Five years since the 2020 Delhi riots, families who lost loved ones, homes, and livelihoods remain trapped between grief and an unfulfilled promise of justice. Their stories reflect not just personal tragedies but the scars that remain.
‘No one knows who blinded me’
Mohammed Vakil Mansoori was born and raised in the narrow lanes of Shiv Vihar, northeast Delhi. It was here that he built a life — running a modest grocery shop, raising three children, and watching the neighbourhood evolve. But five years ago, he watched it burn, as riots broke out across northeast Delhi.
On the night of February 25, 2020, Mansoori and his family huddled together on their terrace in horror as riots engulfed the streets below. Then, out of the chaos, a flaming bottle came hurtling toward them.
“There was acid in it… It burnt my face, and I lost vision in my eyes. It’s been five years, and I still don’t know who did that to me,” he recalled.
The then 58-year-old writhed in pain through the night, too afraid to step outside. At dawn, his family rushed him to a local nursing home from where he was eventually transferred to Lok Nayak Hospital. Subsequently, a religious organisation helping Muslim victims intervened and took him to Chennai for treatment.
In the years since, Mansoori has undergone three surgeries. “But my vision is still blurry,” he said. “All I see are colourful silhouettes.”
With his eyesight reduced to fragments of colour and shadow, Mansoori was forced to step away from the shop he had run for decades.
His eldest son, Shamim, quit his contract job to take over the business. “My father lost everything because of that night,” Shamim said. “But the people who did this? They are still free after having destroyed someone’s life.”
In 2020 the Delhi Police clubbed his complaint with other complaints and registered a first information report against unknown persons on charges of rioting and other relevant sections. In March 2021, Mansoori appealed in a Delhi court that a separate FIR be filed against his perpetrators on charges of attempt to murder and attack with acid, among other sections. “A separate FIR was registered after the court ordered in 2022 on charges of causing burns with acid and attempt to murder among other sections but no one has been arrested in the case so far,” said advocate Salim Malik who represents Mansoori.
Justice remains elusive. “The police solved so many cases, arrested hundreds of people — Hindus and Muslims. But no one knows who did this to me,” Mansoori said.
His wife, Mumtaz Begum, 50, remembers that night vividly. A mob stormed their street, setting Muslim homes and businesses on fire. The family sought refuge on their rooftop.
The attackers reached their shop below and lobbed a petrol bomb inside. In the chaos, Mansoori’s family leapt onto the neighbouring roof and fled.
For a year, they lived in a rented home nearby. Their house was rebuilt in 2021 by Jamiat Ulema-e-Hind, allowing them to return. But the scars remain, and the fight drags on. “Five years of court hearings, of waiting,” Mumtaz said. “We can’t do this anymore.”
51 stab wounds and 5 years of pain
On the morning of February 26, 2020, the body of Intelligence Bureau (IB) staffer Ankit Sharma was pulled from a drain in Chand Bagh. He had been stabbed 51 times before being dumped in the filthy water, his body lost for hours as his family searched desperately through the night.
Later, a video emerged showed a group of people dumping Sharma’s body in the drain in the evening of February 25.
“We couldn’t bear to live near that drain,” said his brother, Ankur Sharma, 32, a government schoolteacher. “We couldn’t cross it. It brings back haunting memories.” Soon after, the family left Chand Bagh, relocating to a rented home in south Delhi.
The killing shocked the city.
A police charge sheet later alleged that former Aam Aadmi Party councillor Tahir Hussain had conspired in the murder, inciting a mob that brutally attacked Sharma before discarding his body. Hussain and 10 others were arrested on charges of rioting, criminal conspiracy, dacoity, promoting religious enmity and under the Arms Act.
“They killed him because they assumed he was a police officer,” Ankur said.
But that night was not the end of their anguish.
On February 5, as Delhi went to vote, Hussain was one of the candidates fielded by the All India Majlis-e-Ittehadul Muslimeen (AIMIM). In January, he was granted a day’s parole to for canvassing in Mustafabad where he was contesting after which he was sent back to Tihar jail.
“It’s unbearable that the man who was involved in my brother’s killing could have held a public office if he had won,” said Ankur.
Time has not eased the pain. Two years ago, when Ankur got married, Ankit’s absence loomed over the celebrations. “Every time something good happens, we think of him,” he said. “Now, my wife is about to have a baby. I wish my brother were here to celebrate with us.”
The family still waits for justice. “They should be hanged for the brutality with which they killed my brother,” Ankur said, his voice heavy with grief.
Born in a riot, and raised in exile
At 4am on March 4, 2020, inside a crowded relief camp at the Eidgah near Shiv Vihar, Shabya Bano went into labour. The 24-year-old was rushed to a maternity clinic half a kilometre away by her mother-in-law and a few volunteers, while her husband, then 31-year-old Mohammed Arshad, waited helplessly in a separate tent — men and women slept apart in the camp. Hours later, amid the chaos of riots raging just a kilometre away, their son, Arsh, was born.
