It’s been a year, but 35-year-old Tahir Khan still remembers the day he was handed a waiter’s uniform. only offered job ₹12,000 per month – barely enough for him, his wife and two children to survive – but, he had no other option. “A year ago, I was let go from my previous job as a waiter at a restaurant. It paid off ₹16,000 per month. Despite feeding four people, I couldn’t live without income, so I took whatever job I got,” he said.
As soon as she was handed her uniform – a crisp white shirt with small embroidered monograms, to be paired with black trousers – she was given a quick enumeration of how to greet guests: Say “good morning” to everyone she meets at the beginning of the day; When served food in a restaurant or in the 30 rooms of a four-story building that bills itself as a hotel, say “Enjoy your meal.”
Then, on June 5, his workplace – Lemon Green B&B in Hauz Rani – Sealed as part of a massive crackdown on illegal hotels running on permissions granted for six-room B&B units. The sealing was a response to a fire at another B&B in the area that killed 23 people.
Khan says, “How would I know if the hotel was illegal? It seemed like a professional setup to me. I needed the money. Why would I care if it was illegal? When I have a family of four, I don’t have the luxury to care about such things.”
After the sealing, Khan returned to his home – barely three lanes away in Hauz Rani. He climbed a narrow flight of red-brick stairs, passing a patch of trash scattered on the floor, that led to his home in a neighborhood where the concept of “Studio Apartment” takes on new meaning. The “flat” – as he calls it – is a single, dimly lit room with a bed on the right and a kitchen slab on the left (its inadequacy does not warrant the use of the word counter). He has kept a sewing machine in a cupboard next to the bed, where his wife is stitching clothes. the rent is ₹5,000 per month.
He does not know for sure whether this match room is in some illegal structure or not. “It probably is.”
The story of Khan, his wife and their children resonates with millions of people living in Delhi’s nearly 1,800 unauthorized colonies – Hauz Rani, Saidulajab, Burari, Shakur Basti, Kirari, or countless other colonies spread across the city. These areas are mostly inhabited by migrant workers who have come to the capital chasing dreams. Almost all colonies are on private or agricultural land or so-called urban villages, usually without formal planning or approval for structural or fire safety.
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Hauz Rani’s origins, like those of the people who lived there, were humble. It arose out of necessity more than desire: a small agricultural village around a Mughal-era bathhouse, located in a disadvantaged area where working-class demand for land comes from proximity to upscale neighborhoods like Saket. In the early 2010s, the sector began serving an elite but also desperate clientele; Its proximity to a large private hospital created attractive demand for short-term accommodation for people – often foreigners, but also Indians – who needed a place to stay while their relatives were being treated.
On the morning of June 3, a fire broke out at the Flourish Stay B&B. The establishment had permission for only six rooms, but was operating at least 26 rooms over four floors, a basement and a terrace, as well as a restaurant on the ground floor. There was no way to escape from the fire. The front façade was covered with toughened glass. Altogether 23 people died in the fire. Almost all the victims were either there for treatment, or were visiting a loved one who was undergoing treatment, such as the Agarwal family of Gurugram, whose eight members died in the fire while the head was being treated in the hospital. He also died on 8 June.
“Over the years, many property owners converted the houses into B&Bs and guest houses, with many of them gradually becoming full-fledged hotels,” said resident Mohammed Wasim. The Delhi government’s B&B policy was the easiest way to set up a hotel here, with one deviation: building more than 20 rooms instead of the sanctioned six, running a full-fledged restaurant without permission, and continuing adding floors to an already illegal building. The owner of Flourish followed this same model, and it’s possible he knew how to get around the rules, or at least knew people who knew how. No government or Municipal Corporation of Delhi (MCD) employee has been arrested for the fire; A 65 year old cook has it.
MCD spokesperson declined to comment. However, a senior MCD official said that the area health inspector has been dismissed and show cause notices have been issued to five officials.
