Sweating in silence: The invisible burden of heat at home

In Bengaluru’s low-income settlements, homes built with heat-trapping material, poor ventilation, irregular electricity and water supply, have made cooling a serious challenge 

Amoolya Rajappa

Homemaker Jennifer, 23, at her home in Rajendra Nagar in Bengaluru, Karnataka.

Vivek Muthuramalingam/The Migration Story

BENGALURU, Karnataka: It’s noon, and Khustabi Begum is sitting on the steps outside a narrow path that leads to her three-room home. She needs an escape from the stifling April heat that’s trapped indoors. But respite is hard to come by in this informal settlement in South Bengaluru’s Rajendra Nagar. “It’s just as hot outside, but it feels worse inside. It’s been really hot for the past five or six days, but at least there’s an occasional breeze outside,” says the 36-year-old. She dabs her forehead with a rose-coloured dupatta draped over a loose nightie.      

Inside Khustabi’s dimly lit living room, there is the pulsing sound of ceiling fans. One corner has sacks of onions – a reminder of her husband’s livelihood – and just outside their pucca home is a vending cart. “My husband sells erulli, belluli [onions, garlic],” she says in Kannada tinged with an Urdu accent.

Originally from Tangtangia village in Bihar’s Kishanganj district, Khustabi and her husband moved to Bengaluru over a decade ago, hoping to give their three children a better education. Khustabi recalls her green and breezy village with a nostalgic smile. “It’s actually hotter in our village, temperature-wise,” she says. “But when it got unbearable, we would go and take a stroll by the riverside. Here, there’s nowhere to go. We just go up and down this street.” 

While government heat advisories urge people to stay indoors between 12 pm and 3 pm, this advice offers little relief to families like Khustabi’s. “The fans just circulate hot air,” she says. “We keep drinking matke ka paani [water from clay pots] and step outside from time to time, but there’s nothing else we can do to escape the heat inside.”

Khustabi Begum and her daughter Noor Nagina outside their three-home in South Bengaluru's Rajendra Nagara slum. Amoolya Rajappa/The Migration Story

Indoor heat is increasingly being recognised as a serious health hazard that poses risks to vulnerable groups. Among them are low-income families like Khustabi’s living in informal settlements. Their homes have poor ventilation, are built of heat-trapping materials, and have irregular electricity and water supply, making cooling a serious challenge. The outdoors is as hot – inadequate green cover and limited access to open spaces and parks offer little relief from the heat indoors. 

Rising heat and Heat Action Plans 

Bengaluru, India’s third largest metropolis, has witnessed a steady rise in temperatures in recent years, challenging its long-standing reputation for salubrious weather round the year. From a quiet cantonment town to a manufacturing hub and now the ‘Silicon Valley of India,’ the city has undergone rapid urban transformation—alongside a changing climate.

As noted in the Bengaluru Climate Action and Resilience Plan, the city’s average temperature has risen by approximately 0.23°C per decade since 1975, with a sharper increase of nearly 0.5°C since 2009. 

The city has experienced unusual highs, and according to media reports its hottest day this year was in mid-March, with a maximum temperature of 35.6°C. However, IMD scientist N. Puviarasan attributed this spike in the temperature to regional phenomena, such as local variations in wind patterns, and not climate change. 

A 2022 study, which tracked indoor and outdoor temperatures across rural and urban India, Pakistan and Bangladesh, found that women, children and the elderly – who typically spend more time indoors – are especially at risk. Researchers at the Indian Institute for Human Settlements (IIHS), Bengaluru, point out that most Heat Action Plans (HAPs) in India have overlooked the problem of indoor heat, especially in low-income and informal housing settlements. A review of 10 city-level HAPs, published in the journal PLOS Climate, revealed that the plans of only two cities – Rajkot and Bhubaneshwar – explicitly acknowledged indoor heat vulnerability. 

