The silent presence in Delhi of IAS aspirants

As the city heads to the polls on February 5, these young men and women — who pour billions into Delhi’s economy — remain a quiet voice in shaping its governance.

On July 27, 2024, three IAS aspirants — Tanya Soni, Shreya Yadav, and Nevin Delvin — who were students at Rau’s IAS Study Circle in Old Rajendra Nagar, drowned after the building’s basement flooded following heavy rain. The illegally constructed space had no proper exits, and when the sewers outside overflowed, water poured in, trapping them inside. The tragedy triggered an outcry over unsafe coaching centres, lack of planning, and the government’s failure to regulate an industry that thrives on student desperation.

Six months on, and students say that its back to business as usual.

Those demands for change have faded. Despite promises of reform, coaching centres continue to operate in unsafe buildings, landlords still exploit students, and the infrastructure of these areas remains woefully inadequate.

Daksh Sharma, 24, an IAS aspirant from Karol Bagh, was studying in a coaching centre a few buildings away when tragedy struck in July. He will be voting in the elections, but says that coaching centres have not learnt their lesson. “We are not a priority because many of us are not voters here. Political parties know that no matter what happens to us, our voices are too few to matter,” he said.

Rise of an industry

Delhi’s coaching centres began flourishing in the 1980s, first in Mukherjee Nagar and Old Rajendra Nagar, before spreading to Laxmi Nagar, Ber Sarai, and beyond.

Today, areas in the city are synonymous with competitive exam coaching, drawing students from across India. But this influx has done more than just fuel an education industry — it has fundamentally reshaped the city’s rental market, commercial spaces, and even traffic patterns.

An educationist who has been associated with coaching centres for the past decade, on condition of anonymity, said, “We see a lot of students from across north India, who come to Delhi to take coaching classes. The market started in the 1980s, and through word of mouth, more and more students started coming to the city as the concept of coaching became popular.”

While authorities, and indeed the coaching centres themselves, have no exact figure of the number of students studying at these institutes, experts say they number in the tens of thousands.

The industry has also led to subsidiary markets, such as small affordable range of eateries, ubiquitous in the narrow-crooked alleys of areas that cater to these coaching centres — Mukherjee Nagar, Old Rajendra Nagar, Laxmi Nagar, and Ber Sarai, among others.

Jatin Lamba, 25, who is preparing for the Staff Selection Commission (SSC) exams, is a resident of Malviya Nagar but lives in a PG at Mukherjee Nagar, said, “There is a certain environment that you need to study for such competitive exams. You need the coaching centre, library, access to books and other resources; all within arm’s reach.”

PG accommodations and their issues

The real surge has been in that of paying guest (PG) accommodations — the owners of residential buildings in these areas, eager to cash in on the demand, have constructed mazes of cramped rooms to pack in students.

Rents in Mukherjee Nagar and Old Rajendra Nagar rival those in some of Delhi’s most expensive neighbourhoods, despite offering substandard living conditions. Students are charged exorbitant rates for tiny, overcrowded rooms, with some paying ₹12,000– ₹15,000 per month for a single bed in a cramped shared space – this means that entire floors can fetch lakhs for landlords.

Many landlords impose arbitrary extra charges for basic amenities like water and electricity, knowing that students have no bargaining power.

Another IAS aspirant, who lives in a PG in Mukherjee Nagar but asked not to be named, said that he and his fellow tenants are left at the mercy of their landlords. “The building owners here sometimes illegally charge us more for using water, just because they can. We can’t threaten to leave, as there is no shortage of other students wanting to rent the room,” he said.

But for longtime residents, this transformation has come at a cost.

Amit Mathur, 35, a resident of Mukherjee Nagar, who lives in a rented flat with his wife and two children said residents like him are getting priced out. “Students come and leave after a few years. Moreover, suppose three students are staying in three rooms, they invite their friends to stay with them. The rent, for them, gets divided. But residents like us who live with families have to put up with unreasonable rent hikes,” he said.

Unsafe spaces, unfulfilled promises

Despite being at the heart of Delhi’s education economy, these coaching hubs remain some of the most poorly regulated spaces in the city. The July 2024 tragedy at Rau’s IAS Study Circle exposed the widespread problem of unsafe infrastructure in these institutes. In the weeks that followed, authorities temporarily shut down a handful of coaching centres operating in basements or overcrowded buildings, but little changed on the ground.

Ashok Bhasin, president of the north Delhi RWA federation, said these areas are not equipped to handle this kind of population. “The sewers and drains in Mukherjee Nagar, for example, are about 40 years old. The civic bodies are in a state of limbo when it comes to addressing problems like this. With more influx of students, more coaching centres are set up but the infrastructure of these areas are not up to date,” he said.

“There were promises of stricter regulations, but the coaching centres reopened within weeks,” says Priyanka, a 28-year-old IAS aspirant from Dwarka. “They continue to pack in more students than they can accommodate, and many buildings still have no proper exits in case of an emergency.”

An invisible voice

While leaders regularly visit coaching hubs during election season, their outreach is more symbolic than substantive. “They come, they give speeches, they promise reforms,” says Daksh Sharma. “But they know many of us won’t be voting here, so there’s no follow-up.”

In contrast, coaching centre owners and landlords wield significant influence.

Their financial stakes in the system mean they have more lobbying power than the students they profit from. “Politicians listen to those who have votes and money,” says Mathur. “Students have neither.”

As Delhi heads to the polls, the voices of these aspirants — who pour their youth, energy, and money into the city — will go unheard. But their presence continues to reshape Delhi – they have built an economic ecosystem, changed neighbourhoods, and turned once-quiet residential areas into 24/7 hubs of activity. Yet, for all their influence, their power remains limited.

IAS aspirant Damini Tyagi, who lives in Saket, says many of her classmates staying in PGs feel trapped. “The conditions are awful—poor ventilation, barely any sanitation, and landlords who make up rules as they go. But what choice do they have?”

“We come here hoping to change the system,” Tyagi says. “But the system isn’t even fighting for us.”