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First Underground Metro Rail: Physical work to begin in June

Homo Sapiens

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12:00 AM, January 13, 2021 / LAST MODIFIED: 11:02 AM, January 13, 2021
First Underground Metro Rail: Physical work to begin in June




Tuhin Shubhra Adhikary

The physical work of the country's first underground metro rail is expected to begin in June, as the authorities have almost completed necessary preparatory work for this project.

Feasibility study and all necessary surveys were done. Japan agreed to provide soft loan for the Tk 52,561.43-crore project. Around 65 percent work for drawing detail design was also finished last month, said officials.

Besides, bidding documents for hiring contractors are almost ready. The bidding process is expected to take three to four months, they said.

"We are hopeful of starting the physical work within this June," said MAN Siddique, managing director of Dhaka Mass Transit Company Ltd (DMTCL), the implementing agency of the project.

Once the rail line, formally known as Mass Rapid Transit Line-1 or MRT-1, is completed, it would be able to carry 8 lakh passengers daily. The rail line is expected to be done in 2026.

The 31.24km MRT Line-1
will have two parts -- around 19.87km from Hazrat Shahjalal International Airport to Kamalapur with 16.4km underground lines and around 11.36km elevated lines from Notun Bazar to Purbachal.

It would have 19 stations, of which 12 would be underground and seven elevated.
The MRT Line-1 will be second among the six lines to be built in the capital and its adjacent areas to ease traffic congestion and control environmental pollution.

The government has taken up a plan to build the 128.74km metro rail network -- 67.56km elevated and 61.17km underground -- with 104 stations within 2030.

Construction of the country's first ever metro rail line -- MRT-6 -- is now going on to connect Uttara Third Phase with Motijheel with 20.10km elevated rail lines.
The project witnessed 55.19 percent progress till last month. The DMTCL is now working to extend the line up to Kamalapur Railway Station from Motijheel.

UNDERGROUND RAIL LINE
The government signed a loan agreement with Japan International Cooperation Agency (Jica) in June 2017 for appointing a consultant firm for detail design and tender assistance.

The project feasibility was done in December 2018.

In October 2018, the DMTCL appointed NKDOS consortium for preparing detail design and tender documents.

The Executive Committee of the National Economic Council in October last year approved the project to be implemented within September 2019 and December 2026.
Of the Tk 52,561.43 crore costs, the government will provide Tk 13,111 crore and the Jica Tk 39,450 crore.

As per the plan, Airport-Kamalapur route has 12 underground stations -- at the airport, Terminal-3 of the airport, Khilkhet, Jamuna Future Park, Notun Bazar, Uttar Badda, Badda, Hatirjheel East, Rampura, Malibagh, Rajarbagh and Kamalapur.
The Purbachal part will have stations at Notun Bazar, Bashundhara, Police Officers' Housing Society, Mastul, Purbachal West, Purbachal Centre and Purbachal East.
The depot would be established at Pitalganj in Narayangaj's Rupganj. The Notun Bazar station would serve as an interchange.

The DMTCL authorities had a plan to start the physical work in December. But they had to change the plan due to the Covid-19 pandemic, MAN Siddique said.
He said they are now finalising the tender documents before sending it to Japan for approval within this month.

Meanwhile, the authorities have started land acquisition for building depot and depot's access road in Rupganj's Pitalganj and Brahmankhali moujas. A total of 93 acres of land would be acquired for the purpose, according to the project documents.
 

mb444

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Excellent news, BD needs to consider some more of these in other cities.... second candidate should be Chittagong.
 

Bilal9

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This (initially under ground, then extended to Purbachal above ground) line MRT-1 will connect with the one being completed now (MRT-6) at Kamalapur, which is the current Heavy Rail Transport hub. Here are the stations and future above and under-ground parts.




Unfortunately, they will demolish the iconic structure design of the present station designed in the golden age of modernism in local architecture (which bested pretty much anything in South Asia in its day).

They may keep a small part as a token memento and a salute to the design.

There is already very strong outcry in the global architecture arena about the demolition and we hopefully will be able to save this grand design and have the Japanese consultant to design the planned transport complex around it.

I reproduce the articles below to mobilize action and popular public support in Bangladeshi media in opposing the demolition.


