Satya Niketan: The Script That Never Changes

Manoj Mittal

Sep 11

9 min read

Updated: Sep 11

Satya Niketan is in the news — and for all the wrong reasons.

Every newspaper, television channel and YouTube handle seems to be carrying the story. Some are grieving. Some are blaming the authorities. And some, predictably, are using the tragedy to advance their own agendas.

I would rather step back from the noise.

On Sunday, September 6, 2026, around 1:30 in the afternoon, a five-storey building near Delhi University’s South Campus collapsed. It was reportedly being used as a student PG hostel. The building was around 50 years old, with about 15 rooms and two or three students in each. Some excavation or modification work was apparently underway — in the middle of the monsoon. The building came down suddenly. Five people are dead. Nine were rescued. Twenty-five to thirty people were reportedly inside, so the final numbers may yet change.

For most people, this is another tragic news story. For me, it is painfully familiar. I have spent nearly four decades in structural engineering practice, and I have watched this script play out more times than I care to remember.

Before proceeding further, let me remind you — because we forget quickly, and authorities seem to forget even faster.

1997	Uphaar Cinema, Green Park	Fifty-nine people died and more than a hundred were injured in a fire. A transformer may have triggered it, but illegal extra seating, sealed exits and blocked passages turned an accident into a catastrophe.
2010	Lalita Park, East Delhi	A five-storey residential building collapsed, killing 70 people and injuring 77. The junior engineer held responsible reportedly walked away with a fine of ₹21,000.
2019	Anaj Mandi	A factory operating inside a residential building caught fire. Forty-three people died, many of them migrant workers sleeping inside.
2022	Bhajanpura, Delhi	A building collapse. Five people died, four of them students.
2022	Mundka	A commercial building housing a CCTV manufacturing unit caught fire. Twenty-seven people died. Some were forced to jump from the upper floors.
2024	Old Rajinder Nagar	Three UPSC aspirants drowned when monsoon water flooded the basement of a coaching centre. They were sitting in a library that should never have been permitted there.
May 2026	Saidulajab, Delhi	A six-storey building near Saket Metro station collapsed. Six people died.
June 2026	Hauz Rani, Malviya Nagar	A guest-house fire killed 21 people, including 13 foreign nationals — medical tourists staying near the hospitals. The establishment was licensed for six rooms but was operating 25, with guests in the basement and windows sealed.1997

NOTE- If viewing on mobile phone then slide left/right to view complete contents of table

Different buildings. Different circumstances. Different years. But look closely, and the story begins to look remarkably similar.

Unauthorized, non-engineered and poor-quality construction. Altered structures. Encroached setbacks. Commercial activity in places not meant for it. Inadequate fire safety. Missing approvals. Non-compliance with basic requirements.

And, somewhere in the background, someone who knew — and looked the other way.

According to the Delhi Fire Service-1133 building collapsed in Delhi between 2022 and 2024, resulting in 98 deaths . These are only the recorded incidents. And this is only Delhi.

Across India, buildings fail, fires break out, basements flood and structures are altered every day. Most never make it beyond local news. Some barely make it there at all.

So perhaps the uncomfortable question is not why Satya Niketan happened. It is: why do we keep allowing the conditions that make Satya Niketan possible?

The ritual after every tragedy

And then comes the familiar response.

There is outrage. There are visits by officials. There are statements. Notices are issued. Committees are formed. This time, the High Court has ordered comprehensive audits and inspections of all PG hostels. MCD has issued notices in compliance with High Court orders and must file an affidavit on various compliance matters within a stipulated time. The Delhi government intends to mandate structural audits of all PG buildings. The Lieutenant Governor of Delhi has directed that all buildings in major PG hubs be structurally audited, among several other measures.

Such decisions make good headlines on news channels.

I wish it were that simple. Theoretically, yes — a structural audit of all PG hostels sounds like the right step, but it is neither simple nor easily feasible. A structural audit is not a formality. It is not a walk-through with a clipboard, a few photographs and a signature at the bottom of a certificate.

A meaningful structural audit is a technically demanding exercise. It may involve reviewing available drawings and records, understanding the original structural system, documenting alterations, investigating distress, assessing materials, carrying out appropriate tests, analyzing the structure and, where necessary, designing remedial measures. The situation becomes far more complex when structural drawings are not available.

Any experienced structural engineer can say, without going into detail, that none of these structures in Satya Niketan will meet the requirements of present standards. The next serious question is: if not present standards, then which standards? How does one declare a building safe or unsafe? My experience tells me that most of these structures were never designed by a structural engineer, and I doubt that any serious quality control was ever ensured.

A 40- or 50-year-old building may have also changed owners, occupants and uses several times. Walls removed. Openings enlarged. Columns encased or concealed. Rooms extended. Balconies enclosed. Additional floors added. Plumbing and electrical services chased through structural members. The building you see today may bear very little resemblance to what was originally designed.

And when you finally identify a problem, the person who commissioned the audit does not necessarily want to hear the answer. I know this from experience. Let me share some real cases.

CASE ONE — DDA HOUSING COMPLEX, SOUTH DELHI

Some years ago, I was asked to inspect a multi-storeyed DDA housing complex in South Delhi. The buildings were around 50 years old. Leave apart structural drawings no drawing was available.. Visible distress everywhere — cracks, corrosion of reinforcement, spalling concrete and dampness.

But the problems went beyond ageing. Residents had removed or altered internal walls. In one case, an entire external wall had been demolished and a cantilevered room extended into the setback.

I submitted a preliminary report recommending that no further modifications be permitted without a proper structural investigation. A few weeks later, I received a legal notice from one of the residents containing false and baseless allegations. It was so painful and torturous.

