At least 22 people were killed and several others were injured in one of the worst fire incidents in the capital on June 3. What followed were heated debates on media about Delhi’s fire norms, a manhunt for the accused, an extensive sealing drive on establishments flouting norms and a few arrests. The neighbourhood, once promoted for its metro connectivity, is increasingly defined by its proximity to Max Super Speciality Hospital.
Signboards, hotel advertisements and rental listings now prominently highlight “walking distance from Max Hospital” as a key attraction. The aftermath of the incident has left the area silent, with local economies freezing, authorities cracking down on umpteen establishments and a sudden scrutiny of neighbouring areas of Hauz Rani and Khirki Extension.
A neighbourhood called Khirki Extension
Tucked behind the polished glass facades and curated order of South Delhi’s elite landscape, Khirki Extension unfolds like a counter-narrative, one that resists the illusion of seamless urban prosperity. Just a short walk from upscale retail promenades like Select Citywalk and DLF Avenue, and in close proximity to the sprawling Max Super Speciality Hospital, the neighbourhood appears, at first glance, conveniently placed within the city’s most privileged geography. But step inside, and the contrast is immediate, jarring, and difficult to ignore.
The entry into Khirki Extension does not announce itself with transition; it confronts. Mounds of uncollected garbage sit beside a prominently displayed warning board threatening a `50,000 fine for littering. The irony is hard to miss. The signage gestures toward regulation; the surroundings testify to its absence. This contradiction is not incidental; it’s symptomatic of a deep governance failure that defines much of the area’s lived experience, as one of the locals said, “Who is scared of these boards?”
A few metres in, the skyline begins to shrink. Overhead, a dense web of tangled electrical and cable wires stretches across narrow lanes, filtering out sunlight and creating a perpetual dimness even during the day. Buildings rise in close proximity, often extending beyond sanctioned limits, their balconies nearly touching.
When the capital already struggles with poor air quality, in these localities, the air circulation is clearly poor, privacy is minimal, and the sense of openness feels ‘engineered out of existence’. “I’ve been living here for six years now,” says Abdul Rahman, a tenant who runs a small tailoring unit from his ground-floor accommodation in Khirki Extension.
Rent is cheaper compared to nearby areas, and everything is close, including the hospital, markets, and transport. But look around – the garbage, open wires, clogged drains. We manage, but it doesn’t feel safe.”
One of the members of RWA of Malviya Nagar, Neeraj Chopra, said, “Tangled wires hanging like a spider’s web are not just an eyesore; they are a warning. In places like Malviya Nagar and Khirki Extension, this chaotic network reflects deeper urban neglect, where infrastructure grows without planning and risks are normalised.
Each exposed cable is a potential spark, each ignored complaint a missed chance to prevent disaster. When development forgets safety, it is the ordinary resident who lives under constant threat reminded every day that in such neighbourhoods, even the sky is no longer free but cluttered with danger.”
Cluster thick with neglect
Khirki Extension has, over the years, evolved into a dense hub for migrants, students, and working-class tenants. Paying guest accommodations and subdivided rental units dominate the landscape, their availability advertised through posters plastered across walls and electric poles.
A significant number of African nationals, particularly from Nigeria and other West African countries, also reside here, drawn by relatively affordable rents and proximity to medical and commercial centres. Rooms are available at a cost varying between `6,000 and `15,000. Meanwhile, the guest houses inside some of the lanes here cost below `5000.
Yet, affordability here is not a neutral advantage; it is a trade-off. What residents gain in location and cost, they often lose in safety, sanitation, and dignity. The approach road near a red-coloured temple called ‘Sai Baba Mandir’, just beyond which the residential lanes begin, offers a microcosm of this imbalance. Cars are parked haphazardly along uneven ground, narrowing already constricted entry points.
Adjacent to the temple lies a large, persistent heap of garbage and cows struggling to eat something from the tied poly bags. Residential buildings face this dumping site directly, their windows opening not to light or greenery but to waste.
Deeper into the R Block area, the condition deteriorates further. Basements, many of them converted into living or working spaces, are dimly lit and poorly ventilated. Exposed electrical wiring hangs loose, often within arm’s reach, while two-wheelers are parked dangerously close to these hazards. The air feels heavy, thick with neglect.
“There are times when we hear sparks from the wires. Especially during rains or power fluctuations. We get scared, but there’s nowhere else to go within this budget,” said Neha, a college student staying in a nearby PG accommodation.”
