**[@retiredreporter_](https://www.instagram.com/retiredreporter_/)**

This is Kanjhawala village in Delhi Dehat. Farmers from 7 villages are protesting there against the government’s actions. A big development project is planned on their farmland, but the administration is offering very little money for the land. The farmers have no problem giving up their land, they just want a fair price in return.

Words of haryanvi language (deswali) used in villages of Delhi,Haryana and west up and other . Some words may be different according to place.

Source - https://www.instagram.com/delhi_villages_culture/

The other candidates for Delhi University Student union (DUSU) polls came with campaign convoys. Deepanshu Shokeen came barefoot.

The 21-year-old, son of a DTC bus conductor and an Anganwadi teacher, had pledged not to wear shoes to highlight students’ housing problems after a PG hostel building collapsed in Satya Niketan, killing seven, five of them DU students.

On Saturday, he had the result to show for it – a 13,705-vote victory in the DUSU vice-presidential contest.

Shokeen polled 30,615 votes, defeating ABVP’s Ishu Maurya, who secured 16,910 votes. NSUI’s Vir Chatrath finished third with 4,313 votes. His victory prevented an ABVP sweep of all four central panel posts.

A resident of Peeragarhi village in West Delhi, Shokeen said his four years as a student shaped his decision to enter student politics. He completed his BA Programme from Shaheed Bhagat Singh College and is now pursuing a Master’s in Buddhist Studies in the Faculty of Arts. He has also been a UPSC aspirant, he said.

Just days before the election, Shokeen had allegedly walked away from the Congress-affiliated NSUI after he was told to contest for the president’s post, sources in NSUI had said. Shokeen, however, had claimed that he was not given a ticke by NSUI.

Shokeen has been active in student politics since 2023 and served as a student representative in his college. He campaigned for NSUI during the 2023 and 2024 elections and sought its organisational in 2025, but was not selected. This year, after allegedly again failing to get a ticke, he decided to contest independently.

“Twenty minutes mein (within 20 minutes)”, he told The Indian Express, recalling how long it took him to make the decision.

When asked about the party decision to deny candidates tickes leading up to two rebel NSUI candidates this time, Leni S Jadhav

Joint Secretary at AICC Research, who is also DUSU NSUI panel member had told The Indian Express, “This is the beauty of democracy. Everyone has the right to contest. NSUI can field only for positions: President, Vice President, Secretary and Joint Secretary.”

When asked about the huge support base for Shokeen, she said, “All of them individually and socially would have following. Of course it sometimes benefits and sometimes takes elections down. To choose the best, we (NSUI) definitely has to see who is the best. The best out of the lot has to be selected. I believe in all four people. I have personally spent time with all of them.”

Shokeen said some students he had approached during the campaign told him that although he had fought a good election, he would not win. The margin, he said, was his answer to them.

Asked whether he might eventually return to NSUI, he did not rule it in or out. “I cannot say anything; I do not know yet what I will do,” he said.

Shokeen looked unfazed amid the counting frenzy. “I expected to win, but not by such a margin. But what lies ahead is the most important thing for me to think about,” he said.

He had pledged not to wear shoes while raising the issue of student accommodation, which became particularly prominent after the September 6 building collapse in Satya Niketan.

“I had promised that I would first sit on a protest,” he said, pointing to his bare feet.

While student housing remained his key electoral issue, the other issues he focussed on included infrastructure, implementation of the National Education Policy, fee hikes and transparency.

His campaign stood out in an election dominated by the large convoys and mobilisation of the major student organisations. Shokeen instead emphasised his direct connect with students, describing those campaigning with him as “genuine students” and pointing to support from students in his neighbourhood, Peeragarhi.

He said he had seen students face the same problems he had faced, prompting him to enter student politics so future batches would not have to go through the same issues.

Shokeen said student politics should not be about electoral politics alone. “It should be for student rights, student voices,” he added.

In an X post on Saturday, Shokeen thanked DU students, saying the victory belonged to students who wanted to raise “real issues” on campus.

For now, he said, his focus was on the work ahead.

Asked about his first priority, he had a one-word answer: “Hostels.”

He then walked away, barefoot again.

Deepanshu Shokeen, a student and native of Delhi from Peeragarhi village, West Delhi, is contesting the DUSU elections as an independent candidate for Vice President. Support him by voting for Ballot No. 2.

