For 26-year-old M. Shalini, the choice between working from home and the office is not just about convenience; it is also about safety. After a hectic Monday at her office housed in a gleaming corporate tower in Hyderabad’s Gachibowli, she dreads the next day at her paying guest (PG) accommodation, where unease lurks behind every door and window.
At home, privacy is a luxury, and she is reduced to walking on eggshells. “We feel conscious even about opening our windows,” she says. “Whenever I work from home, I avoid stepping into the corridor or interacting with anyone. The men from the PG across the street stare, pass lewd comments, and even peer through cracks in the window glass. It is unsettling. I feel much safer at the office.”
The unease doesn’t end indoors. Outside, a more insidious threat follows her. For the past six months, a young man from the neighbourhood has been stalking her — tracking her routine, watching her even in daylight. When she reported the matter to the hostel management, their response was cold and dismissive: “This is none of our concern”.
A software professional at a multinational company, Shalini has spent the past year and a half in Indira Nagar, Gachibowli, an area packed with PGs and hostels but lacking in security. Her five-storey building houses over 100 women, but there is no one to turn to for safety concerns. “Recently, a supervisor was hired, but his role is limited to managing food, electricity and plumbing issues.”
After repeated demands from residents, a common night watchman was assigned — one for four to five PGs. “He locks the main doors and then goes off to sleep. If there is an emergency, we cannot rely on him. It takes him forever to respond,” says Shalini, one of hundreds of women navigating daily anxieties in spaces meant to offer safety.
Hyderabad, India’s booming IT hub, is drawing young professionals from across the country, with women forming a significant part of this workforce. But as PGs and hostels multiply to accommodate them, safety concerns, poor regulation, and exploitative living conditions are on the rise. For many women living away from home for the first time, professional ambition comes with an unsettling trade-off — the constant negotiation of personal safety.
HITEC City, spanning Madhapur, Gachibowli, Kondapur and Kukatpally, is a hub of IT giants, startups financial firms and elite institutions, fuelling a booming PG and hostel network. Yet, beneath the sleek skyline and rapid growth lies a quieter, unsettling reality.
K. Sakshi, 23, a healthtech professional living in a PG on Babukhan Lane of Gachibowli, knows it too well. Glancing at the dimly lit street, she says, “When I return from work late at night, there are always men standing around. Walking alone feels unsafe. The lack of security only makes it worse.”
As the night deepens, the narrow road lined with PGs and small eateries becomes an unspoken gathering spot. Men linger on sidewalks, their eyes tracking the women walking past. Some try to strike up conversations, while others simply stare. “Nothing overtly threatening has happened, but the unease is constant. And somehow, we have just accepted that this is how we must feel in our own neighbourhood,” she rues.
To create the illusion of male presence, some women living alone resort to tactics like leaving large men’s shoes outside their doors — small, silent attempts at self-protection.
The numbers paint a grim picture. Telangana saw a 4.78% rise in crimes against women in 2024, continuing a five-year trend of increasing violence at an average rate of 7.70% per year.
Rape cases surged by nearly 29%, kidnappings and abductions by 26.92%, and murders by 13.15%. Cases of outraging modesty went up by 8.71%, while incidents of abetment to suicide climbed by 4.41%.
In the same year, She Teams — a division of Telangana Police for enhanced safety and security of women — received 10,862 complaints of harassment in public places.
Yet, these figures barely scratch the surface. Many cases go unreported, buried under fear, societal pressure and institutional indifference, suggest officials.
Troubling trend
The new year brought anything but hope for students at CMR Engineering College in Hyderabad. Instead of fresh beginnings, they woke to outrage, fear and mass protests. Reason? A shocking breach of privacy — mess workers had been spying on women in hostel washrooms, even recording their videos.
For months, students had raised complaints, expecting swift action. Instead, they were met with silence, inaction and even blame. “Rather than confronting the perpetrators, the wardens tried to suppress the matter, shifting blame onto the victims. As the truth unravelled, it became clear this wasn’t just negligence — the principal, director and chairman had pressured wardens to bury the case, fearing damage to the institution’s reputation,” said Inspector A. Satyanarayana of Medchal Police.
Emboldened by this cover-up, the accused continued their voyeurism without fear of consequence.
A row of PG accommodations in Gowlidoddi, a bustling hub near Hyderabad’s Financial District, one of many pockets in Hyderabad’s IT corridor housing thousands of young professionals and students in Hyderabad.
| Photo Credit:
SIDDHANT THAKUR
Just as the outrage from one crime had barely begun to settle, another incident rocked Hyderabad. An engineering student, returning to her private hostel in Ibrahimpatnam after Sankranti celebrations, was sexually assaulted inside her own room. The perpetrator? The hostel owner’s driver, who took advantage of her solitude and violated the very space meant to be her sanctuary.
These incidents are not isolated but part of a wider, systemic failure across Telangana, where accountability is rare and women’s safety is dismissed as an “added cost”. Meanwhile, technology has made exploitation easier than ever. A mini wireless WiFi spy camera, for example, a bestseller on an e-commerce site, is available for just ₹599 — cheaper than a decent meal — and can be delivered to your doorstep in 24 to 48 hours. It records “exceptional 1920 x 1080P HD” videos, which can be viewed live from anywhere, according to the description on the platform.
The bitter irony? The very money that institutions refuse to spend on protecting women is being used to violate them.
Cracking down on illegal PGs
On a bright Saturday afternoon in February, volunteers gathered in the narrow lanes of Gowlidoddi, a bustling hub near Hyderabad’s Financial District. The streets buzzed with life, PG accommodations lined up one after another, their bright signboards standing out against a sea of concrete and iron gates.
