We inhabit a world defined by connection. But the very nature of what it means to be connected has undergone a profound transformation. According to Tim Ingold, within a meshwork, each life exists as a thread or line that naturally intertwines and knots with other lives. These threads, with their seeking loose ends, create an organic system of interwoven relationships. By contrast, in today's network paradigm, lives are compressed into static nodal points. Connection no longer involves the natural binding of life-threads, but merely links between fixed positions. This results not in correspondence, but in information exchange, and explains why highly connected individuals in digital networks often experience profound isolation.1
This disconnection extends beyond interpersonal relationships into how we perceive our environment. Digital technology’s power lies in simulation and modeling, yet we increasingly mistake these representations for reality itself. We artificially divide “digital” from “material,” overlooking how our online activities directly impact physical resources. As I compose this text on my laptop in water-stressed Bengaluru, each keystroke destined to be stored somewhere on the cloud performs a hidden hydrological act, silently activating taps across the city to cool the servers housing my digital words.
This digital demand for water stands in stark irony to the city's aquatic origins. Celebrated as the Kalyananagara, or City of Lakes (described by the British as the “land of a thousand lakes”), Bengaluru thrived for centuries on an intricate meshwork that captured monsoon rainfall and recharged underground aquifers.2 Over the past decades, however, this hydrological metropolis has undergone radical transformation into “India’s Silicon Valley,” and now stands as a crucial location for the development of Narendra Modi’s “Digital India” campaign.3 The infrastructural developments that have taken place in Bengaluru to facilitate these geopolitical ambitions—from the construction of new data centers to the urban expansion that accommodates the massive influx of people who have migrated to the city for work from across the country—have placed ever increasing demands on the city’s water infrastructure and effectively severed it from the hydrological wisdom that historically served as its life-sustaining foundation.
The seeds of this transformation were planted over a century ago, when, in the name of progress, British colonial powers positioned Bengaluru to embrace industrial modernity. Telegraph lines were introduced in 1853, railways in 1854, telephone networks in 1898, and aviation by 1940. Bengaluru’s early electrification in 1906 established the foundations for an energy infrastructure that powers the city’s digital operations today.4 Independent India's strategic development agenda intensified the colonial pattern of modernization, concentrating civilian science and military research facilities in aerospace, telecommunications, and electronics in the city. By the early 2000s, Bengaluru had become India's undisputed technology capital, with its “Silicon Plateau” status reinforced by the Y2K crisis that flooded the city with Western outsourcing contracts. Following the declaration of intention by Chief Minister S. M. Krishna (1999–2004) to transform Bengaluru into a Singapore-like global megalopolis, glitzy business parks and high-rise complexes funded by foreign private equity firms began appearing. This rapid expansion incorporated hundreds of villages while consuming floodplains, pastures, lakes, and drainage channels.5
This mode of development took on a new dimension when Narendra Modi rose to power in 2014 on the platform of establishing India as a sovereign digital power.6 Launched on July 1, 2015, Modi’s “Digital India” campaign involved simultaneously courting Western technology partnerships while asserting independence from both Chinese and American digital ecosystems. By challenging Western tech executives to “co-develop, co-design, and co-produce in India for the world,” Modi offered India as democratic digital platform while creating powerful economic incentives for companies seeking alternatives to Chinese manufacturing and data processing.7 Modi's commitment to digital sovereignty also materialized through new governmental architecture. Most significantly, his administration established the Ministry of Electronics and Information Technology (MeitY) as a separate cabinet-level ministry in 2016 with comprehensive authority over data protection, cybersecurity, digital payments, e-governance, and data center policy implementation.8
The past ten years has seen a significant expansion of digital initiatives within Indian borders, such as: the Bharat Interface for Money (BHIM), part of the broader Unified Payments Interface (UPI) system for digital payments, which facilitated 18 billion transactions in March 2025 alone; the Goods and Services Tax (GST) system that digitized India's taxation framework; a Digital Literacy program designed to equip rural households with essential technology skills; Aarogya Setu, which was initially developed during the Covid-19 pandemic to track infection risks and subsequently transformed into a national health app for storing health data and connecting individuals with healthcare providers; and BHASHINI, India's AI-powered language translation platform.9 Each program, mandated to remain within national borders, transforms routine government functions into instruments requiring massive computational infrastructure.10 To support this digital expansion, India drafted a Data Centre Policy in 2020 with a vision to “[make] India a Global Data Centre hub, promote investment in the sector, propel digital economy growth, enable provisioning of trusted hosting infrastructure to fulfil the growing demand of the country, and facilitate state of the art service delivery to citizens.”11 In October 2022, this policy resulted in the data center sector being recognized as a form of infrastructure on par with other sectors like railways and roadways.12 With some of the government’s major digital programs (BHIM's PhonePe, GST, and Aadhaar) being run from Bengaluru, this policy framework only further reinforced the city’s position as India's primary digital center.