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Bangladesh authorities consider demolishing iconic Kamalapur Railway Station for an elevated metro line
By Aaron Smithson • January 4, 2021 • Architecture, Editor's Picks, International, News, Preservation
Kamalapur Railway Station in 2017 (Anik Sarker/Wikimedia commons, accessed under the CC BY-SA 4.0 license)

In central Dhaka, Bangladesh, a teeming megacity of 15 million people, a parabolic canopy rises above the skyline. The Kamalapur Railway Station has stood east of the city’s Motijheel district since 1968, when New Jersey-based Berger Consultants completed design and construction work on its thin concrete shell umbrella. It has since become something of a local icon, with many prominent Bangladeshi architects considering it an invaluable piece of cultural heritage. But with an expansion of Dhaka’s metro lines now imminent, Kamalapur is facing the threat of demolition.

It took local craftsmen nearly a decade to build Kamalapur Railway Station, with a sequence of multiple architects at Berger Consultants developing its design. The first was Daniel Dunham, a young architect who had just completed his studies at Harvard’s Graduate School of Design (GSD) when Berger hired him to lead its fledgling Dhaka office and take on an extensive backlog of new projects.

Dunham enthusiastically embedded himself in Bangladeshi culture, learning Bengali and adapting to local craft and construction practices. Having researched tropical architecture as a Fulbright Scholar in Morocco, he expressed a deep interest in environmental design through his early architectural work.

Black and white photo of a thin concrete canopy being pouredCasted-on-site concrete shells were placed on the roof of Kamalapur Railway Station during its construction. (Courtesy Kate Dunham)

Rather than design an enclosed monolith with mechanical heating and cooling systems for Dhaka’s central railway station, Dunham intended to take advantage of the city’s tropical climate. He devised a roof system that provides an umbrella of shade over the station’s offices and facilities, supported by a versatile field of columns. It was to be built using thin concrete shells, a construction technique that Dunham investigated as part of his thesis at the GSD. The open-air scheme takes advantage of Dhaka’s cross breezes while shielding interior spaces from monsoon downpours.

When Dunham left Berger to help lead the new architecture department at East Pakistan University of Engineering and Technology (now Bangladesh University of Engineering and Technology), the Pratt-educated architect Robert Boughey took over his post. Boughey designed tessellating concrete shells for the roof that recalled the pointed arches of some Islamic architecture.
Cast on-site with reusable wooden molds, the shells became Kamalapur’s defining architectural feature. Adnan Morshed, an architectural historian at Catholic University, has likened them to the unmistakable rooflines of Jørn Utzon’s Sydney Opera House.

Diagram of arched train station with curved canopies
An early Berger Consultants drawing of Kamalapur Railway Station (Courtesy Kate Dunham)

Though it is not as globally recognizable as Australia’s most famous building, Kamalapur Railway Station has assumed its own prominent position in the architectural identity of Bangladesh’s capital. The reproduction of the station’s likeness is common in both local memorabilia and imitative design from other parts of the country. The Sylhet Railway Station in the northeastern part of the country, for instance, uses a similar umbrella structure to cover its facilities, with lotus-shaped shells supported by a forest of columns. In Dhaka, images of the city’s famous train station appear on postcards, stamps, and even decorative paintings on the backs of rickshaws.

Kamalapur is often framed as part of the so-called “golden age” of modern architecture in Bangladesh. Between the 1950s and 1960s, after the partition of India and before Bangladesh (then East Pakistan) claimed independence from Pakistan, a number of buildings erected in the country received international acclaim. Muzharul Islam designed his airy Institute of Arts and Crafts in Dhaka, as well as the Five Polytechnic Institutes in Rangpur, Bogra, Prana, Sylhet, and Barisal. Perhaps most famously, Louis Kahn began the decades-long process of designing what is arguably his magnum opus: Jatiya Sangsad Bhaban, or the National Parliament House of Bangladesh.
POstage stamps bearing the Kamalapur Railway StationEast Pakistan and Bangladesh postage stamps showing images of Kamalapur Railway Station. (Courtesy Kate Dunham)

Even if Kamalapur Station is certainly not the only notable example of modern architecture in Bangladesh, though, it is likely one of the most accessible. While many of Islam and Kahn’s projects are located within lofty institutions of higher learning or high-security government compounds, Kamalapur’s open halls are traversed by thousands of ordinary Dhaka residents every day. With a patchwork of signage and posters now dotting the building’s discolored surfaces, Kamalapur has assumed a character that some consider inimitable—a notion that has only made the demolition announcement more difficult to accept.

