I was working on a documentary film in India last August and
happened to take a quick day trip to the slums of
Dharavi in Mumbai. Dharavi is the largest slum
in Asia…and the world, too, I think. It was an unforgettable experience. We walked the dusty roads and strolled past
people living in conditions that can almost be described as Fourth World. The slum went on forever. The derelict sprawl
of plastic roofs and filth stretched out before us as far as the eye could see. But the people we ran into were
amazingly friendly. They offered us Cokes and wanted to talk about America as well as their own lives. The kids played
in rancid puddles, but their faces beamed with smiles. The fact is, despite their miserable conditions, many of the
people we met were genuinely happy, full of life and laughter. I think of them every once in a while as I live my own
life and consider how fortunate I am to have been born here in the US. But it’s hard not to reassess the meaning of
happiness when you have an experience like that.
I was reminded of my time in India when I read
this Slate piece on Dharavi and the people who live
there. It’s hopeful, I think, and an eye-opening story about a part of the world that doesn’t often get our attention.