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COLLECTIVE Mumbai has launched a report commemorating eight months of the struggle against demolition of Jai Bhim Nagar. Download it here.
The report was released by civil rights activist and writer Dr. Anand Teltumbde and Supreme Court advocate Gautam Bhatia on 5 February 2025. You can watch the discussion on Youtube.
| Download our report Jai Bhim Nagar Against Builder Raj. Click here. Please consider contributing towards COLLECTIVE Mumbai’s initiatives. Suggested contribution: Rs 50. UPI: oishikar@fifederal Join us in building a revolutionary student-youth movement for Bhagat Singh’s India! Apply for membership. Contact us: +91 70040 54378 (Adarsh), +91 81971 39622 (Huma) |
Foreword
by Freny Manecksha, senior journalist
Jai Bhim Nagar. The very name for this basti so poignantly and evocatively captures the aspirations of its dwellers, who nurture hope for a better world and of social equity, as envisaged by one of the greatest leaders of India. What bitter irony then, that this home to migrant low-wage working-class families, named after Babasaheb, was on June 6, 2024, demolished by the collusion of the builder and a state agency. Many of the dwellers were from historically oppressed castes and nomadic tribes, to whom the state should actually behave with more responsibility and sensitivity.
What is even more reprehensible is how the Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC) gave the go-ahead to the Hiranandani group to destroy the homes even as the monsoon was setting in. This flagrant disregard of an order of the Maharashtra government which prohibits demolitions in the monsoon, rendered people homeless during the city’s relentless downpours. It condemned them to live on the pavements in damp and squalid conditions.
What can be a more powerful reflection on the subversion of basic human rights than this denial of fundamental rights to shelter, livelihood and dignity by the very man people who constructed the homes as a labour colony? The Hiranandani group utilized workers’ labour to convert the swampy land of Powai into a swank township of Greco Roman towers including condominiums, penthouses and bungalows, lush parks, and malls spread over 250 acres. When the demand for construction began coming down from 2012 and many among the second and third generation of residents began working elsewhere, talk of demolishing Jai Bhim Nagar was initiated. It had morphed into being described as “illegal construction.”
Poonam, whom I met in July, squatting on the pavement, pointed to the high-rise building’s opposite. Her husband, she said, used to single them out with pride as he had done the fittings for them.
“We belong to the Vishwakarma community. We used to be revered for our work. Now we are pushed out.”
What is even more brazen is that ownership of this land is in dispute and the Hiranandani group has never been listed by the court as owners. The Hiranandani group was granted slum ownership rights by BMC after a mysterious slum fire in 2007.
The meticulously researched and painstaking report by Collective details not only the timeline of such illegalities but also explores and analyses ways in which a vision of a democratic and welfarist state was increasingly eroded by liberalization policies.
“The case of Jai Bhim Nagar shows that the line between legal and illegal private property is open to contestation, is constantly being redrawn, and the law often only catches up with the shifting balance of power between ordinary people and big corporations.” (sic)
Jai Bim Nagar is also the portrayal of society that aggressively and increasingly asserts privilege and entitlement. Working people, the motor to the city’s growth, are sacrificed for private gain. Yet another glaring example of subversion of basic rights is how the State Human Rights Commission (SHRC) went well beyond its advisory role and was quoted by the BMC as ordering the demolition. A resident of Hiranandani Gardens, son of a BMC corporator, had earlier approached the SHRC claiming Jai Bhim Nagar, was an unauthorised construction which violated the human rights of people living in the locality.
Some months ago, I met a young college going girl at the pavement. Her mother works as a domestic worker in one of the buildings and she pertinently pointed out to me that the wealthy were not averse to employing her mother for work even as they often expressed the wish for the basti dwellers to be erased out of consciousness! This is the ugly truth of Mumbai. Those who built the city and were embraced by it are later described as encroachers, a menace or else those who must be grateful for any slum rehabilitation measures, even if it means re location to the periphery. More often than not it is the builder lobby that has benefitted the most from the housing schemes as is evident by the Hiranandani group which was supposed to construct low-cost housing under the government’s Powai Area Development Scheme.
As the report observes it is therefore crucial that housing be recognised in law as a right, not as a dole. It must be seen as a precondition for the productive advancement of society. The struggle of Jai Bhim Nagar slum dwellers has revealed how institutions of law and justice need a sharper and more sensitive perspective. The evictions severely impacted the vulnerable sections of society, women and children. The report dwells on the vital gender perspective. Women suffer enormously after evictions. There is a lack of bathing and toilet facilities and there are huge concerns for safety and privacy. Children, who were eagerly attending school, not only lost their bags and schoolbooks in the savage vandalizing by the police but also found the spaces to do homework and study had vanished. How does young Babloo study without electricity in the makeshift shelter, asked his mother Poonam. Sangeeta’s eldest son had to drop out of school because the family was forced to rent new premises since living on pavements was not an option with three children. Who restores him this right to education?
The anti-eviction struggle bravely continues as is evident to anyone who passes down the Powai Road. A defiant series of makeshift shelters festooned with flags, banners and posters proclaims the presence of a Jai Bhim Nagar, despite bids to push them into oblivion. One shelter hosts the Subki Library where volunteers interact with children, encouraging them to read, to think, to keep their hopes and aspirations alive. Children sing, they dance, compose rap songs and watch films.
One young girl explains how she draws inspiration from Savitribai Phule who carried an extra saree with her to work. When people threw dung and mud at her as she was on her way to the school, she simply changed her clothes on arrival and carried on with her valuable work.
Introduction: Jai Bhim Nagar between Bombay and Mumbai
On 6th June 2024, Jai Bhim Nagar in Powai, home to migrant low-wage working-class families, was demolished by the Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC). Many of them were from historically oppressed castes and nomadic tribes. They contributed to building and maintaining the Hiranandani builders’ luxury developments but were dispossessed and displaced as per the builders’ convenience.
Over 60 residents, including women and minors, have been framed under various criminal charges. ‘Illegals’, ‘encroachers’ living in ‘dens of gambling, drugs, and crime’. This is the deliberately antagonising language of the various State agencies describing them, the aristocrats who reign from Powai’s Greco-Roman ivory towers, or the builders-contractors making a margin in all this. This is why the Maharashtra Human Rights Commission ordered Jai Bhim Nagar to be demolished based on a complaint of ‘nuisance’ to Powai’s proper occupants – the owners and hustlers moving prime real estate.
The displaced basti residents are also subjected to another language. That they are the noble poor, the worthy objects of benevolence and charity. They are passive recipients, forever thankful for the aid thrown their way, as State dole or philanthropy. This is the Jai Bhim Nagar sought after by corporate-funded NGOs distributing mosquito nets and leftover food to the homeless, well-meaning reporters photographing half-naked children playing on the footpath, the trustees of socio-religious bodies servicing the slum’s spiritual needs, or the electoral entrepreneurs counting on a dependable vote-bank.
Jai Bhim Nagar speaks, and is spoken of, in many tongues. Much like the Hindi we speak in Mumbai, it is a blend of no one thing. Yet, there is one language conspicuously muted– the language of labour that runs the shining metropolis. Hidden under the tarpaulin, thrown lattoo-like around the city map, tearing apart families, their combination of muscle with human creativity sustains the world of finance, services, and even Bollywood. Where would India’s financial capital be if they said ‘No’ one day?
A City of Mills
Mumbai’s housing crisis has roots in colonial, industrial and urban policies. Girangaon, the village of mills, arose as a textile manufacturing hub in the port city of Bombay in the mid-19th century. Workers from the countryside came in as millhands, railway, dock and postal workers, etc., densely populating around 600 acres in the central part of the city. The overcrowding and unsanitary conditions gave rise to disease. The bubonic plague more than halved the city’s population and halted production. The City of Bombay Improvement Trust (BIT), created in its aftermath in 1898, was a response from the wealthy British and Indian industrialists and merchants. The epidemic, along with other preventable diseases, affected the mill workers disproportionately, but death had cut across class boundaries. These had to be enforced by State planning. The BIT and industry would do just this. Spreading out the mill districts like Parel, Mazgaon, and Bhuleshwar to create chawls and expand the city set a precedent for spatial and social segregation. Such was the hatred for these discriminatory practices that the Chapekar brothers received a hero’s reception after assassinating the British plague commissioner.
