Home is where the heart breaks: The tragic cost of ‘bulldozer justice’

“Log toot jaate hain ek ghar banane mein (people break themselves to build a home)”. I think of this line by Urdu poet Bashir Badr every time I see homes — and not just houses; you’d feel the pain of demolitions more acutely if you know the difference — of people being bulldozed with gay, heartless abandon by authorities under one pretext or the other. I think it’s a line that succinctly captures the emotional weight of what it means to build a home. Home, you’d agree, is never just about bricks and mortars. It is not just a physical space, a shelter or a structure. It is a sanctuary — the culmination of years of toil, sacrifice, and love — where the soul finds its anchor, where dreams take root, where children take their first steps, families gather for meals, and prayers are whispered in the quiet hours of the morning or night. Prayers of happiness, health and well-being.

Imagine the helplessness, anguish and resentment of those bearing a witness to their homes being reduced to rubble, particularly in states like Uttar Pradesh, Madhya Pradesh, Rajasthan, Haryana, Uttarakhand, Assam and Gujarat. Their years of blood, sweat and tears — as well as the intangible — the memories, the love, the sense of belonging — obliterated within minutes, leaving a trail of devastation and soul-crushing despair in its wake; the loss is deeply personal, the psychological scars last a lifetime. The Supreme Court’s recent observations on the ‘bulldozer justice’ by the state machinery — twice in 10 days — therefore, may have come late, but they offer a long-overdue and necessary intervention. On September 2, a bench of Justices BR Gavai and KV Viswanathan had observed that a house could not be demolished just because it belongs to an accused or even a convict in a criminal case. “How can demolition be just because he is an accused or even a convict... If construction is unauthorised, fine. There has to be some streamlining. We will lay down a procedure. You are saying demolition only if it violates municipal laws. There is a need for guidelines, it needs to be documented,” the bench had said.

On Thursday (September 12), the apex court, while hearing a petition by Javed Ali Mehboobamiya Saeed of Gujarat’s Kheda district, who was allegedly threatened by municipal officers that they would raze his family home in Kathlal village, where three generations of his family had been living for two decades, with a bulldozer after a case of trespass was registered against him on September 1, a bench comprising Justices Hrishikesh Roy, Sudhanshu Dhulia and SVN Bhatti said that since the actions of the state are governed by the rule of law, a violation by a member of a family cannot invite action against other members of the family or their legally constructed residence.

“Alleged involvement in a crime is no ground for demolition of a property,” the bench said, underlining that only a case had been registered against Mr Saeed and it has to be proved in court through a legal process. “The court cannot be oblivious to such demolition threats, which are inconceivable in a nation where law is supreme. Otherwise such actions may be seen as running a bulldozer over the laws of the land,” the bench — which would hear the matter again on September 17 and invited suggestions for dealing with the issue — said, staying the demolition of Saeed’s house.

SC’s firm stance comes after the growing murmurs against the culture of ‘bulldozer justice’ by an unforgiving system that wields power with impunity. Over the last two years, the relentless rumbling of these machines — which have the chosen weapon of states bent on quelling dissent — has led to the destruction of more than 1,50,000 homes, displacing over 7,38,000 people. Most of these people belong to communities already teetering on the fringes of society — Muslims, Dalits, and other marginalised groups. To an average Indian, seeing a bulldozer tearing through the fabric of someone’s life is a sight that shocks the conscience. What we are witnessing is a new form of authoritarianism — what some have aptly called ‘Bulldozer Raj.’ This is not just about demolishing homes; it’s about exerting arbitrary authority. The rule of law is being supplanted by the caprices of political leaders, with bulldozers serving as both judge and executioner.

John Dayal, a veteran journalist and activist, recalls his first encounter with coercive bulldozing several decades ago when a district collector in Haryana ordered the destruction of a convent school wall because the institution had refused to admit his daughter. Dayal was also a witness to bulldozing of slums across New Delhi during the Emergency of 1975, following the orders of Sanjay Gandhi — the extra-constitutional centre of authority. “Ostensibly, the twin objectives were to beautify the capital by removing slums from New Delhi and other areas, but the bulldozer also served another important task of Sanjay: removing Muslim areas and distributing the people in several resettlement colonies on the peripheries of the capital,” says Dayal. Fast forward to the present day, and history seems to be repeating itself, though on a much larger and more overtly communal scale.

