Chembur

Today is Raksha Bandhan – Brother and Sister’s Day. It’s a day when a sister ties a red bracelet, or rakhi, around her brother’s wrist in exchange for candy and money. It must be a big deal because shops are closing early and we had to move some site visits to Friday. Luckily, Americares invited us to accompany their mobile clinic unit to another slum area called Chembur. Dr. Patel and his intake assistant were setting up to see between 100-150 patients that day. It was a pleasure watching them work. The two of them were pros. Patients who immediately started lining up outside the office were seen systematically, one-by-one. Our group of five (everyone else was sick back at the hotel) quickly left the clinic and went off exploring the community.

Chembur is a world different from Chandilivi. It made me realize that even among slums, there is a hierarchy. While Chandilivi was a quiet and kempt living community, the hour we spent in Chembur was engulfed in kids and chaos. Trash was everywhere. The smell from open sewage lines down narrow residential corridors permeated the air. Then again, we get used to it. Nobody held their nose or complained about the conditions. After all, people live here. And they seemed happy. I’m not suggesting we shouldn’t help them achieve better livelihoods. It’s just that nobody appeared to be wallowing in despair. Humans are resilient and adaptable to environments. The kids we saw were energetic and playful like they would be anywhere else. Some spoke English and became our mini-tour guides. This is what I think when I want to be optimistic. When that slips away, I worry about my voyeuristic motives. What do these people gain from me being here? Who do I think I am to come to where they live, take pictures, and get on a bus back to my fancy hotel? What was the point of this?