Mumbai’s biggest transport projects rarely collapse in scandal. They unravel more quietly—through exits that are never fully explained, replacements that arrive without competition (no re-tendering), and cost escalations that acquire official sanction long after the political moment has passed.
The Versova–Bandra Sea Link and the Mumbai Monorail were conceived years apart, under different administrations, and for different problems. Yet today, they mirror each other uncannily. Both have overshot original budgets by thousands of crores. Both have seen original contractors pushed out midstream. And both now sit at the intersection of infrastructure execution and political proximity—where public money moves faster than public scrutiny.
The Sea Link: When a Contractor Exit Changed the Trajectory
Approved in 2017 at ₹7,502 crore, the Versova–Bandra Sea Link (VBSL) was projected as a clean, linear project: a 17-km corridor, anchored by a ~9.6-km sea bridge, cutting Bandra–Versova travel time from 90 minutes to 15.
In 2018, Reliance Infrastructure, partnered with Italy’s Astaldi, won the EPC contract as the lowest bidder at ₹6,993.99 crore, edging out Larsen & Toubro and ITD Cementation. The project moved into execution under the supervision of MSRDC.
The problems did not begin with engineering.
By 2021–22, execution slowed. Pandemic disruptions, extended monsoons, and disputes over pace and penalties strained the relationship between the contractor and the authority. MSRDC imposed penalties for slow mobilisation. Reliance Infrastructure contested several claims. What followed was not arbitration or renegotiation—but exit.
In 2022, Reliance Infrastructure transferred its stake, with execution passing to Webuild (Astaldi’s parent) and APCO Infratech.
The project did not go back to tender. That moment proved decisive.
A mega infrastructure project mid-execution does not absorb a contractor change neutrally. Design assumptions are revisited. Interfaces are reworked. Timelines reset. And crucially, cost baselines shift.
By the time revised estimates were formalised, the project cost had climbed to ₹11,332 crore. In 2024, the Maharashtra government approved a further ₹6,788 crore escalation, pushing the total to ₹18,120.96 crore.
Official explanations cited “technical modifications”: longer navigation spans, cable-stayed sections, connector extensions—most notably at Juhu, where the approach grew from 3.54 km to 4.45 km—relocation of casting yards from Juhu to Malad, and additional coastal and environmental clearances.
None of these changes, in isolation, are indefensible. Together, they rewrote the project’s economics.
As of early 2026, the Sea Link is reported to be only about 26 percent complete, with completion now targeted for December 2028—nearly six years behind the original schedule.
The escalation followed the delay. The delay followed the exit.
APCO’s Arrival—and the Political Undertones
APCO Infratech’s entry into the Sea Link project drew attention not for its engineering credentials alone, but for its political visibility.
The company has, in the past, been linked in media reports to election bond disclosures and has faced scrutiny over alleged connections involving its leadership—matters that have been publicly reported but not judicially concluded. Its promoter R. P. Singh has previously been named in investigative reporting related to infrastructure contracts, though the company has denied wrongdoing.
Separately, APCO has also been associated through joint ventures and partnerships with firms such as Aspect Sports, a group company of a businessman widely reported to be politically well-connected. These links do not imply illegality—but they do reinforce perceptions of how access and proximity operate in large public works.
What remains undisputed is this: APCO entered the Sea Link project after the original contractor exited, without a fresh competitive bidding process, at a time when design scope and cost were expanding.
That sequence matters.
The Monorail: A Familiar Second Act
If the Sea Link reflects how projects balloon after disruption, the Mumbai Monorail shows what happens after failure.
India’s first monorail—19.54 km from Chembur to Sant Gadge Maharaj Chowk—was launched as a futuristic fix to gridlock. Instead, it suffered breakdowns, weak ridership, and mounting losses, estimated at ₹520 crore by 2023–24.
The original operator, L&T–Scomi, exited in 2018. For years, the system limped along under MMRDA oversight, until services were suspended in September 2025 for a full overhaul.
In July 2025, MMRDA floated a global tender for five years of operations and maintenance. Four bidders entered; two were disqualified. Power Mech Projects Ltd emerged as the lowest bidder at ₹296.4 crore, narrowly undercutting Adani Infrastructure Management Services at ₹308.4 crore.
The Proximity
Power Mech is not a monorail specialist. It is, however, a major EPC contractor with extensive experience in thermal power and industrial projects—many of them for the Adani Group.
Public disclosures show Power Mech has executed large EPC packages for Adani entities, including a ₹6,163 crore flue-gas desulphurisation (FGD) retrofit programme announced in 2022. The relationship is commercial and disclosed—but its presence in yet another Mumbai transport reset has not gone unnoticed.
There is no allegation of impropriety in the monorail tender. But the optics reinforce a broader concern: when projects fail, revival often flows back to the same small ecosystem of politically proximate EPC players, rather than reopening the field to wider competition.
A Pattern That Explains the Bill
Neither the Sea Link nor the Monorail is a scandal in isolation. Together, they reveal a pattern.
Original contractors exit under pressure. Projects are kept alive through partner substitutions rather than re-bidding. Design scope expands after disruption. Costs escalate through officially sanctioned revisions. And accountability diffuses across committees, departments, and timelines.
Mumbai still needs both projects. The Sea Link will open. The Monorail will run again.
But the city’s real crisis is not delayed bridges or stalled trains. It is a system where disruption becomes an opportunity, competition narrows instead of widening, and taxpayers are left paying for decisions taken far from public view—long after the original promises have faded from memory. |