“The bulldozers are today being used, firstly against Muslim, and against dissenters, protesters and those who are seen defiant of the rulers, be they UP Chief Minister Adityanath, the yogi politician, or those ruling in Assam, Uttarakhand, Madhya Pradesh and Rajasthan. The criminal arrogance that the chief ministers of UP and Assam in particular show betrays their dislike, if not hatred, of Muslims in particular and any other from the Hindu or Christian faiths they see as defiant of their rule,” adds Dayal. The narrative spun by state officials, particularly those in power in UP, Assam, and MP, is one of legality. The homes being demolished, they claim, are “illegal.” But when you scratch the surface, the selective enforcement becomes glaringly obvious. “These chief ministers, though they are lawmakers, care little for the rule of law,” says Dayal. “I cannot imagine how the Supreme Court, even as it formulates guidelines, can bring these powers to heel.”

The selective nature of these demolitions is hard to ignore. Homes are bulldozed to criminalise identity. To be a minority in the India of today is to exist under a cloud of perpetual suspicion. The state, emboldened by the silence of the judiciary and the complicity of law enforcement, is sending a message that certain lives and identities are less valuable than others. The bulldozer has become the most visible manifestation of this prejudice, a hulking reminder that some communities are forever at the mercy of a state that sees them as disposable. A tool of communal politics, aimed squarely at disenfranchising Muslims and other marginalised groups. Shabnam Hashmi, a prominent human rights activist, underscores the anti-constitutional nature of this practice. “Demolishing homes on the pretext of petty crimes, or even worse, under the suspicion of something as trivial as beef in the house, is not only unconstitutional but is part of a larger agenda of hate and discrimination,” Hashmi argues. The UP government, for instance, claims that only illegal structures are being targeted, but as Hashmi points out, this is far from the truth. Many of the homes being demolished are legal, and the act of bulldozing them serves a broader political purpose — silencing the marginalised and sending a chilling message to those who dare to oppose the state.

In a way, by rendering thousands homeless, the state is reinforcing its power over those it deems undesirable. The larger message seems to be that the poor and the dispossessed have no place in the India being built by the ruling class. It is an exercise in exclusion, carried out under the guise of law and order; its real aim is more pernicious. For those who lose their homes, it’s only the beginning of a cascade of suffering. Displaced families are often forced into makeshift shelters, with no access to basic amenities like clean water, sanitation, or healthcare. Their children’s education is disrupted as they are uprooted from their schools, and the loss of small businesses and shops that often accompany these demolitions destroys livelihoods. These are the immediate, tangible losses. But the mental trauma — the sense of helplessness, fear, and despair — runs much deeper.

Once homeless, people lose their sense of belonging. The social networks that provided them support are torn apart. Neighbours who once looked out for each other are scattered, and with them, the collective strength that comes from community. This atomisation makes it easier for the state to continue its policy of suppression, as the displaced are left isolated, voiceless, and vulnerable. For too long, the judiciary has remained silent as bulldozers tore through homes and lives. Now, as the SC attempts to assert its authority by insisting on due process, it faces the formidable task of reining in a state that has grown accustomed to acting with impunity. The question remains: Will this be enough to stem the tide of authoritarianism and restore the rule of law in states where bulldozers have become a tool of repression?

Hashmi argues that these demolitions are “part of a larger hate and discriminatory agenda.” To dismantle this agenda, we must go beyond the legal battles and address the root causes of this hate. Education, dialogue, and solidarity are essential. We must stand with the displaced, not just in sympathy but in active support. We must amplify their voices, tell their stories, and ensure that their plight is not erased from the public consciousness. Another line from the same ghazal by Badr reads: “Umrein beet jaati hain dil ko dil banane mein (entire lifetimes pass in turning a heart into a true heart.” I’d conclude with this line, but replacing dil (heart) with ghar (home). I’d say: “Umrein beet jaati hain ghar ko ghar banane mein (entire lifetimes pass in turning a house into a home).” Home is where the heart is, they say. But the reverse is also true.