And it made me realise something I have encountered repeatedly in this profession: sometimes the greatest obstacle to a safety assessment is not the condition of the structure — it is the unwillingness of people to hear what the structure is saying.

CASE TWO — HOUSING SOCIETY, DELHI

A housing society in Delhi approached us for a structural audit and stability certificate, following a Delhi High Court direction. We submitted a detailed proposal. The society thought our fee was too high. But the more revealing question came when they asked me directly: “What if your findings say the building is unsafe? Will you refuse to issue the certificate?”

My answer was straightforward. We would issue a certificate only after the necessary retrofitting had been satisfactorily completed. That was apparently too risky for them.

What was really wanted was not a structural audit. It was a piece of paper to place in an MCD file. And, frankly, my impression was that MCD wanted the same thing.

CASE THREE — 28-STOREY PROJECT, NOIDA

A 28-storey housing project in Noida was being built in three phases. The first phase was occupied; the second phase had reached about 22 floors. The developer approached us quietly, suspecting structural problems. We investigated the case diligently. We found design deficiencies and concrete quality was significantly inferior to specifications. We submitted our report with remedial solutions. Our fee was also paid.

Then — nothing.

We followed up repeatedly. We brought our concerns to the project’s own structural consultant. Nothing moved.

About six years later, when residents of those towers finally forced the issue, the builder obtained a “safe” certificate from a premier technical institution. The residents remained unconvinced and continue to pursue the matter. I was surprised that the builder could obtain such a certificate. It speaks volumes about how such certificates are issued.

I wonder how someone who has hardly ever designed or constructed a building can conduct a credible structural audit.

The question is not simply whether the building was safe or unsafe. The larger question is: what happens when a technically sound warning meets a financially inconvenient truth and convenient certificates can be obtained from somewhere?

So what exactly will a “structural audit” achieve?

This is why I am cautious about the current enthusiasm for auditing every PG hostel in Satya Niketan. Who will carry out these audits? Who will pay for them? Will engineers have access to drawings, records and details of modifications? Will testing — destructive and non-destructive — be permitted where necessary? Will there be sufficient time to do it?

And most importantly: what will the certificate say?

Safe for what occupancy? For how long? Under what assumptions? What about unauthorized alterations made after the audit? Can a conditional or qualified certificate be accepted? Generally, all authorities have a fixed format, and the engineer must just sign on the dotted line. They want a binary answer: safe or unsafe. I usually find it difficult to give one.

Further, a certificate cannot make an unsafe structure safe. An audit report cannot repair a damaged building. At best, an audit tells us what is wrong. The difficult part begins afterwards.

Have such issues been thought through , or are these just knee-jerk reactions?

There are also other issues that deserve attention, though they have not featured in the current discussion.

At a time when we are talking about structural safety and accountability, the government has moved towards publishing a truncated document — the National Building Construction Standard, or NBCS — in place of the comprehensive National Building Code of India. A circular has reportedly stated that following the NBC is no longer mandatory and directed states to remove references to it from their building bylaws. In text "Shall" has been replaced with "should" . Further, around the same period, two codes pertaining to earthquake-resistant design and detailing of structures — IS-1893 Part 1 and Part 5, published in 2025 — were withdrawn, with the 2016 versions restored.

Whatever may be the government’s reasoning, the timing and the manner in which they were withdrawn or diluted raises an uncomfortable question: what message does this send about the seriousness with which we treat structural safety?

Codes are not merely books on engineers’ shelves. They represent accumulated knowledge, research, experience and lessons learned — often at great cost — from failures. When we dilute or make them optional, we should at least ask what safeguards are being put in their place. What message are we conveying?

Are we really serious about structural safety, or are we just doing crisis management?

The missing piece: professional accountability

Have we ever thought seriously about the professional accountability of engineers?

Engineering is still not legally recognized as a regulated profession in India in the way medicine, law or architecture are. For more than three decades, professional bodies have advocated for a Central Engineers Act. It has never become a priority of any government.

The consequence is significant. Without a national framework for mandatory registration, a uniform code of conduct and meaningful disciplinary accountability, responsibility in any failure becomes diffuse. The builder blames the engineer. The engineer blames the contractor. The contractor blames the material supplier. The department blames the consultants. And after the tragedy, everyone asks: who was responsible?

Sometimes the answer is everybody.Which effectively means nobody.

There is one subject I have deliberately not discussed in detail: corruption.

The nexus between government departments, politicians, bureaucrats, engineers, builders and unscrupulous property owners is hardly a secret. It operates across political regimes. It does not need a particular party or ideology to survive.

But corruption alone cannot explain everything.

The deeper problem is that our system has gradually learned to live with non-compliance. And once something becomes normal, everyone stops seeing it as a violation until the building collapses.

And then we move on. Perhaps that is the most disturbing part of all this.

The dust from Satya Niketan will eventually settle down. The cameras will move elsewhere. The headlines will disappear. The MCD notices will become files. Structural audits will be commissioned. Some certificates will be issued. A few buildings may even be repaired.

And then, slowly, life will return to normal. Students will keep living in similarly unsafe buildings because they have nowhere else to go. Until the next building collapses.

That is why Satya Niketan is not just another building collapse. It is a reminder of a system that repeatedly waits for structures to fail before it decides to act.

I want very badly to be proved wrong.

I hope the audits are real.

I hope the reports are independent.

I hope the findings are acted upon.

I hope the truth comes out.

I hope the culprits are punished.

I hope the victims get justice.

And I hope, for once, Satya Niketan becomes the incident after which the script finally changes.

MANOJ MITTAL - 12 September 2026 | NOIDA

Images are AI generated