Fatima Begum, 54, poses for a picture in her cramped kitchen in a waste segregation camp in Kattigenahalli in north Bengaluru, Karnataka. Vivek Muthuramalingam/The Migration Story

Swati Surampally, a senior research associate at IIHS and one of the review’s authors, told The Migration Story that in these cities “indoor workers reported higher incidences of heat-related illnesses than outdoor workers, and both [the cities’] plans identified slums and informal settlements as thermal hotspots due to poor housing quality and limited access to basic services… Overall, while a few plans highlight indoor heat risks, especially for low-income communities, there is a significant gap in comprehensive, scalable strategies to address these challenges.” 

Preeti Gehlot, Special Commissioner for Forest, Environment, and Climate Change Management at the Bruhat Bengaluru Mahanagara Palike (BBMP) says that efforts are underway to develop a city-specific Heat Action Plan (HAP) for Bengaluru. “Unlike other parts of Karnataka, where climate-induced heat stress is a major concern, Bengaluru’s challenges are largely driven by unsustainable building practices that lead to localised heat stress,” she explains. 

The proposed HAP will address these unique urban issues and prioritise building resilience among low-income communities. And while the Bengaluru Climate Action Plan acknowledges the unequal burden of heat stress on vulnerable communities, the real challenge, Gehlot adds, lies in effective implementation and mitigation. 

A lack of basic services

In Rajendra Nagar and nearby slums like L.K. Nagar and Ambedkar Nagar, most homes are built on compact plots of roughly 300 square feet, and each household typically has five-to-seven members. Apart from congestion, the erratic water supply and frequent power cuts here worsen the experience of heat indoors. There are power cuts several times a week, lasting from a few hours to a few days, and water is in short supply, available only on alternate days and sometimes, once in three days. So, running fans or cooling the body with “spray bottles, damp cloths [or] ice towels”, as suggested by a government heat advisory, becomes challenging for people from low-income groups living here.

For Khustabi’s daughter Noor Nagina, 14, the summer break from school has been anything but relaxing. It’s sweltering inside because the walls are made of concrete, which traps the heat. “My mother is on medication for epilepsy and so, she struggles to cope when it gets too hot,” says Noor. “The temperatures come down a bit when it rains in the evening sometimes. But it doesn’t help much, and the next day it gets hotter.” 

Apart from this, Khustabi’s home has only one window, which faces a quieter side road. However, the municipality recently began road construction work in this lane and is widening the sewers too. “We open the window only during long power cuts,” Noor adds. “Otherwise, we have to deal with mosquitoes and dust from all the repair work.” 

Homemaker Jayalakshmi, 45, poses for a picture outside her house near a drain in Rajendra Nagar in Bengaluru, Karnataka. Vivek Muthuramalingam/The Migration Story

Heat trapped in informal settlements

One of the factors contributing to intense indoor heat is poor ventilation, says Radha N., who works with Rajendra Nagar-based NGO Swabhiman. “Most houses in the area have narrow, tunnel-like entrances, with rooms arranged one behind the other in a straight line. This leaves little to no space for air to circulate indoors and as a result, the concrete walls heat up.” 

Radha, who interacts with residents on a daily basis, adds that many complain about poor sleep during the peak summer months. “Children sometimes wake up crying because of the heat, power cuts and the mosquitoes. As a result, their parents, who spend most of the day working outdoors, are unable to get enough rest at night. This further affects their ability to function the next day, becoming a vicious cycle,” she says.

Hot air also gets trapped inside homes here due to everyday activities like cooking. Allamelu John, 39, says she only cooks twice a day in the summer – in the morning and at night – to avoid the smoke and heat that builds up in the afternoon. “Our kitchens are small and lack exhaust fans, so it becomes very difficult,” she explains. To cope with the heat at night, she and her family sleep on a bedsheet spread over a jute mat on the floor, which is cooler than sleeping on cots with mattresses. 