In late November, Bangladeshi press outlets began reporting on the government’s plan to tear down Kamalapur Railway Station in order to accommodate an extension of the Dhaka Metro Rail’s Line-6, an elevated train route that aims to ferry upwards of 60,000 passengers per hour.

The Metro Rail is part of the country’s Strategic Transport Plan (STP), a scheme devised by the Dhaka Transport Coordination Authority (DCTA) to ease the city’s extreme levels of road congestion. For a metropolis that is growing faster than almost any other Asian city, mass transit projects could provide critical relief for an already inundated transport infrastructure system.

Cover of a magazine with the rail station on itA cover of Dhaka’s Star magazine shows Kamalapur Railway Station shortly after its completion. (Courtesy Kate Dunham)

Plans put forth by the Japanese construction firm Kajima Corporation have already been approved by Railways Minister Nurul Islam Sujan, and the demolition will purportedly allow the DCTA to use Kamalapur as an effective multimodal hub for several new and existing train lines, though no site drawings have been released. According to New Age Bangladesh, Islam has promised that an exact replica of the existing structure will be built just to the north of its current site.

Many local and international architects, though, have criticized the decision as an unnecessary act of destruction, reflecting misplaced priorities and insufficient coordination between agencies. While hardly anyone disputes the need for new and improved rail infrastructure, prominent figures like Qazi Azizul Mowla, professor of urban design at Bangladesh University of Engineering and Technology, suggest that the DCTA’s goals could be achieved without demolishing Kamalapur Railway Station.

As the Daily Star recently reported, Iqbal Habib, an architect and joint secretary of the nonprofit Bangladesh Paribesh Andolon, identified Kamalapur as one of Dhaka’s few examples of symbolic architecture. In a recent piece for the same publication, ABM Nurul Islam warned that the municipal government would later regret its seemingly insatiable appetite for new development: “Dhaka, once known as a city of mosques or the Venice of the east, will soon become a city of shopping malls—a shapeless concrete jungle if the current trends continue.”

Black and white photo of people cycling past a train station under constructionKamalapur Railway Station during its construction in the 1960s. (Courtesy Kate Dunham)

Others have focused on the potential for adaptive reuse rather than demolition. In a conversation with AN, Kate Dunham, daughter of architect Daniel Dunham and an adjunct associate professor at Columbia GSAPP, emphasized Kamalapur’s versatility: “If it doesn’t work as a train station, that’s fine! But the whole principle of the building was that it was flexible, so I can’t imagine that it couldn’t house something else.”

In another article written for the Daily Star, Adnan Morshed drew parallels between the plan to destroy Kamalapur Railway Station and the infamous dismantling of New York City’s once grandiose Pennsylvania Station. The destruction of McKim, Mead, & White’s Beaux Arts masterpiece in 1963, deemed by many an unnecessary and tragic loss, sparked the modern historic preservation movement in the United States. Indeed, New York’s unveiling of the new Moynihan Train Hall last week has renewed interest in the global effort to preserve iconic public buildings as living vestiges of a place’s unique history.

Dhaka has no formal equivalent of New York’s Landmarks Preservation Commission, a public agency that recognizes and protects historically or architecturally significant buildings. The preservation efforts that do exist in the Bangladeshi capital often focus on Puran (Old) Dhaka, where merchants’ mansions, palaces, and churches from Britain’s colonial occupation line the Buriganga River.

The apparent apathy of Dhaka authorities towards the importance of leaving Kamalapur in its original form is reflective of broader trends across South Asia, where municipal and national governments are typically slow to steward modernist, post-independence buildings as critical components of a nation’s cultural heritage. In New Delhi, India, where the Heritage Conservation Committee does not protect structures younger than 60 years old, authorities disregarded international outcry and demolished Raj Rewal’s iconic Hall of Nations in 2017.

However, more recent signs show that increased global recognition of the richness of South Asia’s modern architectural history might have some impact on high-level decision-making. In 2018, Indian architect Balkrishna Doshi won the Pritzker Prize and was celebrated in an expansive retrospective at Germany’s Vitra Design Museum the following year. The Museum of Modern Art has acquired works by Rewal, and Sri Lankan architect Geoffrey Bawa has been the subject of gallery exhibitions in New York and Rome. Just last week, the Indian Institute of Management in Ahmedabad caved to domestic and international pressure to withdraw its plans to demolish 18 of Louis Kahn’s dormitory buildings at the school.

