The Lucknow Fire and Democracy's Forgotten Promise of Dignity

A simple administrative decision—linking electricity connections to valid fire-safety certificates—could save lives. The question is whether, as a society, we care enough to do it.

By Arun Kumar Mehta

On 22 June 2026, fifteen persons lost their lives in a coaching-centre fire in Lucknow. They had no escape route, since the premises had provided for none, and those responsible for ensuring safety had chosen other priorities over student lives. The deaths were preventable, the pattern was familiar.

In May 2019, twenty-two students died in a coaching-centre fire in Surat.

In July 2024, three young civil-service aspirants drowned in the basement of a coaching centre in Delhi after floodwaters entered the building.

On 3 June 2026, twenty-one people died in a hotel fire in Delhi.

Each was supposed to be a lesson. None was.

The true test of a society is not how it mourns preventable deaths, but how determined it is to prevent them, writes Mehta.

Different places, different circumstances, common failures. Each tragedy raises the same uncomfortable question: why do preventable deaths continue to recur in a country that possesses the knowledge, technology and institutional machinery to prevent many of them?

The issue extends far beyond these incidents.

According to a reply placed before Parliament, 377 people died while cleaning sewers and septic tanks between 2019 and 2023 despite a legal prohibition on hazardous manual cleaning. These were not deaths caused by ignorance. They occurred despite a law specifically enacted to prevent them.

The broader pattern is visible in international comparisons as well. India's fire-and-burn mortality rate is approximately 0.9 deaths per 100,000 population. The corresponding figure is about 0.3 in the United States and close to 0.1 in Japan. In other words, an Indian is roughly three times more likely to die from fire-related causes than an American and several times more likely than a Japanese citizen.

No society can eliminate all accidents. But there is a difference between unavoidable accidents and tolerated risks. Many of the tragedies that repeatedly occur in India do not arise from a lack of knowledge. They arise from the failure to apply knowledge that already exists.

The causes are usually known long before tragedy strikes: blocked or absent fire exits, violations of occupancy limits, unauthorised building modifications, missing fire-safety certifications and clogged drainage systems.

The danger often exists in plain sight. That is what makes these deaths different. Each represents a breakdown of systems that were specifically created to prevent such outcomes.

The disturbing reality is that many of these deaths could be prevented through measures that are neither technologically complex nor financially burdensome: prominently displayed fire-safety certificates, mandatory public disclosure of safety compliance, linking electricity connections to valid fire-clearance certificates, mechanised sewer cleaning and digital verification of permissions. The solutions are often simpler than the tragedies themselves.

This is what makes the issue so difficult to explain.

India is not a country lacking capability. Aadhaar has enrolled more than 1.3 billion people. UPI processes billions of transactions every month. Digital platforms authenticate identities, transfer benefits and deliver services at a scale unmatched by most countries.

If India can verify identities in seconds, why can it not verify whether a coaching centre possesses a valid fire-safety certificate? If India can process billions of digital transactions every month, why can it not ensure that no human being enters a sewer where mechanised alternatives exist? If India can build digital systems at national scale, why do basic safety failures continue to claim lives year after year? The problem is no longer one of capability. It is one of priority.

The answer is uncomfortable because it forces us to move beyond governance and confront morality.

Every preventable tragedy raises a simple question. Do we truly value the lives that were lost? A society reveals its commitment to dignity not by how eloquently it mourns preventable deaths, but by how relentlessly it works to prevent them.

Prevention is dignity. Mourning after a preventable tragedy is often an admission that dignity failed.

When students die in a coaching-centre fire, or workers die in sewers, or when guests die in hotels operating in violation of safety norms, society has already made a choice. It is embedded in the tolerance of violations and the willingness to let short-term private gains take precedence over public safety, as if all lives do not matter equally. It reflects an uncomfortable hierarchy of value. Some lives receive protection before danger arises. Others receive sympathy after death.

That is not merely a regulatory failure. It is a moral failure.

India's democratic journey has achieved something extraordinary. It gave political equality to hundreds of millions of people. Every citizen possesses one vote. In the polling booth, the poor and the powerful are equals. But democracy was never meant to end at the ballot box. Its promise was not merely representation. Its promise was dignity. It was the belief that every citizen possesses equal worth and that public institutions exist to protect that worth.

Citizens received the vote. Many are still waiting for the full dignity that democracy promised.

Restoring that dignity may be the single most important unfinished business of Indian democracy. A Viksit Bharat cannot be measured only through economic growth, infrastructure or technology. It must also be measured by something simpler and more fundamental: whether an ordinary citizen can reasonably expect to return home safely from school, work, travel or study.

The true test of a society is not how it mourns preventable deaths, but how determined it is to prevent them.

Arun Kumar Mehta is a retired IAS officer and former Chief Secretary of Jammu & Kashmir. He has served in key leadership roles, including Chairman of the Central Pollution Control Board (CPCB), and has overseen major portfolios such as Environment, Urban Development, Finance, Information Technology, and General Administration.