A long time coming - here's Delhi

I think this one is dedicated to Dan, sorry to have kept you hanging for so long.
Leaving Agra came at the right time. You can only spend so long there and besides, our "Littlest Hobo" routine was feeling so comfortable now. Our Agra exodus was fairly straightforward though we cut it fine getting to the train station. Our reliable Indian friends were running a little late so we took a final meal at the deluxe hotel down the street from the ITC Mugal, saying farewell to the outstanding guardsmen on the gate and then weaving through the abundance of tuk tuk drivers throwing themselves into their business patter.The train was old hat given the time we'd invested on the way to Agra. The journey was only a few hours and gave us the opportunity to catch up on a bit of correspondence. Somehow I slept through it.
We had a 530pm arrival into a vibrant but chaotic arrivals terminal in Delhi. We were familiar with the usual throng of taxi's and tuk tuk's that turn their grasp of good English into an overinflated fare. I don't blame them, I just don't subscribe to it. One approach we decided was appropriate was to negotiate the fares to within shouting distance of the price a native would pay, and then if the experience was satisfactory, give a decent tip, often double the fare. We felt it honoured honest deals. Delhi was a little more rambunctious that I'd expected but we got a taxi to Hotel Vista Inn, which, given our experience in Mumbai, was very nice. The room was tight but the service, cleanliness and comfort was where we expected it. The bottle service to the room was also a big plus with a call down to the reception for a few Kingfishers usually resulting a knock on the door 3 minutes later. The bottles were not particularly over priced and were of drowning size and suitably chilled.
The following morning was a treat. Cities are best experienced first hand and walking the neighbourhood of Karol Bagh en route to get to our first food stop of the city we found ourselves gazing at life as it happens in New Delhi. Business as usual, with deliveries, commuters, bustle on every corner, down every alley. There is very little evidence of relaxation during the day, if there was money to be made, Indians are making it. I'm not saying they work very hard, they do, but it is not that impression you're left with. You're left feeling that culturally, Indians are more entrepreneurial than hard working. If had to use a superlative to describe them it would be exactly that, entrepreneurial. There is a little niche for everything, everyone seems to be doing something, have a task, a job, a place to go, a deal to be won, a bargain to negotiate. Of course this is no more apparent than in the try-the-dice approach to taxis and tuk-tuks winning business. Even if they know the twenty drivers before them have been declined, they will give it a go. It can feel frustrating, but then you remember where you are and how appropriate it is they do this, and that if you were in their shoes, you'd be doing exactly the same thing, and here's the reason why. Because each person has conjured up a little bit of his personality before they approach you. They have a line, a wave, a smile, a greeting. They will do their best to charm you and to ingratiate themselves to you. Not all of them though. Some can't be arsed, they'll give a little patter, they will even do it during someone else's patter time, but I think they just get it, you don't want to be bothered. Rin and I were on a mission remember. We were adventuring through the streets on foot, it was our way to see Asia and it would take hordes of Indian Zombies before we changed our plan. Well, that or just a particularly good smile, greeting, offer of service that you didn't want to turn the experience away. And that's how we travelled Delhi, on a whim, wherever and whenever we wanted to. Fabulous.






















I've not put a scale on the map because I want you to feel that it is not very far. We did all of it but it took 90 minutes. In part because Delhi is not the most pedestrian of cities with a certain bridge causing an interesting mingling of cars, buses, tuk-tuk's, animals, motorbikes and pedestrians. It was also about 4 miles and there was a lot to take in along the way. We ended up in the heart of New Delhi, the area the British built, to the south of Old Delhi. Delhi itself is a conurbation of seven main areas and New Delhi constituted the most dramatic and contiguous architecture. Connaught Place is spectacular, undergoing a considerable face lift while we were there, but it clearly had considerable potential with it presenting an architecturally stunning group of buildings centered around a massive transport hub and park. In the years to come this place will be beautiful. Unlike in Mumbai, Delhians seem to have a better grasp of maintenance and much of the city looked pretty good.