With the final decision regarding the fate of Kamalapur Railway Station now in the hands of Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina, architects are hoping that similar pressure might prompt a reversal of the demolition plan. As for the station’s original architect, Kate Dunham assured AN that her late father was cognizant of both the importance of the project within Dhaka’s architectural landscape and the inherent volatility of doing work in a fast-growing country: “He was very humble, and would probably be more amused by the present situation than anything. He saw the humor and the value in things, and he certainly wouldn’t be egotistical about it.”

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South Asia is in the throes of an urban development frenzy that appears determined to reshape its major urban centers. You might call it a form of “neo-urban renewal.” Like its predecessors, this campaign of “renewal” looks at the past either with an ambivalence that is tantamount to negligence or with a hostility that sees history as an obstruction on the path to a resplendent future.

In Indian and Bangladeshi cities, this resplendent future is one filled with tall, swanky modern buildings, in whose path stands a collective body of midcentury modernist buildings. Considered out-of-date and incompatible with the prevailing smart urbanist mood, their removal is easily rationalized. This aggressive demolish-and-development urban vision dominates the thinking of political leaders and administrators, while the historical value of modernist architecture is lost on the public which alone seems capable of defending it.

Modernism was integral to the project of post-colonial “identity building” in South Asia. Today, these post-Partition buildings are stranded in a no-man’s land, not sufficiently “old” enough to merit the label of heritage and thereby deprived of protection through any legal instrument. The situation is further complicated by the lack of constitutionally autonomous heritage regulatory bodies with sufficient legal authority to protect historically significant buildings.


Old is not always gold
In India, the Heritage Conservation Committee (HCC), the powerful government organization that works under the Ministry of Urban Development, accords heritage status only to buildings older than 60 or 100 years, depending on a building’s specific history. Many modernist exemplars fall short of this threshold. Consider the case of the iconic Hall of Nations at Pragati Maidan in New Delhi. Designed by leading Indian architect Raj Rewal and constructed in 1972 to commemorate the 25th anniversary of India’s independence, this flat-topped pyramid, with its memorable concrete space-frame structure, was razed in 2017 despite massive protests by architectural communities in India and beyond. Forty-five years old, the Hall of Nations failed to meet “heritage criteria,” although there are lingering rumors that the building’s origin during the Congress era of Indira Gandhi did not help its cause under the current Bharatiya Janata Party leadership.

A similar scenario unfolded late last month, after news of plans to level 14 dormitory buildings located on Louis Kahn’s universally admired campus for the Indian Institute of Management in Ahmedabad (IIMA) came to light. This time, however, the petitioners—which included architects, professional organizations, and cultural institutions such as MoMA—were more successful. On January 1, IIMA Director Errol D’Souza withdrew the demolition plans, but the future of these buildings remains uncertain. Directly appealing to D’Souza, Kahn’s three children expressed their dismay at “such a radical course of action” when the dormitories “can be restored successfully.” Why do IIMA administrators miss seeing the value of these historical buildings that the petitioners see so clearly? What accounts for this disconnect?

photograph of a university campus in DhakaDesigned by the Greek architect and planner Constantinos Apostolos Doxiadis, the Teacher-Student Center at the University of Dhaka is a striking example of tropical modernism. (Adnan Morshed)

The situation of post-Partition–era architecture is even more alarming in Dhaka, Bangladesh’s capital, where two iconic buildings are reportedly awaiting the wrecking ball. Both the Teacher-Student Center at the University of Dhaka (popularly known as TSC) and the Kamalapur Railway Station were erected during the so-called “Decade of Development” (1958–68). It follows that these structures, so central to the project of building the new state, should hold a special place in its national heritage, but not everyone agrees. According to administrators at the University of Dhaka, the TSC has outlived its use and is no longer able to meet the demands of contemporary education, while railway authorities allege that Kamalapur cannot be aligned with an elevated metro rail currently under construction (and which, evidently, requires a new, much larger transit hub). These alibis are typical justifications for new development, but we might wonder why the public remains unmoved by the impending demolition of these very public buildings.

Both TSC and Kamalapur speak to a formative period of a country’s history, but they cannot transmit their stories if they are demolished. A closer look at each will reveal just how much they have to tell.


