Leader’s Voice | Mohammad Shafi

Shattered Shelters: Unraveling India’s Targeted Eviction Epidemic

Prologue: A Shattered Dawn in Dhubri

On Tuesday, July 8, 2025, the tranquil morning in Assam’s Dhubri district is shattered by the deafening roar of over 100 bulldozers descending upon the villages of Chirakuta 1 and 2, Charuabakhra Jungle Block, and Santoshpur in the Chapar revenue circle. Ajiran Nessa, a 52-year-old mother of four, stands frozen as her modest brick-and-tin home, built over three decades through years of toil, crumbles into dust. The Assam government’s eviction drive, executed with over 3,000 police personnel, displaces approximately 1,400–2,000 Bengali-origin Muslim families—around 10,000 individuals—across 5,000 bighas (over 650 hectares) to clear land for a 3,400-MW thermal power plant, relocated from Kokrajhar after protests by tribal communities. Residents, many of whom are erosion-displaced families with roots in the area since the 1980s, received a mere 48-hour notice on July 4, leaving them scrambling to salvage belongings. Clashes erupt as police deploy lathi charges and, according to local accounts, fire shots to quell protests, injuring three women—Masiya Khatun (40), Rumiya Khatun (45), and Hafiza Khatun (30)—in Charuabakhra. The government offers Rs 50,000 per landless family and promises resettlement in the flood-prone Boyjer Alga char, a sandbar in the Brahmaputra River, which residents like Ajiran dismiss as uninhabitable. This operation, defying a Supreme Court demolition ban from September 2024, marks the latest chapter in India’s “bulldozer politics,” a chilling narrative of state power, contested identities, and the indomitable resilience of marginalized communities facing systemic displacement.

The Genesis of a Mechanical Reckoning

The bulldozer’s ascendancy as a tool of state policy, vividly illustrated by Dhubri’s July 2025 evictions, traces its roots to a broader wave of demolitions that gained momentum in 2022. The Housing and Land Rights Network (HLRN) documented the destruction of 153,820 homes that year, displacing 738,438 individuals across India, with marginalized communities bearing the brunt. By 2024, Frontline’s investigation revealed 7,407 houses razed across 16 states, with Uttar Pradesh accounting for nearly 30% of the toll, often targeting Muslim-majority enclaves. The year 2025 escalated this trend, with a three-week demolition spree from April 29 to May 21, reported by media, leveling over 10,000 structures, predominantly in areas like Lucknow’s Akbarnagar and Gujarat’s Chandola Lake. In Dhubri, the eviction of 10,000 Bengali Muslims, many holding Miyadi patta land titles or displaced by Brahmaputra erosion, was justified under the Assam Land and Revenue Regulation, 1886, to facilitate a thermal power plant initially planned for Kokrajhar but shifted due to opposition from politically influential tribal groups. Bulldozers, once emblems of India’s infrastructural ambition, have transformed into instruments of exclusion, disproportionately targeting Muslim communities in what critics describe as a deliberate campaign to reshape demographic and cultural landscapes.

In Sambhal, Uttar Pradesh, Mohammad Mateen, a 38-year-old tailor, faced this reality in January 2025. Arrested on charges of disrupting peace near a disputed temple site, his home—built on land legally purchased in 2002—was demolished within hours, leaving his family of five homeless. “They took our clothes, our memories, everything,” Mateen told. His tailoring workshop reduced to rubble alongside his children’s schoolbooks. In Gujarat’s Chandola Lake area, Fatima Sheikh, a 50-year-old widow, witnessed the demolition of 2,000 huts in April 2025, part of a “beautification” drive following the Pahalgam attack. Branded “illegal Bangladeshis” despite possessing Aadhaar cards and voter IDs, residents like Fatima were given no opportunity to contest the action. These cases, mirroring Dhubri’s, reveal a pattern where demolitions extend beyond administrative necessity, intertwining with communal tensions and political agendas.