The lads in the picture to the right worked in the kitchen of a highly recommended street eatery called Kake Da Hotel in the Connaught area. I have to say, the food was excellent and the decor so utterly unpretentious that any westerner worried about Delhi Belly would absolutely give it a wide berth. We loved it.
Immediately after lunch we were caught in the afternoon monsoon. It hit so hard, with the air filled with water, huge drops falling fast and pelting into the accumulating street sized puddles at an alarming rate. We huddled for a digestive chat in Costa Coffee , observing through the large  window a city instantly changed; street stalls scramble to cover goods, umbrellas at the ready suddenly shoot up and the usual saunter turns into a headlong sprint to cover, a copy of the Delhi times finding cause to become a temporary gazebo, now that's not something you can do with a Kindle or iPad, at least, not yet.
From Connaught Place we walked through the market district and picked up a number of nik-naks for home. Late that afternoon we decided to wander back to Connaught Place and see what was around in a culinary sense.

When we found a place called Rodeo we couldn't resist. It also claimed to have live music which turned out to be a well vocaled Chinese girl doing American pop music. The food was pretty good, more good fun than good to eat but the option to eat beef was nice (it had been a while) and they did a fairly decent effort on typical American cuisine. The beers flowed well and we settled in for the evening. In fact, we settled in deep enough that Rin was dueting with our Asian pop star while I  recounted tales of our travels to unassuming yet witty listeners.

Despite what you might think would have happened we managed to have an early start the following morning with a determination to see more of Old Delhi and soak up a few museums. The agenda was fairly open and involved seeing some art, eating some scrummy food, being welcomed into Sikhism, being dropped off where we didn't want to all because we were not richer or sillier than we looked, a splendid meal and a denial to a Muslim religious ceremony.
The day started with a few more jewelers and a clandestine purchase. More on that later but suffice to say I found the gem I wanted and persuaded a craftsman that making it that day would seal the deal. After a spot of delicious grub we decided to tuk-tuk over to the Indian National Gallery. It is situated in an area of splendid palace grounds complete with it's own mini L'arc de Triomphe.

We met a particularly friendly Sikh Tuk Tuk driver who happened to be heading to his temple and wondered if we wanted to go with him. The flexible schedule we were running was designed for these very eventualities so we opted to run with it. As well as it being a somewhat enlightening experience, it also gave us some fascinating insights into Sikhism and certainly changed my preconceptions. The temple itself was expansive and I'm afraid I would not do the service justice to explain what was going on. The part that struck the chord with me was the generosity and general sense of doing good that surrounded the faith. After praying and giving thanks all people, yes all, not just Sikhs are invited to eat in the continuously run kitchens. Tens of thousands do and many do not pray, but are just impoverished and looking for food. All are fed at the expense of the religion itself. The kitchens were a fairly mad affair with enormous pots of food simmering away, awaiting the call for when the previous was running low. The food is prepared by volunteers, the ingredients provided by Sikhs.

the sacks of rice supplied for communal feeding

Men preparing the ingredients for cooking by the women

Sikh temple

A rather fancy shrine

A jolly nice place to cool a Mk. 1 feet after walking across the magma hot marble sans shoes - they take your footwear at the door

The architect rendition of what they were hoping it would look like! Not really, but this is another image of how seriously Sikhs take cooling their feet.

 After the wee jaunt around the temple we headed over to the National Gallery. Situated over 4 floors in a circular building there were exhibits dedicated to several time periods of Indian history. I was excited to head to the armoury where I found this rather dashing depiction of an elephant ready for battle. As well as having armour over the front of it's head, there were implements to secure spikes resembling mini swords on the tusks. In this day and age it doesn't seem particularly threatening, nothing that an M1 Abraham couldn't take care of. But in the 15th century, these beasts lined up in their hundreds (and sometimes thousands) would have been sufficient to give any confident soldier a case of the brown trousers.

 A few of the weapons on display in the gallery. I took photos because you had to pay, and I did, so I wanted my monies worth. I like the idea of these daggers having two ends, particularly handy when one gets a little blunt in the rages of battle.

Greatest hits in India's history. I think the guy in the bottom left is trying to peer over Rin's shoulder.