An architecture of the tropics
Located at the historic heart of the University of Dhaka, TSC exemplifies a type of tropical modernism that blends local architectural traditions of space-making—particularly the indoor-outdoor continuum and generation of space around courtyards—with the abstract idiom of the International Style. The complex of buildings was designed by the Greek architect, planner, and theoretician Constantinos Apostolos Doxiadis (1913–1975) in the early 1960s. This was a turbulent time marked by conflicting currents of political tension and architectural optimism in what was then East Pakistan, now Bangladesh. On the one hand, the two wings of postcolonial Pakistan were at loggerheads because of the political domination of East Pakistan by the military junta based in West Pakistan.

On the other hand, many architectural opportunities arose in East Pakistan, which benefitted from American technical assistance. The United States allied with Pakistan as part of its Cold War-era foreign policy to create a geostrategic buffer against the socialist milieu of the Soviet Union–India axis in South Asia. Under the purview of a technical assistance program, the United States Agency for International Development and the Ford Foundation provided support for building educational and civic institutions in East Pakistan. Since there was a dearth of experienced architects in East Pakistan, the government sought the services of American and European architects for a host of buildings that were constructed during the 1960s. Doxiadis was among them.

TSC is also a demonstration of Doxiadis’s idea of ekistics, by which he meant an objective, comprehensive, and integrative approach to all principles and theories of human settlements. Criticizing the top-down planning model which he viewed as a central problem associated with modernism, Doxiadis employed the notion of ekistics to promote a multidisciplinary, inclusive, and bottom-up approach. He hoped that such a method would create a synergy of local and global influences, by which one could successfully meld a data-driven theorization of planning, universal values of harmonious living, and place-based cultural inflections.

In this vein, Doxiadis aligned the TSC’s ensemble of buildings on an east-west axis, to take advantage of the prevailing breeze from the south or north. The three-story Student Union Building features a “double roof” that minimizes heat gain by allowing cool breezes to pass in between the two canopies. The ingenious solution proved to be a trendsetting feature, but it was just one of the complex’s many innovations. Doxiadis covered the auditorium with a reinforced concrete parabolic vault, a pioneering construction technique that had yet to be tested in the country. Covered walkways, supported on steel columns, weave together the major buildings and green spaces, serving as the social spine of the entire complex. In the post-Independence period, TSC became the epicenter of political agitation within Bangladesh, serving as a backdrop to political demonstrations.

aerial view of Kamalapur Train Station in DhakaThe Kamalapur Railway Station features a unique parasol roof, a paradigmatic image of an umbrella image in tropical conditions. (Adnan Morshed)

Kamalapur Railway Station adopts the vocabulary of tropical modernism in an even more public-facing manner. The station’s spirited architecture breaks with colonial precedents both in the imperial center and on the subcontinent. In London, St. Pancras Station (1863–76) encapsulated modern values of mobility and exchange, while the Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus (formerly Victoria Terminus; built in 1888 and now a UNESCO World Heritage) in Mumbai and Howrah Station (1906) in Kolkata functioned as symbols of imperial hegemony.

The histories of colonialism and train infrastructure are deeply intertwined. In 1862, the Eastern Bengal Railway Company opened the first railway line in the region from which it took its name. Connecting Kolkata with the western Bangladeshi town of Kushtia, this expansion of train services signaled a new phase in the growth of East Bengal’s colonial economy. Due to geographical- logistical issues created by the deltaic terrain, the railway did not arrive in Dhaka until the following century, after the city’s economic profile had risen and it was subsequently made, in 1947, the provincial capital of then-East Pakistan. In 1958, the government approved the creation of a new railway depot, which was inaugurated a decade later as Kamalapur Railway Station. (Pakistan’s President Ayub Khan attended the opening ceremony.) Not only was it one of the largest modern railway stations in South Asia, but it also embodied changing conceptions of modernity, from the bracing mobility of 19th-century railways to the soaring modernism that defined the 1960s.