The city currently hosts approximately 40 percent of all IT companies operating within the country, including multinational giants like Infosys, Wipro, and Tata Consultancy Services (TCS), alongside numerous startup innovation facilities.13 Being a digital hub has triggered massive migration from across India, with the city's population swelling from 4.1 million in 1991 to over 14 million today.14 This influx has demanded the extensive construction of new residential complexes, office buildings, shopping centers, restaurants, and supporting infrastructure—all of which require substantial water resources on top of those required by the technological developments that have brought people there in the first place. Within a broader national framework for data center growth, Bengaluru’s capacity is projected to expand from 78 to 200 megawatts by 2030.15 Requiring significant amounts of water and energy, it is unclear what kind of impact these developments will have in an already water-stressed city.
The Original Correspondence
Embodying what Tim Ingold terms "correspondence," Bengaluru's historical water infrastructure created a dynamic balance between human needs and ecological processes through cascading keres (shallow, human-made, water-harvesting lakes or tanks) that were interconnected through raja kaluves (large canals later re-engineered as “stormwater drains”).16 These tanks operated as integrated nodes across three major watersheds: the Vrishabhavathi-Arkavathy valley, which drains toward the Cauvery basin, and the Hebbal and Koramangala-Challaghatta valleys, which flow into the Dakshina Pinakini River.17 With no major river of its own, the gravity-fed system was used to channel excess monsoon waters from higher gradients through canals to lower catchments, while supporting surrounding settlements.
Social governance matched this physical sophistication through Neerugantis, designated village residents responsible for equitable water distribution for irrigation purposes. Entire village communities adhered to the water allocation rules of Neerugantis—who received grain from farmers as payment. This traditional institution effectively prevented water conflicts through local expertise and community accountability. Water existed as collective heritage requiring shared stewardship rather than private commodity.18 However, modern administrative systems have displaced these traditional water managers, resulting in the loss of Indigenous water governance knowledge. The absence of Neerugantis, which stems from the long colonial process of realigning lakes and drains from their original purpose as flood managers and irrigation sources, has contributed to escalating water disputes that now extend beyond village boundaries into intercommunity and interstate conflicts.
Lewis Rice's 1897 survey revealed that Bengaluru's existing tanks could not meet British officers' requirements in the racially segregated eastern cantonment while ignoring the expanding native population's needs in the western areas. When even British-constructed tanks such as the newly built Sankey tank proved insufficient, authorities pursued distant-engineered solutions. Water began being viewed as an abstract resource requiring engineered capture, departing from skilled local practices through which communities had sustained themselves and their ecosystems for centuries. This initiated the first major capital-intensive waterworks scheme, a dam on the Arkavathy River, twenty-five kilometers northwest of Bengaluru. The Arkavathy project established a century-long pattern of heavily engineered schemes catering to the city's garments, machine, and technology industries.19
Coinciding with these projects, the 1898 plague epidemic prompted city “improvement" to reform the "impure and filthy surroundings" of “natives.” Storm canals that originally followed the city’s natural topography provided the “ideal location for a sewerage network.” While traditionally responding to seasonal flows, waterways quickly became technological infrastructures for waste removal that prioritized upper caste and British areas. As local tanks and canals were no longer seen as water supply sources, canals were renamed from “stormwater drains” to “sanitary water drains," and sewage began being laid, in the words of Malini Ranganathan, “inside of the city's erstwhile storm canals in the aftermath of the plague.”20 This pattern of substituting skilled practices that had long managed health and environmental challenges with technological intervention only intensified after independence.