After spending a few hours taking in the sights and sounds of the museum we headed off to Jama Masjid. They wouldn't let us in though due it being pray time for them. It's odd isn't it, at pray time you'd usually expect to have an invite. "oh, you'd like to come and pray/you'd like to come and understand more about our faith, absolutely". Not with Islam, it is strictly members only throughout the whole of Asia and today was going to be no exception. Fortunately a few of the locals decided that we could be their entertainment and despite being unable to converse whatsoever, Rin soon had them hanging off her. She also decided at this point to part with a bunch of her nik-naks in her bag. Of course once one has been shown, the rest will follow. I would not be surprised if they were sold on again later that evening. I mean, it's not like you can eat or cloth yourself using a marble carved elephant from Agra.

After doing our charity time we headed back to Old Delhi for grub. There was a fantastic place that was well known by all the locals. We did struggle to find it though, needing to navigate along a few narrow alleys to the little collection of seating areas being served by a central kitchen. It was nothing like you'd imagine in the West but it was serving fabulous food and when there we found it had a little celebrity status.

Not least because the esteemed singer Corinne Coates, of Rodeo Bar fame was known to hang out there with her jazz hands.

Delhi was great and a really pleasant way to leave India and to conclude our travels. India is a country of so many contradictions and Delhi embodies this as much as any of the cities we'd visited. There is a wonderful mix of new and wealthy, to the everyday, to the impoverished where so little go so far. I leave you with this final image taken just outside our own hotel. The streets are clean, there are modern cars, we're in a fairly luxurious car on the way to the airport, and we see a man building a wall using bricks he's balanced in his noggin. Bye bye India, see you soon.

New Addition

I know that we have yet to publish the final installment of our Asia travels, but we promise it is one its way with some more fun pictures. Its delay is not without good reason though. We have had begun on quite an epic journey, one close to home, but one that is bound to be our most interesting, exciting and rewarding to date. Not very long ago we announced to family and friends that we were expecting and we thought it was time to make it "bloffical". At the end of August/beginning of September a new little Coates adventurer will be entering the world and will be joining us in our exploration of this crazy planet. We couldn't be happier to be making this addition to our family, the Coates clan, and to be introducing the first great grandchild to both the Michalowski and Duggan sides of the family. So, between our travel stories and baby stories - it looks like the blog will be a bit more active in the months to come.

India - Agra

While the guide book, in fact any guide book, will say, "get to Agra, see the Taj, see the fort, then get the hell out of there", we had an altogether different experience. The original intention was to stay three nights and two days in the city, taking in the Taj and Fort during that time. In the end we stayed 4 nights and 4 days.
I think one of the principle reasons we opted to do this was because of the accommodation we had gone for. Jes, bless her had managed to get another reservation at the ITC Mughal, formally called the Taj Ganj. It is simply the best hotel in Agra, by a long shot. This post will best be done chronologically so look ahead to, dinner at Peshwari's, Fort and baby Taj, Futephur Sikri and finally, the Taj Mahal.
Dinner was taken at Peshwari on our first night. We'd heard about the world class cuisine through the SPG website and looked forward to it. We were not disappointed. The attention was delightful, the cuisine delicious, the service impecable and experience highly memorable. We tried a mix of breads, gravies and kebabs, essentially spicey vegetable mixes pressed onto a metal rod and cooked in a tandoori.


The following morning we headed for Fort, an enormous structure in Agra that housed a whole load of folk through the ages. It has weather well considering the plundering by various invaders. Difficult to describe it in it's entireity, well, more like impossible, let's just say that it was very impressive, very large, hard to attack and proved a rather nice place for the garrison of British soldiers and colonial groupies to hang out in during the 1857 uprising. It was built by with the intention of having a good view of the Taj Mahal, which it does from it's southern aspect.


More like a palace than a fort, there is considerable luxury within. Courtyards, ornate buildings, fgabulously attractive works of masionary. During it's heyday I can only imagine how amazing it would have looked.


Oddly, there remains this piece of history in one of the rooms. Enlarge the image below, then the particular door it refers to is given below that. How much truth there is to it I have no idea.


And the door.


