Walk out of the New Delhi Railway Station, take a short rickshaw ride toward Ajmere Gate, and the air changes. It gets heavier. You’ll see a row of hardware shops on the ground floor, selling everything from heavy-duty chains to electrical wiring. But look up. Above those mundane shops are the kothas. This is GB Road Delhi, officially renamed Swami Shradhanand Marg in the 60s, though nobody actually calls it that. It is the largest red-light district in the capital and perhaps the most misunderstood square kilometer in northern India.
It’s loud. It’s chaotic. It’s a place where the 17th century crashes head-first into the 21st. Honestly, most people just drive past it with their windows rolled up, but the reality of the place is far more complex than the lurid headlines suggest.
The History Everyone Forgets
People think GB Road just appeared out of nowhere as a dens of vice, but that’s just factually wrong. During the Mughal era, Delhi was famous for its sophisticated kotha culture. We’re talking about high-art tawaifs—women who were masters of Kathak, poetry, and etiquette. When the British came along, specifically under the governance of Garstin Bastion (hence the "GB"), they decided to consolidate several smaller red-light areas into this one stretch for "administrative ease."
Basically, they took a dispersed cultural phenomenon and turned it into a regulated, concentrated zone. By the time the British left, the "art" had largely been stripped away, replaced by the grim realities of modern sex work. It’s a tragic arc. You go from the courtly elegance of the Mughal era to the cramped, dark rooms of the 1900s. Today, there are roughly 25 odd buildings left—referred to by their plot numbers—that house thousands of women.
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What Life Looks Like Inside the Kothas
If you’ve ever actually stepped into one of these buildings, the first thing you notice isn't "sin"—it's the smell of incense and cheap cooking oil. It’s domestic. Women are washing clothes, children are doing homework, and elders are sitting on charpoys. It’s a neighborhood, just a very vertical and very crowded one.
The rooms are tiny. We call them kholis. They are often barely large enough for a single bed. But for the women living there, these are homes. NGOs like Stop Trafficking & Oppression of Children and Women (STOP) and the Delhi Commission for Women (DCW) have frequently highlighted the "intergenerational" nature of the work here. It’s a cycle. A daughter grows up watching her mother, and because of the crushing social stigma, she often feels she has no other exit.
The Economics of Survival
Let’s talk money because that’s what drives the street. A transaction on GB Road Delhi can be as low as 300 to 500 rupees. That’s nothing. After the "malkin" or the brothel owner takes her cut—often 50% or more—the woman is left with peanuts. Out of that, she has to pay for food, protection, and often, the debt she "owes" for being brought there in the first place.
It is a debt-bondage system. You’ve probably heard stories of girls being kidnapped from Nepal or West Bengal. Those aren't just stories; they are documented in countless FIRs. However, there’s a nuance that many people miss. There are also many women who stay because they have nowhere else to go. To them, the "outside" world is more hostile than the brothel.
Health, Law, and the Grey Zone
Is it legal? That’s the million-dollar question. In India, sex work itself isn't technically illegal, but pimping, owning a brothel, and soliciting in public are. This creates a permanent "grey zone" where the police can raid a building whenever they want, but the buildings never actually close.
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Health is a massive hurdle here. Organizations like the AIDS Healthcare Foundation (AHF) have worked for decades to distribute condoms and provide testing. But it's an uphill battle. When you have thousands of floating migrant laborers visiting every week, tracking health outcomes is like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands.
- High turnover of clients makes contact tracing impossible.
- Stigma prevents women from visiting regular hospitals.
- Lack of sanitation in the old, crumbling structures leads to skin diseases and respiratory issues.
The Redevelopment Pipe Dream
Every few years, a politician gets the "bright idea" to shut down GB Road and turn it into a commercial hub. It sounds great on paper. Clean up the city! Revitalize the heritage! But it never happens. Why? Because the property owners are often wealthy individuals who don't even live in Delhi. They collect rent through a series of middlemen.
Furthermore, if you shut down the street without a massive rehabilitation plan, you don't solve the problem. You just scatter it. Instead of being concentrated in one street where NGOs can provide services, the women end up in "shadow" locations across the NCR—Noida, Gurgaon, or residential areas—where they are even more vulnerable to violence.
The Role of the Delhi Commission for Women
The DCW, under various leaderships, has tried to map the area. They’ve found that many of the rooms are built behind "secret doors" and false walls. These are used to hide women during raids. It's like something out of a thriller, but the stakes are human lives.
A Typical Night on the Street
If you walk down the road at 10:00 PM, it's a sensory overload. The hardware stores are shuttered, and the neon lights of the kothas start to flicker. Men—mostly laborers, students, and curious tourists—loiter on the sidewalks.
The police presence is visible, but often passive. They are there to prevent stabbings or massive brawls, not necessarily to stop the business. You'll see the touts. These are the guys who whisper to passersby, trying to lure them upstairs. "Chalo, chalo," they say. They are the gatekeepers.
It’s gritty. It’s loud. It’s undeniably Delhi.
Human Rights and the Path Forward
What most people get wrong is thinking that "rescue" is a simple act. It’s not. When the police raid a kotha and "rescue" a woman, she is often sent to a state-run home. These homes are sometimes described as being worse than the brothels—cramped, restrictive, and prison-like.
True reform requires a few things that aren't currently happening:
- Decoupling the sex work from the crime.
- Giving the children of GB Road Delhi a real education outside the district.
- Providing actual vocational training that pays more than 500 rupees a day.
Until then, the cycle continues.
Actionable Steps for the Socially Conscious
If you are a student, a researcher, or just a concerned citizen looking at the landscape of the city, there are ways to engage that don't involve "poverty tourism."
Support Grassroots NGOs
Don't just read about it. Support organizations like Katra or STOP who are on the ground. They need volunteers for teaching, legal aid, and health check-ups. They don't need people taking photos for Instagram.
Check the Facts
Before sharing news about a "major raid," look for the follow-up. Where did the women go? Were they actually rehabilitated or just displaced? Understanding the systemic failure of the "rescue" model is the first step toward advocating for better policies.
Acknowledge the Humanity
The next time you’re near the New Delhi Railway Station, remember that the people living above those shops are citizens. They have voters' IDs, they pay for electricity (often at inflated rates), and they are part of the city's fabric. Ignoring them hasn't worked for seventy years.
The street remains a testament to the city's inability to reconcile its Mughal past with its modern aspirations. It’s a place of survival, tucked away in plain sight.
Stay Informed
Follow the reports from the Delhi Commission for Women and the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC). They provide the most accurate, data-driven insights into the living conditions and legal status of the area. Knowledge is the only way to cut through the sensationalism that usually surrounds this part of Delhi.