717 families moved from Delhi's Race Course area, mosque's future to be heard on 16 December

In the heart of Delhi, a short distance from India's prime minister's residence, a small mosque stands amid rubble. Its pale walls and pointed arches remain intact, and green and white tiles still cover its courtyard. But the people who brought the place to life are no longer there.

Fifty-year-old Mohammad Wasim pointed to the rubble to show exactly where his home once stood. Wasim, a driver, said his father was married at that place, and a few decades later his daughter was married there as well.

Wasim and his family were among the hundreds of people who had built small homes around the mosque. Their settlement had grown up in one of Delhi's wealthiest and most heavily guarded areas, Race Course, among military installations, elite clubs and large bungalows. Many had lived there for generations and worked in nearby wealthy households as drivers, cleaners or gardeners.

On 7 October, the authorities demolished all the homes in three settlement areas. The authorities said the homes had been built illegally on government land. They also said the settlements were a security risk because of their proximity to military installations.

Around 717 families were moved to a colony called Savda Ghevra in the suburbs, about 31 miles from the city.

Residents had petitioned the Delhi High Court against the eviction. They argued that moving so far from their workplaces, schools and familiar community would completely upend their lives. In August, however, the court allowed the relocation; it gave weight to the government's security concerns and noted that alternative housing had been arranged for them.

Only the mosque and a nearby Hindu temple were left intact. But their water and electricity connections were cut that same day, and access to the area was restricted. Worshippers are usually turned back at the gate, although some are occasionally allowed inside after pleading with the guards.

The government claims it owns the land on which the mosque stands. The mosque authorities say it was registered in 1977 as waqf property — land or a building dedicated under Islamic law for religious or charitable purposes — and is listed as a heritage structure. According to the Delhi Waqf Board, the mosque is about 300 years old, although other estimates put its age at 125 to 150 years.

The Waqf Board has written to the authorities requesting that the mosque's water and electricity connections be restored and expressing concern about its future. A worshipper has also filed a petition in the high court raising restrictions on prayer and fears that the mosque could be demolished.

On 29 October, the government told the court it would take no action against the mosque for four weeks while it considered the board's objections. Citing security risks during the demolitions, it opposed allowing prayers to resume there. The worshippers' lawyer disagreed with that position. The court declined to intervene and set 16 December as the date for the next hearing.

Wasim still goes to the mosque to pray whenever he gets the chance, although guards sometimes turn him back. One recent afternoon he was among the four or five worshippers inside. With the electricity cut, a generator was running outside. He said their hearts and their whole lives are tied to the place, and asked how they could give up the place where their childhood was spent.

A widow named Rekha recalled the colony. She washed dishes in nearby homes, raised her family, and volunteered at the local temple. To her, the word rehabilitation feels wholly inadequate and painful. She asked how a life built over decades can be uprooted and planted somewhere else anew.

Since the move, Rekha has lost her source of livelihood. Her 19-year-old son is struggling to find work. She has been allotted a flat on the third floor of a multi-storey building, but after surgery on her leg, in which a metal rod was fitted, climbing the stairs is extremely difficult for her. She said she may have a room, but her real home has been taken away.

Critics say these experiences are part of a long history of eviction and displacement in Delhi. Working-class communities have repeatedly been pushed towards the city's distant edges because they have no documents with which to prove legal ownership of land they have lived on for decades.

Urban researcher Mukta Naik told the BBC that relocation cuts people off from both their employment and their social networks, damaging their livelihoods and incomes. She said that as families scatter in search of work, the informal support systems they once relied on become hard to rebuild, leaving families feeling completely helpless about their fate.