To give you some idea of the creativity and architecture of the day you only have to look at some of the elaborate arches. In the one below, the columns are designed such that from the King's seating area high on the back wall, there would be no place that would act as a blind spot. Some say it was to defer would be assassins, but others say that Akbar's court was civil, and this location was for the people to hear him. The configuration gives a very good view of his highness.


In short, Agra Fort is pretty breathtaking, as much so as the Taj Mahal in my opinion.

So, that brings me to the baby Taj, as it is referred to. The baby Taj is the tomb of Shah Jahan's mother, and although not as elaborate as the big one, it is in itself very beautiful. Because the crowds are pulled elsewhere in Agra, it is also far more peaceful. It does not take too long to walk around and fortunately there are not the usual hawkers insisting that you should by some gaudy piece of tat. Actually, I do them false, they are rarely gaudy, and rarely tat, it's just it is the same at every sight, gets a bit tedious.


The baby Taj has the same exquisite inlaying of precious and semi-precious stones in the marble and unlike the Taj, it is more visible as more light is able to enter the mausoleum.


This is not paint but inlaying that requires very careful chiselling and precise grinding of each individual stone to fit the precisely created space. We got a class in how this is done later in the day.





After the baby Taj we were taken over the Black Taj. I say Black Taj but it isn't really, it would have been had it ever been built but all that one can see is the remenants of the foundation in black marble. You have to pay to enter, we didn't, instead following the Indians down to the river's edge for a near sunset view of the Taj Mahal, whetting our lips for a couple of days time.


Met a few of the indigenous livestock on the way.









Agra as a city is a sprawl with limited development in the way of malls and high rises. It is very medieval in feel with bazzars forming the cornerstone of the shopping and each area lending itself to particular specialities. In the south there is a predominance of textiles and jewellery, in the centre it seems more grocery orientated and around the periphery a mixture but much residential. We were fortunate to commondere the services of Bablu and Guppu when we first arrived on the train and despite needing to absorb some of our time in craftshops on their behalf, they proved very useful. For a start we desperately needed to do our laundry and although the hotel would gladly oblige, it would have set us back a great deal of money. For perspective, a pair of socks was $2 and a t-shirt $6. We had about 30 pieces to wash and by heading to the local laundry man was spent a tenner instead of $150. Guppu particularly provided us with useful information on each of the sites. Not just of the tourist attractions, but of the way to deal with the touts. In particular, keep ticket stubs, ignore the need for guides, how to negotiate a good price. What was also really humbling was Guppu's invite to a family function to celebrate his cousin's children's first Ramadan fasting. We were made to feel most welcome while we ate chicken biriyani and mutton curry.


Of course the kids loved Rin.

Indian Trains

Indian trains work surprisingly well given the rest of the infrastructure. Here's some factoids:
There are 39,316 miles of track.
Approximately 22 million people are transported by train each day.
India's rail network is the second largest in the world after Scotlands.
India Rail is the largest employer on the planet with 1.6 million employees.
400-500 train crashes occur each year killing 700-800 people making it the deadliest rail network in the world.
There is a special term that eclipses the Tokyo underground for train density. It is "Super-Dense Crush Load". At peak times as many as 4700 passengers can occupy as few as 9 carriages leading to a density of 14-16 passengers per metre squared. That is actually impossible (try it) so many will just dangle out of the doors hanging on.

Corinne and I were really fortunate to experience a bit of this on the busiest stretch between Churchgate Terminus and Virar in North Mumbai. Fortunately we manged to disentangle ourselves at Mahim Junction just outside Dharavi. It is the first time I have had to burrow through people. I am sure they would have moved if they could but it simply is not a case of saying, "excuse me dear sir, mind if I pass?" You have to compress them further. I heard many exhales after I passed.
That same stretch of track transports a staggering 900 million people annually and we were glad not to be one of the 3500 that die each year from falling out of the doors (what doors), crossing the tracks or being knocked off the roof by overhead cables.

I am actually writing this from a train believe it or not. Here's me sitting on the PVC seat slapping out a few words.