Allamelu, a domestic worker and a child of parents who migrated to Bengaluru from Tamil Nadu, also observes the impacts of climate change on the city. “This summer has been particularly harsh,” she says. “I have noticed that when the winters are colder, the summers that follow are hotter.”

Frequent power cuts and mosquitoes make summers unbearable inside gig worker Babu’s house in Rajendra Nagar slum in Bengaluru. Vivek Muthuramalingam/The Migration Story

To escape the heat, young children in Rajendra Nagar often roam around without clothes on, and elderly residents relax outdoors in the shade of nearby corner shops. In Khustabi’s home too, her two boys and her husband sleep with her shirts off – a comfort she and her daughter can’t avail of.  “Aurat ko yeh nahi hota [Women do not have that option],” she says, dismayed by how unfair it is and how hot it is inside her home. 

Migrant women bear the brunt 

Across the city, in North Bengaluru’s Bellahalli, Zakia Begum, 28, sits in a one-room shelter with a tarpaulin roof. She’s seven months pregnant and says that the insufferable indoor heat in her previous tin-roofed pucca home was one of the reasons she and her husband moved here. 

Zakia, a migrant from Bashraja village in Cooch Behar district, West Bengal, has lived in Bengaluru for nine years. Her husband works as a truck driver with a contractor hired by the municipality to transport the city’s solid waste. And their room is part of a cluster of shanties built on open land with scattered heaps of this waste. 

“This summer feels different; there’s no breeze,” she says, describing the daily struggle to stay cool as a small table fan whirs beside her. “Sometimes, I sit by the door hoping for some air, but that’s rare now. The only thing I can do is drink lots of water.”  

However, water is in short supply here. Most of the migrant families in Zakia’s neighborhood depend on tankers for water or purchase it per unit. While Zakia washes her face and hands often to stay cool, she knows she must use water judiciously. 

Zakia spends significant periods of time indoors because she quit her job as a domestic worker to better care for herself during her pregnancy. But there’s no escaping the heat – indoors or outdoors. There are no trees in sight that could have provided shade and no public parks she can access within walking distance. 

Zakia Begum, 28, and her husband pose for a picture at their home near a waste segregation unit in Bellahalli, Bengaluru, Karnataka. Vivek Muthuramalingam/The Migration Story

Migrant women’s experiences of indoor heat have also come up in research conducted by IIHS and its partners. The project, titled Climate Change Local Adaptation Pathways (CLAPs), has found that indoor heat disproportionately impacts migrant women, who shoulder both paid work and unpaid domestic responsibilities due to entrenched gender roles.

Surampally, who is also working with CLAPs, says that “women face a triple burden: they manage paid work alongside domestic chores, endure prolonged exposure while cooking in unventilated spaces, and often eat last or inadequately, heightening fatigue and health risks. Together, these factors make indoor heat a deeply gendered and under-recognised health challenge.” 

How heat impacts human health 

So, what health challenges do women face because of indoor heat? Kavita G., an Accredited Social Health Activist (ASHA) working in Rajendra Nagar and nearby slums, has been monitoring the health of the community. “Women often come to us with problems like itching, skin infections and a burning sensation while urinating, especially during periods of extreme heat,” she says, adding that older residents are particularly vulnerable to heat-related illnesses with many suffering from severe dehydration in the summer.  

Kasturi, 57, who lives on the edge of Rajendra Nagar slum, also complains of itching due to the heat. A homemaker, she and her adult son live in an L-shaped shed with a tin roof, and just outside their home is a wide, open drain. “Every summer is worse,” she says, adding that their tin roof traps the heat inside their home. “But the mosquitoes are our biggest problem – we can’t always keep the front door open during the day.”

An April 2025 study, published in the journal Indoor Environments, found that tin-roofed homes in rural Wardha district of Maharashtra recorded the indoor temperatures reaching up to 40°C as compared to cement-roofed houses, which recorded temperatures reaching up to 38.5°C. The study also highlighted a clear link between indoor temperatures, housing infrastructure and health impacts, pointing to higher risk of heat-related illnesses in poorly constructed homes.

