Both could not be used at the same time is really terrible
In the vertical city of Singapore, where tens of thousands of elderly residents depend on lifts to reach their homes, a six-hour dual lift failure at a Toa Payoh HDB block on a Saturday morning laid bare the fragility of aging infrastructure and the quiet vulnerability of those who live within it. A 75-year-old cardiac patient was trapped alone between floors for half an hour while his son waited below, helpless; others were left to climb as many as nineteen flights of stairs. The incident is a reminder that in a society built upward, the machinery of daily life carries not just bodies but trust — and when it fails, the cost falls heaviest on those least able to bear it.
- Both lifts in a 25-storey Toa Payoh block failed at the same time, stranding more than 20 residents at ground level for six hours on a Saturday.
- A 75-year-old man with a cardiac history was trapped alone in a stalled lift cabin between the 12th and 13th floors for 30 minutes, sweating and frightened, while his son made frantic calls to the town council.
- Elderly residents and a hungry 10-year-old child were left with no option but to climb up to 11 or more flights of stairs, turning an ordinary afternoon into a physical ordeal.
- A technician eventually freed the trapped man, but his son had to carry him up the remaining stairs to the 19th floor after he could no longer continue on his own.
- The Bishan-Toa Payoh Town Council posted an apology notice, but residents are demanding an investigation into how both lifts could fail simultaneously and what will be done to prevent a recurrence.
On a Saturday in Toa Payoh, a 75-year-old man stepped into a lift at Block 196 Kim Keat Avenue expecting a routine ride to his 19th-floor flat. Instead, the lift bypassed his floor repeatedly before grinding to a halt somewhere between the 12th and 13th storeys. He was alone. He called his son.
His son, Mr. Shen, had dropped him off just minutes earlier. Knowing his father was a cardiac patient, the thought of another heart attack in a confined space was immediate. He rang the town council. Thirty minutes passed before a technician freed his father — who emerged sweating and visibly shaken. The ordeal was not over: too exhausted to continue after two flights, Mr. Shen carried his father the rest of the way up.
His father was not the only one affected. Both lifts in the 25-storey block had failed simultaneously, leaving more than 20 residents stranded at ground level for six hours. A 74-year-old woman, Madam Hong Yue'e, had just collected her hungry 10-year-old granddaughter from school. With no lifts available, they climbed 11 flights of stairs together.
When a reporter visited the next morning, one lift was still under maintenance. A notice from the Bishan-Toa Payoh Town Council expressed regret and thanked residents for their patience. An 80-year-old resident, Mr. Lin, offered a pointed remark: one lift failing was understandable, but both at once was something else entirely. He called for an investigation.
The incident exposed how deeply high-rise residents — especially the elderly managing chronic conditions and daily physical demands — depend on infrastructure that is quietly aging. The town council's apology was noted. But the question of how such a failure could happen, and how to ensure it never does again, remained unanswered.
On a Saturday in Toa Payoh, a 75-year-old man stepped into one of two lifts at Block 196 Kim Keat Avenue expecting to reach his nineteenth-floor flat. Instead, the lift bypassed his floor repeatedly, climbing and falling through the shaft before grinding to a halt somewhere between the twelfth and thirteenth storeys. He was alone in the cabin. He called his son.
The son, Mr. Shen, was thirty-nine years old. He had dropped his father off at the block minutes earlier. When the call came through—his father trapped, the lift stalled—his mind went immediately to the heart attack his father had suffered in the past. In a confined space, with no way out, breathing could become difficult. Another attack was possible. Mr. Shen rang the town council. A technician was dispatched. Thirty minutes passed before his father was extracted from the lift.
"When my father was rescued, he was sweating profusely and looked frightened," Mr. Shen later recounted. But the ordeal was not finished. His father still had to reach the nineteenth floor. After climbing two flights on his own, exhausted and shaken, he could go no further. Mr. Shen carried him the rest of the way up the stairs.
His father was not alone in his predicament that day. Both lifts in the twenty-five-storey block had failed simultaneously. The breakdown lasted six hours. More than twenty residents found themselves stranded at ground level, unable to ascend. A seventy-four-year-old woman named Madam Hong Yue'e had just picked up her ten-year-old granddaughter from school when she discovered the lifts were out of service. The child was hungry. There was no choice but to climb. They walked up eleven flights of stairs together.
When a reporter visited the block the following morning, one of the lifts remained under maintenance. A notice from the Bishan-Toa Payoh Town Council hung on the lift door, expressing regret for the breakdown and thanking residents for their patience. An eighty-year-old resident, Mr. Lin, offered a measured but pointed observation: he could accept that one lift might fail. But both at once? "The fact that both could not be used at the same time is really terrible," he said. He called for an investigation into how such a thing could happen.
The incident exposed a vulnerability in the building's infrastructure and raised questions about maintenance protocols for aging public housing stock. For residents already managing the physical demands of daily life—climbing stairs with groceries, managing chronic conditions, caring for grandchildren—the loss of both lifts was not merely an inconvenience. It was a safety hazard. An elderly person with a cardiac history, trapped in a metal box between floors, sweating and frightened, waiting for rescue: this was the human reality of infrastructure failure in a high-rise residential block. The town council's apology was noted. But the question Mr. Lin posed remained unanswered: how would such a failure be prevented from happening again?
Notable Quotes
Because my father had suffered a heart attack, I was worried he would have difficulty breathing while trapped in the lift, and I was afraid he would have a sudden heart attack.— Mr. Shen, son of the trapped 75-year-old resident
I can understand the failure of one lift, but the fact that both could not be used at the same time is really terrible. I hope the town council can investigate this matter.— Mr. Lin, 80-year-old resident of the block
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does it matter that both lifts failed at the same time, rather than just one?
Because in a twenty-five-storey block, a single broken lift is manageable—inconvenient, but people can use the other one. When both go down simultaneously, you've eliminated the escape route entirely. For an elderly person with a heart condition, that's not just inconvenience. That's danger.
The son was worried about a heart attack. Was that realistic, or was he catastrophizing?
He wasn't inventing a risk. His father had already had one. Stress, confined spaces, inability to move—these are real triggers. The son's fear wasn't irrational. It was the reasonable worry of someone who knows his parent's medical history and understands what can happen.
What strikes you most about the grandmother climbing eleven flights with her granddaughter?
The ordinariness of it. She wasn't being heroic. She was just trying to get home after picking up her grandchild from school. But eleven flights of stairs with a hungry ten-year-old is not a small thing when you're seventy-four. That's the gap between what the building promises—accessibility via lifts—and what residents actually got.
The town council apologized. Is that enough?
An apology acknowledges the problem. But Mr. Lin's question—how did both lifts fail at once?—that's the real one. An apology doesn't prevent it from happening again. That requires investigation, maintenance review, maybe infrastructure upgrades. The apology is the beginning, not the end.
Do you think this was a one-off failure or a symptom of something larger?
The block is part of Singapore's aging public housing stock. One catastrophic failure might be chance. But the fact that the town council had to post a notice, that residents felt compelled to speak to the press—that suggests people are worried this reflects a pattern. Whether it does, I don't know. But the worry itself is telling.