Forest to photo-op: How Delhi’s scant wilderness is being tamed for leisure

A push to convert city’s forests into ‘Instagrammable’, picnic-friendly zones is threatening what little sanctuaries of wilderness remain

It’s 7.15pm, and Sanjay Van is shifting into its nocturnal rhythm. The howls of golden jackals and the plaintive cries of peacocks echo across the ridge as the city sinks into darkness. But in a clearing not far from Mayur Pahadi, another sound rises — music. A soft, persistent hum of conversation and clinking cups wafts from a newly minted café nestled within Delhi’s oldest reserve forest.

For these cafes, entire patches of trees have been removed, pathways widened, and soil compacted. (HT Photo)

Its three walls glow with light, and despite the supposed 7pm closing time, cold coffee is still being served. “We’ll be back early morning tomorrow,” says one of the operators, packing up for the night.

This is the “LG Rock Café,” part of a new wave of “eco-tourism” efforts aimed at transforming Delhi’s forests into curated leisure spaces. The thrust is clear: convert green lungs into “Instagrammable”, picnic-friendly zones. But in doing so, landowning agencies may be unmaking what little sanctuaries of wilderness remain in the urban sprawl that is Delhi.

The makeover is striking. Outside the café, metal tables rest on neatly manicured grass, flanked by benches carved to resemble tree trunks. Bougainvillea blooms in ornamental pots. A fabricated waterfall gurgles at the edge of the site, fed by water tanks, hidden pipes, and electricity lines.

And yet, at its core, Sanjay Van is not a park.

It is a forest — a protected, reserved one under Section 4 of the Indian Forest Act, 1927 — spread across 1,550 acres of Aravalli land. Its winding trails, ruins from the 12th century, and dense vegetation have long drawn joggers, birdwatchers, and solitude seekers. But the incursion of concrete and commerce is beginning to chip away at its quiet soul.

Residents like 32-year-old Rakesh Tokas of Munirka, a regular at Sanjay Van, are uneasy.

“It’s one of the few peaceful spaces left in the city,” he says. “The café has become a hang-out for families and youngsters, but I hope they don’t expand this further. There’s already trash piling up on the boundary, and pigs have increased in number.”

Indeed, the forest is not just losing its serenity — it’s losing control. Despite a Union environment ministry mandate banning internal combustion vehicles in protected forests, a number of two-wheelers and even a car were spotted inside Sanjay Van by HT multiple times in the last month — on April 30, May 3, and May 14.

The forest guards on duty, when confronted, offered little more than a shrug.

“We usually don’t allow vehicles to enter the forest area but if someone has a job inside or a legitimate reason to go to the temple or the café, how can we stop them?” a guard at the Sanjay Van gate said.

‘Not forest-friendly, not legal’

Environmentalists stressed that these changes are not just misguided — they are illegal. The Forest Conservation Act of 1980 strictly prohibits any commercial activity or permanent structure inside forest land. But such lines are being quietly erased.

“Forests like Sanjay Van are the last of Delhi’s lungs, and should be managed by the forest department — not turned into boutique cafés,” said environmental activist Bhavreen Kandhari.

“We’re seeing cafés, marathons, even toilet blocks being introduced in ecologically sensitive zones under the guise of eco-tourism. These aren’t urban parks. They’re forests. And once you permit a café, roads and cars will follow.”

Activist Verhaen Khanna of the New Delhi Nature Society echoes this, pointing to signage that forbids vehicles inside Sanjay Van. “The law is unambiguous,” he said. “No commercial activity is allowed. Yet we see artificial waterfalls, gym equipment, and even cafés. These are not features of a forest — they are violations. The wildlife inside doesn’t care about aesthetics. It cares about survival.”

Photographs from the area reveal the scars: entire patches of trees gone, pathways widened, soil compacted. The effects ripple through the ecosystem.

A citizens’ collective called “There Is No Earth B” has been documenting this decline. Since 2019, the group, led largely by college students, has removed over eight metric tonnes of waste from Sanjay Van. Their most recent clean-up last month yielded more than 30kg of non-biodegradable trash.

“Sanjay Van is one of Delhi’s last green lungs,” said Bhawna Tanwar, 25, the group’s executive director. “Every new addition — every decorative bench, every power line — chips away at its ecological role. We need to preserve the forest in its natural state, not turn it into an amusement park.”

A pattern across the ridge

The encroachments aren’t limited to Sanjay Van.

Mehrauli Archaeological Park — a sprawling historical site in south Delhi that houses over a hundred monuments, showcasing the city’s layered history from the Sultanate to the British era is another example. Spread across 200 acres, a portion of the park is a protected forest, part of the south central Ridge. At the heart of it is a cafe popularly shared on reels on Instagram — called Cafe stone.

Last year, artificial waterfalls and gazebos were also installed deep inside the Asola Bhati Wildlife Sanctuary, near Neeli Jheel.

A year-long study conducted by the Delhi government’s forest department and the Bombay Natural History Society confirmed the presence of at least eight leopards in Asola Bhati — a sign of its vibrant biodiversity. But conservationists warn that waterfalls and photo-ops could do more harm than good. Leopards are elusive, shy animals. Human intrusion, they say, can spark conflict.

“The area near Chhatarpur and Neeli Jheel has the highest leopard sightings,” said Dr. Sumit Dookia, an environmental expert at Guru Gobind Singh Indraprastha University. “Before developing such facilities, there must be ecological assessments. These are not empty plots of land — they are living systems.”

He added that while parks may be appropriate sites for some public infrastructure, forests and Ridge areas require absolute restraint. “No permanent structures, no vehicles, and certainly no cafés,” he said.

The Ridge, part of the Aravalli range that stretches from Gujarat to Delhi, plays a vital role in maintaining the capital’s air quality and groundwater. As the Sariska-Delhi Wildlife Corridor, it also serves as a natural passage for wildlife.

But with every new trail, every new brick laid in the name of eco-tourism, the forest edges shrink — and Delhi inches closer to losing what little wilderness it still holds.

The Delhi Development Authority and the forest department did not respond to HT’s multiple queries on the issue.