As the thermometer in Delhi touches 45 degrees Celsius, the city’s poorest are being forced to choose between survival and safety. Sources on the ground confirm that labourers, street vendors, and slum dwellers are working through the midday heat because stopping means losing wages, and losing wages means not eating. The luxury of staying indoors is reserved for those with air conditioning. Meanwhile, the British government has offered its ‘heat resilience expertise’ to India, a move critics call a performative gesture that does nothing to address the systemic failures leaving millions exposed.
A senior official at the UK Foreign Office confirmed that a team of specialists has been dispatched to Delhi to share best practices on urban heat management. The team is reportedly equipped with data on reflective roofs, green corridors, and early warning systems. But on the ground, these solutions seem distant. In the informal settlements of East Delhi, families live under tin roofs that concentrate heat like ovens. Water trucks are irregular, and government-run cooling centres are often locked or too far to reach.
Municipal records obtained by this reporter show that Delhi’s heat action plan, launched in 2016, has not been updated for three years. The budget for heat-related interventions has been cut by 12 per cent in real terms. When the mercury hits 45, the plan calls for ‘enhanced hospital readiness’ but local clinics report they have no extra staff or supplies. A doctor at a government hospital in Rohini, speaking on condition of anonymity, said: ‘We see 40 per cent more heat stroke cases than last year, but our ice packs and IV fluids are running out by noon.’
What does British expertise offer here? White papers and workshops in air-conditioned conference rooms. No one is asking why the Delhi government has not planted trees along the major heat corridors or why building codes still allow dark roofing materials. The UK’s own record on heat resilience is mixed: London’s green canopy is unevenly distributed, with affluent areas green and poor areas grey. The offer feels less like charity and more like a public relations move.
For the poor, there is no choice. A fruit seller near Chandni Chowk told me: ‘If I sit in the shade, I lose customers. My children need school fees. I will work until I collapse.’ His stall has no awning. His water bottle is empty by 10am. He earns 400 rupees a day, but a bottle of cold water costs 20. He cannot afford to stop.
The UK’s offer of expertise comes with a quiet agenda too. Documents seen by this reporter show that the team includes consultants from private firms that market cooling technologies. The unasked question is: who profits from these ‘solutions’? The contracts for urban heat mitigation in India are worth millions. The poor get pamphlets. The corporations get tax breaks.
This is not about resilience. It is about survival. And survival does not come in a PowerPoint slide.
