What is common between Fresh Kills in New York, Mount Trashmore near Virginia Beach, and Jurong Island in Singapore? Apart from attracting thousands of visitors each year, these sites are pioneering examples of land transformation and urban renewal. They were once symbols of urban decay—vast wastelands of trash and forgotten dreams, where the earth groaned under the weight of our waste. Today, these same grounds have been reborn as testaments to human resilience, innovation, and vision.

Around the world, the transformation of landfills into vibrant parks, industrial hubs, and modern urban spaces is not just a story of reclamation, but of redemption. Take Fresh Kills in New York, for instance—a name that once evoked the image of seagulls circling over mountains of garbage. At over 2,200 acres, it was the largest landfill in the world, swallowing New York City’s trash from 1948 until it finally closed its weary gates in 2001. But the story didn’t end there. The city, recognising the potential beneath the surface—quite literally—began an ambitious journey to reclaim and repurpose the land. Engineers capped the waste with multi-layered coverings, planted native vegetation, and set up methane capture systems to harvest gas for energy. Where refuse once ruled, greenery began to grow. Now, the space has blossomed into Fresh Kills Park—a sprawling oasis of trails, wildlife, and recreational joy, turning an urban eyesore into a sanctuary.

What is common between Fresh Kills in New York, Mount Trashmore near Virginia Beach, and Jurong Island in Singapore? Apart from attracting thousands of visitors each year, these sites are pioneering examples of land transformation and urban renewal. They were once symbols of urban decay—vast wastelands of trash and forgotten dreams, where the earth groaned under the weight of our waste. Today, these same grounds have been reborn as testaments to human resilience, innovation, and vision.

Around the world, the transformation of landfills into vibrant parks, industrial hubs, and modern urban spaces is not just a story of reclamation, but of redemption. Take Fresh Kills in New York, for instance—a name that once evoked the image of seagulls circling over mountains of garbage. At over 2,200 acres, it was the largest landfill in the world, swallowing New York City’s trash from 1948 until it finally closed its weary gates in 2001. But the story didn’t end there. The city, recognising the potential beneath the surface—quite literally—began an ambitious journey to reclaim and repurpose the land. Engineers capped the waste with multi-layered coverings, planted native vegetation, and set up methane capture systems to harvest gas for energy. Where refuse once ruled, greenery began to grow. Now, the space has blossomed into Fresh Kills Park—a sprawling oasis of trails, wildlife, and recreational joy, turning an urban eyesore into a sanctuary.

Cross the globe to Singapore, and you’ll find another masterpiece of transformation— Jurong Island. A cluster of small, scattered islets that was stitched together through an intricate reclamation project that began in the 1990s. Today, it stands not as a memory of waste, but as a global petrochemical powerhouse. Sustainability sits at the heart of this industrial marvel, with advanced recycling systems, emission controls, and a strategic eye on long-term ecological balance. Jurong is proof that even heavily engineered industrial hubs can be clean, green, and forward-looking.

Or look at Mount Trashmore in Virginia Beach—once a landfill, now a beloved park where families fly kites from hills built of compacted waste. Tokyo’s iconic Odaiba, born from the Tokyo Bay Reclamation Project, is now a buzzing blend of tech, tourism, and lifestyle. And London’s Canary Wharf—today a gleaming financial district—was once a landscape of derelict docks and landfills. So, when sceptics in India wrinkle their noses at the thought of housing projects on reclaimed landfill sites, perhaps it’s time for a change in perspective. Because this isn’t about dumping apartments on a pile of garbage—it’s about turning dust into dreams, the way others around the world already have done.

And yet, not everyone seems to have grasped this revolutionary urban revival dream. Recently, there were reports of over 50,000 residents from Mumbai’s Dharavi would be relocated to a landfill. This is factually inaccurate. The land in question at Deonar has indeed been earmarked for potential future development under the Dharavi Redevelopment Project (DRP), but it remains wholly under the ownership and jurisdiction of the Government of Maharashtra and the Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC). As of now, neither DRP nor its Special Purpose Vehicle (SPV) has any operational control over it. And more importantly— no construction will take place there until the dump is fully cleaned, bio-mined, and declared safe by all competent authorities. That’s not speculation; that’s policy. The DRP, as a government initiative, is bound—legally and morally—to follow every statutory requirement and environmental protocol.

Globally and within India, several such projects have been successfully executed using scientifically approved landfill mining and biomining techniques. The Kumbakonam Dump Yard project in Tamil Nadu, where over 2 lakh metric tonnes of waste were safely cleared, stands as a proven example of such transformation. There are numerous other cases where landfills have been successfully and scientifically bio-mined, including the Mulund dump yard, which is more than 70% cleaned of dump after biomining. Moreover, the responsibility to bio-mine and clean the Deonar site rests solely with the BMC. Only upon scientific clearance, environmental certification, and a formal handover of the sanitised land will the government evaluate its suitability for any development. No redevelopment discussions can proceed until this process is complete.

It is pertinent to note how international destinations like Singapore have impressively turned old dump-yards into vibrant, liveable areas. Pulau Semakau, once a landfill, now supports marine life and eco-visits. Lorong Halus, a former waste site, has become a scenic wetland that helps clean water naturally. These projects reflect careful planning and a strong focus on environmental renewal. It is, therefore, not too difficult to turn waste disposal sites into vibrant ecosystems. It is unfortunate that in our country any new initiative has to first fight a wave of scepticism, usually ringed with political undertones. And since alarm bells attract more eyeballs, it’s easy to be dismissive of the comprehensive due diligence, expert consultations, and regulatory frameworks guiding such projects. Ultimately, the Dharavi Redevelopment Project isn’t about displacing people—it’s about dignifying them. It’s about proving that even the most neglected pieces of land— and people—can be part of something transformative.

This article is authored by Shishir Priyadarshi, President, Chintan Research Foundation, New Delhi.