Walking around the streets of Dharavi and Mumbai I have noticed how small things can make a big difference to lives and the image of a neighbourhood.  I am not thinking in terms of the slogans of charities stating that small changes can make a world of difference; of course water, electricity, drainage and other amenities essential to modern living should be seen as basic requirements.   Rather I have been looking at the minute changes or additions to buildings and shop stalls that just make things easier and more pleasant.

Overhangs create an extended and sheltered external space (left) Makeshift canopies line the streets (right)

Such a simple design feature as an overhang or porch roof over the front door can make a huge difference.  You barely see a self built house in Dharavi without an overhang over the ground floor or a small porch roof over the front door, and all along the street are makeshift covers where one has not been incorporated.  It provides protection from the sun and the rain to make a day outside in the elements easier to bear, or simply a sheltered place to sit and watch the world go by.

Metal bars over the windows offer an extension to small living spaces

One of the first things I noticed around Mumbai was the bars on a lot of the windows.  To me these conjure up images of high security against the fearful outside world.  But in fact they offer an extended living space, a place to dry clothes in an apartment lacking outdoor space, or a windowsill to keep plants on to offer a speck of greenery.  A look at a row of houses like this offers a glimpse into the lives of its inhabitants.

An umbrella fixer sits under his makeshift shelter (left). A metal hoop provides tension for the shelter (right)

Another minute addition that allows street sellers shelter from the sun and rain, and to create a defined shop space, are metal hoops hammered into the pavement.  These provide a source of tension to attach rope to which provides the structure of a temporary shelter.  Other street sellers have opted for a brick or heavy piece of rubble to tension the rope, but a small metal hoop is a far more elegant solution, with less potential for a domino effect fall along the crowded streets.

Colourful streets of Dharavi.(left) Street art in Khotachiwadi (right)

Colour can totally change the feel of a street.  Whether the walls of a house have been washed a bright blue or an artist has added to their touch with a mural, it brightens an otherwise dull concrete and metal street and has the added bonus of hiding the dirt!  There is a series of murals along the walls of Khotachiwadi in South Mumbai, left over from an Urbz mashup event a few years ago, and on my first walk through I noticed them and immediately warmed to the area.

A row of trees along New Transit Camp planted by one of the residents.(left) Greenery brightening a street of Dharavi(right)

Adding plants or greenery to an area also lifts it.  Along the main street of New Transit Camp are a row of trees planted by a guy who has lived there for nearly 50 years.  He has watched them grow up and now they contain stories of the past and the development of NTC.  A row of plant pots outside a house shows that someone thinks about their neighbourhood and has put time and a bit of tender loving care into making it look nice.

Finally, a street lamp.  Which, as Nabeel Hamdi has shown, can induce a whole host of changes.

Dharavi footbridge during heavy rains

The monsoon season brings with it a mixture of relief from the hot weather that precedes it and a realisation and frustration with the problems of Mumbai’s infrastructure. Problems which are all exacerbated within and around Dharavi due to the poor drainage and cramped living and working spaces of its inhabitants.

No where to run from the rain

The location of Dharavi causes its first set of problems, as it is situated on what was once low lying marshland and close to the Mithi River, which carries monsoon waters from the whole of Mumbai to the Arabian Sea. There have been numerous and ongoing changes to the path of the Mithi river over the recent years, which at times have made conditions worse. It is the only river connected all the way from Vihar Lake to the Arabian Sea travelling a distance of nearly 17 kilometres, and the Mahim Creek is the only creek which balances the water level of Mumbai during heavy rainfall and during Mumbai monsoon time. Being the biggest drainage channel of Mumbai it discharges not just water but also contaminated substances, industrial and domestic waste. So when it floods, these other dangerous substances also leak into homes and work environments.

During the 1995 floods, when there was continuous rain for 3 days, the city came to a standstill. The size of the problem and the lack of government help was made clear as communities had to work together to solve the problems themselves and help each other to live and survive through the worst of it. With water up their waists in some areas, homes were destroyed and their belongings ruined.

It is not just the inconvenience and loss of livelihood caused by the monsoon that is a worry but also the diseases such as typhoid, malaria and fever which it brings. So the inhabitants develop strategies for coping. I spoke to one family who said that during bad flooding when the water was up to their knees, they had to use a metal cot to sleep all 5 members of their family above the water level. Their belongings were moved to higher levels, and during the day they just had to manage in knee deep water. Neighbours and friends help out as much as possible, and people living on the ground floor can sometimes seek refuge with friends or family living on the upper floors. If they are lucky enough to have another family house in the area which is faring better in the floods then the whole family (usually at least 5) will move in with their relatives to double the number of people living in an already tight space. Of course electrics and gas go out so cooking becomes impossible and at night time they live by torch light.

