In Ghazipur, a paper market has vanished under filth, debris and crime

Conceived two decades ago with soaring ambition, it now stands as an echo chamber of what might have been — a cautionary tale of misplaced intent and unkept promises.

On a recent afternoon, the main gate of the Ghazipur paper market, once meant to usher paper traders into Delhi’s wholesale future, was submerged under knee-deep water. It had not rained for two days, yet the road was still impassable — a trough of filth and stagnant puddles that swallowed shoes and tyres alike.

The approach road to the market is clogged with debris, water and garbage. (Arvind Yadav/HT Photo)

We set out to find a plot number that, on paper, seemed easy to locate, listed as “close” to the entry gate. But to the left stretched a strip of sludge, impassable even for car tyres. So we veered right, following the winding lane past one alley and then another. Shopfronts lined the way — selling cold drinks, tiles, water dispensers, even legal services — but not a single one dealing in paper or printing.

By noon, liquor shops were alive with customers, bottles cracked open on counters, murmured conversations rising with the sharp tang of alcohol that hung over the road. Still unable to locate the numbered plot, we found a second entry — its approach road clogged with debris, water and garbage, yet improbably alive with workers and small stalls, scraping out a living in the middle of neglect.

This was once meant to be the beating heart of Delhi’s logistics dream: the Ghazipur paper market, or Integrated Freight Complex. Conceived two decades ago with soaring ambition, it now stands as an echo chamber of what might have been — a cautionary tale of misplaced intent and unkept promises.

A grand plan that faltered

In the early 2000s, the Delhi Development Authority (DDA) allotted 631 shops here at concessional rates to Chawri Bazar traders. The pitch was compelling: leave behind Old Delhi’s narrow lanes for wide roads, strategic access to the Delhi–Meerut Expressway, and proximity to Anand Vihar’s transit hub.

But the logic never persuaded traders. Chawri Bazar’s pull was too strong — its loyal customers, its easy access to Old and New Delhi railway stations, its ingrained habits of commerce.

“It was futile to think that the Chawri Bazar traders will shift here after so many years,” said Sanjay Geda, president of the IFC Ghazipur Welfare Association. “They already have their own properties and large setups. Why would they want to buy another property, pay tax, and start at a completely new spot?”

There were practical flaws, too. The plots at Ghazipur — 50, 98 and 200 square yards — were far smaller than what the paper trade requires. “This is not enough for paper traders as they need bigger storage space,” Geda said.

Then there was the matter of smell. The site abuts one of Delhi’s largest garbage dumps, with wholesale fish and chicken markets next door. Traders balked at moving to a place defined by stench and filth, far from the sensory appeal of clean reams of paper.

Anil Gupta, a former general secretary of Chawri Bazar paper merchants’ association, said that the then government had painted a rosy picture of world-class infrastructure at the Ghazipur paper market, on the lines of Mumbai’s wholesale paper market.

“However, the promises were not kept and the Ghazipur paper market lacked basic amenities such as water, cleanliness, and security. The basement shops get waterlogged with rainwater and it destroys paper materials. Not a single bank was opened here. The water supply meant for the market was routed to residential colonies in Mayur Vihar Phase-III, forcing traders to arrange paid water from Delhi Jal Board tankers. The market area is also vulnerable to open drinking and drug consumption. Staying here after sunset is dangerous,” said Gupta.

A market adrift

With the paper trade absent, other enterprises rushed in to fill the void. Some shops became furniture workshops, others water-purifier units or political party offices. Still more lay locked and decaying.

The gaps also invited lawlessness. The half-occupied market became a place for late-night drinking, petty theft and illegal dumping. Police say it is also a convenient hideout for criminals. On July 22, police arrested Khem Chand, a 33-year-old man wanted in a robbery and violent attack on officers, after an exchange of fire inside the market.

“It would be an overstatement to call it a ‘favourite encounter spot’,” a senior officer said. “But criminals find it secure and secluded. The abundant liquor shops and proximity to Khoda in Uttar Pradesh make it even more attractive to such elements.”

For the traders who did move in, Ghazipur is a palimpsest of broken ambition. They have to contend with crumbling infrastructure, caved-in roads, absent drainage, erratic power and water, and garbage piled high at every turn.

The traders’ association, formed in 2023, says it has tried to stem the decline — hiring guards for the 31 entry points, lobbying for road repairs, installing cameras and organising sanitation drives. But these, members admit, are stopgaps.

“Basic amenities here have long been neglected because criminal activity is never curbed,” said a dry-fruits wholesaler who runs his business from one of the shops, requesting anonymity. “Trucks dump garbage and debris at night and vanish. The DDA clears it, only for miscreants to return, even on land marked with warnings against trespass. How often can the authority keep repeating this? There has to be fear of the law.”

A policy void

The Ghazipur paper market is no anomaly. Delhi is again drafting a logistics and warehousing policy, industries minister Manjinder Singh Sirsa recently announced, as part of a push to move wholesale trade to the city’s edges. But Ghazipur’s emptiness offers a warning: without addressing people, place and purpose, grand designs collapse into shells.

For Ghazipur to matter again, it must be reimagined as a secure, well-connected, mixed-use hub. Experts say this would mean reallocating land, adapting to traders’ needs, investing in infrastructure, enforcing civic rules and opening the door to more diverse commerce, say urban planners.

“The site was originally earmarked for paper traders, and even concessions were offered to draw them there. But more than 20 years have passed, which calls for a re-look at the policy,” said AK Jain, a former DDA commissioner. “The area should be developed as a broader commercial hub, with larger or merged plots and wider trade options. To let such a large chunk of prime land rot in this manner is a huge waste.”

Traders echo the same demand: open the market to malls, brands and other businesses. Without that, it will remain a half-forgotten void.

“The policy must be opened up to allow big brands and diverse businesses. Without stronger law and order, Delhi is wasting prime land that could be a world-class destination,” said Geda.

A lesson in neglect

Back at the flooded main gate, the market looks like a metaphor for Delhi’s uneven growth — new policies announced, old projects abandoned, grand visions left to decay. Yet life clings on. Small stalls sell snacks, vendors wheel in cold drinks, and workers push carts through the muck.

The Ghazipur market was meant to represent Delhi’s future. Today, it reflects the distance between promise and delivery; and the cost of letting ambition drown in its own puddles.