Seelampur

Since 1991, when then-finance minister Manhoman Singh (now second-term P.M.) ushered in economic reform, India has become a country of spectacular wealth, much of which is concentrated in its urban areas, particularly Mumbai and Delhi. Mumbai - India's cosmopolitan city - was consciously designed to accommodate just 8 million people, a decision spurred by - ironically - a deep provincialism and near-fanatical fear of cultural and economic dilution by outsiders. Today, it is a city of 16 million, with formal neighborhoods themselves archipelagos in an ever-expanding sea of slums. The housing shortage is so acute that even the middle class in Mumbai live in these informal settlements, without infrastructure, lapping at the gates of spatial and social inclusion.

In Delhi, there are stark contrast to be sure. Driving through the city, you frequently see roadside enclaves of tents and makeshift houses. But in Delhi - as with all things here - these areas are largely decentralized, so the city landscape appears less like floating islands of wealth, and more like a badly pockmarked tapestry of socio-economic division and exclusion. There are a few exceptions to this systematic decentralization of poverty - one is Nizzamudin, a large slum in South Delhi near the western bank of the fetid Yamuna. Another is Seelampur, a slum of 150,000 near the east bank of the Yamuna, directly across from the warrens of Old Delhi that Dana has described previously.

Both of these slums have one thing in common: they are largely Muslim. As an assistant professor from the Delhi University School of Social Work recently told me, "Muslims are demonized all over the world, but nowhere as systematically, effectively and broadly as in India" (or something along those lines). A fundamental divide between India's two major political parties - the BJP and Congress - is their approach to this minority. The BJP, led by right wing Hindu fanatics masquerading as public intellectuals and economic reformers, espouses the idea of Hindutva, or a pure Hindu state, and has won the majority of their electoral victories by stoking fears of fecund Muslims overwhelming the Hindi majority. At least rhetorically, Congress has been friendlier to this minority, though one development indicator after another shows the routine and systematic deprivation of Muslims. As a group they fare far worse than even low-caste Hindus when it comes to critical metrics like literacy, access to public health infrastructure and employment.

Visiting Seelampur, as I did this week, the meaning of this exclusion becomes apparent. The average family in Seelampur earns between 3000 and 4000 INR per month (around $50USD), primarily by salvaging the copper from old electrical wires, which they can sell for 2 INR per KG, or around 2 cents per pound. To earn the meager amount they do from this tedious and difficult job, 4 or 5 members of each family need to be actively engaged in the work as much as 12 hours per day. Partially as a result of this (but also because of high infant mortality rates), the average family in Seelampur has between 6 and 7 children. These children are frequently ridiculed and abused at school, and most drop out by Class V.

Seelampur is lucky in some respects: because it is a formal resettlement, the labyrinth of houses, alleyways, smalls shops and mosques are not constructed illegally on private land, and should - barring abuse of eminent domain by corrupt government officials - remain there, without the threat of bulldozing that faces so many other communities in India. However, ownership of land is small consolation. The average home in Seelampur rents for 500 INR a month, and is often a single, 8x8 room. To own a house costs 35000 INR or more, or around a year's wages for the average family. And because of neglect by local municipal authorities, few of these houses have access to any public infrastructure.

Years ago, the municipal development corporation purchased pumps for Seelampur, in order to divert drinking water to their few taps. The government has failed to operate these pumps, however, so the residents of the slum must pool their own money to pay for electricity, staffing and fuel. There is only a single public toilet in the slum, which costs 1 INR to use. The majority of the slum residents defecate in a field of open trenches that borders their homes, but at night this leaves most women without options, as it is too dangerous. There is a public hospital that borders Seelampur, but the slum residents have been treated poorly there, and they have little trust for government services. As a result, most residents visit a local quack with no medical training.

I was given a tour of Seelampur by the D.U. School of Social Work as part of a conference I have been attending this week about globalization in India's urban context. The arrival of westerners at the slum was a source of much curiosity for local residents.

We were led through the small alleyways of the slum, followed by ten or twenty curious school children, all desperate to use their few English words and hear Westerners respond. Lots of "hellos", and sometimes just a recitation of the numbers 1 through 10, or portions of the alphabet. Most of the wire-strippers work from home, so even in mid-afternoon, the slum was alive with activity. Small shops sold basic household essentials and dry goods, a Suffi madrassa full of small children sitting on a concrete floor in front of rough-hewn wooden benches did their best to sing in a shaky unison. And we encountered woman after woman involved with a local village council that had lobbied for the meager resources the community now has and who were eager to show us everything their advocacy had reaped.

And I'll let the photographs capture the rest, lest my prose become affected by the sort of naive - but impotent - romanticism with which so many Westerners approach poverty.