Sumaiya Fatima, 29, lives in Bengaluru’s Rajendra Nagar slums and works at a sweet shop close by. Vivek Muthuramalingam/The Migration Story

These findings are particularly relevant for households where women involved in caregiving or home-based work and children spend the hottest parts of the day indoors, unlike men who often work outside the home, researchers say. 

Extreme heat can worsen pre-existing health conditions too. This was found by the team working on the aforementioned CLAPs project while doing fieldwork with migrant workers along the North Karnataka–Bengaluru migration corridor. The researchers documented cases of skin ailments, including rashes and even measles outbreaks. 

“Construction workers, both men and women, spoke of fainting or falling ill after long hours in the sun. Yet, such incidents are routinely dismissed as part of the job, with little to no institutional support or response,” says Surampally. 

Coping with heat-related illnesses

With heat-related illnesses come strategies that people adopt to deal with these impacts. The 2022 study mentioned earlier provides some examples. The authors surveyed 2,136 people in Maharashtra’s Wardha district to understand the effects of extreme outdoor and indoor heat. Over 80% of them reported experiencing at least one heat-related symptom. The most reported issues included fatigue, heavy sweating, intense thirst, dry mouth, leg cramps and headaches. 

The study noted how many respondents relied on simple mitigation strategies, such as seeking shade, wearing light clothing, staying hydrated, taking off excess clothing, and covering their heads with scarves.

The CLAPs project, too, has found that many migrant communities in Bengaluru rely on practical strategies to cope with indoor heat stress. These include sleeping outdoors under mosquito nets at night to escape poorly ventilated rooms and seeking shade in lanes running between buildings during the day. 

“Many also make micro-modifications to their homes – like extending roof overhangs or keeping doors open at night – to improve ventilation. While some households use fans or coolers, widespread reliance on appliances is hindered by high costs, unreliable electricity, and in some cases, a complete lack of power supply,” Surampally adds. 

However, the researchers at IIHS feel that meaningful responses to extreme heat must go beyond short-term fixes and address the deeper structural vulnerabilities that migrant workers face – both in their homes and on the job. Surampally emphasises the need for heat-resilient housing through subsidies for cool roofs and improved ventilation; access to reliable electricity and water; enforcement of labour protections like rest breaks and hydration for outdoor workers; and multilingual awareness campaigns tailored to benefit migrant communities.

Waste segregator Yaseen Khan, 38, says the heat during the day is unbearable at his home in Bagalur-Hosur Bande. Vivek Muthuramalingam/The Migration Story

“Many migrants compare Bengaluru’s heat to their even hotter native towns and therefore, underplay its risks,” she adds. “This relative perception, along with limited financial resources, means that the urgency to adapt is low, even when physical discomfort is high.” 

This is indeed the case with Khustabi’s family. After spending on rent, daily expenses and the three children’s education, they might be able to save Rs 2,000-3,000 in a ‘good’ month, when the profits from selling vegetables are unusually high. But this isn’t a regular occurrence, given the constantly fluctuating prices of vegetables. 

“We cannot afford a cooler or a fridge because we have to prioritise our children’s education,” says Khustabi. She misses the walks she would take in her hometown to escape the heat. However, leaving Bengaluru would mean letting go of the future she and her husband are building for their children.

Edited by Subuhi Jiwani

Amoolya Rajappa is a Bengaluru-based independent journalist and reports on labour, internal migration, climate change and displacement in India.

This story is produced as part of The Heat Shift series that will explore the unequal impact of heat on some of the world’s most marginalised

The author has researched the subject for an ongoing project on rising heat undertaken for People First Cities that looks at inclusive, participatory approaches to improve the quality of life of informal settlement residents and informal workers.