Across several weeks, intimidating communications recurred. At first, supposedly from a retired cop and a former defense officer, subsequently from law enforcement directly. Finally, Mohammad Khurshid Shaikh asserts he was called to the local precinct and told clearly: keep quiet or experience severe repercussions.
This third-generation resident is one of many opposing a high-value initiative where Dharavi – a massive informal community with rich history – faces razed and transformed by a large business group.
"The culture of Dharavi is exceptional in the world," states Shaikh. "Yet they want to destroy our way of life and silence our voices."
The narrow alleys of the slum present a dramatic difference to the high-rise structures and luxury apartments that loom over the settlement. Dwellings are constructed informally and frequently lacking adequate facilities, informal businesses emit toxic smoke and the atmosphere is permeated by the overpowering odor of open sewers.
To some, the vision of the slum's redevelopment into a glistening neighborhood of high-end towers, organized recreational areas, modern retail complexes and apartments with two toilets is an aspirational dream realized.
"We don't have adequate medical facilities, proper streets or water management and there are no spaces for children to play," explains a chai seller, fifty-six, who relocated from his home state in 1982. "The only way is to clear the area and build us new homes."
Yet certain residents, including Shaikh, are opposing the plan.
None deny that the slum, long neglected as informal housing, is desperately requiring investment and development. However they worry that this plan – without community input – might turn premium city property into a playground for the rich, displacing the lower-caste, migrant communities who have resided there since the nineteenth century.
It was these marginalized, relocated individuals who developed the uninhabited area into a frequently examined example of community resilience and business activity, whose economic value is worth between $1m and two million dollars annually, making it among the globe's biggest unregulated sectors.
Of the roughly a million residents living in the crowded sprawling neighborhood, fewer than half will be qualified for alternative accommodation in the project, which is expected to take a significant period to accomplish. Others will be moved to wastelands and saline fields on the remote edges of Mumbai, threatening to fragment a generations-old social network. Certain individuals will be denied homes at all.
Residents permitted to stay in Dharavi will be allocated apartments in tower blocks, a major break from the natural, collective approach of residing and operating that has maintained the community for so long.
Businesses from tailoring to pottery and material recovery are projected to reduce in scale and be moved to a designated "commercial zone" far from residential areas.
For those such as the leather artisan, a workshop owner and third generation resident to call home Dharavi, the redevelopment presents a fundamental risk. His makeshift, three-floor operation makes garments – sharp blazers, suede trenches, studded bomber jackets – distributed in high-end shops in the city's affluent areas and overseas.
His family dwells in the spaces below and his workers and garment workers – migrants from different regions – reside on-site, allowing him to manage costs. Beyond this community, Mumbai rents are often significantly more expensive for minimal space.
At the government offices in the vicinity, an illustrated mock-up of the redevelopment plan illustrates an alternative outlook. Slickly dressed people gather on two-wheelers and electric vehicles, acquiring international bread and croissants and socializing on a terrace adjacent to a restaurant and dessert parlor. This depicts a complete departure from the 20-rupee idli sambar first meal and 5-rupee chai that maintains local residents.
"This represents no improvement for residents," says Shaikh. "It's an enormous land development that will price people out for our community to continue."
Furthermore, there's distrust of the development company. Headed by a prominent businessman – among the country's wealthiest and a supporter of the Indian prime minister – the conglomerate has faced accusations of preferential treatment and ethical concerns, which it rejects.
While administrative bodies describes it as a joint project, the corporation paid nearly a billion dollars for its 80% stake. Legal proceedings stating that the initiative was improperly granted to the corporation is being considered in India's supreme court.
After they started to publicly resist the development, protesters and community members assert they have been experienced a long-running campaign of harassment and intimidation – involving communications, explicit warnings and suggestions that opposing the initiative was tantamount to speaking against the country – by figures they allege represent the corporate group.
Among those suspected of making intimidations is {a retired police officer|a former law enforcement official|an ex-c
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