The Political Engine Behind the Blades

The bulldozer’s rise is inseparable from the Bharatiya Janata Party’s political dominance since 2014, underpinned by a Hindu nationalist vision that has redefined governance in states like Assam and Uttar Pradesh. In Assam, Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma’s inflammatory rhetoric, including derogatory references to Bengali Muslims as “Miya” and baseless allegations of “jihadi” activities, has fueled evictions like Dhubri’s, where residents faced accusations of being “encroachers” despite decades of residency. In Uttar Pradesh, Chief Minister Yogi Adityanath, nicknamed “Bulldozer Baba,” has championed demolitions as a tool to enforce law and order, a stance endorsed by Prime Minister Narendra Modi during the 2024 election campaign, where he praised such actions as a deterrent against lawlessness. The Centre for Study of Society and Secularism (CSSS) reported an 84% surge in communal riots in 2024, with 59 incidents—49 in BJP-ruled states—often triggered by religious processions clashing with Muslim neighborhoods, setting the stage for demolitions.

In Surat, Gujarat, the September 2024 Ganesh festival unrest led to the demolition of 150 shops in the Muslim-majority Sayedpura area, enforced by 1,000 police personnel in a highly publicized operation. The Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) and Vishva Hindu Parishad (VHP) amplify this narrative, framing demolitions as cultural reclamation, with claims on sites like the Taj Mahal and Gyanvapi Mosque escalating tensions. In Dhubri, allegations of Adani Group involvement reflect public distrust of corporate-political nexus. This political machinery, critics argue, sacrifices social cohesion, transforming neighborhoods into battlegrounds of ideology and power.

The Human Mosaic of Loss

The human toll of these demolitions is profound, as seen in Ajiran Nessa’s despair in Dhubri, where families lost homes, livelihoods, and dignity. In Lucknow’s Akbarnagar, Amina Begum, a 45-year-old widow, saw her home of 20 years demolished on May 15, 2025, as part of the Kukrail Riverfront project, which razed 1,169 structures. Left with only a faded photograph of her late husband, Amina now shelters in a makeshift tent with her three children, uncertain of the future. In Delhi’s Jahangirpuri, the April 2022 demolition of 25 Muslim-owned properties followed Hanuman Jayanti clashes, leaving Mohammad Saleem, a 60-year-old vendor, without his spice shop—a family legacy since 1985—despite a Supreme Court stay arriving too late to save his stock of saffron and cardamom. In Nuh, Haryana, the August 2023 riots triggered the demolition of over 300 homes, forcing Rahim Khan, a 42-year-old carpenter, to flee after receiving death threats, abandoning a house his father built in 1975.

According to the Housing and Land Rights Network (HLRN), the period from 2022 to 2023 saw an estimated 738,438 evictions across India, a staggering figure that has been significantly amplified by the demolition wave of 2025, including the displacement of approximately 10,000 individuals in Dhubri alone. In Delhi’s Bhumiheen Camp, a June 2025 demolition during a punishing 45°C heatwave left 12-year-old Zainab and her family of six exposed to the elements, with no access to shelter or potable water. Her voice breaking as she described how Zainab, once a top student, now scavenges for scrap to support the family. Amnesty International’s 2022 report documented 617 people, predominantly Muslims, uprooted in 128 demolitions between April and June of that year, with small-scale enterprises—tailors like Mohammad Mateen in Sambhal, vegetable vendors like Mohammad Saleem in Jahangirpuri, and fishermen like Imran Ali in Dhubri—devastated, erasing decades of economic stability. In Dhubri, the government’s offer of Rs 50,000 per landless family and relocation to Boyjer Alga, a flood-prone sandbar in the Brahmaputra River, provides scant relief, as annual floods, which have displaced these families multiple times since the 1970s, render the area uninhabitable. Residents like Ajiran Nessa, who lost her small grocery stall, report that the compensation is insufficient to rebuild, with local estimates suggesting a minimum of Rs 2 lakh needed for a basic one-room home. The psychological scars run deep; in Haldwani, Uttarakhand, the February 2024 demolition of a 200-year-old mosque and madrasa sparked riots that claimed six lives, including a 17-year-old student, leaving the community fractured. Similarly, in Khargone, Madhya Pradesh, the April 2022 demolition of 16 houses and 29 shops following Ram Navami clashes left families like Hasina Bi’s—a 35-year-old seamstress with two young daughters—grappling with homelessness and severe post-traumatic stress, with Hasina reporting recurring nightmares of bulldozers to local counselors.