Kamalapur Railway Station was designed by two Americans: Daniel C. Dunham and Robert G. Boughey. Both had traveled to Dhaka as employees of Louis Berger and Consulting Engineers (PAK) Ltd, a multinational architectural and engineering consortium with headquarters in America and West Pakistan. At Kamalapur, Dunham and Boughey’s challenge was to create a wide-span structure that would synthesize the language of modern architecture with the requirement of a tropical climate. Furthermore, the official demands to incorporate Islamic building iconography in the railway station’s design complicated their task. The result was the station’s unusual parasol roof, which shelters an interconnected series of low-rise structures. The profile of the terminal—a rhythmic pattern of gently pointed and arched concrete shells that recalls Danish architect Jorn Utzon’s contemporaneous Sydney Opera House (1957–1973)—evokes a typical image of tropical conditions, in which an umbrella provides protection from the monsoon rains. The light-filled and cross-ventilated train terminal, with its deeply recessed spatial volumes, is also reminiscent of Mughal pavilions. Thus, the station is modern and also rooted in its place.

The recent decision to replace Kamalapur with a multimodal transportation hub, instead of incorporating it within the proposed expansion, comes as a shock. This cultural vandalism, however, also signifies a pattern consistent with the demolish-and-development mindset.


Coalition building
“Any city however small, is in fact divided into two, one the city of the poor, the other of the rich,” wrote Plato. “These are at war with one another.” We might apply his dictum to several cities in the South Asian region, where an ongoing proxy war is being fought between mindless development and “mindful” development.

When development is treated as an index of grand political accomplishment, new construction, both of buildings and infrastructure, will vastly outweigh the comparatively low-key project of historic preservation. Restoring TSC or Kamalapur, in other words, will not provide the visual fireworks that techno-utopian, smart urbanism projects do. Only a few days ago, the Indian Supreme Court allowed one such project to forge ahead. Billed as the “Prime Minister’s dream,” Central Vista seeks to renovate and redevelop 86 acres of land along the central axis in Lutyen’s Delhi, despite widespread civil-society concern over the mutation of the site’s land-use and its diminishing public access. As often turns out to be the case in South Asia these days, the activism of the architectural community in the name of the public good is no match for the establishment thirst for the newness and grandness of development as political capital. Only international pressure at times is able to make a difference, as has happened at IIMA. This is sad.

Architectural communities in South Asia bear some responsibility for the lack of wider public awareness of historic preservation. Often the cry for preserving a historic building remains cloistered within an elitist and, at times, dogmatic advocacy powered by disciplinary jargon that is hardly understood by the public. It does not help that preservation specialists premise their campaigns on a sentimental lament for lost glory or on a museum-like approach to preservation itself. . In doing so, they remove, consciously or not, buildings from their broader economic and political contexts, as well as lived experiences. A change of course is required, by which architects, planner, and preservationists strive to build a strong coalition with a larger segment of the public. Such an alliance might do well to promote a consensus around memory and architecture’s storytelling capabilities, which necessarily implicates any given building, or group of buildings, in broader social, economic, and cultural discourses.

As I write, I hear that both TSC and Kamalapur are in their final days. Don’t cities need to narrate stories through their historic buildings? Stories endow cities with their humanity and color. Without these qualities, cities are condemned to the dystopia of uber-identical contemporaneity.

Adnan Z Morshed is a professor of architecture at the Catholic University of America in Washington, D.C. and a columnist for The Daily Star, the largest English-language daily in Bangladesh. He is also founder-director of the Center for Inclusive Architecture and Urbanism at BRAC University in Dhaka and author of Impossible Heights: Skyscrapers, Flight, and the Master Builder (University of Minnesota Press, 2015).
 
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SpaceMan18

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Sounds great , but hold up what happens when it starts to rain ? Will the station start to flood up or will we have proper drainage system ?
 

bluesky

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I actually had the same question. What are the precautions in case of flood or even earthquake?

Guess the best person to answer this is @bluesky.
I think, I have tried to answer this inquiry about the chances of flood water going down inside the subway channel a long ago. There are many methods to protect the rail lines, platforms and stations from being flooded. As a rule, the rail line is placed in a long boxed tunnel made of reinforced cement concrete (RCC).

1) In order to keep the water outside of this tunnel. the box structure can be made quite dense by providing a cement content of 400 kg/m3 of concrete instead of normal 300 kg/m3. Dense concrete resists water from incoming to the tunnel.

2) A thick curtain of limestone grouting is placed outside the two walls. It will resist the rainwater from entering the main structure.

3) Two longitudinal drain lines are built on the tunnel floor along the two walls. Whatever amount of water enters through the walls fall in these and is collected at pits and pumped out.

