Lessons from the slumdogs

In Mumbai last week, I had occasion to ponder over theories of urban planning while stuck in traffic. Some planners, often of the old school, believe that slums are eyesores and must be replaced, or at least repositioned outside city limits. I could well see their logic - but up to a point. The other urban planning perspective that sees slums as productive, functional spaces crucial for a city's economic and cultural growth, also made sense to me. For all around me was the famed leather market of Dharavi. Festooned with trendy bags, wallets, belts, jackets and hats all conceived, designed and produced in the slum - the place was a bargain hunter's paradise. I decided to ditch the jam and browse some shops instead. At the end, I not only found myself the proud owner of a brand new bag, I also got a brief insight into the slum that so many Mumbaikars hate to love.

The first shop I walked into had handbags of the glitziest brands - Gucci, Prada, Louis Vuitton and more. "The brands may not be genuine but the leather definitely is... We know because it is tanned and dyed right here," said the owner. He said in the absence of good designers, people like him had no option but to seek inspiration from the masters. "Louis Vuitton bags are especially popular with ladies - from within our slum to the high-society types!" said he. The bags were made by skilled and unskilled workers in the factories within Dharavi. When I asked if we could see his factory, the owner said it was too inaccessible for us to reach. Later, we discovered that shop owners offered different excuses to avoid showing their factories and workshops. We heard rumours of high-end luxury brands taking advantage of Dharavi's low labour costs by getting their products manufactured there. Others whispered about the industrial espionage that had led to increased secrecy - apparently, even regular workers who turned up without their identification badges weren't allowed entry. Whether these rumours were true or not, looking at the huge diversity of products made in Dharavi on display, it was clear that industry, in what's often dismissed as "Slumbai", was thriving.

A young shop owner told us that his father had set up his leather business in Dharavi decades ago. "A tanner by profession, he migrated to Mumbai with us from Tamil Nadu. The proximity of the workshop and the market helped him prosper. Today, we have a shop on the main road and are comfortably well off," said he. Having studied in a good Mumbai college, he had interesting new marketing ideas. "I send designs to many regular customers on Whatsapp," said he, adding that he was building a website to start online sales as well. "We don't have a toilet or taps at home. Dharavi has been our home, workplace and market," said he.

In many ways, Dharavi was the perfect contradiction in terms. It had no civic amenities, industries that polluted the air, soil and water in the heart of Mumbai and shanties piled precariously on top of each other. Yet, it provided the base for Mumbai's economy, home to a sizeable chunk of its productive population and a culture unique in its diversity and work ethic. And so when the findings of the first-ever slum census were released earlier this week, I couldn't help but think that instead of merely redeveloping or modernising historic slums like Dharavi, urban planners and the government should first study them to understand what makes them tick. Maybe it's time for the millionaires to learn some lessons from the slumdogs, eh?