Bulldozer State: How Delhi is Erasing the Poor from the Map

Bulldozer Injustice: Homes Razed Without Notice

In the narrow lanes of Janta Jeevan Camp, Okhla, the silence of the night was broken not by protests or alarms, but by the rumble of bulldozers. For Bhumi and nearly 200 families, that fateful day in 2024 everything changed. Without adequate warning, the Municipal Corporation of Delhi moved in. By sunrise, homes had been reduced to rubble, their belongings buried under the debris.

Bhumi, a student and resident of the now-demolished settlement, recalls the chaos with searing clarity. “We were supposed to get the notice 15 days prior. But it came in the night, and by morning the bulldozers had done their work,” she said. Her family, like many others, couldn’t even salvage basic household items. For two nights, they slept on the streets, unable to find affordable rent. “Only my father earns. We are poor. The government doesn’t see that,” she said, her voice heavy with disbelief and exhaustion.

Tearing Down Without Protocol: A City-Wide Pattern Emerges

Across Delhi, Bhumi’s story echoes in dozens of other neighbourhoods. From Okhla to Adarsh Nagar, families allege that demolition drives are bypassing due process. Saroj Bala, another displaced resident, lost her home near Azadpur Mandi in February 2024. She, too, speaks of bulldozers arriving without notice.

“Our house was demolished without any intimation. My daughters sleep in the open now. We relieve ourselves outside,” she said, holding out papers that show her family has been residing there since 1980. Three generations uprooted in a single day. “No one is building anything for us. No rehabilitation. Just destruction.”

Bhumi, Saroj Bala and hundreds of other victims of this brazen demolition drive sat in a protest in Jantar Mantar in Delhi on June 25, 2025 demanding accountability from the government. 

Disregarded and Displaced: The Bulldozer as a Policy Tool

Delhi has 675 slum clusters officially recognised by the government, each a fragile island in the city’s ever-expanding urban sprawl. These clusters, while legally entitled to protection and rehabilitation, are increasingly being razed without proper alternatives. Activists argue that the bulldozer has become a symbol not just of development, but of disregard.

Nirmal Gorana, convener of the Mazdur Awas Sangharsh Samiti, points out that beyond the officially recognised clusters, thousands more exist—home to daily wage earners and migrant workers. “People are living next to gutters, on roadsides, on forest land—because they have nowhere else to go. It’s not that they want to. The government needs to answer why,” he said.

He stresses that court orders demanding land clearance does not give a blanket approval for authrotities to demolish without following protocols. “There’s a policy in place—the Delhi Jhuggi-Jhopri Cluster Rehabilitation and Relocation Scheme. Why isn’t it being implemented?” he asks. “This isn’t just negligence. It’s a systematic bulldozing of rights.”

Erased Without a Trace: Communities Uprooted in Civil Lines

At Khyber Pass in Delhi’s Civil Lines, bulldozers rolled through yet another community, flattening homes in the Dhobi Line, Chaurasi Line, and the bustling Khyber Pass Market last year. Entire neighbourhoods that had existed for generations vanished in a day—without rehabilitation, without clear accountability.

Shivkumar, one of the displaced, questions the government's silence. “The bulldozer just came and bulldozed not just buildings but our lives. We had ration cards, Aadhaar, electricity bills—everything. Yet, nobody stood with us. First they said it was defence land, then L&DO, then NAAC. They don’t even know whose land it is, but they’re sure we shouldn’t be on it.” For many now forced to pay exorbitant rents far beyond their earnings, the very idea of survival has become a cruel daily struggle.

The Policy That Promised Protection—And Failed

Delhi’s 2015 Slum & JJ Rehabilitation Policy was supposed to prevent exactly this. It promised a process: notification, relocation, rehabilitation. But as residents are evicted in the dead of night, often without warning, trust in these frameworks has collapsed.

Manju Goyal of the Gig and Platform Services Workers Union calls it a betrayal. “How can homes be called illegal after 40 years? The same government gave them voter IDs, electricity, water.” She accuses authorities of carrying out nocturnal bulldozer operations under the guise of court orders. “You demolish slums at 3 a.m. and relocate a few people 50 kilometers away, where there’s no school, hospital, or jobs. What kind of justice is this?”

When the Advocate Becomes the Victim

For Mahendra Pal, a long-time activist working with displaced communities, the bulldozer didn’t stop at advocacy—it came for his own home. Near Azadpur Mandi, the same area he once helped others defend, his house was razed in 2024.

“We are living without light, without toilets, without dignity,” he said. “We are treated like we don’t exist. They used to come to us for votes, now they treat us like untouchables.” Despite the hardship, Mahendra continues to run his NGO—fighting the very system that reduced his life to rubble.

From Voters to Voiceless: When Legality Becomes Selective

Generations of residents who paid electricity bills, water charges, and held valid documents now find themselves erased from Delhi’s civic memory. Their question is simple: If our presence was legal enough to vote, why is it not legal enough to live?

Activist Nirmal Gorana lays bare the scale of what he calls a human rights disaster. “Over 30,000 evictions in five years. Not homes—settlements. Each with hundreds, sometimes thousands of people. And how many have been resettled? A few thousand. That’s the reality behind the bulldozer headlines.”

He adds, “The Indian government was criticised globally, even by the United Nations. But here, there is no shame—just denial.”

Broken Promises, Shattered Trust

As bulldozers advance, the betrayal feels personal. Lalchand Rai’s family moved from Rajasthan to Delhi decades ago, settling near Badarpur metro station. Their home was built with their own hands—starting from mud and eventually becoming brick and cement. In 2004, a company claimed the land and filed for eviction.

“We were born there, raised there, our parents died there,” Lalchand said. “Now they say it’s illegal. But during elections, you eat in our homes and promise us houses. You say, ‘Where there is a slum, there will be a home.’ What happened to that promise?”

The demolitions no longer appear accidental or administrative. With bulldozers as their instrument, authorities seem to be carving out a city that makes no room for its working poor.

What began as isolated demolitions has evolved into a pattern—where policies meant to protect are used selectively, if at all. As Delhi gallops toward high-speed development and commercial expansion, it leaves behind a burning question: in this vision of the future, who has a right to exist?

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