4) All the station Entrances/Exits are built above the flood line (say, Flood Level + 0.1m). So, water certainly cannot overtop the stairs of the entrance and thus cannot enter the underground platform or station.
 
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Michael Corleone

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Excellent news, BD needs to consider some more of these in other cities.... second candidate should be Chittagong.
No brainer. Since Dhaka and Chittagong are the breadwinners. Rest are deadweights that can have infrastructure that can depend on tram cars and public buses
5) All the station entrances are built above the flood line (say, Flood Level + 0.5m). So, water certainly cannot overtop the stairs of the entrance and thus cannot enter the underground platform or station
Can you post examples of how this would look like? I’ve some old soviet metro lines in my city and the entrance is built on elevated pavement/ footpath but considering Bangladesh’s water lodging in rainy season I can’t imagine how a normal solution would work.
 

bluesky

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No brainer. Since Dhaka and Chittagong are the breadwinners. Rest are deadweights that can have infrastructure that can depend on tram cars and public buses

Can you post examples of how this would look like? I’ve some old soviet metro lines in my city and the entrance is built on elevated pavement/ footpath but considering Bangladesh’s water lodging in rainy season I can’t imagine how a normal solution would work.
Dhaka Metro will have the similar system as it is in your City/Town. It means the station Entrance will be elevated and there will be two sets of stairs. One is to go up the Entrance from the pavement/footpath level to the wall to wall Landing or Floor (Say, at Flood Line + 0.1m level). After the Landing, the stair then goes down to the Ticket Vending Machine area and from there to the Platform.

Flood Line is not really arbitrarily assumed. The data is collected from the Meteorological Department or Dhaka Municipal office, and the recorded maximum level is used as the Design Flood Water Level.

Now-a-days, not subways, but I use elevated/overhead trains for commuting. Note that the construction concept from the footpath to inside is same for both Subway and overhead stations. The stair goes up from the footpath to a certain level. Today, is a Sunday. If I can remember, tomorrow I will take photographs of the stair rising from the Footpath.
 
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SpaceMan18

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Dhaka Metro will have the similar system as it is in your City/Town. It means the station Entrance will be elevated and there will be two sets of stairs. One is to go up the Entrance from the pavement/footpath level to the wall to wall Landing (Say, 2m wide, and at Flood Line + 0.1m level). After the Landing, the stair then goes down to the Ticket Vending Machine area and from there to the Platform.

Flood Line is not really arbitrarily assumed. The data is collected from the Meteorological Department or Dhaka Municipal office, and the recorded maximum level is used as the Design Flood Water Level.

Now-a-days, not subways, but I use elevated/overhead trains for commuting. Note that the construction concept from the footpath to inside is same. The stair goes up from the footpath to a certain level. Today, is a Sunday. If I can remember, tomorrow I will take photographs of the stair rising from the Footpath.

Here in NYC we have drainage systems so I guess we don't have to worry , but during some hurricanes the stations did get flooded pretty badly. MTA has some pump trains that also take out water which is pretty cool ngl. Here's an image

download.jpg
 

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1610857274982.png


This image really surprised me because I have not encountered such a mess of a subway in Japan. So, JICA will exactly follow the long experiences Japan has since 1920s when it built its first subway (Ginza Line) by themselves and without asking a foreign company to do the job. This line is little zigzag and the tunnel is little narrow, but is completely functional with narrower coaches.

Japanese subways and stations are as less wet than your umbrella. So, BD is very lucky that JICA will build its underground. The only issue that will probably never solved is, BD people will not be able to emulate Japanese infrastructure building knowhow and cannot therefore build its next underground, over the ground or overhead train systems in Chittagong. This pains me.
 
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SpaceMan18

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Aug 10, 2020
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Bangladesh
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United States
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This image really surprised me because I have not encountered such a mess of a subway in Japan. So, JICA will exactly follow the long experiences Japan has since 1920s when it built its first subway (Ginza Line) by themselves and without asking a foreign company to do the job. This line is little zigzag and the tunnel is little narrow, but is completely functional with narrower coaches.

Japanese subways and stations are as less wet than your umbrella. So, BD is very lucky that JICA will build its underground. The only issue that will probably never solved is, BD people will not be emulate Japanese knowhow and build its next underground in Chittagong. This pains me.

Sounds interesting , by the way that NYC subway pump train is an Kawasaki R110A which is cool
 

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