Across several weeks, threatening phone calls persisted. Originally, supposedly from a retired cop and a former defense officer, subsequently from the authorities. Ultimately, one resident asserts he was ordered to the police station and told clearly: remain silent or experience severe repercussions.
The leather artisan is among those resisting a high-value initiative where one of India's largest slums – one of India’s largest and most storied slums – is scheduled to be razed and transformed by a multinational conglomerate.
"The unique ecosystem of the slum is like nowhere else in the globe," says the protester. "However their intention is to dismantle our way of life and silence our voices."
The cramped lanes of Dharavi sit in stark contrast to the high-rise structures and elite residences that loom over the area. Dwellings are built haphazardly and typically missing basic amenities, unregulated industries produce dangerous fumes and the environment is saturated with the overpowering odor of uncovered waste channels.
Among some individuals, the vision of Dharavi transformed into a glistening neighborhood of high-end towers, neat parks, modern retail complexes and apartments with multiple bathrooms is an aspirational dream achieved.
"There's no proper healthcare, paved pathways or water management and there are no spaces for kids to enjoy," says a tea vendor, fifty-six, who relocated from his home state in the early eighties. "The sole solution is to clear the area and construct proper housing."
Yet certain residents, like Shaikh, are opposing the plan.
Everyone acknowledges that the slum, historically ignored as an illegal encroachment, is desperately requiring investment and development. Yet they are concerned that this plan – without community input – might transform valuable urban land into a luxury development, displacing the disadvantaged, migrant communities who have lived there since the late 1800s.
It was these marginalized, displaced people who developed the uninhabited area into a frequently examined example of self-reliance and economic productivity, whose output is valued at between one million dollars and a substantial sum a year, making it a major informal economies.
Among approximately 1 million residents living in the dense sprawling neighborhood, less than 50% will be qualified for replacement housing in the development, which is projected to take an extended timeframe to accomplish. Others will be moved to barren areas and salt plains on the distant periphery of the city, risking fragment a generations-old community. A portion will be denied housing at all.
Residents permitted to continue living in the neighborhood will be given units in multi-story structures, a major break from the natural, collective approach of living and working that has supported this area for so long.
Commercial activities from clothing production to pottery and material recovery are likely to reduce in scale and be moved to a specific "industrial sector" far from residential areas.
For those such as this protester, a craftsman and third generation resident to live in the slum, the plan presents an existential threat. His rickety, three-floor workshop creates leather coats – sharp blazers, luxury coats, decorated jackets – distributed in luxury boutiques in the city's affluent areas and internationally.
Household members dwells in the spaces below and laborers and garment workers – laborers from different regions – reside there, allowing him to afford their labour. Beyond the slum, accommodation prices are often tenfold more expensive for minimal space.
Within the government offices nearby, a visual representation of the redevelopment plan shows an alternative perspective. Well-groomed people gather on bicycles and electric vehicles, buying western-style bread and breakfast items and enlisting beverages on a terrace near a restaurant and dessert parlor. This represents a stark contrast from the inexpensive idli sambar breakfast and 5-rupee chai that sustains local residents.
"This isn't progress for residents," states the protester. "It represents a massive real estate deal that will make it unaffordable for our community to continue."
There is also concern of the corporate group. Run by a prominent businessman – one of India's most powerful and a supporter of the national leader – the business group has been subject to claims of preferential treatment and financial impropriety, which it disputes.
Although the state government labels it a joint project, the developer paid $950m for its controlling interest. A lawsuit claiming that the project was unfairly awarded to the corporation is under review in the nation's highest judicial body.
From when they initiated to vocally oppose the project, Shaikh and other residents state they have been experienced an extended period of coercion and warning – including messages, direct threats and insinuations that criticizing the project was tantamount to opposing national interests – by individuals they claim represent the corporate group.
Part of the group alleged to have delivering warnings is {a retired police officer|a former law enforcement official|an ex-c