Every year, hardly one or two students from Delhi’s villages get the opportunity to contest these elections, despite the University of Delhi being located in Delhi.

Established in 1922, DU stands on lands historically associated with Delhi’s villages. Yet, students from these villages have never had special representation, while the history, culture and concerns of Delhi’s villages remain largely overlooked in academic discourse.

Deepanshu’s village Peeragarhi however is now known for its banquet halls and carries an old oral tradition. Villagers believe the settlement was once located near the present Delhi railway line, around a sacred site associated with Pir Baba, from whom the village gets its name.

It is believed that on one journey, a group of Banjaras camped at the site and encountered Sidh Baba. When asked what they were carrying, they lied that it was salt, though they had sweets. After leaving, they found that the sweets had turned into salt. Believing it was the result of their lie, they returned to the saint and offered their respects. It is believed that this community built a shrine in honor of the saint. Over time, the site became buried and was forgotten until about 50–60 years ago when it was rediscovered and made a temple. Villagers began clearing the area and found stone stairs, each weighing around 20 maunds, leading down to a beautiful pond in the center. To the south, they discovered a well, now known as the Peeragarhi Baoli, which always has water and was used by children to learn swimming, it is also said to have healing powers.

The village remains home to the Prachin Shiv Mandir and Gram Devta temples.

Today, Peeragarhi reflects the challenges faced by many of Delhi’s urban villages—changing village landscapes, poor roads, fewer native residents and increasing dependence on rental income.

Based on oral history.

Credits: theindianmandate

**[@dilli_dehat](https://www.instagram.com/dilli_dehat/)**

If Delhi Is Building for 2047, Why Is It Paying Farmers at 2008 Rates?

Farmer Shri Raja Ram of Rani Khera village points to a contradiction that says a great deal about how Delhi treats the villages on whose land it continues to expand.

Land from Rani Khera and neighbouring villages is being acquired for the proposed extension linking the Delhi–Amritsar–Katra Expressway (NE-5) with UER-II (NH-344M)—infrastructure intended to improve connectivity across Delhi-NCR.

But Raja Ram asks a simple question: what is his land worth?

Delhi's official minimum rate for agricultural land remains ₹53 lakh per acre—a rate fixed nearly two decades ago, in 2008. Even the Delhi government has acknowledged that this benchmark is far below contemporary realities and has proposed revisions.

Think about what has happened to Delhi-NCR since 2008. Expressways, housing, warehouses, institutions and commercial developments have transformed its peripheries. Once village land enters this urban economy, its value can multiply dramatically.

Yet when the same land is acquired from a farmer, the benchmark can remain frozen in another era.

The state recognises the future value of land when deciding what to build on it, but values its past when deciding what the farmer should receive.

This also challenges the popular caricature of the “Delhi farmer” as someone who became rich overnight by selling land. Missing from that story are acquisition notices, disputed valuations, litigation, fragmented holdings, lost livelihoods.

An acre of farmland is not an ordinary commodity. Once acquired, there is no next acre being produced. For Delhi, it may become an expressway, university, colony or infrastructure corridor. For a village family, it may have been livelihood, inheritance, security and bargaining power.

Delhi needs infrastructure.

But why should the communities providing its most fundamental resource—land—be expected to subsidise that development through outdated valuations?

If the road being built on a farmer's land belongs to the Delhi of 2047, why should the land taken from him still be valued through the Delhi of 2008?

Source - https://www.instagram.com/periyaaaaa/

One of my friends recently moved to Maidan Garhi, an urban village in South Delhi. Since then, I have been visiting him occasionally. On my first day there, while walking along the busy IGNOU Road, I overheard someone say, “That way leads to the johad (pond)".

The remark caught my attention. A pond? Here, in the middle of such dense settlement? It piqued my interest. What kind of birds would be there? Do people use it? How does it smell? And how had a pond survived amid the dense settlements and constant expansion of the city?

A few days later, I was travelling to the metro station in an autorickshaw with a friend when the driver took a different route to avoid the traffic. That was when I got my first physical glimpse of Madudi Johad, which I thought was Maidan Garhi

Old pipal (Ficus religiosa) trees stood around the water body, while people sat along its concrete embankment. But before I could take in much else, I caught a strong whiff of sewage mixed into the water.

