“You can be homesick at home, you know?”

This is how Afreen Fatima, an activist from the northern Indian city of Prayagraj, feels herself from time to time.

In the summer of 2022, Fatima’s childhood home – a two-story yellow brick house in the bustling depths of the city – demolished by the authorities overnight.

The house was demolished after her father, a local politician named Javed Mohammad, was arrested and named the “key conspirator” in a Muslim protest, which had turned violent.

He denies the allegations and has never been found guilty of any crime linked to the June 2022 protests.

The family is just one of many who have found themselves at the mercy of so-called “bulldozer justice” – when the authorities quickly demolish the homes of those accused of crimes – but hopefully among the last.

On Wednesday, India’s Supreme Court banned the practice, which has increased in recent years, especially in states ruled by Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP).

Although the victims include Hindu families, critics say the crackdown is primarily aimed at India’s 200 million-odd Muslims, particularly after religious violence or protests – a charge the BJP denies.

Chief ministers of several states have linked such demolitions with their government’s tough stance on crime. Officially, however, the reason is that these structures were built illegally.

Experts have repeatedly questioned this, saying that there is no legal justification for it and that it makes no sense to punish someone for an alleged crime by using laws intended for another.

Ms Fatima says that during the 20 months Mohammad spent in prison – he was granted bail earlier this year – she and her family moved house twice in the city.

It took some effort, but they finally feel accomplished. Still, there are times when their new house feels strangely alien to her, she says, like an “assumed space” that hasn’t been lived in enough.

“It’s not the same. I spent most of my life in our old house. There are no memories here, it feels empty,” she says.

So when the court read out its verdict this week, Fatima was hopeful of finally getting some closure.

But the result was bittersweet.

Because while the court has prohibited authorities from arbitrarily demolishing the homes and businesses of those accused or convicted of crimes, it did not mention any form of redress for families like Fatima’s, who have been victims of such demolitions in the past.

“We welcome the ruling, but what about those of us who have already lost our homes?” she says.

This practice had become commonplace: in 2022, authorities in five states razed 128 structures in just three months “as punishment”, shows a report from Amnesty International.

In its 95-page order, the court came down hard on the state governments, saying it cannot “become a judge and decide that an accused person is guilty and therefore punish him”.

Issuing such a sentence “reminds one of a lawless state, where might was right,” the judgment added.

The court then issued a set of guidelines making it mandatory for authorities to notify a resident at least 15 days in advance before demolishing an illegal building and to publicly explain the reason for the demolition. All public servants will also be held personally liable under Indian law if a demolition is carried out improperly, the judgment added.

Rights groups, lawyers and opposition leaders have hailed the order as a “turning point” in tackling the unfair practice that has gone unchecked for years. “Late is the hour these guidelines chose to appear – but better late than never!” said Delhi-based lawyer Gautam Bhatia.

Govind Mathur, a judge and former chief justice of a high court, agrees that the order makes no mention of the victims, but adds that “does not limit any claim for compensation by such persons”.

“If an act is illegal, then the victim can always claim compensation. The wrong committed will remain a wrong and the cost of it must be paid by the wrong doer,” he says.

The order, adds Justice Mathur, is a “strong message to the state machinery not to conform to political bosses but to act in accordance with law”.

However, Fatima points out that the reality is not so simple.

It has been more than two years since her family first challenged the demolition in a higher court. But there hasn’t been a single negotiation, she says.

She still remembers the day it all happened. Onlookers clung to the corner to watch the excavator as it hit their houses. Many of them had cameras and phones. Ms Fatima, who watched the demolition on her own phone from a relative’s house, remembers being stunned.

She thought of her room and the large amount of memorabilia and furniture stored there. There were stories everywhere – treasured everyday memories, like the time she spent with her sister and the lively family discussions around the dinner table. “All that was gone,” she says.

While Fatima’s family was able to rebuild their lives in some capacity, others say they are still stuck in limbo.

“We are practically on the streets, with nothing and no one,” said Reshma, a daily wage laborer in the state of Rajasthan. In September, Reshma’s house in the city of Udaipur was demolished for trespassing, a day after her eight-year-old brother allegedly stabbed his classmate.

The child was taken into custody and sent to a juvenile home, while his father was arrested on charges of premeditated murder. Since then, Reshma, her mother and sister have lived in a small shack on the outskirts of the city.

For them, the court decision is meaningless, she says. “We want actual help, some money or compensation to rebuild our lives, this changes nothing.”

Like Fatima, Reshma’s family has also challenged the demolition in court. Legal experts say the Supreme Court’s guidelines could potentially affect how all such pending cases are handled in the future.

“This decision will change many things – courts will have to see whether due process was followed while carrying out these demolitions,” senior Supreme Court lawyer CU Singh told BBC Hindi.

Fatima is not entirely sure whether the court’s decision would actually stop the demolitions.

But her father, Mr Mohammad, is full of hope, she says.

Sometimes she catches her father thinking about their old home – the sofas and carpets, the rows of books on the shelves, which he had painstakingly put together, probably still lying in the rubble.

“He did most of the improvements, from the curtains to the pillowcases. Losing the house broke his heart more than anyone else’s,” she says.

But Mr Mohammad does not want to dwell on the suffering and is already busy making new improvements to the house and his life. “He keeps telling me, this is a historic order and we need to talk about it as much as we can,” his daughter says.

“Just like this house, we rebuild lives and renovate our memories.”