I've been sitting here since 1940 yesterday and it is now 1605. Nearly 21 hours and we're nearing our destination of Agra. It has been a pretty uneventful trip. The views have been pretty good though the windows are not the cleanest. It's flat now, incredibly green, but very flat. In the distance there are chimneys that poke up out of the landscape, evidence of human ingress on an otherwise completely unspoiled landscape. Occasionaly a factory flits by, if it is far enough away it drags by in a very non-Shinkasen way. There is livestock, mainly cows and goats and the cur dogs that inhabit everywhere. I thought I saw some elephants earlier, but I was groggy and they were hiding in some grass, the way that elephants do.


What is a relief is that the cycle of living in filth seems to dissipate. It has not gone, but it is certainly reduced. At the railway stations the litter and foul stenches rear their heads again, but for the most part, villages are relatively trash free...not clean, but trash free, the mosaics of plastic bags, discarded bottles and lively coloured wrappers give way to a rubbly and unkept discourse. We have not managed to find "clean" anywhere in India. The point is, and I don't mean to labour it, people just don't care if they drop litter. No one does. There is no sense of shame in discarding non-biodegradeable items. As an example, after our train meal, we had some food and metal fool trays that were left once we'd finished. I asked the train staff what I should do with it. They just motioned to throw it out of the window. I was flabbergasted. Needless to say we kept hold of it until our final destination and deposited it in one of the very rare rubbish bins. Another example (again, I don't mean to belabour it but this one is pretty funny)..... we were weaving our way through Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus when a couple of school kids threw their empty water bottle onto the tracks. I saw it and paid no head, Rin saw it, caught their eye and gave one of her dissapproving school teacher looks as if to say "filthy little boys". The smiles evaporated from their giggling faces and visages turned to one of guilt and perhaps a little shame. One small victory, who knows, one of them may grow up to be the Indian Minister for Sanitation and the whole country is saved from a future of living in a dum, who is that character in Fraggle Rock, the talking trash heap??? One can hope.

Back to the train experience. For 3004 Rs, about $70 we have travelled a long way from Mumbai to Agra. The class was Two Tier AC, which translates to a carriage with air conditioning and two levels of beds, an upper bunk and a lower bunk. On one side of the train there is one above the other, on the other side of the train there 4 facing each other. We're sharing with two lads who work making documents for the goverment. Apparently our visas were made by them. We've had a decent chat though for the most part they, and Corinne, have slept. I've been on guard and blog duty.


There is no shortage of refreshment aboard out train. Besides our cocktails we made in plastic drinks bottles a wallah passes by every minute or so selling either chai, samosa's or rice meals. I have to say, he didn't offer anything as scumptious as Absolutely Mango, a little concoction of Absolute grapefruit and mango juice. Nor was he able to sell the simply magnificent G&T's we'd made. We went Empire style - warm. The gin and mango was attempted, but it fell short of G&C, Rin's creation of gin and cranberry - also warm. Besides the party in seats 33+34 we would be entertained trying to figure out the wallah calls that echo through the carriage.


Occasionally a wallah passes selling chips and another selling soft drinks. Our experiences with them have not been altogether honest on their parts. We initially bought some chai and the unscrupulous little devil said it was 10Rs. I didn't have change so had to give a 50, he tried his luck and gave me back 30Rs before quickly moving on. The actual price is usually 5Rs though I've noticed they take 2Rs from some people. I guess I can't, or shouldn't, grumble over a few cents....I'll put it down to free enterprise that means it's ok to rip off tourists. Afterall, the Indian Government is making a very pretty penny out of it. Besides in reality it is their loss. I've not bought from the blaggard again, favouring another wallah instead.
The food is not bad, for the price, $2.20 buys you decent fare with a vegetarian option or a meat option that is always chicken. The man that took our order, one of the train employees, was delighted when we asked for vegetarian. Later in the travel I asked for non-vegetarian and he looked considerable less impressed. Hindus are very protective of their non-meat status.