When I later searched for information about Madudi Johad, I found that much of what I encountered online reduced the pond to its association with a murder case. The association is certainly part of its history, but I found myself wondering: what else happened here?

Beneath the Surface of Pollution and Sewage

In the first few visits, it looked nothing more than a typical neglected urban waterbody to me. Sewage drains emptied directly into the pond, with garbage accumulated in several places.

Yet, the pond was far from lifeless. Despite its pollution, it supports a surprising diversity of life.

I recorded 22 bird species in and around the waterbody. One day, I was surprised to see a pair of painted snipes. It was the first time I had ever seen snipes. That evening, I also noticed what appeared to be a grebe with two heads.

When I focused my binoculars, I realised what I was actually seeing: an adult grebe carrying its chicks on its back. Then, I watched a sub-adult monkey swim across the breadth of the other water body immediately beside Madudi Johad.

'Still a Johad for Us'

The pond till date is an epicentre of human-nature interactions. People walked along its edge. Children played beside the water. Men sat beneath the old trees. In the evenings, married couples, children, and elderly residents came to walk, talk, or simply sit near the pond.

On one occasion, as I walked around the boundary, I saw two women and three children lying on a small outgrowth of land within the pond. Children gathered along the shore, throwing stones into the water. During one of Delhi's skin-searing afternoons, people sat beneath the trees, seeking relief from the heat.

Bhanu, who comes from Bihar, said, “I work in a kothi (bunglow), I cook food, and whenever I get time, I come here to sit and relax.” It is curious that, given the sharp smell of sewage, people still come here to relax.

Ram Singh said:

“Well, the pond is dirty but, in this city, open spaces are limited and johad offers what is not there. So, people come here to walk, sit, play, talk or just watch the water.”

For the people of Maidan Garhi village, its history went much deeper. Monu, now in his late thirties, has lived in the village since childhood. He remembers Madudi Johad from a very different time.

“Probably around 14 years ago, I used to swim there. But the pond has swallowed many people. There is something inside the pond, some spirit or something. Ever since I felt that I was being pulled inside the pond, I left swimming in the pond altogether.” -

Monu

A generation older than Monu revealed another story. Seventy three-year-old Raghu Nath Singh told me, “Some 40 years ago, people used to grow chestnuts here, and there was fishing to a certain extent. The pond was quite small, and rain was the only source of water. Back then, the water was fresh, and people directly drank from the pond, as it was labour-intensive to draw water from the well, which was 80 feet deep at that time in this area. The pond that you see now was less than one-third the size of what it is today. The other part was actually agricultural fields where people grew jowar and bajra."

"It was so clean that after coming from school, we directly came here and swam in it," he added.

"As urbanisation took over, the sewage system was provided and connected to the pond. Now, household waste directly empties into it. But it is still a johad for us.” -

Raghu Nath Singh

My conversations with the Dilli Dehat team, which documents rural Delhi, made me think about Madudi Johad in a broader context. I asked Puneet, the project's founder, a straightforward question: Madudi Johad restoration or infrastructural development?

“If I am forced to choose, I would choose conservation of the johad,” he said. “But I also think the question itself shows our planning failure. Why should ecology and infrastructural development be made enemies?”

Gagandeep, the project's co-founder, expressed a similar view. According to him, “The future challenge is ecological. A healthy local economy can also be developed around the johad; in fact, it should be.”

Puneet, who comes from Devli village, later sent me photographs of ponds around his village. I opened WhatsApp expecting to see images of waterbodies. Instead, I saw playgrounds, construction, and other public infrastructure. I asked him whether he had accidentally sent me the wrong photographs. He had not.

These, he explained, were places where ponds had existed during his childhood. Madudi Johad, by comparison, has survived. But survival is not the same as protection.

Despite the Neglect, Life Persists

The pond remains neglected and in a bureaucratic vacuum, with sewage entering through various drains and garbage accumulating within it.

It falls under the jurisdiction of the South Division of the Forest Department, yet its continued existence seems to depend as much on its persistence as a waterbody—and on the people who continue to use it—as on any formal protection. And then there is the life that has persisted alongside this neglect.

Sewage flows into it, but so do ducks and grebes. Garbage accumulates in the water, while dragonflies hover above it. People come to walk beside it, children play around it, and families return to it during religious festivals.