The Legal Tightrope

India’s constitutional framework, anchored in Article 21’s right to life and shelter, was bolstered by the Supreme Court’s November 2024 ruling mandating 15-day notices and hearings before demolitions. Yet, enforcement falters. In Dhubri, the July 2025 evictions, executed with 48-hour notices, violated a September 2024 Supreme Court demolition ban, prompting 357 landless families and 129 with Miyadi patta to petition the Gauhati High Court. The UN special rapporteurs’ 2022 letter to India flagged such demolitions as collective punishment, breaching the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (ICESCR). In Khargone, the April 2022 razing of 16 houses and 29 shops post-Ram Navami clashes offered no prior notice, leaving Hasina Bi, a 35-year-old seamstress, destitute.

Judicial interventions provide inconsistent relief. The Haldwani stay in 2023 and Nuh contempt notice in 2024 aimed to curb excesses, but states bypass these by labeling demolitions as development projects. In Assam, over 10,620 families—mostly Bengali Muslims—were evicted by August 2024, with incidents in Dhalpur (September 2021, May 2024), Sonitpur (February 2023), Lakhimpur (January 2023), and Kamrup (May 2024) reflecting systemic disregard for court orders. In Dhalpur, two civilians died in 2021 police firing, and 400 families were re-evicted in 2024 from makeshift shelters. JCB, the bulldozer manufacturer, faces Amnesty International’s call to denounce its equipment’s misuse but has issued no response, leaving victims in legal limbo.

Voices Rising from the Ashes

Amid the devastation, resilience shines. In Dhubri, Ajiran Nessa organizes neighbors to challenge the inadequate Rs 50,000 compensation and flood-prone Boyjer Alga resettlement, joining 357 families in a Gauhati High Court petition. In Lucknow, Amina Begum rallies her community, her children scavenging bricks from the rubble to sell for food. In Goalpara, Assam, Fatima Sheikh, a 40-year-old teacher, establishes a relief camp, distributing blankets and rice while asserting, “We are Indians, not outsiders.” Mohammad Saleem in Jahangirpuri borrows Rs 20,000 to rebuild his spice stall, determined to preserve his father’s legacy. These acts of defiance a narrative of survival against overwhelming odds.

International pressure mounts, with the UN’s 2022 critique, the U.S. State Department’s 2024 concerns, and Amnesty International’s reports urging investigations. Yet, the government’s narrative of urban renewal and security, echoed in Dhubri’s thermal plant justification, persists, clashing with the human toll vividly documented by affected communities.

The Wider Landscape

Official narratives frame demolitions as essential for development, citing projects like Dhubri’s thermal plant, Lucknow’s Kukrail Riverfront, and Gujarat’s Chandola Lake cleanup. Yet, HLRN’s 2024 report reveals 44% of eviction cases target Muslims, despite their 14% population share, suggesting systemic bias. The organization’s 2019 estimate of 114 daily demolitions indicates a broader policy, but the timing—often post-communal riots—fuels suspicions of political motives. In Dhubri, the thermal plant’s relocation from Kokrajhar after tribal protests highlights the prioritization of politically influential groups over marginalized Bengali Muslims, many displaced by Brahmaputra erosion decades ago.

The RSS and VHP’s claims on heritage sites, coupled with BJP’s electoral tactics, deepen communal divides. In Assam, Sarma’s rhetoric and the National Register of Citizens (NRC), which left 1.9 million people—mostly Muslims—stateless in 2019, amplify perceptions of targeted displacement. However, the absence of comprehensive government data on evictions allows for conflicting narratives, with advocacy reports potentially skewed. The true intent—development or discrimination—remains obscured, demanding independent scrutiny to uncover the truth.