The working class also began asserting its arrival in the city. NM Lokhande, a member of Jyotiba Phule’s Satyashodak Samaj was the editor of the labour weekly Deenbandhu, and he founded the Bombay Mill Hands Association in 1884. From the historic mill strike to free the freedom fighter Bal Gangadhar Tilak in 1908 to the formation of the powerful Girni Kamgar Union in 1928, the toilers who came to Bombay were learning to claim a place for themselves. They won workplace legislations for occupational safety, limiting the workday, gradually eliminating child labour, and were at the epicentre of a nascent anti-caste churning. The lives and struggles of toiling people animated the public discourse, with influential dailies, periodicals, translations, publishers, and cultural troupes like the Indian People’s Theatres Association discussing burning questions of independence, war and revolution. The expansion of bus and rail lines, the mail and telegraph boom, public education and broadcasting were achievements of this urban proletariat. Bombay, Kanpur, Madras, and Lahore became centres of the anti-colonial struggle. The martyrdom of dock, mill and coolie workers who halted work to support the mutineers in the Royal Indian Navy in February 1946 hammered the final nail in the coffin of the British Empire.
Meanwhile, the nascent bourgeoisie was planning for what was coming. A tiny group of wealthy industrialists and technocrats, including JRD Tata and GD Birla, began discussions in the city in 1944 and drafted the Bombay Plan, formally titled A Plan of Economic Development for India. Sensing an imminent British withdrawal and fearful of losing their private property in the tumult of anti-colonial upheavals across the globe, they proposed a leading role for the State to implement an ‘import substitution’ policy that would gradually open heavy industry for private accumulation while shielding Indian capitalists from overseas competition. This document became the blueprint for the first three Five Year Plans, or what would be called ‘Nehruvian socialism’.
Planet of the Malls
After Independence, the Bombay Development Department (BDD) needed to provide adequate housing for industrial workers. Overcrowded tenements, poor infrastructure, and lack of sanitation marked their living conditions. Workers were pushed to the city’s periphery while central areas were allocated to the new business elite. Areas like Worli and Sewri lacked access to clean water and sanitation. BDD chawls were built on land ‘reclaimed’ from the sea, creating affordable housing for over a half lakh families working in mills and ports, rail employees, banking staff, postal workers, etc. Despite their dismal conditions, these chawls housed a proud and rising citizenry. Bombay’s organised working class would liberate Goa and Dadra Nagar Haveli from Portuguese occupation and lead the Samyukt Maharashtra movement for the linguistic reorganisation of states. From its womb emerged the Dalit Panthers in 1972, a revolutionary organisation inspired by the Vietnamese and African self-determination struggles that militated against caste atrocities. It is not surprising that these BDD chawls were the fountainhead of working-class, Dalit radicalism.
The Maharashtra Co-operative Societies Act of 1960 gradually opened the floodgates for land speculation and privatised housing. It eased land zoning laws and allowed private societies into urban planning. Privately-administered societies also became a conduit for social segregation, and, six decades later, Babasaheb Ambedkar’s dream of urbanisation undoing caste and communal sentiments stands shattered as Dalits and Muslims continue to face the worst of housing discrimination and ghettoisation in every major Indian city.[1]
In the 80s, the working class entered an era of retreat worldwide. Market fundamentalist ‘reforms’ undid welfare states through brute repression. In Bombay, the historic mill strike of 1982 ended with over two and a half lakh workers out of jobs and profitable ventures shuttered to break the back of organised labour. Linguistic and, afterwards, religious chauvinism was fanned by the ruling elite, with fascistic groups like the Shiv Sena nurtured as a strike-breaking force. As 58+ mill closures displaced workers, their housing colonies in Tardeo, Byculla, Mazgaon, Reay Road, Lalbaug, Parel, Naigaum, Sewri, Worli, and Prabhadevi were redeveloped into luxury real estate.
In response to the World Bank and International Monetary Fund’s ‘structural adjustment’ policies, Sharad Pawar’s Congress government in the state formulated the new Development Control Rules of 1991, which allowed the sale of 15% of textile mill land, and the repeal of the Urban Land Ceiling Act deregulated housing further.[2] The new urban land-use regulations removed the older zoning laws that designated land for commercial, residential, or industrial uses and regulated employment patterns. Mill districts became the fashionable pincode for headquarters of multinational corporations and retail empires entering India in the 90s. Working-class Bombay had to undergo self-mutilation. As if unable to look itself in the mirror any longer, the city was officially renamed in 1995. Now began the era of the basti.
Jai Bhim Nagar fights on
Jai Bhim Nagar began as a labour camp in 1987. Migrant construction workers from Maharashtra, Karnataka, Andhra Pradesh, Bihar, Uttar Pradesh, and other regions were settled here by a then-emerging building contractor called Hiranandani. At the time, the Hiranandani group was supposed to construct low-cost housing under the government’s Powai Area Development Scheme. This project would transform into a luxury township called Hiranandani Gardens, spread over 250 acres with 70+ buildings, including condominiums, penthouses, and bungalows. As we will show in Chapters 1 and 2, the Hiranandani group never owned this land but was granted slum redevelopment rights after a slum fire in 2007. Talk of demolishing Jai Bhim Nagar began around 2012 when their demand for construction workers had come down, and many among the second and third generation of residents worked elsewhere. What was no less than Hiranandani’s workers’ housing, no matter how shoddy, suddenly became an ‘illegal encroachment’.
In an ode to the city’s changing fortunes, the Hiranandanis also started as textile mill owners. Allegedly forced to pull down the shutter by workers demanding more wages, the loss-making mill owners quickly became real estate billionaires within a decade.[3] Their former employees saw no such improvements. The two Sindhi brothers at the helm of affairs, Niranjan and Surendra Hiranandani, are among the 100 richest Indians today. The International Consortium of Investigative Journalists revealed in 2021 that Niranjan and his family hid over $60 million in 25 shell companies registered in the British Virgin Isles between 2006-08 alone, while Surendra has given up his Indian passport for the Mediterranean tax haven of Cyprus. Niranjan–conferred the highest civilian honour, the Padma Shri, in 2016–is on the union government’s urban development taskforce and advises the Government of Maharashtra on its slum rehabilitation scheme..
Jai Bhim Nagar’s demolition reflects this long-standing displacement pattern, where working people, the motor to the city’s growth, are sacrificed for private gain. The long struggle to occupy the footpath after displacement has presented some of these aspects more sharply.
In Chapter 1, we look at the events leading up to the slum demolition and BMC’s violation of its own regulations. Chapter 2 charts the evolution of land use and slum development policy in Mumbai. The case of Jai Bhim Nagar shows that the line between legal and illegal private property is open to contestation, is constantly being redrawn, and the law often only catches up with the shifting balance of power between ordinary people and big corporations. Based on our surveys, Chapter 3 shows how the demolition has affected slum dwellers’ health, including minors and senior citizens. Evidence shows that the BMC-Hiranandani combine has been cutting water and sanitation and using hired bouncers to remove the protesting basti residents. Chapter 4 reflects on some contemporary aspects of gender-based oppression based on women’s experience in the struggle to save Jai Bhim Nagar. The struggle for women’s safety cannot overlook the material factors behind violence and harassment faced by working women. Chapter 5 presents the children’s voices living, learning, and growing on the footpath despite the demolition, while Chapter 6 shows how women have borne the double burden of the demolition, many of whom are domestic workers. The invisible role of slums like Jai Bhim Nagar in the social upkeep of the metropolis can only be challenged by sharply illuminating the essential paid and unpaid labour that its residents continue to perform in 21st-century Mumbai. Read on.
Chapter 1: How Jai Bhim Nagar was Demolished
Timeline of significant events
1968 Tara Swaroop (original, undisputed owner) gifts the land where Jai Bhim Nagar is situated to son Ajay Mohan.
1969 Ten different buyers claim land divided and sold to them by Mohan.
1985 Mohan appeals against land transfer; interim stay granted.
1998 Mohan sells the land to Midtown Construction and Developers; many families start residing at the site as Hiranandani builders begin construction.
2002 Midtown Construction and Developers apply for transferring property
documents.