Postindependence industrial expansion accelerated water demand and led to the 1974 decision to implement the “Cauvery” Water Supply Scheme, to draw drinking water from the Kaveri River one hundred kilometers south of the city through piped infrastructure. This energy-intensive process requires the Bangalore Water Supply and Sewerage Board (BWSSB) to spend approximately $360,000 daily on electricity charges to pump water over vast distances, despite fulfilling only half of the city's needs.21 Cauvery imports expanded from 135 million liters daily (MLD) in the 1970s to 1,460 MLD today, but still falls short of the city’s 2,632 MLD daily requirement. This forces dependence on groundwater extraction estimated at 800 MLD.22 The proliferation of informal borewells and private extraction systems makes precise consumption tracking nearly impossible, but the evident extent of depletion is stark: natural groundwater recharge is merely 148 MLD annually. Against extraction rates of 800 MLD daily, Bengaluru is essentially mining its underground water reserves at an unsustainable pace that threatens the city's long-term water security.
Piping as part of stage five of the Cauvery Water Supply Scheme. Source: The Hindu.
Currently in its fifth phase, the Cauvery scheme has created stark spatial inequalities. Peripheral zones excluded from formal BWSSB networks depend on rapidly depleting groundwater, with borewell depths ranging from 30 to 230 feet in outer areas, while some BWSSB wells are forced to reach 1,200-foot depths.23 Central areas maintain relatively shallow water tables, paradoxically aided by groundwater recharge from leaking distribution infrastructure. And despite 2010 mandates requiring rooftop rainwater harvesting for buildings above specific sizes, implementation remains inadequate.24 Compounding these supply challenges, Bengaluru generates approximately 1,940 MLD of wastewater daily but faces severe treatment and reuse inefficiencies. While 76 percent of wastewater receives some treatment (63 percent through centralized plants, 13 percent decentralized), only 30 percent is actually reused. Critical gaps persist: 24 percent remains completely untreated, which includes over 98 percent of industrial wastewater; most treatment that does take place causes eutrophication in lakes; and decentralized plants often malfunction due to poor maintenance. Despite treating 1,494 MLD, only 23 MLD is reused within the city, while 570 MLD is exported to neighboring districts.25 And the city's lakes, now filled with (un)treated wastewater, have lost their natural flood buffer capacity.
This inefficient management exacerbates both water scarcity and urban flooding, causing low-lying areas like Whitefield to face hydrological apartheid. In this southeastern area, the International Tech Park Bangalore (ITPB) development has attracted thousands of technology offices since the late 1990s. But with no accompanying water infrastructure planning, it has been forced to extract groundwater through hundreds of private borewells and depend on costly tanker supplies, depleting local aquifers and pricing out local residents. This practice came to a head in late 2024, sparking conflicts with surrounding towns from which tank operators source water to cater to high demand areas like Whitefield.26 Locals concerned about groundwater depletion in their district pressured authorities to cut electricity supplies to pumping operations, but in response, water tankers organized strikes, creating a standoff that highlighted the region's water stress. The conflict underscores Whitefield's precarious water situation—an area with minimal Cauvery water access that has become entirely dependent on groundwater extraction and expensive tanker network sourcing.