The Cultural and Economic Undercurrents

Demolitions strike at cultural and economic roots. In Dhubri, Bengali Muslims, stigmatized as “illegal immigrants” despite decades of residency, face cultural erasure alongside physical displacement. Many, displaced by Brahmaputra erosion, carry a history of loss, with homes rebuilt only to be demolished again. In Mehrauli, Delhi, the January 2024 demolition of the 600-year-old Akhondji Mosque severed a cultural lifeline, with Haji Ahmed, a 70-year-old caretaker, mourning the loss of manuscripts and prayer rugs dating to the Mughal era. Economically, the impact is devastating. In Dhubri, fishermen and petty traders lost their livelihoods in July 2025, with no immediate alternative. In Sambhal, Mohammad Mateen’s tailoring business, supporting 10 employees, collapsed, while Jahangirpuri’s Mohammad Saleem lost Rs 50,000 in spices.

Amnesty’s 2024 findings highlight the economic ripple effect, with families plunged into poverty and children like Zainab in Bhumiheen Camp dropping out of school to scavenge or work. In Surat’s Sayedpura, shop owners lost decades of savings, with no government aid forthcoming. In Dhubri, the Rs 50,000 compensation—often delayed, as seen in earlier Assam evictions—falls short of rebuilding costs, leaving families like Ajiran Nessa’s reliant on community support. This cycle of deprivation, compounded by cultural dispossession, threatens the social fabric of these communities.

The Global Echo

The international community has taken note. The UN’s 2022 letter to India condemned demolitions as human rights violations, while the U.S. State Department’s 2024 report raised concerns over targeted displacements. Domestically, the National Human Rights Commission’s inquiries face resistance from BJP-led governments, which prioritize sovereignty over accountability. Yet, India’s response—emphasizing national development and security—complicates resolution, leaving victims reliant on grassroots advocacy and sporadic judicial intervention.

The Environmental Dimension

Environmental pretexts add complexity to the demolitions. Projects like Dhubri’s thermal power plant, Lucknow’s Kukrail Riverfront, and Gujarat’s Chandola Lake cleanup are framed as ecological necessities, addressing flooding or pollution. However, environmentalists argue these initiatives disproportionately target low-income, Muslim-dominated areas. In Dhubri, the proposed resettlement in Boyjer Alga, a char prone to annual Brahmaputra floods, undermines the developmental rationale, as residents face repeated displacement. The destruction of green spaces within these settlements, such as community gardens in Akbarnagar, further weakens the ecological argument, suggesting a pretext for social engineering rather than genuine environmental progress.

The Struggle for Identity

Demolitions are not merely physical but an assault on identity. In Dhubri, Bengali Muslims, often labeled “outsiders” despite Indian citizenship, fight to preserve their cultural heritage, rooted in decades of community-building. In Mehrauli, the Akhondji Mosque’s demolition erased a 600-year legacy, with Haji Ahmed lamenting the loss of a prayer hall that hosted interfaith gatherings. In Haldwani, the February 2024 mosque demolition sparked riots, reflecting a community’s battle to protect its spiritual anchor. This cultural dispossession, coupled with economic ruin, fosters alienation, with families like Rahim Khan’s in Nuh feeling targeted for their faith, forced to abandon homes adorned with verses from the Quran.

A Path Toward Healing

As dawn breaks on July 8, 2025, in Dhubri’s ravaged villages, the collective resolve of displaced communities ignites a powerful call for justice, resonating from Assam’s riverbanks to the urban sprawl of Lucknow, Delhi, and beyond. Petitions filed in courts, grassroots relief efforts, and unwavering community spirit signal a refusal to be silenced, demanding accountability for demolitions that have shattered homes and heritage. An independent, transparent audit of these actions, scrutinizing land records and governmental motives, could lay bare the truth behind policies that disproportionately target marginalized groups. Strict enforcement of Supreme Court mandates—requiring 15-day notices, public hearings, and comprehensive rehabilitation—offers a legal pathway to restore dignity. Robust resettlement programs, providing permanent housing, vocational training, and educational access, could rebuild livelihoods and futures for those uprooted. Facilitated by civil society, inclusive dialogues hold the potential to mend communal fractures, fostering mutual understanding in a polarized landscape. The shadow of the bulldozer looms large, yet the resilience of these communities—forged in the crucible of loss and defiance—illuminates a vision of hope. Their voices, amplified by courageous journalism and global advocacy, challenge the nation to honor its pluralistic ethos, forging a future where equity triumphs over division and justice rises from the ruins.