2003 Application gets rejected.
2004 Mohan sells the land again to Lake View Developers, a Hiranandani subsidiary.
2005 Lake View tries to start ‘redevelopment’.
2005 Ten owners from the initial land transfer file suit against Hiranandani.[4]
2007 Supreme Court rejects Lake View Developers’s claim, settling that the company does not own the land.
2007 Jai Bhim Nagar catches fire, nearly 150 homes burnt.
2007 Suhas Joshi, a Hiranandani representative, receives permission to build temporary workers’ housing.
2014 Permission for temporary workers’ housing revoked by the Deputy Commissioner of Zone 6, Powai.
2017 First notice under Section 52 of MRTP Act is issued to evict the residents of Jai Bhim Nagar.
2018 Residents file three cases against notice in civil court.
2023 BMC writes to landowners to remove settlements within 48 hours.
2023 Maharashtra State Human Rights Commission passes suo moto order for demolition.[5]
2023 Namit Keni, son of ex-corporator Ranjana Keni from BJP, files petition before SHRC asking for demolition of JBN, claiming, “non removal of unauthorised construction violates the human rights of public at large those who are staying in the said locality.”[6]
2024 – Second notice of demolition was posted at the entrance and within 3 days the entire basti was demolished on 6th June 2024 where brutal violence was exercised by the police on the residents of the Jai Bhim Nagar
1.1 Before the demolition
1.1.a. The notice
If eviction was put up at the entrance of the basti at 3 pm, 3rd June 2024. The notice was, however, dated 1st June. This was a day before the parliament election results, with the Model Code of Conduct still in place in Maharashtra. The resolution passed by Department of Urban Development, restraining demolition during monsoon was also subsisting at the time.
The notice was issued for the plots with CTS No. 6A, 6A/1 of Powai village and No. 20, 22 of Tirandaz village. The satellite images show that Jai Bhim Nagar is situated on plots with CTS Nos. 6A and 7/1/A of Powai Village, 20, 21A, 22A, 27A and 29 of Tirandaz village. The notice refers to an earlier eviction notice dispatched in December 2017, following which the residents of Jai Bhim Nagar filed three civil suits in 2018 contesting it.[7] Ignoring these cases, which are still ongoing in the court, the Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC) issued the current notice and refers to the order issued by the State Human Rights Commission (SHRC) on 8 May 2024.[8] The SHRC completely overstepped the bounds of its authority in ordering the demolition. This is the second time that the SHRC has attempted to carry out the demolition. In 2023, the SHRC had taken suo moto cognisance and ordered the demolition of the slum.[9] It later entertained a complaint by Namit Naresh Keni, a resident of Hiranandani Gardens and son of former Bharatiya Janata Party corporator Ranjana Keni, that the existence of Jai Bhim Nagar, an ‘unauthorised construction’, violated the human rights of the public at large staying in the locality.[10] The SHRC, in response to this, issued the eventual demolition order, ignoring various categories of rights of the humans of Jai Bhim Nagar. They overlooked an order of the Maharashtra government’s Urban Department that prohibits demolitions during the Monsoon as leaving people homeless at such a time as it is a gross violation of human rights.[11]
1.1.b. Response to the notice
The residents of Jai Bhim Nagar, upon receiving the notice, explored all available options. They were faced with additional difficulties as the courts were closed. They managed to send a legal notice on 5 June 2024 contesting the eviction notice because multiple open civil cases are pending in the court to be settled on this issue.
They submitted a letter to BMC requesting that they be granted eight to ten days to respond to the demolition notice. They approached various politicians, all to no avail. In the end, they decided to hold a peaceful protest in front of the basti, holding up portraits of Babasaheb BR Ambedkar, Mahatma Jyotiba Phule, and the revolutionary balladeer Annabhau Sathe, demanding for their voices to be heard and their rights to be recognised.
We were roaming around. We were going to the person who might help us, a politician or a lawyer. They said that the court was closed. It was the time of the election results. All government officials must have been busy with election duty except those who fast-tracked the demolition. So, how could we have done anything? What can happen during the election? They didn’t give us any time. In Bombay, finding any room in four days or even forty days is difficult. Housing is a crisis in Bombay, especially for the poor.
– Nivruti Sopan Sabrai, resident of Jai Bhim Nagar
How do they ask us to leave and find a home in two or three days during the monsoon season? They don’t give us time to think or take any action. Where will we go? We have been living here for 20 years. Where will we go?
– Sangeeta, resident of Jai Bhim Nagar
1.2. A Plan in the Making: Collusion among State Agencies
The demolition was made possible by the collusion of various departments across authorities. The SHRC, BMC and Mumbai Police acted in tandem over the years to orchestrate the will of the Hiranandani builders. When the SHRC first issued an order for demolition, the BMC stated that it could not demolish constructions on private land. However, the SHRC, for unfathomable reasons, persisted in its attempts and eventually succeeded on 6 June 2024. Over the years, Hiranandani could never explicitly prove to be legitimate owners of the land, yet the authorities treated the Hiranandani group as the owner at various points.
In 2007, there was a massive fire that engulfed the entire basti, which the residents believe was arson at the behest of Hiranandani. After the incident, BMC authorised Hiranandani to construct temporary housing for workers, handing him control over the lives of the residents, including those who the Hiranandani group employed and those who were not its employees but had been living there for many years. This move enabled Hiranandani to restrict the residents from getting electricity, water, and gas connections, dispossessing them at every turn of the records of their presence and legal recognition. At the same time, the builder provided these basic amenities at a much higher cost, further exploiting the working-class community of Jai Bhim Nagar. The builder persistently blocked these amenities and infrastructure being built by government agencies, which was among their many regular attempts not to let the slum residents become documented and entitled to legal recognition.
1.4. Day of the Demolition
On 6 June 2024, the residents of Jai Bhim Nagar gathered in protest to prevent the demolition of their homes. They mobilised at 8 am. The protest was peaceful, with the residents invoking their right to housing and demanding the time to contest the demolition in court. In a desperate attempt, they even pleaded for a few days to collect their belongings, which were their lives’ savings, but their request fell on deaf ears. Amidst the peaceful protest, some goons hired by the Hiranandani group entered the crowd, started chanting provocative slogans, and threw rocks at the police. At around 11 am, the police started a laathi charge.
On 6 June, I wasn’t there at that time. There was a stone thrown at me when I was returning from work. I saw a stone thrown at me on the road. There were a lot of policemen. I got scared and stopped outside the basti. I kept standing there. Afterwards, the JCB [bulldozer] and the chain crane came. Out of the 600 houses, they started beating and throwing everyone out. If you want to see these brutal videos, they are viral… You can see everything. Hiranandani builder has made them homeless. They have made us homeless, brought us on the road, and destroyed everything.
– Shobha Jadhav, resident of Jai Bhim Nagar
On June 6, we were peacefully demonstrating a protest, putting pictures of the Mahapurushas (the great teachers). They brought all the goons, and the police started to charge everyone with sticks. The public got angry. We didn’t know who was being attacked. The police force is there to fight the robbers and culprits, but instead, they attack the people in the house. They didn’t even leave children or women.
– Nivruti Sopan Sabrai, resident of Jai Bhim Nagar
1.4.a. Heavy Deployment of Forces
The police force has been heavily deployed since the morning. Four JCBs, along with four police vans, arrived near Hiranandani Gardens’ Evita apartments early in the morning. The police were armed with riot gear, and some were not in uniforms. Additional forces deployed included 500 personnel from the State Reserve Police Force (SRPF), Rapid Action Force (RAF) and Quick Response Team. Apart from the police personnel, there was a significant presence of BMC officials and Hiranandani’s hired goons. The heavy deployment of forces gives the impression of carrying out a siege on known criminals.
1.4.b. Controlling the Site
The forces were deployed all around the basti. The way to highway from 90 Feet Road was blocked. The way leading towards Hiranandani Gardens was similarly blocked. There was heavy deployment of forces on the turn towards the Galleria Mall and in front of Hiranandani Gardens. Once the demolition started, some of the residents attempted to take refuge in the Sovereign Apartment building, and Powai Plaza, another mall, which were closed off. Women and children were ruthlessly dragged onto the roads. The basti was completely surrounded on all four sides by police forces. The JCBs were similarly positioned at all sides and started their assault from all directions. The residents trapped in the area were dragged out on the road, and beaten up by the police as they witnessed their homes and lives being demolished.
