Blaze that doused medical tourism: Delhi village that spoke Russian and Uzbek falls silent after hotel tragedy

NEW DELHI: At a cramped chemist shop in Hauz Rani, 20-year-old Vivek listens as a woman points to her stomach and describes her symptoms while clutching a prescription slip. Most people around them can't understand a word of what the woman is saying but Vivek effortlessly breaks into Uzbek, studies her prescription, explains the instructions and hands over the medicines, reports Devanshi Mehta. Till a couple of years ago, Vivek could barely speak English, let alone Uzbek. Today, he can hold basic conversation in multiple languages, thanks to interactions with foreigners and translation app prompts. He is one of many in the lanes of Hauz Rani who have picked up basic Russian, Arabic, Bangla or Uzbek as thousands of foreign medical tourists helped transform this south Delhi village into an international healthcare hub.Walking through Hauz Rani’s narrow lanes, signboards advertising pharmacies, lab diagnostics and money exchange services appear in Arabic, Russian and Uzbek scripts, with names such as “Apteka” and “Saydaliyah” hanging above storefronts.The multilingual banners promise discounted medicines and favourable exchange rates, but behind these lie a growing sense of uncertainty. Since the recent fire triggered a mass exodus of foreign patients and attendants, businesses that reinvented themselves for a global clientele are now struggling to imagine what comes next. Mukesh, who has worked at Krishna Medicos for the past six years, said the shop’s reputation among foreign patients was built on affordability. “Our shop was known for offering cancer and liver transplant-related medicines at discounts of up to 60%. On an average day, we would see at least 20-25 foreign patients and attendants, and often many more. Now, hardly anyone comes in,” he said.When he first started working in Hauz Rani, interacting with overseas customers felt intimidating, “Gradually, I learnt how to greet people in Russian, Uzbek and Arabic. Today, I can ask them how they are doing, understand what medicines they need, discuss prescriptions and even talk about costs with confidence,” Mukesh said.At another chemist shop, 40-year-old Manu Dev said: “Hauz Rani is still essentially a village but businesses here grew at an unprecedented pace because of the demand from foreign patients,” he said.According to Manu, one of the biggest draws was the stark difference in medicine prices. “An injection or medicine that a patient might get for Rs 10,000 elsewhere could often be bought here for around Rs 4,000,” he said. At another chemist shop, seven to eight employees stood idle behind the counter, gazing at the street. Locals said the store would once have been packed from morning till night, with foreign patients often queuing outside or waiting in the park.Uma Shankar Pandey (53), who has been running a money exchange business in Hauz Rani since 2013, said, “On a typical day, 10-15 foreign customers would come to our shop to exchange currency. Since the fire and evacuation, nearly 75% of that business has disappeared. Many of the patients who stayed here have shifted to areas like Lajpat Nagar and South Extension, so naturally the business has followed them,” he said.Hussain (35), a freelance translator who has worked in Hauz Rani for a decade, said, “There are hundreds of translators like me here. We would wait outside hospital gates, greeting foreign patients in six or seven languages then figure out which country they are from. We would then help them with hospital visits, accommodation, medicines and paperwork, and earning a commission in return.” “Now, that entire ecosystem has collapsed. News of the fire and deaths spread internationally, and many former patients have advised others against coming here for treatment. Earlier, I could earn around Rs 2,000 for a translation assignment. Today, I am willing to do the same work for Rs 400, but there are hardly any clients left,” he said.