War no match for paapad or pickles

Dharavi in Mumbai North Central Lok Sabha constituency is part of two Assembly seats Dharavi and Mahim. In the 1995 Assembly elections the Shiv Sena had captured both the Assembly segments as well as the Lok Sabha seat. However, in thelast Lok Sabha elections in 1998, Cong-RPI candidate Ramdas Athawale had won. This time, former Maharashtra Chief Minister Manohar Joshi (Shiv Sena) is facing Raja Dhale of the RPI-Congress and B C Kamble of the RPI-NCP.

This area has an estimated daily turnover of Rs 50 crore in transactions. It has remained unaffected by the slump in land prices with the prevailing rate at Rs 5,000 per sq foot. As an RPI activist puts it, Dharavi is so industrious that not a single beggar stalks its streets.

Virtually every house is a “cottage industry”. Be it making pappad or pickles, sold to entrepreneurs who distribute them attractively packaged; be it stitching buttons on blouses, shirts and trousers at Rs 2 to Rs 3 per piece; or simply removing loose threads after tailoring is completed at 20 paise for piece — everyone is in “business”.

Never mind what the political parties would have you believe. For all its economic mobility, Dharavi is, strangely enough, politically immobile. The communists have theiroffices here. So do the Vishwa Hindu Parishad and the Bajrang Dal. Dalit political organisations too are active. All mainstream political parties too have their offices. But walk through the streets of Dharavi, enter the now-cemented slums with sunless housing units lining a half-metre-width pathway on either side. You will only discover motion without enthusiasm, hubbub without excitement.

The elections have done little to alter the mood. It is not because they are “unaware”. In the aftermath of the 1992-93 riots, it is wise to keep a low profile.

Sixty-plus Khan won’t divulge his first name but says it’s is in the voters’ list. “How will my name matter to what you write? Say I am Khan.” He voted last time and will do so again. “You tell me whom to vote for, I’ll vote accordingly,” he says. The BJP Government did well to drive off intruders in Kargil, he is told. “Oh!” he exclaims, “Did it?” He looks into the distance and adds: “There the fighting goes on all the time. I don’t know much. Ihave to earn my livelihood.” Which is making envelopes. His part of the job is to go to the market to purchase the paper. Does he make enough from that? “Well, I survive,” he says.

Half-a-kilometre away, Murugan is more involved. “How did they enter Kargil in the first place?” he asks, adding, “But yes, it’s good they were driven out.” The Government reacted appropriately, he says. So he will vote for the BJP? He pauses before responding: “Yes, I think I will. I have not decided yet.” Did he contribute to any of the Kargil funds? “I did not, no one came here to collect money,” he says.

Muthu, a defence civilian employee, and SI Aravind A. Gaikwad of Dharavi police station explain the lack of enthusiasm: “These people just mind their business. Most of them are illegal, you see, and they avoid the limelight.” An RPI activist said some youths did try to get enrolled in the Army at the height of the Kargil fervour but that was that.

In the middle of heaps of garbage, some women are layingpappad on inverted baskets for drying in the sun. When the photographer takes out his camera, they get combative and prevent being photographed. Explains a passer-by, “If you publish the photograph, no one will buy pappad from here.” A story common to the area.