Delhi’s homeless face long nights of toxic air as winter pollution worsens

For Delhi’s homeless, winter begins with the taste of smoke in the throat. Long before the day warms up, people sleeping on pavements are already coughing, rubbing their eyes and trying to shake off the heaviness they wake up with. While most residents can close their windows or switch on an air purifier, those without shelter breathe the city’s dirtiest air for every hour they spend outdoors, including the hours meant for rest.

In recent mornings, Delhi’s Air Quality Index (AQI) has hovered around 300, placing it in the “very poor” category. In neighbourhoods such as Nehru Nagar, readings climbed even higher. PM2.5 concentrations, the fine particles that reach deep into the lungs, have remained several times above India’s safe limit of 60 µg/m³. Last winter, Delhi recorded a seasonal PM2.5 average of 159 µg/m³, and the previous winter rose to 171 µg/m³. In November 2024, the monthly average reached 249 µg/m³, the highest reading during the month in eight years.

For those who sleep outdoors, these numbers are not distant data points. They describe the air they inhale every morning and every night.

“When I wake up, my chest feels heavy”

Near ITO at sunrise, 45-year-old Rukmini folds the thin quilt she shares with her children. Vehicles pass close by, throwing up dust and exhaust. She pauses to cough.

“This is not fog, it burns,” she says, pressing a hand to her chest. “Every morning when I wake up, my chest feels heavy. My eyes water before I even sit up. But where can we go? The smoke stays with us the whole day.”

Others around her rub their eyes and clear their throats as they prepare for another day outdoors. The cooler nights do not bring comfort. Instead, the cold keeps pollutants trapped close to the ground.

Living outdoors as the air stays “very poor”

At Sarai Kale Khan, 32-year-old daily-wage worker Rahul sits on the roadside with a handkerchief tied tightly across his nose. The cloth has turned grey after days of filtering dust.

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“In the afternoon, my eyes start burning,” he says. “By evening, my throat hurts like I swallowed chilli. People who live in houses have air purifiers. We have nothing. We breathe whatever the city gives us.”

For the homeless, there is no option to avoid peak pollution hours or stay indoors on bad-air days. Whether they sleep, work, rest or walk to earn a living, the smog surrounds them.

“The smell of smoke stays on my skin”

Under the AIIMS flyover, 60-year-old Shaukat Ali sits beside a small fire made with cardboard and plastic scraps. He knows the fumes are harmful, but warmth is the first priority.

“We know this smoke is bad, but if we do not light a fire, we freeze,” he says, rubbing his hands together. “The smell of smoke stays on my skin even after the fire is gone. My chest hurts when I lie down. Sometimes I wake up gasping.”

The small fires used for warmth add to the thick air, but for those on the street, there are no better options. Shaukat looks upward at the barely visible sky. “Look at this air. Even without our fire it is filthy. What difference will a little smoke make? The whole city is smoke.”

Children struggling to breathe

Under another flyover in south Delhi, a seven-year-old sits wrapped in a shawl her mother has tied around her face like a mask. She coughs between words.

“The doctor said she has asthma,” her mother Kavita says, adjusting the cloth. “When the air becomes very bad, she cannot sleep. She wakes up coughing again and again. Sometimes she breathes fast like she is running, even when she is lying down. We do not have money to buy masks. We use our dupattas and hope it works.”

For children who sleep outdoors, long exposure to high PM2.5 levels carries serious risks. But for families like theirs, survival takes priority over medical advice.

A day shaped by smog

At Kashmiri Gate, 40-year-old rickshaw puller Devinder wipes his nose and unlocks his cycle. He sleeps on a pavement nearby, only a few feet from passing trucks.

“Sometimes when I wake up, I feel dizzy,” he says. “My throat becomes dry, and my chest gets tight. But if I do not pull the rickshaw, we will not eat. I cannot skip work because the AQI is 350.”

He laughs briefly, but the laugh turns into a deep cough.

“I see the AQI number on the board near the red light,” he says. “If it is above 300, I know the day will be tough. But what can I do? The smog is everywhere. We cannot run from it.”

For Devinder, the day begins in polluted air and ends in it. Nights often bring the worst readings as cold temperatures hold pollutants close to the ground.

Nights with no escape

In the coldest weeks of winter, people on the streets depend on thin blankets, borrowed bedding and small fires for warmth. But the air grows heavier at night. Around midnight, AQI levels often cross 350 or 400, firmly in the “severe” range. On windless nights, some areas record numbers above 450.

“When the air becomes thick, I feel like someone is pressing my chest,” says Imran, a 28-year-old ragpicker who sleeps near a Delhi Metro pillar. “I lie on my back and try to breathe slowly. Sometimes I sit up because I feel I cannot get enough air. But there is no place to hide from it.”

For him, winter brings a sense of fear. Each breath feels uncertain, and each night feels longer than the one before.

The hidden cost of a toxic winter
Even though the Delhi Government has said that the January to November average AQI was the “best in eight years”, the improvement brings little comfort to those who sleep outdoors. On paper, the city has recorded fewer “severe” days. On the ground, most days are still “poor” or “very poor”.

Near Connaught Place, 55-year-old Kamla sleeps outside a closed shopfront. She describes her mornings quietly. “Sometimes I wake up with a sharp pain in my throat,” she says. “My tongue feels dry. My eyes burn even before I open them. I drink water, but the burning stays inside.”

A small cloud of dust rises as a car passes. She watches it settle. “This air is not meant for breathing,” she says. “But it is the only air we have.”

“Who will know what the air is doing to us?”

By late morning, the pavements empty as people head out to find work, collect scrap or beg at traffic lights. Blankets are folded, fires are put out and the spaces under flyovers fall quiet until evening when the homeless return to lay their bedding again.

“We are counted only as numbers,” Rukmini says as she prepares to leave the pavement near ITO. “But nobody asks what it feels like to breathe this air every day. We cough, we choke, we keep going. Who will know what the air is doing to us?”

As the sun rises, the smog thickens once more. The city continues, and those without shelter continue with it, breathing whatever the winter sky holds.