A plume of acrid smoke hanging over the Gali number 5, Anaj Mandi, told its own story before the grim toll was confirmed. Twenty-one dead, including foreign nationals. The fire that tore through a factory in the heart of old Delhi on Sunday was not a random tragedy but the predictable outcome of a system built on dangerously thin margins.
The building, a four-storey structure with a single narrow staircase, housed manufacturing units for school bags and household items. It was a warren of cardboard boxes, plastic pellets, and sewing machines, a classic fire trap thriving in the city's labyrinthine by-lanes. Workers, many of them migrants from Uttar Pradesh and Bihar, had their only exit blocked. Some jumped from windows. Others were found in the basement, suffocated by the toxic fumes.
Among the dead were foreign nationals from Tanzania and Nepal, a detail that underscores the globalised nature of Delhi's informal labour market. They came seeking the bread that India promises, only to find a death trap. The factory, authorities say, lacked any fire clearance, no emergency exits, no fire extinguishers. Local residents had complained for years about the illegal units operating in this mixed-use zone, but the complaints were lost in the bureaucratic maze.
This disaster is not singular. It echoes the 2019 Anaj Mandi fire that killed 43, also in a factory without a licence. When will the system change? The demolition drives that followed the 2019 tragedy were short-lived. The market forces that demand cheap goods ensure that these illegal units spring back like mushrooms. The human cost is always the same: the poor, the migrant, the disposable.
Walking through the narrow streets today, I saw the local community in shock. A tea seller who knew many of the workers said, 'We used to joke that this place will burn one day. Nobody listened.' That is the harsh truth. We listen only after the bodies are counted. The survivors, the families of the dead, will be given compensation. The factory owner will be arrested. The system will promise an overhaul. And then, slowly, the forgotten basement will be rented out again.
But perhaps this time, the outrage will last a little longer. The presence of foreign nationals might draw international scrutiny. The Delhi government has promised a magisterial inquiry. Let us hope it is not another whitewash. The people of this chawl, this corner of Delhi that services the city's insatiable appetite for cheaper goods, deserve more than our fleeting attention. They deserve a city that does not burn them alive for the sake of profit.
