Holi war in Delhi Premium

Tensions escalate in Delhi's Uttam Nagar after a Holi-related brawl leads to a man's death and communal unrest.

Nyaya (justice) is a word that easily rolls off the tongues of residents of Hastsal colony in Delhi’s Uttam Nagar. Here, even children as young as 10 are in crowds baying for blood in the name of justice. The anger traces back to the night of Holi. On March 4, Tarun Bhutolia, 26, lost his life in a ‘clash’ between two families over a Holi water balloon.

What began as an escalation of violence between two families was soon painted with a communal colour, with Tarun’s death being portrayed as an assault on the Hindu community as a whole. While the police arrested six adults and apprehended a minor the next day, it did not deter an angry mob from vandalising the house of one of the accused men, and burning their vehicles. The same house would later face ‘bulldozer action’ by the Municipal Corporation of Delhi (MCD).

Since the day of the incident, police deployment in the area has remained constant. Even a week later, the 3-foot-wide lane where the houses of both families are located remained heavily barricaded with at least 10–12 Delhi Police personnel, along with members of the Rapid Action Force, keeping constant watch at both ends of the lane. The JJ colony (jhuggi jhopri or hutment) is closed to outsiders.

Residents must now take longer routes to the market; the shops within the colony are closed, and children are escorted to school by parents. Everyone is waiting for the situation to return to ‘normal’. Some residents are relieved: “It is good that the police are present. Anything can happen at any point. We feel safe when the police are there,” says Farzana. She adds that communities have lived in peaceful co-existence in the area for decades.

Tarun’s house in A-Block of the JJ colony saw visitors of all kinds: friends and relatives who came to offer their condolences, neighbours who helped with food and water, curious onlookers, politicians, and members of the Hindu right-wing organisations. Everyone called for ‘justice’; everyone called for blood.

With a heavy blue-black eye, Mamraj Bhutolia speaks softly, recounting the events of the day his son died. “A water balloon fell from the hands of an 11-year-old girl from the balcony on the second floor,” he says, pointing at a house opposite his. This was between 10.30 p.m. and 11 p.m. “A burqa-clad woman, whom we know as Kali or Sairu, was passing by when the balloon fell near her feet. She started making a fuss about it. Despite apologies, she did not stop,” Mamraj says.