1.4.c. Distraction Tactics
The police and other authorities employed various distraction tactics throughout the process to divide and weaken the strength of the public. As the protestors blocked the entrance to the basti and continued their peaceful resistance, the police declared that the demolition had been called off and insisted that the residents disperse. Following this, some of the residents headed back into their homes, creating an opening for the police force to enter the basti forcefully.
1.4.d. Police Brutality and Arrests
Hiranandani goons mixed into the crowd as agent provocateurs and started pelting stones. The police used this as an excuse too brutally attack residents with disproportionate use of force. They beat up the public indiscriminately, not sparing the old or the young. A ten-year-old child was beaten up, taken into custody, and made to sit in the police van for hours. Many older women who were trying to protect their kids from the police, or gathering whatever little of belongings they could were also beaten up ruthlessly. Anyone attempting to document this spectre of injustice was especially targeted, and their phones were snatched away from them. All evidence of the brutality was erased from their devices.
We protested peacefully with portraits of Mahapurushas (great teachers) like Babasaheb who ensured our Constitutional rights. But the police and BMC people, trampled on their photos with their feet, and on us with the JCBs. We did not start the violence. Many hired goons were there among the public. All the Parkside [ Hiranandani contractor’s] people were there who were paid to incite the violence. They started throwing stones at the police, and when the police started beating us, they ran away. And the police continued beating us. Seven police officers were beating one woman. Have they no shame? The Rambaug police are totally corrupt. They never register any complaint against Hiranandani. It was the same that day. They only work for the big rich people and gang up on us. They arrested us all.
– Balaji Khilai, resident of Jai Bhim Nagar
1.5. After the Demolition
1.5.a. Crushing Democratic Rights
On the eve of 6 June, more than 60 people, including women, were taken away in police vans to Sakinaka, Bandra, or Rambaug police stations. Injured kids were taken to Ambedkar Hospital, but their treatment was not recorded. They were given a single dose of bare essential medication at the time. The following day, they were taken to the Andheri court, where the judge ordered that they be taken to a hospital for treatment of their injuries resulting from the police assault the day before. Some of them were then taken to Cooper Hospital, but their medical records remain sealed by the police. Some others were taken to Thackeray Hospital, where only their biometrics were registered, but their injuries were left untreated. All this was done in an attempt to hide the scale of injuries inflicted in the brutal assault the day before. Many of the residents had to obtain treatment for their injuries only after being released from jail after 24 days.
On 6 June, we were packed into vans like street dogs. The jail cells with a capacity of 150 were filled with 300 men. There was no space between two people, yet they pushed us into that. The food was terrible. There was no sugar in the tea, no salt in the sabzi. They asked to pay for toothpaste, for a bucket, for everything. We could not afford it, so we would pool our money and take a trip to the bathroom in groups of four or five. They were running the jail like a business, only for money. We hardly ever got the opportunity to leave the cell. They would make us sleep on the wet floor, and if someone couldn’t sleep, they would make us stand in the bathroom as a punishment. Our cellmates who were drug dealers were confident that they would be free in a couple of weeks – it’s all a matter of money. My leg was broken because of the police beating on 6 June. I did not receive any medical treatment for that. It still hurts. I was sick for half the days in jail. I remained sick for ten days, even after getting out. The expense for that was just an additional burden on our family.
– Shiv Sagar, resident of Jai Bhim Nagar
They took our people to three stations on 6June – Sakinaka, Rambaug, and Bandra. They took the kids to Ambedkar Hospital for treatment but left no record there. We were in police custody, and they threatened us that ‘No one can bail you out from jail”. They took us to Andheri court the next morning around 11 am. The judge ordered that we should get medical checkups. They took us to Thackeray Hospital where they only registered our biometrics,and then they took us to Cooper Hospital. In the Arthur Road jail, those above 50 were kept separately and treated relatively better. But for the rest, the condition was unbearable.
– Govind Limbole, resident of Jai Bhim Nagar
Those arrested were charged under 16 sections of the Indian Penal Code (IPC)[12], Section 135 of the Maharashtra Police Act, 1951, and Sections 3 and 5 of the Prevention of Damage to Public Property Act, 1984. The charges include unlawful assembly, rioting, assaulting or obstructing public servants from discharging duty, voluntarily causing hurt/grievance, disobedience of order, threat of injury to a public servant, and damage to public property. The extensive list of charges filed shows the intent of the authorities to crush the residents and stop them from regrouping in the long term. Many residents are, to this day, struggling to procure employment. They not only had to cope with the loss of their means of sustenance but had to bear the additional expense of treatment of their injuries caused by the police and left unattended. As a result of this, their capacity to take on the task of continuing their struggle was seriously hampered.
The women were taken to Byculla Jail under false pretence that they are being transported to the Rambaug Chowki. The men were taken to Arthur Road Jail. The condition of the men’s jail cells was far worse than that of women’s. They were asked to pay for the basic necessities that prevented them from tending to their daily activities such as bathing. They were kept in inhuman conditions, resisting which resulted in further punishment and mistreatment from the police.
The residents approached the vice president of Maharashtra Pradesh Congress Committee and a member of Indian National Congress (INC) Mohammed Arif Naseem Khan for legal assistance of those arrested. Naseem Khan provided legal aid and facilitated their bail process. Following this, he extended legal support in filing a criminal writ petition in the Mumbai High Court, which is currently ongoing. A committee from among the Jai Bhim Nagar residents was constituted by him to extend his supporter base, just as the Maharashtra assembly elections were lining up. The role of the committee was limited to following legal updates of the team set up by Naseem Khan.
Most people have been living here for 30 years. I got married here. I have three children. Our people in jail say they will be released soon. What are they doing? They’re trying to get rid of all the people taken by the police. The rest of the people need to be helping. Everyone is coming and going, giving food, not speaking about our homes, the lost property, and the education our children need. They’re just saying they’ll make arrangements for food and so on in front of the media. We’re just like the mosquitoes here. There’s no toilet, no bathroom, no water. It has been 15 days since anyone’s gone to a proper toilet. What’s the point of living in the filth? Tell us whether we will get our homes back or not. We’ll just go away. What’s the point of living for 30 years? We’re not even allowed to take a shower. We’re sitting here, crying. The government is unmoved. See what the media is doing! They should show how everyone is living. We had our documents, but we don’t know where they are now [after the demolition], so many have left. They said, show us the documents. Where will we get the documents from anymore?
– Savita, resident of Jai Bhim Nagar
After the police locked up 51 people, the rest of the residents captured the footpath, and they were stripped of their rightful accommodation. The mass arrests were to dent the resistance within the basti. They had to split their attention and efforts to get their neighbours out of jail, tend to the wounds of those that the police had beaten up, and worry about surviving each day of the brutal Mumbai monsoon, which had even compelled the Urban Department to pass a resolution prohibiting any demolitions in this time. Although the residents put up a brave fight to protect their rightful homes, the inhuman and brutal attack by the heavy artillery of the police force and Hiranandani’s hired bouncers gave a significant blow to the struggle.
The Hiranandani group grew with money, but the sweat is of the workers, the labourers, right? The sweat is ours for the name of others. The poor have lost their money. They should remember our contributions. They should respect the poor. They have not respected us till now. The people who went to jail after the demolition were called criminals and were written off as such in their courtrooms. And even after coming from jail, if we want these people to return to work, the company would not take them back, saying that they ruined the company’s name. So, eventually, people get fired from work.
– Sivananda, resident of Jai Bhim Nagar
The effect of this roving attack was not limited to the day of demolition but carried forward strategically, targeted at halting any unified struggle.
1.5.b. Seven months later
In that moment of rushing, I took a bag of clothes and ran away from the demolition site. My brother came, picked up the gas and brought it here under our tarp. All the utensils are still there. They didn’t let us go and get any of our preserved precious things. Then, the beatings started. I didn’t go back to my village; I stayed here. It’s been three months since I’ve been here. It rains a lot. The water is flowing from here. I can’t sleep at night. How will I sleep when it rains? It is a lot of trouble, but no one is telling me if I’ll get a house or not.
– Ramabai, resident of Jai Bhim Nagar
Facing harsh realities, natural or man-made, the residents valiantly continued their struggle on the footpaths they have occupied for over six months. During this time, they braved through one of the harshest monsoons the city has seen and the diseases accompanying it. The unsanitary conditions on the footpath received no attention from BMC and further aggravated the spread of diseases within the community. They did not have the means to arrange even one meal daily. Their makeshift tarpaulin tents collapsed often due to heavy rains or falling of trees while they slept inside.
