A week after Delhi riots, victims stare at an uncertain future

Gali No. 4 of Khajuri Khas Extension in Northeast Delhi is charred to the bone. Mukeem, a middle-aged owner of a furniture store, is searching through the debris of a building that was both his home and shop. He claims he has lost properties worth Rs 1 crore. Sarkari muaavaza (official compensation), whatever be the amount, would mean nothing, he says, considering the damage he and his family have suffered.

“My home and warehouse were first looted and then set on fire,” he says, adding that the attack was wellplanned, with many carrying cutting tools and keys to break open doors and shutters. He now stays with his relatives in nearby Chandu Nagar, with no clue of what lies ahead.

It is a week since riots spread across Northeast Delhi — the worst the capital has seen since the anti-Sikh pogrom of 1984 — and what is left are frightened people, burnt-down lanes, abandoned homes, an uneasy calm and an uncertain future. Mohammed Asad, a student, leads us to the home of his uncle, Mehboob, who rents out space in his covered parking lot. All 23 vehicles parked there, including two auto-rickshaws and Asad’s Royal Enfield bike, are reduced to a mangled heap of metal. “I had paid only three instalments of my bike. What remains is the iron relic of my pride,” says Asad.

Their homes burnt down and papers lost, many residents fear they would face difficulties in claiming insurance. ET Magazine counted at least 20 charred houses in the single by-lane of Khajuri Khas Extension where Mukeem and Mehboob live. Saira Bano, holding her three-month-old daughter Anisha, weeps as she says, “As our house was burning, there was no way we could take the stairs. From the fourth floor, we dropped our child into the hands of someone on the second floor. From the second floor, we again dropped her to someone on the ground floor. Then we ran for our lives.”

Many had escaped by the skin of their teeth. “We saw the rioters coming. So we shut our shop and went upstairs. But the rioters broke open the shutter and set everything on fire,” recalls Mohammed Jamid, who runs a bakery at Chand Bagh with 12 other family members, including his sons and daughters-in-law. What remain are sooty walls and burnt remains of the machines and the display counter. He estimates the losses of his movable assets to be about Rs 12 lakh.

ANI

In Chand Bagh, one of the violence-hit neighbourhoods, several shops and homes are burnt and by-lanes are strewn with ashes and debris.

Sunder Lal has opened his grocery shop after a week. So has Sujan Singh. Sundar, 65, says he saw rioters burning one shop after the other in just two hours on Tuesday evening. He points towards the shops — Sasaar Sweet House, Jain grocery shop, a Vaishnav dhaba and Bunny ice cream shop.

In nearby Maujpur, SK Sharma is reading his morning newspaper outside his fodder shop. “If Muslims have lost their homes, so have Hindus. It is time to count our losses and get back to work,” he says. Everyone, Hindu and Muslim, has a harrowing story to share. It also often reveals the mistrust and divide between the two communities.

A few Hindus in Chand Bagh allege they saw councillor Tahir Hussain, who has recently been expelled from the Aam Aadmi Party, pelting petrol bomb and acid from his multi-storey building, while some Muslim residents claim he is a saviour.

“I lost the keys of my sweet shop on Monday when rioters came to our area and wreaked havoc,” says Sujan Singh, pointing towards Hussain’s home. But Singh says it’s now time to leave behind the horror and return to business.

Agrees Muhammed Sabit, a Muslim manager at Khullar Tempo Transport Service, owned by a Hindu: “Both sides have suffered. Had police been deployed on time, I feel the losses would have been bare minimum.” He was the first to open his shop on the main Bhajanpura road on Saturday morning.

They are trying to pick up the pieces and piece together their lives. But the wounds are still raw and the losses have yet to be counted.