While digital systems operate seamlessly in climate-controlled buildings, millions of residents—including the very tech workers powering India's digital sovereignty—queue for water tankers and implement strict household rationing. According to Shobha Rao, who has lived in Whitefield for fifteen years: “We haven't had municipal water for three weeks now. Our borewell dried up last month, so we're paying ₹1,200 (approximately $14.50) per tanker every other day just to survive.”27 While individual house owners like Shobha face regular tanker costs, apartment residents confront even starker choices. "There are 197 flats in our apartment and we have to pay around ₹2 crore (approximately $240,000) and some bribe to get Cauvery connection—from which we will get water once in a week. This won't be enough, and we still have to get water from water tankers, which will cost us extra. We will end up paying for water tankers, and also huge amounts for Cauvery connection," says Freesto Francis, a resident of a large-scale Whitefield apartment complex.28 Their struggle reflects widespread residential competition for basic access while adjacent corporate campuses maintain uninterrupted, water-intensive operations.
Water tankers queued at Ramagondanahalli, near Whitefield. Photo: The Hindu.
Bengaluru's Digital Watershed and the Architecture of Opacity
At the heart of Bengaluru’s technological ecosystem lie data centers—the foundational infrastructure powering every digital service—of which the city currently hosts thirty-one.29 This includes the Aadhaar data center; a meticulously engineered fortress of digital independence constructed by state-owned Engineers India Limited. This 6,245 square meter facility embodies military-grade security principles with blast, flood, and earthquake-proof design, reflecting the strategic value of the biometric records (fingerprints, iris scans, facial recognition) it holds of over 1.3 billion citizens across 4,000 servers and 6 petabytes of storage capacity. The entire installation operates completely air-gapped with “no linkages to the outside world through any means, including laptops and pen drives.”30 It has a 162-member Central Industrial Security Force for protection, with service providers operating under strict confidentiality regimes carrying three-year imprisonment penalties for violations.31
While the specific megawatt capacity of the Aadhaar data center remains classified, a conservative estimate of 1MW capacity demonstrates its significant water demands. At 1,500 liters of water per megawatt-hour, each megawatt requires 36,000 liters daily, which is equivalent to the basic water needs of 900–1,000 residents.32 Additional demands arise from backup generators, fire suppression systems, specialized humidity control for biometric equipment, and redundant systems preventing commercial optimization efficiencies.
Another key government focused data center is for the Goods and Services Tax (GST) system. The GST Network has data centers in Delhi and Bengaluru, backup facilities adjacent to primary installations, and dual communication lines ensuring operational continuity.33 Both Aadhaar and GST systems represent India's technological self-reliance: Aadhaar safeguards national identity through indigenous biometric infrastructure, while GST maintains economic autonomy by managing the country's fiscal transactions through domestic digital platforms. The concentration of essential systems amplifies the city's resource pressures: every government transaction processed through Bengaluru's servers creates compound infrastructure stress where digital autonomy directly competes with basic water security.
Beyond flagship government facilities lies a sprawling ecosystem of additional data infrastructure scattered across the city’s corporate campuses and tech parks. Each facility draws power and water allocations, yet operates beyond official monitoring or public disclosure requirements, meaning their actual resource consumption, cooling water usage, and energy demands remain largely invisible to the public. Neither government nor private data centers are required to disclose their water footprint or electricity usage, with both types of facilities protected by either national security classifications or corporate confidentiality.34 Attempts to quantify water demands encounter systematic obstruction at every level. When questioned about accessing consumption data, local hydrological experts like Vishwanath S. from Biome Environmental Trust outlined a deliberately knotty process: “You will have to get very specific requirements from the State Environmental Clearance Authority ... but that is a government website and God help you in trying to access any information there.”35 Corporate barriers reinforce this bureaucratic maze: direct contact attempts with data centers invariably lead to email redirections generating no responses, while physical access remains prohibited behind multiple security perimeters.