Most residents lost their jobs in the immediate aftermath of the demolition. Hiranandani employees were threatened with the loss of employment if they pursued legal recourse against the company. Among those arrested, most still find it challenging to find a job. Many lost their job as they fell ill or could not maintain regularity while coping with the situation they were thrown into. Many had to opt to work in highly exploitative conditions that paid them far lesser than the already underpaid work. Most women of the basti working in the apartment complexes or offices in Hiranandani Gardens were similarly let go. There were also vile rumours of them having occupied the footpath despite being compensated by Hiranandani. This created a false and undignified perception among the upper-class tower residents, who regularly complained about them settling on the footpath. Many women who would leave their young children in the nearby balwadi and go to work could not continue since it was shut down. They could not leave kids on the street to tend to themselves.
Many lost their jobs, their entire life savings and all their belongings but not their will to fight for their rights.
The demolition has had a detrimental effect on the education of the children of Jai Bhim Nagar. The children did not have books, uniforms, or bags to continue going to school. And when they could start school having already been behind for weeks or months. The footpath does not allow them to effectively continue their education. The lack of any lighting and constant noise from the traffic at all hours of day do not allow them to do their homework. Far from the stimulating environment that should be the right of every child, these children are left wandering on the street, forced to live in inhuman conditions. Their parents constantly worry for their safety and the stability of their future.
The initial days after the demolition saw various ruling-class political parties, NGOs, and social organisations visiting the settlement out of sympathy or condolences. None of them attempted to actively support the struggle, which forced basti residents into adopting an ‘ordinary living’ at the footpath. The nominal presence of political actors failed to address the hardships faced, nor did they take concrete steps to create the conditions to further their struggle. The ruling Eknath Shinde-led National Democratic Alliance government, an ally of the Bharatiya Janata Party at the centre, was completely unresponsive and left the public to fend for themselves.
Even after it was revealed that the demolition occurred without any legitimate order, the BMC continued collaborating with the builders by denying the residents the most basic amenities, such as water and clean toilets. They installed two mobile toilets at the footpath settlement after being approached repeatedly. These toilets have been unusable for months as they have not been cleaned since their installation. Even after repeated visits, the demand for adequate water supply has yet to be addressed by the BMC. The unsanitary conditions created have further deteriorated the health conditions at the basti. The public healthcare system fails to provide quality healthcare, pushing many who are in an already abysmal financial state into further debt.
The coordinated efforts of the BMC, Hiranandani builders, and law enforcement authorities have left the residents of Jai Bhim Nagar completely vulnerable and forced to live an undignified life in utterly inhuman conditions. It has forced the struggle to take a defensive stance. The legal course of action so far is focussed only on the police brutality on the day of demolition.
An investigation by the Special Investigation Team (SIT) constituted by the Mumbai High Court has already found the demolition illegal. The Mumbai Police were directed to file an FIR against BMC’s S ward officials, the Hiranandani group, and four associates in October 2024. No arrests have been made. Questions have yet to be raised regarding the ownership of the land itself. No civil suit has been filed in the court challenging the grounds for demolition. The demand for rehabilitation in the criminal petition filed is on purely humanitarian grounds, which is indicative of the weakened state of struggle for housing rights.
I used to work in Hiranandani, but now, after demolition, I don’t work. My husband died here, and two of my sons also died here working. I haven’t gotten any work since this event. I don’t have anything to eat. I have no job. What can I do? I will have to beg and eat at this age otherwise, where will I go? What will I eat? I don’t have a single rupee. It’s been three months. It’s been three months since we are here in the rain, and we do not know if we will get anything for this brutality.
– Manda Bai, resident of Jai Bhim Nagar
Six months after the demolition, the struggle continues. A few families occupying the footpath on 90 Feet Road and the bylane around where the basti stood have continued the struggle. Life and struggle is hard to separate out here. Others have shifted to various localities such as Murarji Nagar, Garib Nagar, Gautam Nagar, Indira Nagar, Phule Nagar, Parksite, Ramabai Nagar, Hari Om Nagar, Devi Nagar, Chaitanya Nagar, Panch Koti, Gokhale Nagar, Hanuman Tekri.
Various corporate-backed parties and leaders have played questionable roles in the entire Jai Bhim Nagar saga, from much before the demolition. The direct role of Namit Keni, son of BJP ex-corporator Ranjana Keni, in writing a complaint to SHRC urging for the demolition has been mentioned earlier. Dilip ‘Mama’ Lande, member of Shiv Sena and now two-time MLA from the Chandivali constituency has been one of the prime advocates of the demolition. In May 2023, he wrote to then MCGM commissioner Iqbal Chahal to demolish the Jai Bhim Nagar basti on grounds that the land is reserved for government housing. There is however, no mention of rehabilitation for the current residents.
The speaker of Maharashtra Legislative Assembly, Rahul Narwekar, a member of BJP, tells the BMC in the monsoon session after the demolition of Jai Bhim Nagar that the families rendered homeless should be rehabilitated. However, we see that the actions of BMC of withholding basic necessities such as water and toilet are a deliberate attempt at crushing the struggle entirely. Prakash Ambedkar, founder of Vanchit Bahujan Aaghadi (VBA), visited the site after the demolition. Residents allege that Hiranandani bouncers captured the site during his public address outside the site. Was this just bad timing, poor judgment, or something sinister? There is no definite answer, but the VBA was not seen at Jai Bhim Nagar after that day. The community members of Jai Bhim Nagar had gathered at the Buddha Vihar after the initial notice of eviction was served.
Bhimte Ji, head of the Buddhist Cultural Association active in the area for several years, inspired courage and had earlier strengthened the resolve of the community against demolitions. The residents approached him for support after the second notice was served in June 2024. They allege that no legal, financial or moral support was forthcoming, leaving them to accept their fate. After the demolition, cultural-religious leaders from Buddha Vihar have not associated with the protest site.
In the eight months that have followed, it is only the people’s collective struggle that has won them whatever concessions they gained. The occupied footpath bears testimony to this.
Chapter 2: Who Stole Powai? Land, Law and the People
“It has become fashionable now for local administration and local bodies to demolish any house by drawing up proceedings without complying with the principles of natural justice and publish it in the newspaper.”
– Observation by Madhya Pradesh High Court, Smt. Radha Langri vs The Commissioner (2024).[13]
According to Housing and Land Rights Network, in 2023 alone, a startling 1,07,449 homes were demolished, forcibly evicting around 5.15 lakh people, a record high in the past seven years.[14] Historically marginalised groups, including religious minorities, Adivasis/Scheduled Tribes, Dalits, Other Backward Classes, and nomadic and indigenous communities, accounted for 36% of evictions in 2023 and 27% in 2022. Over 1.7 crore Indians live under the constant threat of eviction and displacement. Despite progressively-phrased judgments in the past few decades, slum dwellers are denied the citizenship rights exercised by the affluent. The state agencies, in practice, work for private builders and aid in questionable demolitions by manipulating the legal framework in various ways, such as framing ambiguous acts, not following the due process of demolition, etc.
The demolition of Jai Bhim Nagar on 6 June 2024 by the Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC) is yet another instance of such collusion of the government authorities with the builders, in this case, the Hiranandani group. The glaring violation that the BMC carried out illegal demolition citing an order from the State Human Rights Commission, a body not authorised to issue any such order, was confirmed by a Special Investigation Team (SIT) constituted by the Bombay High Court in October. The SIT ruled that the demolition was in direct violation of a resolution issued by the Urban Development Department, Government of Maharashtra, which prohibits any demolition during the monsoon in Mumbai. Additionally, none of the due processes for conducting demolition was followed per the Maharashtra Slum Area Act, 1971, which requires conducting a survey and notifying residents before any demolition. It directed the police to file an FIR against BMC officials and Hiranandani executives involved in the demolition.
No survey of the basti was carried out to ascertain how long the residents of Jai Bhim Nagar have been living at the disputed site. Had this been done, it would reveal that most residents have documents proving their residency for over three decades, entitling them to protection against demolition under the Slum Area Act. The notice for demolition issued to them on 3 June 2024 was backdated and issued when the courts were closed, leaving the residents helpless as they could not pursue any legal action. The residents were not given time to respond to the notice, but the BMC promptly notified the land transfer to the Hiranandani group after the demolition.
