The Aravalli range stretches from the national capital through Haryana and deep into Rajasthan and Gujarat. It forms the ecological backbone of northern India. They regulate regional climate, recharge groundwater, curb desertification, and sustain biodiversity across multiple states. Yet, the contemporary discourse on “saving the Aravallis” is marked by selective memory and deliberate silences. Any serious effort at conservation must confront not only future threats, but also Delhi’s unresolved history of exploitation and administrative neglect.Delhi’s Forgotten AravallisLong before the Aravallis of Gurugram, Faridabad, or Alwar became the subject of environmental litigation, Delhi’s Ridge absorbed decades of ecological damage. Even before Independence, villages such as Naraina and Khampur were quarried extensively to supply stone for the construction of Lutyens’ Delhi. After 1947, extraction intensified. For decades, areas like the Bhatti Mines in South Delhi supplied silica sand, stone, and other minerals that fuelled the city’s rapid expansion.Much of this mining was poorly regulated, and in many instances, outright illegal. Over more than 40 years, entire hill systems were hollowed out, permanently weakening Delhi’s natural defences against pollution, heat, and water scarcity.In the early 1990s, mining in Delhi was finally halted, and large tracts were notified as protected areas, most notably the Asola Bhatti Wildlife Sanctuary in 1991. This was hailed as a landmark victory for environmental governance. But closure came without accountability. The damage was never comprehensively assessed, and the financial liabilities arising from illegal mining were quietly allowed to fade into bureaucratic oblivion.The Rs 2.4-crore questionAt the centre of this unresolved legacy lies a disturbing figure: Rs 2.4 crore in unpaid dues from illegal mining operations dating back to 1983–84.According to audit records of the Government of the National Capital Territory of Delhi, outstanding recoveries amounting to Rs 2,39,26,581 were identified under a specific audit paragraph. These dues arose from illegal mining conducted by both private operators and DSIDC, a public sector undertaking under the then Delhi Administration.DSIDC alone was liable to pay Rs 2,24,00,970, having extracted sand, stone, and china clay without obtaining mandatory permissions and without depositing advance royalty or security, in clear violation of the Delhi Minor Mineral Concession Rules, 1969.More than four decades later, these dues remain unrecovered.Also read: The Aravalli Hills Have A New Definition. Here’s Why This Is A Problem.Internal audit reports for the period 2017–20 continue to list this amount as an “outstanding old recovery.” Complaints submitted to the Delhi government in recent years reveal an even graver reality: there is no official record explaining why recovery proceedings stalled, who was responsible for pursuing them, or whether any meaningful attempt was ever made to recover public money.This is not a minor accounting lapse. It represents a systemic failure of governance – where illegal exploitation of natural resources caused both ecological harm and financial loss to the exchequer, yet no individual or institution was held accountable. The silence raises legitimate concerns about administrative complicity and the potential misappropriation of public funds.Bans and their purposeDelhi’s mining ban did not eliminate demand for construction material; it merely displaced the destruction.As the capital continued to expand, the pressure shifted outward. The Aravallis of Haryana and Rajasthan became the new zones for sacrifice. Hills in Gurugram and Faridabad were levelled, while in parts of Rajasthan, dozens of hills have reportedly vanished altogether.Today, public concern is rightly focused on these regions. Supreme Court interventions, policy debates, and civil society campaigns all stress the urgency of protecting what remains of the Aravallis. Yet this outward gaze often ignores an uncomfortable truth: the model of exploitation now devastating Haryana and Rajasthan was normalised first in Delhi.Environmentalism that condemns destruction in one region while erasing historical wrongdoing in another risks becoming selective –and selective environmentalism erodes the moral credibility of the conservation movement itself.Judicial definitions and constitutional questionsRecent judicial attempts to define the Aravalli range uniformly – using criteria such as a 100-metre elevation threshold – have triggered intense debate and now the Supreme Court has stayed its own order. Critics had warned that such definitions could strip protection from vast stretches of the range, reopening the door to mining and construction.Beyond technicalities, however, lies a deeper constitutional question.If mining was completely banned in Delhi to protect urban ecology and public health, on what constitutional or scientific basis can similar activities be permitted elsewhere along the same mountain system?Article 14 of the constitution guarantees equality before the law, and Article 21, through judicial interpretation, enshrines the right to a clean and healthy environment. Environmental protection cannot be geographically selective without undermining these principles. A mountain range cannot be ecologically indivisible in Delhi and negotiable beyond its borders.Administrative apathy and systemic failureThe unresolved Rs 2.4 crore recovery is not an isolated anomaly. Audit reports from 2017–20 show that the Office of the Divisional Commissioner had nearly 100 outstanding audit paragraphs, some dating back to the 1970s.The pattern is familiar: non-production of records, repeated deferments, and the rolling over of unresolved objections from one audit cycle to the next. Structural weaknesses compound the problem. Chronic staff shortages – especially in Group B and Group C positions – have hollowed out administrative capacity. Frequent leadership changes have erased institutional memory, allowing decades-old liabilities to quietly disappear.The result is a governance system where compliance is documented, but resolution is endlessly postponed—and accountability never arrives.Why this reckoning mattersThe failure to recover Rs 2.4 crore is not merely about money. It symbolises the intersection of environmental degradation, fiscal loss, and administrative indifference. When illegal mining goes unpunished, it sends a dangerous message: that natural resources can be exploited without consequence, and that accountability weakens with time.Civil society must also reflect. Passionate campaigns to save the Aravallis ring hollow if they ignore Delhi are unresolved past. Silence on this issue risks reinforcing the perception that environmental advocacy is shaped by convenience and power, rather than principle.A call for honest environmental justiceUnion environment minister Bhupender Yadav has recently rebutted claims that the Supreme Court’s endorsement of a “100-metre hill” definition threatens widespread mining, calling such reports misleading. He claimed that over 90% of the Aravalli range remains protected, with only 0.19% potentially eligible for limited activity under strict conditions, and that no new mining leases will be granted until district-wise sustainable mining plans are finalised.While this emphasis on precise ecological mapping is important, it cannot obscure a fundamental inconsistency. If mining in Delhi’s portion of the Aravallis – where the range originates – is completely banned, what scientific or ethical logic permits mining elsewhere within the same system? Is Delhi entitled to a level of ecological privilege denied to its neighbours?Protecting the Aravallis requires more than green rhetoric and selective prohibitions. It demands an honest reckoning that begins where the damage began.Delhi must first set its own house in order: by initiating a transparent inquiry into long-pending mining recoveries, fixing administrative responsibility, and acknowledging the true environmental and financial costs of its past actions.Only then can India build a coherent, just, and constitutionally sound framework for conserving the Aravallis across state boundaries – one that treats the range as a single ecological entity, not a patchwork of political jurisdictions.Paras Tyagi is president, Centre for Youth, Culture, Law and Environment, Delhi.