Saidulajaab story
Hauz is just a 15-minute drive from Rani Saidulajaab, Where, on May 30, a dozen people gathered in a small canteen next to a five-storey building where construction of two illegal floors was going on. The massive illegal structure suddenly collapsed, killing six people – two doctors, three engineers and a woman who ran a canteen.
It’s a stark reminder of the decline of what, only a decade ago, was the next big thing in Delhi’s urban villages. By 2017, the glory days of Hauz Khas Village were over, and Saidulajab’s Champa Gali had emerged as the new hip address, on the verge of taking over the throne, with its “Parisian route”, vintage clothing boutiques, indie bookstores, block parties under a canopy of fairy lights, and cafés that romanticize tea while offering photos on their menus.
Only 100 meters away was Westend Way, which was slowly emerging as a hub of co-working spaces and affordable home rentals. It grew so haphazardly that it became a story of how unregulated urban expansion can lead to tragedies, as was seen on May 30 with barely a few hundred meters on a very wide road.
Resident Jai Bhagwan, 70, known as “Tau”, remembers Saidulajab of the 1960s as entirely agricultural land. His grandfather used to cultivate wheat and cauliflower.
The landscape began to change in the early 1990s as the city expanded and farming became more difficult. Bhagavan said, “We also tried poultry farming, but it lasted only a few years. We had to change it because there was not enough water for irrigation.”
As development accelerated, migrant laborers arrived. Local landlords realized that renting out small rooms was a good market.
Former DDA Commissioner (Planning) AK Jain said that “Implementation of master plan rules in rural areas of Delhi was hampered by the Land Reforms Act and the land mafia exploited the loophole to carry out large-scale unplanned development in places like Saidulajab, Hauz Khas, Shahpur Jat for monetary gains.”
The 65-year-old man, who owns about 7,000 square feet of land, said the opening of the Garden of Five Senses in 2003 significantly increased the number of tourists on the Westend road. “There was nothing here. Shouldn’t a farmer be allowed to progress in life?” he asked.
And they did just that, moving vertically in search of upward mobility – for both landlords and tenants.
A story for 60% of the people of Delhi
It is not uncommon to see structures six to eight floors high without adequate monitoring in the unauthorized colonies of the city. According to the National Building Code, buildings require varying degrees of fire safety clearance depending on their height. But if an entire street, block, and neighborhood is illegal, the norms exist only on paper.
The Shelter Baseline Report prepared for Delhi’s Master Plan 2041 states: “More than 60% of Delhi’s population lives in unplanned informal settlements with compromised housing conditions – unsafe housing with poor access to basic services.”
The report clearly states that “Strict implementation of laws regarding layout approval and authorized construction is necessary to ensure a quality-built environment.” Yet it readily admits that implementation mechanisms remain weak.
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For urban planners, the problem is that millions of people now live in areas that were never designed to handle emergencies. Narrow streets prevent fire engines from reaching affected buildings. Electrical networks develop ad hoc. Open spaces are rare. Additional floors are added without inspection. Evacuation routes are limited.
The Delhi Sub-regional Plan 2021 also links unregulated urban growth to disaster vulnerability. After analyzing fire incidents between 2003 and 2016, the scheme found: “The number of fire incidents in JJ clusters and high-rise buildings has decreased, while the number of fire incidents in industrial and residential areas has increased. One reason for this is that residential areas have become havens for hazardous business activities without necessary fire-fighting provisions.”
Meanwhile, in recent weeks, authorities have begun legalizing these areas without providing wider roads, better emergency access, safety audits or advanced firefighting infrastructure.
MCD and DDA did not respond to requests for comment.
But the real risk is borne by those people – millions of people like Tahir Khan – who experienced the June 3 fire first-hand. Hearing the commotion, he ran towards the burning building. “I saw what happened. I saw the burnt remains of people hidden under sheets. I couldn’t see…”
He is fully aware that it could be in the hotel where he works, or worse, in the building where he lives with his family. “I’m not formally educated. What chances do I have of getting a job that will pull me out of this place? No one lives like this if they have a choice.”