The events surrounding the demolition of Jai Bhim Nagar are fraught with numerous such gross violations of law. Besides these, there are regulations and guidelines that the BMC and the private Hiranandani group have exploited, which enabled them to obtain total control of the land. The grounds for such exploitation have been in the making over the years through various amendments and weakening of guidelines. These guidelines make it increasingly easy for the state to bulldoze the homes of people at their whim, who invariably belong to the working class community who have migrated from the villages to Mumbai in search of employment.
2.1. ‘Slum’ in the law
Evidently, they choose a pavement or a slum in the vicinity of their place of work, the time otherwise taken in commuting and its cost being forbidding for their slender means. To lose the pavement or the slum is to lose the job. The conclusion, therefore in terms of the constitutional phraseology, is that the eviction of the petitioners will lead to deprivation of their livelihood and consequently to the deprivation of life.
– Olga Tellis & Ors vs Bombay Municipal Corporation & Ors., Supreme Court of India (1985)[15]
Slum Area (Improvement, Clearance and Redevelopment) Act, or SAA, passed by the Maharashtra government in 1971 regulates all matters related to slum governance and rehabilitation in the state. It is set up to enable easy manipulation by State agencies to carry out demolitions. In this section, we look at how this law has placed the informalised working class in Maharashtra’s urban areas at a disadvantage to wealthier sections of the population.
Section 4 of SAA empowers the State to declare what constitutes a ‘slum area’. In the original Act, the slum was defined by reference to the relative deprivation of its inhabitants. It designated areas requiring special attention for improvement or redevelopment due to a lack of basic civic amenities. For instance, ‘any area [that] is or may be a source of danger to the health, safety or convenience of the public… [for] having inadequate or no basic amenities or being insanitary, squalid, overcrowded or otherwise’ may be categorised as a slum area under SAA. This includes all residential constructions which are ‘unfit for human habitation’ due to dilapidation, overcrowding, faulty architecture, poorly planned connectivity, lack of ventilation, light or sanitation facilities, or any combination of these factors.
This was how the Indian State viewed slums and slum dwellers when the law was enacted in the 70s. A welfare state was in place then, and working people enjoyed a more significant political say in the democratic process. Mumbai was an industrial centre, with mill workers at the centre of the city’s urban planning. This changed with the Indian economy gradually opening up to greater penetration by imperialist corporations and financial investment over the 80s, formally overhauling the welfare state in 1991 under Prime Minister PV Narasimha Rao’s regime. The corporate-owned press and cheerleaders of this regime change termed this the liberalisation, privatisation and globalisation of the Indian economy. This brought a wholesale transformation of society, as citizens were atomised and left to fend for themselves. At the same time, the State retreated from the provision of necessities such as education, healthcare and housing. What we have seen over the three decades since has been a massive upward redistribution of resources from working people to a tiny fraction of the country’s elite, setting alight an explosive cocktail of economic inequality and social faultlines.
The judiciary and law-makers did not remain aloof from this newly unleashed social Darwinism. Over the years, amendments to the SAA, new laws, the rise of semi-private urban planning agencies, and a gradual shift in jurisprudence changed the definition of slums and their residents. All references to slums’ relative backwardness were dropped, and new ‘law and order’ dimensions were added, with the State more concerned about illegality, ‘encroachments’ and ‘unauthorised’ construction when dealing with slums than the rights and welfare of the city’s essential workers. For instance, taking issue with the ‘nuisance’ faced by affluent residents of urban gated colonies, the Delhi High Court observed in 1995:
The welfare of the residents of these colonies is also in the realm of public interest which cannot be overlooked… The slums have been created afterwards which is the cause of nuisance and brooding [sic] ground of so many ills. The welfare, health, maintenance of law and order, safety and sanitation of these residents cannot be sacrificed… in the name of social justice to the slum dwellers.[16]
However, the same standards regarding ownership of property based on the duration of possession or use have yet to be used to demolish various encroachments in posh localities, such as Sainik Farms in Delhi. Viewing slum dwellers as a source of nuisance to their wealthier neighbours, planning agencies and the courts began to blur the distinction between ‘slums’ and ‘encroachments’. Slum rehabilitation soon became a byword for demolitions. Such judgements arbitrarily emphasised a division between rights-bearing private property owners and illegal squatters encroaching on land in their vicinity that cannot be delineated so clearly in reality. The case of Jai Bhim Nagar illustrates this clearly, elaborated in the next section.
The mode of redevelopment also changed in keeping with the mood of the times, opening the floodgates to land sharks to profiteer from slum demolitions. In 1991, the Sharad Pawar-led Congress government in Maharashtra introduced the Slum Redevelopment Scheme (SRD), allowing ‘private-public partnership’ (PPP) in slum clearance projects. The ‘free market’ would now take over slum clearances from government agencies. The SRD sought investment from private developers, granting extra permissible building space (technically called extra ‘Floor Square Index’ or FSI) to the builders above and beyond the land required for rehousing the displaced slum dwellers. This was rechristened and intensified as the Slum Rehabilitation Scheme (SRS) by the new Shiv Sena government in 1995, removing the 25% ‘profit cap’ imposed earlier by the SRD.
Section 3T of SAA provides legal immunity to any person who carries out any act related to slum clearance and redevelopment in ‘good faith’. When the law gives such wiggle room for illicit manoeuvring by using wilfully ambiguous language, it hints at the State’s preparedness to evade the consequences of its illegal actions. The brief history of urban resettlement laws in Mumbai shows how the distinction between legal property owners and illegal encroachers is not as well-defined as it may first appear. The convoluted legal twists and turns by which three-decade-long Jai Bhim Nagar residents were defined as illegal squatters are taken up in the next section.
2.2. How Jai Bhim Nagar was made ‘illegal’
The residents of Jai Bhim Nagar had resided in the same plot of land for over three decades, though the legal status of the land has changed many times in this period.
As per a tripartite agreement between the Mumbai Metropolitan Region Development Authority (MMRDA), the Government of Maharashtra and the Hiranandani group, the real estate developer was brought in to develop low-cost housing in Powai in 1987. This was done using a loophole in the Urban Land (Control and Regulation) Act, 1976 (ULA), a central law restricting hoarding vacant urban land, which has since been repealed entirely. As per this law, the State could take over whatever was beyond the urban land ceiling of 0.1 acres to stop land speculation. The MMRDA took over 230 acres of excess land in Powai, Kopri and Tirandaz villages. The only exception under the ULA was for land used to house ‘weaker sections’, in which case Sections 20 and 21 of the ULA exempted the land from being seized as long as the homes were built within a reasonable timeframe. Former landowners in Powai used this exemption to lease back land from MMRDA under the Powai Area Development Scheme (PADS). They granted ‘constituent attorney’ powers to the Hiranandani group to develop low-cost housing. This is the story of how migrant construction workers from Maharashtra, Karnataka, Andhra Pradesh, Bihar, Uttar Pradesh and other states brought in to build a glistening new Powai were settled in what came to be called Jai Bhim Nagar.
To incentivise private participation, a new set of relaxed Development Control Rules was introduced by the Maharashtra government in 1990. Landowners would now earn Transferable Development Rights (TDR) if their excess land was used for a public utility, which could be sold to developers. The TDR could then be used for commercial projects with floor space more than the FSI mandated by the ULA. Slum demolition and rehabilitation became an avenue for a nearly limitless generation of TDR, allowing builders to evade FSI limits and Mumbai’s land zoning regulations. Even geographical restrictions on transferring TDR between zones were done away with.
As per Clause 7(ii) of the agreement between MMRDA and the Hiranandani builders, they would have to build 1,593 low-cost flats of 430 sq ft and 1,511 flats of 861 sq ft. What took place was that Hiranandani built more than 70 highrises, with faux Greco-Roman arcades and swimming pools, merging the plots to build luxury two or three-BHK apartments of 4,000 to 5,000 sq ft, and sold them at prices as high as ₹ seven crore. MMRDA and BMC turned a blind eye to this land theft, granting completion and occupancy certificates for the newly constructed homes, offices and malls. Only 15% of the land under PADS that was handed over to the government saw low-cost housing, with only 256 flats built.
