By Atif Jaleel, India Tomorrow,

The Pul Mithai bridge in Tis Hazari area of New Delhi houses a large slum area for several hundred people. With a recent outbreak of Tuberculosis we at India Tomorrow wanted to investigate how this could occur in the capital.  

As we got there, the person we had spoken to earlier over the phone, Subodh, was standing at the corner of the intersection - where was a long line of street vendors selling spices, dry fruits and other lentils.

After we said our hellos, Subodh started to tell us about the slum and what the residents were going through. Something was very peculiar about this man. In contrast to everyone else he wore very new clothes that had a certain sheen to it only seen on new clothes. Apparently, journalists coming to have a look at the area was a special occasion that required donning the best this man could afford.

While we were on the road side walking through the makeshift market, we asked him where all these street vendors sleep at night. He told us that they would sleep here in these very makeshift shops/streets.

As we went about the roadside, our guide took us to an area under the bridge. Here we saw the real slum. No amount of re-runs of Slumdog Millionaire had prepared me for what I witnessed at Pul Mithai.

The conditions were deplorable. Hundreds of tents made out of tarpaulin, 4 feet high and 5 feet wide, with close to 5 people in each tent. Ovens made out of clay, fueled by wood scraps from wherever they can find. Mothers doing their best to keep clean however they could in the filth they lived in.

Looking more like a refugee camp, the people there had tried to the best of their abilities to make it seem like home. Even while living in tents, you could still see TVs in most of the houses. Children watching Oggy & The Cockroaches, giving them some escape and a chance to get in touch with their childhood before the harsh reality of their situation hits them.

Children were playing with small pichkaaris on each other in front of a small temple right next to the slum. I believe it was the only thing they attempted to keep clean in the whole area.

Our guide offered us tea, but being in that place had definitely taken away our appetite. We had to humbly decline the offer. Neither of us wanted to drink or eat anything they had to offer. Of course, we felt bad since they were being so kind to us. But we had no idea in what kind of conditions that tea had been made in. There was just too much filth around, I don’t think either of us could stomach it.

Near the railway tracks, a burst water pipeline with a single stream of water sprayed was the only source of water for the 300 or so families in that area. You could see women doing the dishes in a small puddle, a few others washing their clothes, and men taking a bath all in the same place from the same stream of water.

We asked where the toilets were. Our guide told us it was about 200 meters away from us across the railway tracks. But since you had to pay to use the toilets, money which they didn’t have, they preferred to use the railway tracks to relieve themselves. Didn’t matter if who was male or female, everyone had to do their business in the open. Not only did this put women in a vulnerable position, it stripped them away of any decency.

What was the most shocking fact I heard all day was that these 30+ year olds were born and raised in these slums. That would mean the slum was older than 30 years. Until now, the only reason I thought people would live in a slum like that was because they were either refugees or were temporarily staying there till something else came along. Never had I imagined people would stay in a place like that for over two generations.

Every single person we spoke to was born in the same slum and had lived there since they were born. There were very few old people in the area, a reminder that the weak cannot survive in a place like this.

We asked Subodh if the children went to school. He told us of an NGO called ‘Butterflies’ that came to the slum and taught the children alphabets and math in front of the very temple we were standing at. The only place big and clean enough for the children to gather.

Later on a young man who looked like a student came along with a bag slung over his shoulder. He greeted us and introduced himself as Mohd. Saleem, one of the members of Butterfly. He told us about what the NGO does and how they’ve tried to help the slum-dwellers as best as they can. Obviously, there is only so much they can do. Some basic education like addition and how to spell for children, getting ID cards made for them so they could at least utilize some government schemes for themselves.

But as most of the people there told us, these ID cards got them nothing more than a few bags of rice and wheat up to 4-5 months. Then the ration just stopped coming.

Eventually we said our goodbyes after we took some photos and videos. As me and my colleague left, we realized how lucky and thankful we were for whatever we were blessed with. We left hoping we could let others know through us what these people were going through and rehabilitate their condition.