardly enticing.
“The government might give us money for the acquired land. But what do we do with that money? How is the money useful for a farmer? We are not young enough to learn a new skill set and relocate.”K Roopa
‘Should My Husband Work As A Watchman?’
Agriculture sustains families in this region. It is also a livelihood that enables both men and women to work and contribute to household incomes.
On the afternoon of 17 June, when the sun’s wrath was still noticeable, 47-year-old Latha from Bannigiri village was feeding the freshly chopped mulberry leaves to the silkworms in a sericulture unit.
Latha invests Rs 15,000 to plant mulberry leaves, to pay wages for the labour, and to run a sericulture unit—all in her two acres. Within 100 days, the investment fetches her a profit of Rs 50,000.
Rupa Lakshmipathi, too, has been in sericulture for the past 15 years, and today she earns around ₹45,000-50,000 a month. "I earn this from the comfort of my home. Why should I leave this and take up something else?" the 43-year-old questions.
She also speaks on behalf of many women in Bidadi who earn their livelihood by selling milk from their cattle. "There is a lot of self-respect in working the land and earning from it. We work under no one and are not answerable to anyone," she says.
Latha, meanwhile, says that the ragi the family uses in ragi mudde, the toor daal she uses to make sambar every other day, the tender coconut they use to hydrate themselves during hot summers, and the bananas they eat after lunch every day are all cultivated in her six-acre farm.
To ease concerns over land acquisition, the locals say that the Karnataka government promised employment support for eligible families, and skill training centres, to prepare local residents for AI-driven industries at the Greater Bengaluru Integrated Township.
“My husband is 52. All he would get at the township is the job of a watchman. Why would we even want that?” questions Latha.
Like many women in Bidadi, Latha plays an integral role in her farming family. “I don't know anything else besides farming,” she says.
A Movement Simmers
On 20 June, the newly appointed Chief Minister DK Shivakumar said he was not prepared to “go to jail” by denotifying land that had been notified by former Chief Minister HD Kumaraswamy, two decades ago.
On the other hand, the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) announced that the BJP-JD(S) alliance would scrap the township project if it came to power in 2028.
Farmers, however, are determined to continue the protest, drawing lessons from the previous movements. In 2022, the Karnataka government proposed acquiring 1,777 acres of agricultural land across 13 villages in Devanahalli taluk, Bengaluru Rural district, for a defence and aerospace park.
Farmers responded with a sustained protest that lasted more than 1,000 days, repeatedly marching to Vidhana Soudha and holding demonstrations in Bengaluru.
At the protest site in Byramangala, B Shivamma, a 104-year-old farmer from Timlapura village in Tumakuru district, says, “The government cannot lure farmers with money. What will people do for food if farmers stop cultivating? They can't eat money, can they?”
In July 2025, then Chief Minister Siddaramaiah announced that the state would withdraw the land acquisition process and acquire land only from willing farmers.
At the protest site in Byramangala, farmers from across the state have joined to strengthen the movement.
Experts say that the idea of an “AI city” risks becoming more of a marketing label than a grounded planning concept, and that governments must instead work towards win-win solutions where technological development does not come at the cost of farmers’ livelihoods.
“In many Indian cities, urban development is steadily expanding into rural landscapes. It is an unfair and potentially catastrophic approach, as the disruption of agricultural land can have far-reaching consequences that extend beyond the tenure of any single government or the vision of any one politician.”Madhusudhana Bandapalli, a technological expert
G Byrappa is a Senior Manager at an IT farm, who owns a one-acre farm at Bidadi. His farm has 40 coconut trees, 150 arecanut trees, one jackfruit tree, one mango tree, two chikku (sapota) trees, 25 banana plants, and 10 papaya plants. He takes part in the protest during weekends.
He tells The Quint:
"I would rather be on my farm than go anywhere else. How can the politicians convert this green belt into a concrete jungle?"
Beyond the question of preserving farmland lies another: whether Bengaluru should take in every new investment opportunity.
Bengaluru's periphery is ill-planned and lacks basic infrastructure, says Meera K, co-founder and trustee of Oorvani Foundation, a non-profit committed to civic engagement, citizenship, and community building. Questioning whether Bengaluru is, in fact, the right place to create new opportunities and jobs, Meera says the state has long missed an opportunity to strengthen other urban centres. She says:
“For years, there have been half-hearted attempts to encourage the growth of cities such as Hubballi-Dharwad, Mangaluru, and Mysuru. This could have been a chance to actually develop cities that can compete with Bengaluru in attracting investments and talent.”
She also questions the scale of such projects.
“Why do these projects have to be so grand? Do we need thousands of acres for a single project, especially when it encourages a land economy rather than promoting job security? Isn't there a way to pursue denser development instead of acquiring more land?”
The Quint reached out to Dr Shalini Rajneesh, Chief Secretary of Karnataka, and P Rajendra Cholan, Secretary to the Chief Minister. They had not responded at the time of publication.
As evening approaches and the breeze picks up, a pungent smell from the canal drifts into Roopa’s home, making our brows instinctively rise. “I am not a fool to trust the government again,” Roopa says, as she covers her nose with a shawl.
(Laasya Shekhar is an independent journalist from Chennai with 10 years of experience in print and digital media, predominantly covering environmental, energy, and women's issues.)