Clause 8(i) of the agreement mandated the builder to provide street connectivity and sewage facilities. A quick comparison of the upscale Hiranandani Gardens and the condition of 90 Feet Road, on which Jai Bhim Nagar is located, confirms that both these terms were breached. So much for MMRDA’s low-cost housing!
The construction regulations surrounding disputed land, such as Plots 6A and 7 of Powai Village and Plots 20 and 21 of Tirandaz, on which Jai Bhim Nagar basti was situated, were not clearly defined, leaving much room for manipulation. It is on record that the Hiranandani group sought permission from the BMC to construct temporary workers’ tenements in these plots in 2007. The timing of this request is suspicious, as it came immediately after a basti fire engulfed 150 houses in the pre-existing settlement, three months after a Supreme Court verdict definitively denied ownership of the said land to the Hiranandani group. However, the BMC promptly granted land development rights to Lake View Developers, a Hiranandani subsidiary, for building temporary worker housing after the fire. What constitutes a ‘temporary’ settlement is governed by Section 55(2) of the Maharashtra Regional and Town Planning Act, 1966, to be decided by BMC, giving full leeway to the State agency to define the period of such settlement.
In the case of Jai Bhim Nagar, the deputy commissioner issued a notice cancelling the permission for temporary worker housing and ordered Lake View Developers to evacuate the settlement in 2012. Consequently, the settlement was conveniently declared ‘unauthorised’, and basti dwellers residing there since much before the basti fire and subsequent events were labelled encroachers. On the other hand, Hiranandani builders who were merely brought in as developers and had no ownership claim over the land were given a backdoor entry by the BMC in the name of redevelopment rights. This was when the drive to clear off Jai Bhim Nagar started gathering steam.
The MMRDA’s 2012 land use map shows that most of Jai Bhim Nagar was marked as land ‘under construction’, and Plot 6A, where a mall, Powai Plaza, exists, is marked as a commercial site. Conversely, in the BMC’s Development Plan 2014-2034 (DP34), the majority of the disputed land was marked off to build government offices, specifically a Regional Transport Office, while a significantly smaller area (Plot 5A of the DP34 where Powai Plaza stands currently) is marked for slum rehabilitation. Residents of Jai Bhim Nagar have repeatedly been told to relocate to Phule Nagar, an hour away by bus that is challenging to reach. If the DP34 already has a plot marked for rehabilitation, although much smaller than where Jai Bhim Nagar stood, why speak of relocating residents to Phule Nagar?
As per Section 3Y of the Slum Areas Act, slum residents must be issued a ‘photo pass’ certifying them as a ‘protected occupier’ and rendering them eligible for rehabilitation before demolition. While this rule was trampled on roughshod at the time of the demolition, the first step that the BMC must take is to issue photo passes to the residents of Jai Bhim Nagar. Only as recognised ‘protected occupiers’ will their right to rehabilitation be protected in law. Moreover, the demolition victims must also be compensated for their loss of property, as goods worth lakhs were damaged or stolen at the time of the demolition.
2.3. Land without labour?
A range of rights flowing from citizenship were accorded protection after the horrors of the Holocaust and the Second World War, including the right to life and liberty (Article 21 of the Indian Constitution), equality before law (Article 14), freedom of movement and occupation (Article 19), and protection from discrimination (Article 15). Substantive protections for social and economic rights were not given the same status, such as right to protection from hunger, education, health, and housing.
The right to housing is not a protected right in India. It is only referred to in the Directive Principles under Articles 39(1), 42 and 47. Courts have used expansive interpretations to accord some protections. For instance, in the case of UP Avas Evam Vikas Parishad (1996), the Supreme Court affirmed that:
“The right to shelter is a fundamental right, which springs from the right to residence under Article 19 (1) (e) and the right to life under Article 21.”[17]
In Chameli Singh (1996), the Supreme Court provided a holistic understanding of the right to shelter and adequate housing. It declared:
Shelter for a human being, therefore, is not a mere protection of his life and limb. It is home, where he has opportunities to grow physically, intellectually and spiritually. Right to shelter, therefore, includes adequate living space, safe and decent structure, clean and decent surroundings, sufficient light, pure air and water, electricity, sanitation and other civic amenities like roads etc. so as to have easy access to his daily avocation. The right to shelter, therefore, does not mean a mere right to a roof over one’s head but right to all the infrastructure necessary to enable them to live and develop as a human being. Right to shelter when used as an essential requisite to the right to live should be deemed to have been guaranteed as a fundamental right… Want of decent residence, therefore frustrates the very object of the constitutional animation of right to equality, economic justice, fundamental right to residence, dignity of person and right to live itself.[18]
As we have shown in the case of Jai Bhim Nagar, the role of the State in providing housing cannot be restricted to welfarist objectives alone. Jai Bhim Nagar’s residents were settled to build a glittering township in Powai where there were only wetlands. Their sweat and blood transformed villages into bustling hubs of commerce. As we show in Chapters 2 and 6, their residence and dignity of life remain a precondition for the essential labour that created and is running the metropolis. Though fewer in the current generation of residents perform wage labour for Hiranandani’s construction sites, they provide various necessary services. Even their care in old age, protecting the childhoods of infants now on the streets, is a responsibility of society at large. Given the history of extraordinary caste-based oppression that drove many residents of Jai Bhim Nagar to Mumbai, there is no reason for the set of protections over Scheduled (or Panchayati) village lands and protected forests for Dalits and Adivasis to cease once in the city.
Not as a dole nor as a crime, housing must be recognised in law as a right – a precondition for the productive advancement of society. The struggle of Jai Bhim Nagar slum dwellers has laid bare that the institutions of law and justice must catch up. Otherwise, they would be obsolete before mega-builders and hired bulldozers.
Chapter 3: Medical Survey: Health Costs of Demolition
This report summarizes the findings of a medical camp set up by Sabki Library, an educational initiative, at the footpath settlement where residents of Jai Bhim Nagar have been protesting for their rightful homes for almost six months. It also includes the findings of a survey on water, sanitation and health conditions conducted across various locations in Powai where the slum-dwellers found alternate accommodation after the demolitions. The report highlights the deteriorating health condition of the residents of Jai Bhim Nagar due to the illegal demolitions. This report shows that the deteriorating conditions of people is a consequence of a tactic used by the BMC and the Hiranandani builders to clear the protest site on 90 Feet Road and torture the struggling slum-dwellers who have lost their livelihoods along with their homes.
In the five months that the residents have been living on the footpath, the BMC has consistently denied providing them any basic amenities necessary to maintain the bare minimum of living conditions. It was only after a delegation from the Jai Bhim Nagar Bachao Samiti to the BMC to demand toilets and water that two portable toilets were installed, one on each side of the settlement. Regular protests at the BMC office and the continuous occupation of the footpath forced the BMC to resume two daily water tankers after various rounds of visits. The 2,000 litres of tanker water, enough to ration merely two buckets per family, is far from the bare minimum. The water is dirty, absolutely unfit for drinking and cooking. The portable toilets were cleaned for the first and only time after four and a half months when the Jai Bhim Nagar Bachao Samiti visited BMC demanding action.
The water scarcity and its poor quality have adversely affected the sanitary conditions of the settlement. Furthermore, as the medical camp data confirms, it has resulted in a multitude of health issues across age groups. This has forced many to leave the protest site and move to nearby locations. The search for alternate accommodation, which is a financial drain even in ordinary circumstances, comes when many residents stare at job loss after demolition. Having lost their homes and source of income, the fear of losing their loved ones to diseases forced people to undertake heavy debts that added to the cost of leaving their struggle.
3.1. Survey methodology
The survey was conducted across three groups: first, the residents of Jai Bhim Nagar who are settled in protest on the footpaths around their basti on 90 Feet Road and in the by-lane; second, the residents who have been forced to leave the protest site and now reside in one of many localities across Powai that are highlighted in the map above[19]; and, third, the residents of Hiranandani’s Avalon labour camp. The survey included quantitative and qualitative data regarding water, sanitation and health conditions, focusing on the last five months. Inquiries were made regarding the water source, quantity per household, quality of water, number of hospital visits since demolition, access to healthcare, medical expenses incurred, etc.