Upstands and tarpaulins are used to prevent the worst of debris and water entering

You will see walking through Dharavi that many houses are raised up from street level. Where they can afford it families who have done work on their houses will often raise the house by at least half a metre so that it does not flood so badly. Another trick is to build a temporary concrete or metal up stand in the front door, which is knocked down after monsoon season and rebuilt each year. This prevents the majority of flood water and debris flowing in from the street, but water can still seep in through gaps in the walls. Of course windows have no glass, so sack clothes are used to cover them and prevent rain penetrating so much with the winds. Roofs are covered in tarpaulins also to prevent leaks. Although these measures help they are mostly temporary and make-shift measures. What is really required is proper storm drainage and maintenance, along with good waste disposal and cleaner streets, to allow people to live their normal lives throughout the monsoons. They are no surprise after all and relentlessly return each year, so should be properly prepared for.

Blue tarpaulins cover the rooftops

“Bombay is a crowd. But I began to feel, when I was some way into the city from the airport that morning, that the crowd on the pavement and the road was very great, and that something unusual might be happening.”

Every new visitor to Bombay, has had a similar observation to that of V. S. Naipaul, as he arrived in the city to write his dark, vibrant, and exciting travelogue, India: A Million Mutinies Now. He was introduced to a city of much warmth; a city of much chaos; a city of many people.

Ever since Naipaul’s experiences were documented between 1988 and 1990, an incredible process of transformation has continued to change the face of Bombay; now Mumbai. Many of the neighbourhoods of 1988 have grown into sky-scraping districts, embracing global connections and international faces. The faces of Naipaul’s “crowds” themselves have changed in so many ways, experiencing warm embrace, violent clash, and boisterous development. Some have become wealthy, while others have remained poor.

As urbanists continue to stretch and scrunch the literary fabric of today’s Mumbai, it is important to make reference to these wonderful works of the past. They remind us that documentations must be made of the city’s most cherished and personal vessels; its people.

Mumbai, “is a crowd”. But what do we see in the crowds of today?

The “slum” is often a place that people associate with lesser-value, filth, societal collapse, and criminals. A place to be avoided, shunned, and hopefully one day, destroyed and regenerated. The “slum” has become a typology of spatial arrangement; an example of failure in an urban design textbook. It holds an image of past-time London, crime-ridden Rio, and filthy Mumbai. Dirty, illegal, and inhumane.

Perhaps, in some cases, a few of these characteristics hold an element of truth. Some neighbourhoods are more dangerous, more edgy, more cluttered, and more inclined to have internal issues of their own. But in other instances, the “slum” is a social construct; a label that has been given to an outcast neighbourhood or informal place.  The sociological tsunami that follows in the wake of this branding of space carries with it an international message of caution. These are places to be feared and avoided.

India is no stranger to slum terminology. It is also no stranger to people who are fascinated in studying these alienated places. A slum is a formally defined settlement category in India, and these settlements have long been discussed both in public and academic circles. Debates have emerged in the fields of economics, development planning, sociology, geography, and the image of the slum has become a staple within performing arts. Across each field, however, one consistent assumption flows seamlessly over the academic and public circles of discussion; the “slum”, for all intents and purposes, is still an alien place.

But why is this the case?

That the term “slum” has formally found its way into a legal framework for settlement categorization speaks to the structural violence that inherently prevents these communities from gaining the legitimacy that they require. A slum is a slum, and the associated stereotypes that accompany this title will continue to hinder it so long as it continues to be called such a thing.

But what is it exactly that we are calling a “slum”? As I travel to and from the URBZ office everyday, I begin to ask myself the very same question. The most obvious concern within the context of Mumbai relates to the highly publicized Dharavi “slum”, also the neighbourhood in which URBZ Mumbai has its office. Dharavi has been made famous through novels, documentaries and more recently, major western films, and in many ways the artists, writers and directors have dragged the “slum” title through the streets of New York, London and Los Angeles, glorifying the misfortune of the people that inhabit this incredible neighbourhood. But the fact that Dharavi has been labeled a “slum” has made residents angry and left with a sense of not only being used, but also completely misunderstood.

Matias and Rahul of URBZ have discussed this theme and the “S… Word” in previous presentations and articles, but the relevance of their central argument calls for a reverberating echo to all urbanists and citizens of the city. This is not an outlandish concept to be thrown under the carpet. Perhaps it comes down to the remark on structural violence within the categorization of neighbourhoods. As soon as a place is considered to be alien, it will remain as such, whether or not we really understand how that neighbourhood actually operates. As I write this piece from the URBZ office in Dharavi, I wonder how many artists, directors and researchers, who have collectively made millions of dollars on research and artistic projects off of this “slum”, have actually stayed in this neighbourhood and genuinely taken the time to understand it. Maybe it is not so outrageous to say that when confronted with the word “slum”, the average person still tends to think of the images described in the opening paragraph of this post. Lets hope that researchers, artists, directors, and future citizens don’t continue to do the same.