What remains concealed behind these barriers—the complex internal architecture driving water consumption—has to be pieced together through online documents, technical videos, and personal interviews. Servers generate intense heat requiring continuous removal to prevent circuit board failures, creating substantial cooling demands that are multiplied in Bengaluru's rising temperatures.36 Standard data center cooling employs Computer Room Air Conditioner (CRAC) units positioned around facility perimeters which circulate cooled air through raised floor systems with perforated tiles. Larger installations utilize external chillers, which supply cold water to CRAC units that absorbs heat through exchangers as fans evacuate hot server air. Water-cooled systems utilizing cooling towers are more energy efficient but demand substantially more water through secondary loops that carry heated water to towers where evaporation occurs.37
Bengaluru's data centers face a critical environmental trade-off: cooling towers that conserve electricity but consume massive amounts of water, versus chillers that save water but waste significant energy. As Swapnil Shrivastav, co-founder and CEO of Uravu Labs, explains, “most facilities try to balance this trade-off by using hybrid systems that switch between [cooling towers and chillers] seasonally.”38 This choice becomes particularly problematic given Bengaluru's severe water scarcity and the industry's substantial reliance on depleting groundwater sources. Shrivastav estimates that “at least 50 percent of cooling towers or data centers are groundwater-driven,” while data center advisor Shyam Nandan Upadhyay reveals how spatial inequalities determine water access: central facilities “get easy access to [Cauvery] water, but data centers in [areas like] Whitefield have to source it from groundwater and borewells” due to unreliable municipal connections.39 Whether choosing water-intensive cooling or energy-intensive alternatives, data centers compete directly with residents for the same failing aquifers while operating beyond public oversight. The lack of transparency and verification mechanisms makes it impossible to assess the true impact of these installations, leaving Bengaluru's water crisis to intensify without comprehensive data on some of its largest consumers.
Uravu Labs’s modular atmospheric water generation system. Photo: Uravu Labs.
Beyond Technological Solutions: Restoring Correspondence
Acknowledging the unsustainable dichotomy between digital sovereignty ambitions and Bengaluru's water crisis, emerging local startups attempt to address this geopolitical-ecological contradiction. Uravu Labs's innovative atmospheric water generation system works by using liquid desiccants (moisture-absorbing salts) to extract water vapor directly from the surrounding air, essentially “harvesting” water from humidity. The system then repurposes the waste heat that data centers naturally produce during their operations to regenerate these desiccants and purify the captured water into fresh, usable water.40
Uravu Labs's technology completely reverses the traditional water-energy relationship in data centers by turning waste heat into a water production resource, enabling facilities to theoretically generate up to 30,000 liters of fresh water daily per megawatt of heat produced. As Shrivastav explains, this creates “negative” Water Usage Effectiveness (WUE), since they're producing rather than consuming water, all while improving Power Usage Effectiveness (PUE) by recycling server waste heat instead of running additional mechanical cooling systems.41 Unlike typical corporate “water positive” claims that rely on distant offsetting, this approach generates water directly at the site of consumption. Shrivastav emphasizes why traditional corporate sustainability fails in hydrological contexts: “Even offsetting ten kilometers away might not be the same as when you're withdrawing millions of liters on-site… Water doesn't behave like carbon … you can't offset it.”42
Beyond ecological benefits, Uravu Labs's technology brings financial savings as well. However, Shrivastav indicates that companies remain resistant to change, which would require them to approach new data centers that can implement their systems from inception.43 Aditya Kaul, founder of Visarj, a company that develops immersion cooling technology, shares similar observations. Visarj's immersion cooling technology embeds servers directly in dielectric liquid that is 1,500 times more thermally conductive than air, eliminating water-intensive cooling towers entirely. The biodegradable liquid operates at ambient temperatures, requiring only simple radiators rather than energy-intensive compressors.44
An update to the 2020 national Data Center Policy is currently being written. Its focus still remains on economic growth by providing tax incentives for AI/ML facilities and ensuring uninterrupted power supply while establishing no mandatory renewable energy thresholds.45 Neither the revised draft national Data Center Policy nor state policies address water requirements.46 No laws mandate sustainable water conservation practices either. This policy vacuum paradoxically creates space for transformative alternatives. The water innovations emerging in Bengaluru offer pathways beyond the false choice between technological independence and ecological collapse. In this sense, they evoke Ingold's vision of a postdigital future, where “humans will have to fall back on those age-old skills which had already served them well for millennia,” and point toward a new vision for the hydrological meshwork that once sustained the city.47
While not explicitly returning to “age-old skills,” these technological developments draw inspiration from principles of correspondence, reconceptualizing data centers as water contributors rather than competitors and healing the division between "digital" and "physical" worlds by making transparent the hydrological acts required to house our digital worlds. Bengaluru therefore has the potential to evolve from an extractive digital fortress to a regenerative technological hub. It could demonstrate that genuine digital sovereignty lies not in powering isolated server farms through resource depletion, but in developing technologies that strengthen ecological foundations upon which all communities depend—restoring something resembling the meshwork that once defined the city's prosperity through correspondence between technological infrastructure and natural systems.