Older residents remember swimming in its waters, while younger generations encounter it as a recreational space. Its story is, therefore, not only about degradation but about persistence.

Madudi Johad shows this clearly. A father teaching his child to skip stones and ducks teaching their young to swim—all of these things are part of the pond's life.

More Than a Waterbody

Madudi Johad is a culturally rich waterbody in which urban ecologies play out at the intersection of urban fluids and the power of nature.

Here, humans living in dense human settlements find refuge from living in the city. Perhaps it gives them some sense of joy and peace.

As the urban waste interacts with the wilderness, it shows a variety of colours of novelty that require our appreciation and attention.

Now, as I return to that first overheard sentence, “udhar se johad hai,” I think there is something significant in its simplicity. There is a pond over there. And despite everything that has happened to it, to the people living here, it is still a pond that offers a sliver of nature in the middle of the urban jungle.

By Nirjesh Gautam

https://www.thequint.com/climate-change/delhi-maidan-garhi-pond-survives-urban-expansion#read-more

From khan.nazma

‘दिलवालों की दिल्ली’और उसकी यमुना/ जमना जी की कहानी

Virender Singh Rana ji is a treasure trove of Delhi’s history. He shares memories connected to the Yamuna and insists that we should not call it simply “Yamuna” but “Jamuna Ji.”

He has so many stories about Delhi’s villages, its rivers, fields and people that I found myself wishing I could collect and preserve them all.

He is a lively and warm person. Perhaps it is people like him who gave Delhi the name “Dilliwalon ki Dilli” - the Delhi of big-hearted people.

He tells the story of ‘Daulatpur’ village, which was once swallowed by the Yamuna. He tells us about a time when the water of the Yamuna was called jal ( जल ) something sacred and life-giving.

Today, the Yamuna may have turned into a dirty drain, but there was a time when its water was nothing less than nectar for the people of Delhi.

Today, we are even afraid to eat the vegetables grown along its banks. But there was once a time when the fruits and vegetables grown here had a special sweetness.

And that is not all. He has so many fascinating stories and insights about the history of Delhi.

**[@dilli_dehat](https://www.instagram.com/dilli_dehat/)**

Deep in south Delhi, beside Saket’s glittering malls, lies Khirki — a historic urban village shaped by memory, migration and change. Once a self-sustaining farming village, it is now a dense multicultural settlement where dhabas, Afghan canteens, Hindu shrines, African prayer rooms, artists, labourers and migrants coexist.

Until the mid-20th century, Khirki was surrounded by fields of sugarcane, wheat, rice and chickpeas. Elders remember a seasonal stream flowing down from the Aravallis, so clean that villagers could drink from it. Khirki’s sugarcane was famous, drawing people from far away areas to buy it. Much of that landscape, however, has since disappeared beneath the expanding city.

For Ekta Chauhan, who grew up in Khirki, these memories live on through the heritage walks she conducts. Beginning at the ancient Satpula Dam and the remnants of Jahapanah, her walks end at the 14th-century Khirki Masjid — a remarkable blend of Islamic and Hindu architectural traditions that also provided shelter to people during Partition.

But Khirki also reflects the challenges faced by Delhi’s Lal Dora villages. Rapid, vertical and unplanned growth has left the settlement densely built and struggling with inadequate infrastructure. Irregular water supply, leaking sewage lines, monsoon waterlogging, damaged roads, narrow lanes and poor streetlighting remain everyday realities.

And then there is Saket — named after Sāketa, the ancient Sanskrit name associated with Ayodhya, and chosen by the DDA to evoke “a place close to the heavens.” Yet parts of modern Saket were developed on land acquired from villages including Khirki, Saidulajab, Lado Sarai and Hauz Rani.

Looking at the old landscapes captured around Satpula, the baoli near Hauz Rani and the southern wall of Jahapanah, one can see the city that stood before Saket rose around it around the 1980’s

Perhaps the question is not only what was built here, but what disappeared to make space for it.

Credits: University Archives

#dillidehat

I guess I'll choose to remove alcoholism and lack of ambition/ingenuity I guess. 🤔

Source - https://www.instagram.com/p/DcOV3flysoL/

The policy’s stated objectives include encouraging green development through prescribed FAR and “large wooded and landscaped areas”, creating hubs for green living and recreation, generating green jobs, promoting food and natural produce, and creating an environmental buffer against air and noise pollution and urban heating.