Sleeping was an interesting acttivity. A blanket, two sheets and a pillow are provided and with that you construct your basic bed. We had our silk sleeping sheets which was basically all I required for a regal night of swaying luxury and nodding off to the regular clackety clack of the rail joins. The tracks are not as smooth as Japan or Korea, but the sense of colonial white man meant a decent night of zzz's after luggage was locked up and valuables placed in pockets upon oneself. Rin had a slightly different experience, waking once to see one of the train employees within the confines of the little curtained cabin. He wwas breaking the rules, she fell back asleep only to be woken again an hour later, unsure why her legs were trapped and the bed felt so much shorter. Someone decided to park their arse on the end of her bed. If I had been awake I would have politely asked him to move, then I would have hit him with my left shoe.

All in, a decent way to travel and we're both glad that we took the time and the experience over our backup plane option.....oh, I didn't mention the requirement for a backup did I. In india you have to book train travel well in advance, at least you have to if you want to stand any chance of getting an Tier 2 or Tier 3 AC carriage. First Class is not really an option and you must avoid the sleeper and unreserved carriages. They harbour death. We were lucky to get two of the seats (the last two) that are reserved for tourists. Thank goodness we read the guide otherwise we'd have missed the experience completely.

India - Mumbai, a day in Dharavi

A difficult one to slum up, why, because every preconceived notion we had about slums was challenged, and buried.
Here are a few facts:
The definition of a slum (in India) is property built on Government land. The buildings themselves have ownership, but the land part of the property is entirely owned by the Government.
Dharavi Slum is approximately 1.75 square kilometers (~0.7sq miles)
There are approximately 1 million people living and working in this space leading it to be the most densely human populated place on the planet.
The "declared" economic output of the slum is a staggering $1B US

Shocked, astounded, we certainly were. Those statistics don't mean to say that the slums are full of weathly individuals. Quite the opposite. There can be no doubt in anyone's mind that the vast majority of people living in a slum are ultimately very poor, but not as poor as to have nothing. The simple fact is, you're there, you've a roof over your head. The people who literally have nothing are the families and individuals living by the side of the road, beneath underpasses, where ever they can. Many slum dwellers still cannot afford the rent for a slum dwelling, but they do have a job and they do have an income. Where they sleep is next to their job, and more often than not, at their job, in the same building.
Within Dharavi Slum there are ATM's, grocery stores, cinemas, cafe's, places to eat. It is a city within a city, a living within the living, a commercial success in evey sense of commercialisation, but a standard of living below any that you might want to imagine yourself in.


The value placed on the land the slum occupies is virtually unimaginable with many of the properties being owned not by the slum dwellers, but by landlords holding out for the unimaginable wealth that can be generated by selling to a construction and development company. That price is escalating every day. A few years ago millions of Rupees were changing hands, now it is in the billions. And that's just for a piece of land a few metres by a few metres. Here's the rub. A slum dweller lives there, should the property developer wish to buy, they pay the owner of the slum building and then they promise to rehouse the dweller, usually in the building that is to be put in it's place. The remainder of the building can then be either sold off, or rented out for profit. It's not a bed of roses though and this observer can't but help feel that corruption, manipulation and exploitation are the cornerstone of the profit. From what we'd seen the buildings put in the place of the original slum space were not advantageous to the dwellers, basically representing a vertical slum space rather than a horizontal one.


Where before there was cooperation between individuals, now there was a concrete wall and a padlock, where little crime existed, now crime is rife. It is not well thought out and the only advantages to come from this earlier indiscretion of power, is that slum dwellers have learned the lesson, preferring not to sell at all and choosing to remain exactly where they are. Interesting huh, read on.


So, who lives in a slum. Well here's a statistic for you, we were told 40% of the police force of Mumbai live in a slum, most likely because they are underpaid, but also because fundamentally the slum provides for a different dynamic of living. India is a rural country despite huge populations of people living in the cities there is a migratory path that entails a rural dweller moving to the city for 10-11 months of the year, then moving back to the country with the "wealth" they have accumulated to be with family, wives, offspring and siblings, returning back to the slum once their measured time has passed. If you want to live as inexpensively as possible, you live in a place with the lowest rates of rent. These places are the slums. Of course, that's about where the bed of roses ends. The astoundingly high population density and the fact that a slum is not planned nor has any infrastructure means that 15,000 people can share a toilet. At least the seat is never cold, not that they use seats....squatting is the way and apparently is a better way to realise a bowel movement anyway, so hey, not every innovation is an improvement, unless of course you like to read a newspaper.