Born in the rough and tumble of the riots, Arsh turns five next month.
“He’s too young to understand the circumstances of his birth,” said Arshad, now 35, over the phone from Dehradun. “I hope he never finds out.”
Two years after the riots, the family left Delhi behind, moving to Dehradun in search of work and peace. A trained hairstylist, Arshad now runs a salon there. But the scars of 2020 remain.
A month after Arsh was born, Arshad returned to their Shiv Vihar home.
What he found was an unrecognisable building – not their home. The house had been ransacked, its walls scorched, their belongings either smashed or burned. “Even my wife’s wedding trousseau,” he said. “She will never forget that.”
Before Arshad and Shabya could recover from all that they lost in the riots, the pandemic brought the city to a halt. “Due to the pandemic, I faced salary cuts, so I changed my job and started working at a salon in Greater Noida where the salary was better, but the commute was gruelling,” he said.
By 2022, he made a decision — he, Shabya, and their two children, Arsh and Uvais, would leave the city.
“Out of fear, my parents also shifted from Shiv Vihar to Loni… We are better off in Dehradun now. We miss our parents. Delhi is where I was born and brought up. I miss it every day. But I will never return to Shiv Vihar,” he said.
Still counting the cost of flames
Five years on, the scars of the riots remain etched into the walls of Munni Devi and Naresh Chand’s two-story home in Shiv Vihar. Thick black soot clings to every surface, charred utensils sit abandoned on a concrete slab on the top floor, and a broken washbasin rests in a corner of the terrace — all silent witnesses to the night their home burned.
On February 23, 2020, as violence swept through northeast Delhi, Devi sent her husband, daughter-in-law, and infant grandchild to a relative’s house in Mustafabad. She stayed behind with her son, Umakant. Two days later, the riots reached their doorstep. A mob, armed with sticks, rods, and petrol, set their home ablaze.
“We crouched on the first floor, praying they wouldn’t find us,” Devi recalled. “When the moment was right, we escaped — climbing onto the terrace and fleeing through a neighbour’s house.”
Today, the house is barely liveable.
The tiny shop Devi runs on the ground floor, selling biscuits and chips, keeps the family afloat. Their struggles deepened last October when Umakant lost his job as a loader at a private firm.
“For us, every rupee matters,” she said.
In 2020, within a few weeks after the incident, the family received a compensation of ₹25,000 from the Delhi government. But in the scale of the family’s financial struggles, it barely made a dent in recovering their losses.
“Our bike, washing machine and some furniture were burnt down by the rioters and are all still lying at the police station’s malkhana. If they’ll give it back to us, we’ll sell it all and make a few thousand rupees at least,” she said.
Five years on, the soot on the wall remains. So does their struggle.
A fight for compensation that never arrived
On February 26, 2020, as riots engulfed Mustafabad, Mohsin and his family watched helplessly as their bakery was looted. The night before, sensing danger, they had fled to a relief camp. Their home was spared, but their livelihood was gone.
Five years later, they are still waiting for the compensation they were promised.
After the riots, the government has announced compensation of ₹10 lakh to families of those who were killed, ₹5 lakh to those who suffered permanent disability; ₹2 lakh to those with serious injuries; and ₹20,000 for those with minor injuries. Loss of property compensation included ₹5 lakh for completely damaged houses, ₹1 lakh for complete loot and ₹50,000 for partial loot at commercial establishments.
But for Mohsin, the system proved impenetrable. “I visited the sub-divisional magistrate’s office at least 10 times in 2020. The staff spoke to me so badly that I stopped going,” he said. His case was lumped into another FIR, and despite legal assistance from an NGO, the process stalled.
Delhi Police clubbed Mohsin’s complaint with an existing FIR registered at Karawal Nagar police station based on a complaint by one Sarwar Ali who had alleged that rioters looted and torched his house in Shiv Vihar. “I took all the documents and submitted my file at the magistrate’s office but nothing happened. A lawyer from an NGO also took up my case but nothing ever moved,” he said.
Mohsin’s advocate who did not wish to be identified said that the court ordered the government to pay compensation to the victim’s including Mohsin’s family on January 15 this year in the next eight weeks. “They are yet to pay the compensation. The matter is next listed on May 29,” the advocate said.
For months, the family — Mohsin, his father Riyazuddin, and his brothers — had no income. The pandemic only deepened their struggle. Eventually, they pooled their savings, renovated the bakery, and reopened it in the same place.
“God has been kind,” Mohsin said. “We’re earning fine now. But we needed the money then, and they never gave it to us.”
He is grateful their home was untouched. “If they had torched our house like they did to others, it would have taken us much longer to rebuild our lives.”