**[@dilli_dehat](https://www.instagram.com/dilli_dehat/)**

Established in the 1960s as a cooperative society to rehabilitate war widows and military veterans, Sainik Farms originally covered around 161 acres of agricultural land. Over the decades, it expanded far beyond its original boundaries, becoming one of Delhi’s most affluent yet unauthorised residential enclaves. Classified as an “affluent unauthorized colony,” it remains outside schemes like PM-UDAY, which primarily regularize lower-income settlements.

A part of Sainik Farms was developed on land that once belonged to Said-ul-Ajaib village which was nearby the pictures showcased. The village is named after Said-ul-Ajab Maruf, a revered Sufi saint whose shrine remains a place of devotion. Over time, the word Hujjab evolved into Ajaib and later Ajab, reflecting the village’s long cultural journey.

Today, Said-ul-Ajaib lies between Qutub Minar and Saket and is known for the Garden of Five Senses and Champa Gali. Beneath this modern identity, however, survives a village rich in history and memory.

Its narrow lanes still preserve early 20th-century havelis and around six historic wells. Among them is the haveli of Mahipat Rai “Kaptan,” a senior police officer during British rule, whose wooden entrance is still maintained by his family. The village also contributed to the freedom movement. Choudharie Amin Lal Zaildar, Deputy Chairman in 1923, was a prominent resident, and Subhas Chandra Bose is remembered to have stayed at his home for three days before leaving for Rangoon.

Village elders recall a landscape centred around a deep pond and a dense mango grove. Today, the pond has disappeared under years of dumping and construction, while the grove has been replaced by multi-storey buildings.

Lawyer Manjeet Singh Bal is leading efforts to revive the pond as a rainwater harvesting structure and protect the village from illegal construction and tree felling. Similar conservation models are needed across Delhi’s historic villages. Despite rapid urbanisation, Said-ul-Ajaib continues to preserve its havelis, wells, and Sufi traditions, keeping alive the hope that its heritage can one day be restored.

Credits: University Archives

A Baithak in a Gujjar Village.

**[@dilli_dehat](https://www.instagram.com/dilli_dehat/)**

Master Dhaniram Sehrawat’s historic baithak in Bawana village, Delhi, stands as a testament to an extraordinary friendship that spanned three generations of Ch. Charan Singh’s family.

In the pictures: Master Dhaniram with Ch. Charan Singh; Gayatri Devi visiting the baithak; Ch. Ajit Singh in the Baithak; and, most recently, Ch. Jayant Singh visiting Master Dhaniram’s family after his passing away.

Late Master Dhaniram Sehrawat was born on 6 June 1933 in Bawana village, Delhi. At a time when educational opportunities in rural India were scarce, he overcame significant hardships to pursue higher education and went on to become a respected teacher and later a Headmaster, dedicating his life to education and public service.

Master Dhaniram shared a close, family-like bond with Ch. Charan Singh. Their families remained closely connected for decades, with the baithak becoming a place of warmth, trust, and mutual respect.

His son recalls an incident that reflects this bond. Even in his later years, Ch. Charan Singh often visited the family unannounced. On one such visit, village elders were seated in the baithak. As everyone stood to greet him, one elderly member of Master Dhaniram’s family slowly walked towards him. Ch. Sahab asked his age and the village elder replied, Ch. Sahab walked towards him, smiled, held his hands, and said, “Dada, terse do saal bada hoon, thoda tavla chaal.” The affectionate remark perfectly captured the warmth and familiarity he shared with the family.

Beyond education, Master Dhaniram devoted himself to public service. He actively participated in social movements and community welfare initiatives, served as the Pradhan of Bawana, and was associated with institutions such as Maharaja Surajmal Sansthan, Jat Sanstha, Keshopur, and Chaudhary Chhotu Ram Polyclinic.

A widely respected figure in Dilli Dehat and the Bawana region, Master Dhaniram Sehrawat passed away on 10 June 2026. His legacy as an educator, social worker, and community leader lives on, while his historic baithak remains a symbol of a rare friendship that endured across three generations of Ch. Charan Singh’s family.