Bombay's Untouchables

Yesterday I flew to Bombay for the day. As the trip was for work I didn’t see much of the place. I’m looking forward to spending a more meaningful amount of time down there as it’s regarded as the cultural (and entertainment) capital of India. It’s also the slum capital of the world. We went to dinner at the Hyatt, where the usual metal detectors and security guards were accompanied by bomb sniffing dogs and even more security guards. Just down the road from this five star hotel is a 1.75km strip that has the unhappy honour of being the world’s largest slum – known as Dharavi.

Most of the one million inhabitants of Dharavi are Tamil wayfarers who migrated to Bombay in search of employment. The slum actually has a flourishing leather industry but is bereft of the most basic infrastructural facilities like sanitation and health care.

Before writing more, I must apologise for weighing this blog down with frequent narration on India’s poverty. This is due to a few things:

• It’s very eye-opening to an outsider
• I believe it’s a very important issue
• Given work, I don’t yet have much else to report on

I’m gathering many interesting facts and anecdotes regarding destitution in India, the most surprising fact being that many of those who live in slums do so out of choice. This is fundamentally due to the physical distance between the working class’ home and place of work. Essentially cab drivers, cleaners, hospitality staff etc will choose to live in urban shanties as commuting from their village would be out of the question. While many apologists for India’s state of affairs will point to this proportion who ‘voluntarily’ choose this way of life, it’s only really a lesser of two evils (if that).

The more unpleasant discovery I made was the relationship between poverty and organised crime. There is an Indian strain of the Mafia that is just as savvy in using cheap labour as the rest of the country. I’ve often had young kids tapping on my car window trying to hawk all manner of flotsam (typically woven crafts, magazines etc). Initially I presumed this was desperation manifesting itself commercially within the world’s largest free market. That’s still partially true, but there’s a more insidious layer below that. These kids, and many others in need, are recruited under duress to sell this crap on behalf of local crime-lords. The money foreigners charitably hand over does not benefit these vendors at all but instead finances a medley of the nasty undertakings India’s felonious underbelly is involved in. While this is a terrible scenario, part of me still believes in handing over money. Not because of what the kids can do with it, but what would happen to them if they didn’t receive it.

One last uncomfortable point on poverty: begging is lucrative, especially if one is a cunning and seasoned panhandler. Many realise this, but begging is still a market where competition exists, resulting in those who successfully promote themselves as being more in need typically reaping more in charity. This has led to the development of a service provided by unscrupulous doctors, whereby for roughly US $100 they will amputate a hand, foot or leg to make the unfortunate patient more likely to receive handouts. Sickening.

Interesting discoveries:

• Despite its size, India has no time zones or daylight savings

Administrative facts:

• Curries consumed so far: 11 (I’ve levelled out, thank Christ, after enduring my first attack of ‘Delhi belly’)
• Flight time from Delhi to Bombay: roughly two hours
• Total round trip travel time from my apartment to the Bombay office: roughly 17 hours

Song of the moment:

The Other Side, by the Scissor Sisters.