Gowlidoddi is one of the many pockets of Hyderabad’s IT corridor housing thousands of young professionals and students. But over half of the hostels and PGs here run without a proper licence, and nearly all lack essential security measures.
This alarming discovery came to light during a safety audit under ‘Project Safe Stay’, a joint initiative by the Cyberabad police and the Society for Cyberabad Security Council (SCSC) to regulate these largely unchecked establishments. “Without oversight, these hostels run unchecked, raising serious concerns about resident safety,” says Cyberabad Women and Child Safety Wing DCP Srujana Karnam, who is leading the project.
That afternoon, teams of auditors, including police constables, SCSC representatives and student volunteers, fanned out, knocking on hostel doors. Officers questioned PG owners and checked for valid licences, while volunteers inspected security infrastructure.
One volunteer climbed dimly lit staircases to ensure CCTV cameras were functioning and met the mandatory 90-day backup requirement. Others checked the height of compound walls, legal documents and first-aid kits — basic necessities often missing. Residents voiced frustration over unsafe conditions, pointing to poorly lit entryways, lack of emergency contacts and harassment incidents ignored by the management.
Each audit culminated in a 70-question survey assessing 10 key safety parameters. The collected data will generate a public rating system, assigning each hostel a score out of 10 based on safety compliance. These ratings will be displayed on the Cyberabad police website and SCSC portal, helping new residents make informed choices.
“This system will be a wake-up call for hostel owners,” says Cyberabad Commissioner of Police Avinash Mohanty. A follow-up meeting will present the audit findings, giving owners a deadline to rectify violations, he explains. Those failing to comply will face strict action.
Launched earlier this year, the initiative aims to cover over 1,500 hostels under the Cyberabad commissionerate, with audits conducted in a new area every weekend. However, officials admit there is no formal data on how many PGs and private hostels operate in Hyderabad, leaving many safety risks still unaccounted for.
Bringing order to PG boom
The growing lack of accountability in Hyderabad’s private accommodations has sparked urgent calls for reform. Hyderabad District Women Protection Officer Akkeshwar Rao insists that these establishments must be brought under the Women and Child Welfare Department to enforce safety regulations. Without formal oversight, he warns, thousands of women will remain vulnerable to exploitation, harassment and violence.
“The first and most crucial step is mandatory registration. Every PG and private hostel must have a valid licence and those operating illegally should be shut down immediately,” Rao asserts. He admits that his department often steps in only after an incident has already occurred — when the damage is done. This reactive approach, he stresses, must change. Strict enforcement and continuous monitoring are the only way forward.
PG accommodations in Gowlidoddi, which houses thousands of young professionals and students in Hyderabad.
| Photo Credit:
SIDDHANT THAKUR
But the scale of the problem is ovwerwhelming. Medchal and Malkajgiri Child Development Project Officer Roja Eragoti points out that even if officials want to conduct regular inspections, the sheer number of PGs and hostels, combined with limited manpower and resources, makes that nearly impossible.
Adding to the problem is a widespread lack of awareness. Many women in these accommodations endure harassment in silence, unaware of their rights or how to seek help. “Failure to act early is a major factor behind the rising suicide attempts in private hostels. Many tragedies could have been prevented with timely intervention,” Eragoti says.
For the thousands of women living in these spaces, the demand is clear: safety cannot be an afterthought. They seek CCTV cameras that actually work, wardens who listen and act, security guards who are accessible and trained for emergencies, and infrastructure designed with safety in mind. Controlled entry points, emergency alert systems and a structured process to escalate concerns are no longer optional — they are essential.
Counterproductive reforms
At the English and Foreign Languages University in eastern Hyderabad, female students live with an unshakable fear — one that lingers in empty corridors, deserted campus stretches and the silence that follows every reported case of harassment or assault.
That fear became a reality in October 2023 when a student was allegedly ambushed and sexually assaulted, just hours after students had protested for the reconstitution of the Sensitisation, Prevention, and Redressal of Sexual Harassment (SPARSH) committee. The attack took place despite the presence of security guards and CCTV cameras, forcing students to ask: what does ‘security’ really mean if it fails them when they need it most?
“The administration may cite the Internal Complaints Committee (ICC) as proof of its commitment to student safety, but for many, it is just a formality,” says S. Vani, 25, a student.
Survivors hesitate to come forward, fearing retaliation or further harassment. “Only 20% of actual incidents are ever reported to the ICC,” chimes in Ada Varghese, 25, another student. “Victims know the accused will be informed almost immediately. That alone makes them think twice. What if speaking up only makes things worse,” she wonders.
By regulation, the ICC must include faculty, non-teaching staff, students and an external NGO representative. Victims are required to file a written complaint within three months, after which the accused is given 10 days to respond. The inquiry is supposed to conclude within 90 days, as per University Grants Commission norms. But these procedures, students argue, often discourage them from reporting cases.
Trisha Singh, 25, another student of the university stresses the need for better training, not just in handling cases but in supporting survivors with empathy and sensitivity. “Following procedural steps isn’t enough. Students need to feel safe enough to voice their concerns without fear of backlash,” she says.
For many, the larger issue of campus safety remains unresolved. “Blocking off certain areas or installing dysfunctional cameras isn’t a solution. We shouldn’t have to question our safety in our own university. It is a problem that can’t be ignored any longer,” adds Varghese.
(Some names have been changed on request)
Published – February 28, 2025 08:33 am IST
