Wild Frontiers

Dharavi Slum Tour

The following is an extract from Jonny's blog of November 2009.

An extraordinary 24 hours, from site inspections of two of the region's most swanky hotels - the Udaivilas and Devigarh - to a 'responsible' tour of Mumbai's slums. After Slumdog Millionaire we started to get a few requests to visit the area known as Dharavi, the world's biggest slum. Although my first reaction had been, no way you sick individuals, having chatted to a friend that was making a documentary about the area, I decided perhaps I should give it a chance.

So I changed my return ticket to London to give myself an extra day and upon arrival at Mumbai airport was greeted by Krishnan, from Reality Tours, who had agreed to show me around. 'This is not for fun you are going,' he said, as we approached an area the size of a small farm (450 acres), yet one that contains a million people (the population of Nottingham), 'you do it to learn, to see reality for yourself. We want to educate you, so you see what amazing place it is, and we want to educate the residence, so they can feel more proud of themselves and their lives.' Sounded good. Krishnan went on to explain there was a strict no photography policy, that I can talk to whomever I like, that his organisation supported a number of NGOs, had set up a school which now had 26 students and 2 community centres. 'Also, this is amazing place for business,' Krishnan added.

'Six hundred and sixty five million dollars annual economy, produced by more than 10,000 business, employing some 750,000 people... come I show you.'

We cut off the main road and down a street a little wider than a car. On either side businesses packed into dark tiny buildings. Immediately you could see the lack of sanitation, open sewers, spaghetti electrical wiring overhead, children paying on garbage, and toxic smells of small unchecked industry mixing with more obvious natural odours. On each side of the streets, in small units usually about 12ft x 12ft, through the heat and dust and gloomy doorways, work was going on. In one a line of women seated on the floor sorted plastic containers - old shampoo bottles, cooking oil containers, toothpaste tubes; next door they were crushed, splintered, washed and dried on the roof. Further down the same street the same plastic was being fed into another machine, melted, mixed with a new colour and spat out as tiny chips, that would in turn become laptop bags, buckets and chairs. In miniature smelting works old aluminium was heated up and turned into bars. In another an old couple sieved through dirt for tiny grains of copper. And in amongst it all people slept, ate, lived.From the corrugated iron roof I could see the slums stretching away towards incongruous palm trees and the high rise shopping malls and apartments of Marine Drive; to the luxury of the other world. It did seem harsh, but not without hope, not without character and even a sense of fun.

From the commercial region we slipped into the residential area. As a slum the whole conurbation has developed organically, with no town planners and organisation. As such it is a completely natural, and pretty unique, way of life. The street here became so narrow my shoulders rubbed on either wall. Under my feet ran the open sewers, knocking my head where the rows of electrical cables. The building rose above you me, dank and musty, and with no sky above, cast in a perpetual gloom - it almost felt like it was raining. When it does rain, the sewers block, the rancid water spills over and health becomes a problem. The sun would never reach these parts. But look through the doorways into the tiny homes and life is going on as normal. With Krishnan leading the way through areas he knew very well we were constantly invited inside for chai, a chapati or popadom - the making of the latter being another way the women of the area generate income. The extraordinary mix of smells: shit and urine in one place, frying garlic, onions in another, made my head spin. There are few houses with toilets. 71% of Dharavi use the filthy communal facilities, 27% use the open spaces by the railways lines, only 1% have their own plumbed loos.

We walked further down into the heart of the slum. It was a Sunday so many people where at home; cooking, stitching, washing their clothes. There was a sense of celebration, of families together in their best cloths, lighting joss sticks at the tiny home temples. From the doorway came the metallic commentary of a cricket match, further down the loud screeching of a Hindi film score. Then suddenly we are were out, with the sky above and a clean clear street in front. While some kids rushed around kicking a deflated ball, others ran here and their flying their kites, others played cricket. Cows and goats, minded their own business.

On paper this is tourism at its most questionable, of relatively wealthy westerners looking in on the lives of some of the world's least fortunate. But I have to say it was one of the most fascinating things I have ever done in India. Due to the great relationship Krishnan and his organisation has with the locals, the active role they play in their lives, and the obvious sense of education, rather than voyeurism, that he and Reality Tours impart, I felt absolutely okay with it; that my presence had neither offended or annoyed anyone and that I had learnt a great deal.

For anyone with the stomach for the harsh realities of life inside the world's biggest slum, a tour of Dharavi will be a highlight of your trip to India.