Tim Ingold, interview by Kshitija Mruthyunjaya, September 18, 2024.
Pinky Chandran and Nalini Shekar, “A Historical Lens on Bengaluru's Drains,” Citizen Matters, December 1, 2022, ➝; “The Bangalore Lake Diaries,” UNESCO MGIEP, accessed April 15, 2025, ➝; Suparna Kar, “Locating Bengaluru as India's Silicon Valley,” Artha - Journal of Social Sciences 15, no. 2 (April 2016): 49, ➝. Bengaluru's transformation into a major urban center was shaped by centuries of progressive governance, beginning with Hyder Ali and Tipu Sultan who established the city's foundational green infrastructure through Lalbagh Botanical Garden, earning it the "Garden City" designation. This tradition of forward-thinking leadership continued under the Wodeyars and subsequent administrators who prioritized both industrialization and educational development. The nineteenth-century Mysore state elites particularly embraced industrialization as synonymous with progress, implementing ambitious infrastructure projects including hydroelectric power generation, advanced irrigation systems, and major industrial establishments like the Bhadravati Iron Works, thereby laying the groundwork for Bengaluru's colonial interventions.
Kar, “Locating Bengaluru as India's Silicon Valley,” 49.
Kar, “Locating Bengaluru as India's Silicon Valley,” 49.
Vinay Gidwani et al., eds., Chronicles of a Global City: Speculative Lives and Unsettled Futures in Bengaluru (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2024).
“Digital India,” Digital India Corporation, accessed May 15, 2025, ➝.
Subhayan Chakraborty, “PM Modi calls upon top tech CEOs to be part of India's growth story,” Business Standard, September 23, 2024, ➝.
Ananth Krishna S, “Why MeitY Will Be An Important Ministry In Modi 3.0,” Swarajya, July 1, 2024, ➝.
“Digital India Initiatives,” Digital India, accessed April 15, 2025, ➝. Other major Digital India initiatives not mentioned include BharatNet (National Optical Fiber Network); DigiLocker; UMANG (Unified Mobile Application for New-age Governance); MyGov platform; Direct Benefit Transfer (DBT); Common Service Centers; e-Courts; National Scholarship Portal; and various sectoral portals for Startup India, Make in India, and Skill India.
Vipul Kumar, “Beyond metros: How India's Tier II and Tier III cities are reshaping the data center landscape,” Data Center Dynamics, April 1, 2025, ➝.
“Data Centre Policy: Draft for Discussion No. xxx/YY/2020,” Ministry of Electronics & Information Technology (e-Governance Division), 2020, ➝,
“Data Centre,” ICRIER Prosus Centre for Internet and Digital Economy (IPCIDE), accessed June 4, 2025, ➝.
Kumar Utkarsh, “How Bengaluru Became A Hub For Digital Nomads And Remote Workers,” India.com, May 16, 2025, ➝.
“Bangalore Population,” World Population Review, accessed April 15, 2025, ➝.
Malini Ranganathan, “Storm Drains as Assemblages: The Political Ecology of Flood Risk in Post-Colonial Bangalore,” Antipode 47, no. 5 (April 2015): 1300–1320.