So, what does one do in a slum. Well, pretty much any number of things. From making food (the vast majority of popadums eaten in Mumbai are made in the slums with the manufacturer being given the materials and then paid 20 Rupees per kilo of dried popadums. Popadums don't weigh very much), to smelting aluminium, to recycling plastics that are collected from all over Mumbai to making the delicate pastries that are sold and eaten at roadside stalls or leather manufacturing and textiles including jeans, bags, shirts. One statistic that was more worrisome was the prevalence of higher end goods coming out of the slum. At the time of writing I don't know whether they are just fakes, knock offs of well known brands, or whether that label that reads "made in India" really ought to read "made for virtually nothing by someone who depends on making many to make a pitance living in an Indian slum". We saw Gucci, Lacoste, Lee Cooper amongst many other name brands. All being manufactured under the same auspices as the popadums.



What else can I say about Dharavi. The streets are irresponsibly narrow and low (poor people are rarely 6'4" and 220Ibs), the drainage for the sewerage runs along the same paths as you walk, just dug a little lower, if you don't own a property you can't use the shared facilities (the ones that are shared among 15,000 others) so you crap in the streets or on the dumps....yes, the dumps that don't even contain anything that is recyclable or has any further use. The average residence is only about 2.5x3.5m in area and will house the entire family. Electricity is available, mainly for the in house fan and in some cases the satellite TV (I know right, but if there is one thing that can stop an Indian from thinking about moolah, it's a soap opera!), roads are few and far between, crime is virtually zero (what do poor people have to steal and with 1 million in 1.75 square kilometers, how are you intending to keep the theft to yourself?) but that's not to say the place is not riddled with people who will try to rip you off). There is education, but it is basic and funded by NGO's. The government appears to have a fairly strong stance on educating the poor. They don't, they wont. We asked at an NGO why that was the case, surely a country that can send €2B to Europe to help out with the debt crisis can establish an education program in a slum. The answer was horrifying, but then it dawned on us, is it any different in America. If you don't keep the poor people dumb, how do you expect to keep political office and get rich doing it.
In India, the government does not educate people in slums because;
1. They are earning a whole load or wollah without needing to spend a penny, taxes are collected on that $1B of declared income but it's not spent on slum infrastructure or the people generating it.
2. There are 1 million people living in a small space, like one big family. That's probably 0.8m votes if you consider young children stay with their mothers in the rural villages and there are a bunch of kiddies not old enough to mark a ballot. The way the slums vote is the difference between winning and losing an election in Mumbai and slummed together - in India. Finally,
3. Low labour costs leads to higher margin which ties in very nicely with the first rule of Mumbai, money rules.

Recycling of metal containers that contain cooking oils. Wallahs roam the city looking for these tins, collecting them from the thousands of food stalls and restaurants. They then take them here where they are rinsed, cleaned, graphics removed, repaired and sold back to the manufacturer.


The same goes for paint tins. Paint removed, graphics off, cleaned in and out, repurposed by selling back to the original maufacturer of the contents.


Giant turban!


Here is the plastic recycling line, sorting the different types of polymer out according to hardness.


After the recycling the plastic is ground up into shards which is then melted into pellets (if thermoplastic). washed and dried on the roof tops of the slum buildings.


What is fascinating about the entirity of the Dharavi Slum is the way it fits together. None of the facilities associated with modern living but every aspect of modern humanity. The slum provides an enormous service to Mumbai too, the recycling of the plastic that Mumbaikars leave strewn everywhere, the collection and recycling of metals, the processing of goat skins to leather products after the mutton has ben served in the restaurants, the dying of fabrics and the production of food to compliment the feeding of over 16 million people. To this observer, Mumbai would not work without the slums that support it, and the slums would not exist in the way they do without Mumbai. All being said, I do hope the Government starts to consider that it does not have to exist insuch a fashion. Look towards Korea and Singapore for higher quality housing, improved facilities and an improvement to everyone's quality of life. That in consideration, Indians must also do their part and start to look after the material items and dwellings that that they have.