Amit Gupta | 25th September 2025
When I stepped into the narrow lanes of Dharavi yesterday, I realized that no photograph, no documentary, and no outsider’s description could ever prepare me for the reality of life within Asia’s largest informal settlement. Walking through those congested passages, I found myself surrounded by a world where survival itself becomes an everyday battle—a world where each lane tells a story of hardship, resilience, and unyielding human spirit.
The First Glimpse of the Lanes
The first thing that struck me was the overwhelming lack of space. The lanes are so narrow that two people can barely walk side by side. Houses are built so close together that sunlight hardly finds its way through the tangled roofs of tin and plastic sheets. As I went deeper, the walls seemed to close in, and I felt an immediate sense of suffocation. Breathing was not just difficult because of the limited space, but also because of the environment itself—thick with smells of sewage, smoke, and food all blending into one heavy air.
Every few steps, I had to be cautious not to step into the open drains. The sewage water running down the sides of the lanes gave off a stench so strong that it was impossible to ignore. Yet, for the people living there, this is not an unusual discomfort—it is their daily normal. Children hopped effortlessly over the dirty water, balancing with the skill of tightrope walkers, as though they had long learned to accept and adapt.
The Struggles of Everyday Life
As I moved further, I saw families trying to make the best use of every inch of the narrow lanes. Women squatted on the ground, washing clothes in small plastic tubs, spreading them over wires that hung overhead like a web. Men were busy fixing household items or preparing goods for work. What truly caught my attention was how much of daily life spilled outside the tiny homes—because inside, there was simply no space.
Some families had brought out their stoves, cooking food right there in the lane. The smoke from coal and kerosene stoves mixed with the already heavy air, making it even more difficult to breathe. I noticed a woman stirring a pot of curry, carefully shielding the flame from being blown out by the occasional breeze that rushed through. Children sat nearby, waiting for their meal, their eyes tired but expectant.
Garbage, Sewage, and Breathless Lanes
The deeper I walked, the more overwhelming it became. Garbage was strewn in several corners, piled up in sacks or simply dumped along the pathway. Plastic bags, food waste, and broken objects added to the chaos. The lanes were not just narrow; they were suffocating. Every step carried the weight of bad smells—garbage rotting in one corner, sewage flowing in another, smoke from cooking filling the air, and the strong odor of detergent from washing.
It was exhausting just to walk a few meters. Breathing felt like a challenge. I kept wondering how people managed to live here every single day, year after year, when just a short visit left me gasping.
Inconvenience Becomes Routine
At one point, I stopped to observe a group of young boys playing cricket with a plastic ball and a wooden stick. Their laughter echoed through the lanes, masking for a brief moment the misery of their surroundings. They darted across puddles of sewage, dodging adults carrying buckets of water or clothes. I wondered—how do they manage to find joy here? But then I realized: inconvenience has become routine for them. What I saw as struggle, they had normalized as life.
Yet, even in this acceptance, there was exhaustion. I could see it in the faces of women carrying buckets of water through the lanes, in the men returning from long shifts of labour, and in the elderly sitting silently outside their cramped homes. Each breath here seemed heavier than the last, not just because of the environment but because of the weight of survival.
A Reality Hidden from Outsiders
For many of us who live outside Dharavi, the image of the settlement is often reduced to statistics—population density, lack of sanitation, informal industries. But walking through those lanes gave me a far deeper perspective. Dharavi is not just a place on the map; it is a living, breathing world with people struggling for dignity every day.
The lanes, though suffocating, are alive with activity. Small shops tucked into corners sell everything from biscuits to mobile recharges. Tiny workshops hum with the sound of machines, producing leather goods, pottery, garments, and more. Dharavi contributes massively to Mumbai’s economy, yet the people behind these industries often continue to live in such unbearable conditions.
The Silent Strength of the People
Despite the visible struggles, what stood out most to me was the strength of Dharavi’s people. Every person I saw was doing something—working, cleaning, cooking, or caring for children. Life here does not pause for discomfort. People adapt, survive, and carry on with a quiet determination.
I thought of my own home, where space, fresh air, and basic facilities are things I never stop to appreciate. In Dharavi, every drop of water, every square foot of space, and every breath of cleaner air holds immense value.
My Reflection
Leaving those lanes was not easy for me. Not physically—I could walk out anytime—but emotionally. The images stayed with me long after I had left: the woman stirring her pot of curry on the roadside, the children laughing in the midst of sewage, the endless lines of clothes drying above my head, the narrow passageways where life has to be negotiated with every step.
Visiting Dharavi’s lanes was not just an experience of observing struggle—it was a mirror showing me the privilege I live with every day. The people I saw are not helpless victims but survivors, shaping their lives against all odds. Their story is not only of suffering but also of resilience.
Amit Gupta writes about people, places, and the untold stories that shape everyday life. With a keen eye for detail, he brings readers closer to the hidden worlds within India’s cities.