Rashmi Kulranjan et al., “How Water Flows Through Bengaluru: Urban Water Balance Report,” Water, Environment, Land and Livelihoods (WELL) Labs at Institute for Financial Management and Research, ➝.
R. K. Srinivasan, “Rise and Fall of Water Managers,” Down to Earth, November 29, 2024, ➝.
Ranganathan, “Storm Drains as Assemblages.”
Ranganathan, “Storm Drains as Assemblages.”
Kulranjan et al., “How Water Flows Through Bengaluru.” Through four stages of the Cauvery Water Supply Scheme (CWSS), water has been conveyed from the river to the TK Halli (Thorekadanahalli) Water Treatment Plant (WTP) and pumped up through Harohalli and Tataguni pump stations, before it reaches the city at a point named Vajarahalli, near Banashankari 6th stage. The water is distributed to the BBMP areas from here to fifty-six Ground Level Reservoirs (GLRs), from where it is then distributed across the city and surrounding areas. See “Here's how Cauvery water reaches homes in Bengaluru,” The New Indian Express, November 7, 2016, ➝.
Kulranjan et al., “How Water Flows Through Bengaluru.”
Harshitha Padmavinod, “Promise of Cauvery Stage V: Will Bengaluru's Lifeline Overcome Hurdles to Quench City's Thirst?” Citizen Matters, April 7, 2025, ➝.
Apoorva R et al., “Commercial, Industrial & Institutional Water Use in Bengaluru,” Environment and Development Discussion Paper No. 4., Bengaluru: Ashoka Trust for Research in Ecology and the Environment, 2021, ➝.
Kulranjan et al., “How Water Flows Through Bengaluru.”
Shobha Rao, interview by Kshitija Mruthyunjaya, April 15, 2025.
Gangadharan B, “Compulsory Cauvery connections won't solve Bengaluru water crisis: Citizens, experts,” Citizen Matters, February 27, 2025, ➝.
Bengaluru hosts numerous colocation data centers, cloud providers, and network fabrics, establishing it as a significant data center market in India. “Bangalore Data Centers,” Data Center Map, accessed 23 April 2025, ➝.
“Aadhaar Safety: Where is UIDAI's 13-Feet High, 5-Feet Thick Wall?” Business Today, March 23, 2018, ➝.
"Aadhaar Safety," Business Today.
Aditya Kaul, interview by Kshitija Mruthyunjaya, April 15, 2025.
M.G. Kodandaram, “Security Concerns in Goods Services Tax Network (GSTN),” Rostrum's Law Review 6, no. 1 (2021): ➝.
Gunjan Jena, “The Hidden Environmental Costs of India's Data Centre Push,” The Wire Science, May 14, 2022, ➝.
Vishwanath S., interview by Kshitija Mruthyunjaya, April 21, 2025.
“How vanishing lakes and parks are making Bengaluru heat stressed? | Urban Heatscapes E2,” posted May 29, 2025, by Down to Earth, YouTube, ➝.
“Data Center Cooling - how are data centre cooled cold aisle containment hvacr” posted November 22, 2021, by The Engineering Mindset, YouTube, ➝.
Swapnil Shrivastav, interview by Kshitija Mruthyunjaya, April 21, 2025.
Shyam Nandan Upadhyay, interview by Kshitija Mruthyunjaya, April 11, 2025.
Shrivastav, interview by Mruthyunjaya, April 21, 2025.
Shrivastav, interview by Mruthyunjaya, April 21, 2025.
Shrivastav, interview by Mruthyunjaya, April 21, 2025.
Kaul, interview by Mruthyunjaya, April 15, 2025; Shrivastav, interview by Mruthyunjaya, April 21, 2025.
Kaul, interview by Mruthyunjaya, April 15, 2025.
Aashish Aryan, “Govt May Revive Old Data Centre Policy with AI and ML Sops," The Economic Times, August 28, 2024, ➝.
Jena, “Hidden Environmental Costs of India's Data Centre Push.”
Ingold, interview by Mruthyunjaya, September 18, 2024.