Men were scurrying about from tiny alleys to conduct business for the day. Ungulates, dazed by the daily grind and scorching heat, were leaving an unsolicited pungent trail wherever they trod. Not to be outdone, the women and children reversed this bovine intrusion with a fresh breeze of banter, and humanity.
There was, roughly, a sanitation facility for every 1,000 residents here. The acidic air constantly wafts over to nearby Bandra, where, they tend to twitch uppity noses and blur cognitive functions. When this happens, geriatric men dart off to foreign jaunts, becoming "college students" who prance around things more green, refreshing and nubile, year after year!
This is the world of Bollywood! A tinsel reality diametrically opposed to the rag realism of Dharavi.
Living in impossible conditions, and making life possible is an art perfected in Dharavi. They could have chosen the life of sleaze and ease, but preferred the narrow, winding and putrid alleys instead.
While we walked, no one accosted us for money, drugs or women. Not even for the export-quality leather products manufactured here. They all knew I was a foreigner – such is the uncanny Indian discernment – and had no objections to my camera snooping into their one-room shacks and shops.
They had nothing to hide except their industry. This was not Mexico, I reminded myself; this is was the India of initiatives.
Geoffrey was sure that the despite the squalor, the governments of India and the state of Maharasthra, had done "something" for this place. A public toilet built courtesy of a local Rotary Club bears testament to some external intervention.
Children did not look malnourished and seemed a world away from their earlier counterparts under British rule. According to author Kalpana Sharma, a railway line existed here once that ferried British troops from one cantonment to another. The children of Dharavi looked forward to such transits and more so the food tossed out by the praetorian guards of alien rule.
Dharavi, however, possessed a steely, vintage resolve to ride out the wave of the future rather than to wait on the stasis of handouts.
Due to time-space constraints, there was little room for false pride. When not tending to their small-scale industries, Dharavi's offspring pursue surprising professional and educational dreams. Superhuman odds get bigger when doors open for a respectable exit to the outside world. Here pragmatism called for the use of a proxy address in case the addressee was a Bandra native returning for arthritic treatment or cosmetic overdose.
My camera revealed a few other things. If this place were crime-ridden, the local mob would not have tolerated snapshots. In such cramped conditions, crime can cascade into a communal disaster, bringing life and industry to a halt.
For this sandwich of humanity came from a Babel of Tamil, Gujarati, Utter Pradeshi, Muslim and Hindu.
I deduced that the crime rate in Dharavi could not be much higher than the rest of Mumbai. The faces here revealed no anger, fatalism, or despair. Kismet was not eternal toil, but every opportunity that rose from the sales of incense sticks, poppadams and toys.
I could not help remarking to Geoffrey that the children of Dharavi needed only specialized English tuitions to go places. Surely, some NGO had already thought that up? In such a uniquely-Indian cauldron, Dharavi sons and daughters would have a faster learning curve, ahead of counterparts in a more sanitized city. Personally, this seemed slam-dunk.
The people of India, after all, are the most culturally adaptable in the world. When in Rome, they not only do as the Romans do, they can compete on half-chances. There is no need of an affirmative action or "cultural diversity" policy to state their case, top their class, or build their careers. Think of an impossibly young Piyush "Bobby" Jindal as an equally impossible vice president of the United States?
When discriminated, as they are in much of Asia, there are no nationally debilitating backlashes, no suicide bombings, and no insurgencies to alleviate grievances. If "culture" is defined by particular reactions to "struggle," then its cornerstone must be industry.
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