Her concern is not unfounded. A recent on-ground study conducted by students of Shaheed Bhagat Singh College in 2025, in their final year, highlights the alarming scale of infrastructural and safety risks in Khirki Extension.
A study estimates the population density at over 40,000 persons per square kilometre, an overwhelming figure that raises immediate concerns about evacuation, emergency access, and overall liveability.
The lanes, many of which are narrower than six feet, are not just inconvenient; they are functionally inaccessible to emergency vehicles. Fire tenders and ambulances cannot navigate these corridors, effectively isolating residents in the event of a crisis. In such conditions, response time is not just delayed; it is compromised.
The study has even talked about the nature of construction. “A large proportion of buildings in Khirki Extension are unauthorised or have been expanded beyond approved limits. Typically rising between three to five storeys, these structures often lack fire-resistant materials, adequate ventilation, and basic safety features such as emergency exits or compartmentalisation,” said the study.
Compounding this is the widespread mixing of residential and commercial uses within the same buildings. You’ll see a lot of ground floors frequently doubling up as storage units, small-scale manufacturing spaces, or retail outlets. Flammable materials like fabric, plastic, and packaging supplies are often stored in cramped, poorly ventilated conditions, increasing the likelihood of fire incidents.
One of the members of the residents’ welfare association, Khirki Extension, Nishant Sood, said, “Overloaded circuits, outdated wiring, and illegal connections create a fragile network. The overhead cables visibly tangled and loosely strung are not merely an eyesore; they are a constant hazard, susceptible to wear, damage, and short circuits. We have gas pipelines here; there is no water shortage here, but these hanging wires have no solution.”
“We keep seeing metro stations and roads getting new names. Maybe the government should try renaming places like this too; at least then they might remember we exist. Or better yet, put these lanes under some real surveillance so they actually see what’s going on. Otherwise, they’ll only wake up after something like the Hauz Rani incident happens here,” said Vishal, a second-year college student living in a PG in Khirki Extension.
Waste management is also a persistent fault line. Garbage accumulation in narrow alleys leads to hygiene issues, especially among children. “There’s no fixed time for garbage pickup. Sometimes it stays for days. In summer, the smell becomes unbearable. We’ve complained, but nothing changes,” said Sushila Devi, a long-time resident.
The reality of the world
Beyond the visible infrastructural deficiencies lies a deeper socio-economic reality. A significant portion of Khirki Extension’s population comprises low-income workers engaged in informal sectors tailoring, small-scale vending, warehousing, and service jobs linked to nearby commercial hubs. For many, the locality represents a compromise between proximity and affordability.
A worker who sells ceramic crockery items in Hauz Rani and lives in Khirki Imran Khan said, “The areas we live may seem all calm with a handful of regular problems but after this fire incident in Malviya Nagar, a lot of people realised that none of us are living in safe conditions. The government may pay Rs 1 lakh to my family, if I die in any building collapse but imagine the loss for my family. There is no recovery.
Historically, the area derives its name from the nearby Khirki Masjid, a 14th-century monument that stands as a reminder of Delhi’s layered past. But the present-day reality of Khirki Extension stands in stark contrast to this heritage.
A senior citizen who lives in Saket, Ramneek Kaur, said, “The contrast raises uncomfortable questions. How does such a fragile urban ecosystem coexist alongside high-end malls, corporate offices, and world-class healthcare facilities? It clearly questions the government about its civic attention and infrastructural investment. The government should realise that one part of the entire constituency shouldn’t be a blot and bring the wrong name to the area.”
Meanwhile Bhuvnesh, a neighbourhood washerman, said, “Khirki Extension is not merely about congestion or decay in these narrow lanes. It is about the fragility of life in spaces where the margin for error is dangerously thin. A single spark, a short circuit, or a delayed response can trigger consequences that ripple across an already vulnerable community.”
The lanes await a change
Efforts to address some of these issues have been announced, though their effectiveness remains uncertain. Earlier this year, Chief Minister Rekha Gupta unveiled a project aimed at shifting overhead electrical cables underground across multiple stretches in areas like Chandni Chowk.
However, the implementation has faced challenges. If such projects struggle in centrally monitored zones, questions remain about their feasibility in densely packed, unregulated areas like Khirki Extension, where infrastructural overhaul would require not just technical intervention but systemic restructuring.
As evening sets in, the lanes of Khirki Extension grow quieter. There are few open spaces where children can play; most available areas are either encroached upon or rendered unusable by waste accumulation. The calm, when it comes, feels less like peace and more like pause.