The Indian capital, Delhi, has been enduring a severe heatwave, with the Indian Meteorological Department recording a maximum temperature of 43.5°C. However, surface temperatures measured by a Greenpeace India thermal camera reached 64°C at certain locations, illustrating the disparitydisparity/dɪˈspærɪti/L3显著差异；不一致，尤指在数量、质量或程度上的明显差距a great difference between two or more things, especially an unfair or surprising one between official air temperature and the radiative heat absorbed by urban infrastructure. This discrepancy arises because official readings capture air temperature under standard conditions, whereas thermal cameras measure surface heat, which can be substantially higher on roads, concrete, and vehicles. Consequently, the urban heat island effect intensifies the perceived heat, particularly in areas lacking shade or vegetation.
Prolonged exposure to such extreme heat poses serious health risks, as Dr A. Fathahudeen, a pulmonologist, explains: when core body temperature exceeds 40°C, normal physiologicalphysiological/ˌfɪziəˈlɒdʒɪkəl/L3生理的；生理机能的，与生物体正常功能相关的relating to the way in which the body of a living organism functions functions cease, leading to heat exhaustion, confusion, seizures, and potentially multiple organ failure. His advice includes drinking water even when not thirsty, wearing loose light-coloured clothing, and using umbrellas. The government, he argues, should restrict outdoor labour between 10:30am and 3pm—a recommendation that, notwithstandingnotwithstanding/ˌnɒtwɪðˈstændɪŋ/L3尽管；虽然，表示让步或对比in spite of; without being affected by its prudence, offers little recourse to Delhi’s impoverished street vendors. Indeed, for those like Sanjana Ben, who sells dry fruits from the pavement, the choice between earning a livelihood and seeking shelter is stark: her thermal readings showed 51.4°C near the ground, rising to 57°C inches away.
Mohammad Mahfouz Alam, a footwear vendor, described the relentless heat rising from the ground while the sun beats down mercilessly, providing no relief day or night. He noted that seasons have become more erratic, affecting those who live and work on the streets disproportionately. The thermal camera recorded 58.5°C on his surroundings, underscoring the perilous conditions. A few minutes away, at Chandni Chowk, a pedestrian zone with stone pillars intended for respite remained empty due to the absence of shade, with a pillar recording 56.9°C.
In Sundar Nagri, a lower-middle-class neighbourhood, siblings Abhishek and Kajal documented the heat’s impact in a “Garmi khata” for Greenpeace. Their two-room home, lacking windows, had indoor temperatures hovering around 40°C, with a ceiling fan recycling hot air. Abhishek noted that nights were most difficult: “Outside, there’s at least a breeze; inside it feels like I’m standing next to an oven.” This stark contrast between official temperature readings and lived experience highlights the urgent need for urban planning interventions—such as increasing green cover and improving building ventilation—to mitigatemitigate/ˈmɪtɪɡeɪt/L3减轻；缓和，降低某事物的严重性、危害性或影响to make something less harmful, serious, or painful the compounding effects of extreme heat on vulnerable populations.
