Ankita Gupta | 22nd August 2025
When people hear the name Dharavi, the first thought that comes to mind is often “Asia’s largest slum.” But for me, Dharavi became much more than that when I visited it for the first time. It was not just about crowded lanes and small houses .it was about life, culture, and creativity hidden inside narrow streets. My journey to Dharavi started with a simple autorickshaw ride, and from the very beginning, I knew it would be an experience to remember.
As the auto entered the lanes of Dharavi, the driver turned up his speaker and played a loud rap song. The beats echoed through the streets, bouncing off the walls of tiny shops and half-built houses. At first, I was surprised. What is this? I thought, and then smiled to myself. Yes, this is Dharavi raw, noisy, full of energy. The music, the honking of scooters, the calls of street vendors .it was all part of the same soundscape.
The lanes were extremely crowded. Scooters tried to make their way through, children ran past laughing, and women carried bags filled with vegetables. The air was heavy with the smell of food being cooked, mixed with smoke and dust. I kept asking myself, Where am I going? But soon we entered Kumbharwada, the pottery district of Dharavi, and suddenly, the scene changed.
Here, the smell of clay filled the air. The ground was lined with rows of freshly made diyas and pots drying in the sun. Some were plain, others already painted in bright colors. Large kilns were burning in courtyards, releasing black smoke into the air. For the first time, I felt like I had stepped into a place where tradition was alive, beating strongly in the middle of the modern city.
Meeting the Potter
In one of the lanes, I met Devanand Parmar, a 55-year-old potter. When we arrived, he was carefully laying diyas in neat rows under the sun to dry. His hands moved with care, making sure each diya had enough space. He welcomed us warmly, happy to talk about his life and work.
“This is our family work,” he told me. “We came from Gujarat many years ago. My great-great-grandfather started this work here in Dharavi. Since then, every generation has continued it. It is more than just a business it is our identity.”
As I watched him mold the clay, he explained how families in Kumbharwada have adapted over time. “We have our homes and workshops in the same space. Some families build two or even four floors on their houses. They live upstairs and work downstairs. The courtyards and open areas are used for drying and burning the pots.”
I could see what he meant every corner of Kumbharwada was being used for something related to pottery. Clay was being mixed, wheels were spinning, and courtyards were filled with diyas waiting for the festival season. The entire community seemed like one big workshop.
The Question of Redevelopment
When I asked Devanand about Dharavi’s redevelopment project, his expression grew serious. He stopped his wheel for a moment and looked at me.
“Not everyone here agrees with redevelopment,” he said. “The government says we will get 1BHK flats, but how can we do our work there? Where will we keep our kilns? Where will we dry the diyas? This is not an office job that can fit in a small flat. Pottery needs open space, fire, and air.”
He explained further that the current system allows them to live and work in the same place. After redevelopment, if they are shifted into flats, the tradition of pottery may slowly disappear. “Our business will suffer. Some may stop making pots completely,” he added.
I looked around and understood his fear. The wide courtyards filled with pots, the smoky kilns it was impossible to imagine these inside a one-bedroom apartment. Redevelopment, which promises better housing, could also mean the loss of a centuries old art form.
Creativity in Clay
As we continued walking, I visited other workshops in Kumbharwada. In one, women were painting colorful designs on pots. In another, young men were carefully shaping large clay vases. The creativity was inspiring. Each product was different some simple, some decorative, but all made with passion.
One shop had shelves filled with beautifully painted diyas in red, yellow, and gold. They looked ready to brighten up homes for Diwali. It was clear that Kumbharwada was not just about making clay products, but also about adding creativity and imagination to them.
A Father’s Dream
Even though Devanand was proud of his work, his dreams for his children were very different. “I don’t want my children to do this,” he admitted honestly. “This work is difficult, and the income is not certain. My son is studying to join the Navy, and my daughter wants to become a nurse. We also have a backup business, but I want them to build a different life.”
There was a mix of pride and sadness in his voice. Pride, because his children were studying and aiming for professional careers. Sadness, because he knew that the pottery tradition in his family might end with him. This was a reality many families in Dharavi were facing wanting to hold on to tradition, but also wanting a better future for the next generation.
My Reflection
Walking out of Kumbharwada, I carried more than just the memory of clay on my hands and smoke in the air. I carried the story of a community standing at a crossroads. On one side,there is tradition centuries of skill, culture, and identity. On the other side, there is change redevelopment, modern housing, and new opportunities for the younger generation.
Dharavi is often seen from the outside as only a “slum,” but inside it is full of life, industry, and creativity. Kumbharwada showed me how people have built businesses, families, and entire communities within small lanes. Every diya here tells a story not just of clay, but of survival, hard work, and dreams for a brighter tomorrow.
For me, this visit was more than just a trip. It was a lesson. It taught me that Dharavi is not only about poverty or crowded spaces it is about resilience. It is about people shaping their future with their own hands, even when facing challenges.
As I left, I thought back to the loud rap music that greeted me at the start of the journey. At first, it felt out of place, but later I realized it was the perfect symbol of Dharavi itself loud, energetic, sometimes chaotic, but always alive.
Ankita Gupta, a media researcher and writer, explores intersections of tradition, identity, and change. Her work focuses on uncovering untold stories from India’s diverse communities.