3.2. Footpath protest site
Yaha nahane ke liye koi jagha nahi hai auraton ke liye. Kabhi safe nahi lagta. Ek din hum do auraten naha rahe the patre ke peeche, ek BMC ka karmchaari jo kachra utha rahe the idhar jhaank kar dekhne lage. Humne chillaya ke hum naha rahe hain lekin usne pura patra hata diya. Ek toh toilet nahi hai… hume infection hote rehte hain. Kaha jayenge? Hum road pe kab tak rahenge.
(Women don’t have anywhere to bathe here. We are not safe. Two of us had gone to wash behind the tin sheet when a municipal sanitation worker started taking peeks. We screamed at him and he took off the tin shield. Not a single toilet here… we catch infections. Where do we go? How long do we live on the streets?)
– Lalita Devkar, Jai Bhim Nagar resident living on the footpath
The two toilets installed by the BMC became hotbeds for infection within a week. They had not been cleaned in more than four months, during which time people had to use toilets in the nearby mall, Powai Plaza. The mall started locking the toilets to restrict their access. The women, in particular, suffer from urinary tract infections and yeast infections due to these unhygienic conditions.
Two families reported spending over ₹ one lakh on medical expenses in the last five months. The survey also revealed that families whose members were jailed following the brutal lathi charge on demolition day incurred more medical expenses as the police deprived them of medical care while in jail. While many families incurred debt to cover the hospital bills, some avoided hospitals entirely, fearing these costs. They resorted to taking over-the-counter medication, which left many untreated, and their health has deteriorated further.
Two medical camps held by Sabki Library in July and November 2024 found the worsening state of health among the basti residents.[20] The most common complaints in the first camp were regarding wounds inflicted by the police on the day of demolition, which had not yet healed, diseases from mosquito bites, fever, etc. In the second medical camp, almost everyone at the site complained of itching, infections, heatstroke, diarrhoea, jaundice, etc. A comparative reading of data on symptoms recorded and medicines given exposes the abysmal conditions residents have been subjected to in these five months. The survey also recorded various cases of malaria, dengue, and typhoid, which compelled some to return to their villages.
90 Feet Road lacks street lights and has heavy vehicle traffic throughout the night. Many animals have been killed and injured in accidents over months, leaving parents afraid for their infants who live on the road. The by-lane going inside from 90 Feet Road, where people have been living, also has a dense growth of vegetation which increases the presence of rodents, snakes, and mosquitos. BMC does not clear the garbage from this side of the settlement, which has exacerbated the mosquito problem, especially since they have stopped fumigation over the last two months.
The residents are also exposed to constant noise and air pollution living on the footpath. The children’s constant health problems have hindered their education. After repeated demands for amenities were made, the BMC tended to two of the demands, cleaning toilets and fumigation, exactly once. It continues to deny the residents of Jai Bhim Nagar their fundamental rights and actively hinders their struggle.
3.3. Slum-dwellers in other locations
Locations: Murarji Nagar, Garib Nagar, Gautam Nagar, Indira Nagar, Phule Nagar, Parksite, Ramabai Nagar, Hari Om Nagar, Devi Nagar, Chaitanya Nagar, Panch Koti, Gokhale Nagar, Hanuman Tekri.
All survey respondents unequivocally blamed unsanitary conditions and water scarcity as the main reason for vacating the footpath. The second most-cited reason was women’s safety, mainly among families with teenage girls. Many families moved out of concern for their children’s education, as they could not continue their studies on the footpath.
Footpath pe rehne se bohot bimari thi bacho ko… nahi reh sake. Main akele kaam karti thi, mere teen bache hain. Kiraya nahi de pate. Mere bade ladke ko padhai chor ke kaam karna pad raha hai. Mere bache ko police ne maara tha, abhi tak uska pair pura seedha nahi hua hai. Har dusre hafte hospital jana hota hai. Abhi hum soch rahe hain kamra chor ke wapas footpath pe jaaye, kiraya nahi diya ja raha. Na hum udhar reh sakte na idhar. Kya karen hum?
(My kids fell ill on the footpath… we had to leave. I’m the only one who earns, there are three mouths to feed. Can’t afford the rent. My eldest son had to drop out of studies to start earning. He was badly beaten by the cops, his legs have not recovered yet. Have to get it checked every two weeks. I’m thinking we’ll have to move back to the footpath again because of the rent. Neither can we live there nor here.)
– Sangeeta, who shifted to Phule Nagar after the demolition
After the illegal demolition of Jai Bhim Nagar, many residents lost their jobs or had to work under increasingly exploitative conditions. Wages fell below what they were. On multiple occasions, BMC officials and Hiranandani’s bouncers have threatened the residents on the footpath to vacate. When they set out to find alternate accommodation, they were extorted for rent and security deposits higher than the market rate because landlords knew of their desperation. Many refused to rent to them on hearing their names and where they were from saying that they would encroach on their property. This casteist discrimination was a direct result of the Hiranandani group spreading rumours about the basti residents. Many of those dispossessed by the demolition eagerly await for some resolution of their struggle so that they can start rebuilding their lives which were also demolished along with their homes.
The areas where the residents have moved to are chawls spread across Powai locality. Narrow alleys, under which run drain pipes, are most welcoming to mosquitos, rodents, etc. These are marginally better than the slums, at a much higher cost, snuffing out any dream of a better life. The rooms are on average 200 sq ft in size, where families of five or six are packed together without any ventilation. The density of the housing causes various health issues such as skin rashes, boils, and sores. These were found to be especially prevalent among children. The adults who had to incur debt and overwork themselves are left without any time for their families or a sense of community. The chawls or bastis that the residents have found alternate accommodation in, get water from the BMC. Each household gets water for about 15 minutes a day, which is barely enough time to provide for water requirements of a day, not to mention that it is much lower than the 150 litres per capita that BMC must provide. The only solace is the regularity, which is disrupted during summer.
Even though the residents have shifted to various locations, they are still negotiating with finances, water scarcity and adequate healthcare. Moreover, this move away from the footpath settlement must also be seen in the light of a forced and strategic dissolution of the struggle by the hands of the BMC and Hiranandani.
3.4. Avalon Labour Camp
Avalon Labour Camp serves as a frightening juxtaposition against Hirandani’s empire of luxury living. Right at the heart of Hiranandani’s highrises, is a labour camp for construction workers. More than 500 people reside in the camp which is made of around 200 hutments or jhopdas. The number of women and children amount to only a tenth of the total population. This is no accident, as the residents of camp reported that there are explicit restrictions against living with family members.
The labour camp, which is run like a detention centre, does not easily allow outsiders. With security guards posted at the narrow entrance, which is easily missed, no one from the outside world, be it social workers, journalists, or personal guests are allowed to enter. Every aspect of their lives are under surveillance, and every visit to the camp is thoroughly accounted for. The camp is densely packed with jhopdas, leaving no space for a common gathering where the residents could participate in any social activities. Everyone is strictly prohibited to talk about the camp and its living conditions with anyone outside the camp.
The residents of the labour camp are cut-off from the rights over the city entirely. All amenities such as water, electricity, toilets, etc. are provided privately by Hiranandani. This is presented as an act of charity, when in reality they are deprived of all municipal benefits and rights. The residents are prohibited from using the address to make any identification documents, completely disarming them of welfare schemes and rights such as voting, ration, etc. even after living there for years.
Their daily routine includes 12-hour shifts and 4 hours of commute, which leaves them barely enough time to prepare and eat a meal at night. Both the lives of the labourers and the space of the camp are designed and managed in a manner that leaves no imagination for any kind of resistance and demand for a better living and working conditions.
3.5. Doctor’s point of view
On 6th November 2024, we conducted a health check-up at Sabki Library in Jai Bhim Nagar. A whole host of health problems that were directly a result of impoverished living conditions came up. I attended to many ‘vague’ complaints of aches, pain and general malaise. The reasons for the complaints were generally two; the bodily toll of work & physical labour, compounded by persisting nutritional deficiencies. Most of the population in the basti is informally engaged in household and construction work. Since the demolition dispossessed them, they have negotiated their health, time & wages to sustain themselves and their families. Long hours of intensive labour and exertion with no proper place to return for rest, lack of proper nutrition, and the omnipresent threat to health due to unsanitary living conditions, has added up and manifested into a multiplicity of illnesses. The toilets provided to them have become unusable and the water supplied by the two tankers is too little. Fumigation drives have come to a halt and the risk of contracting fatal diseases is shockingly high. A lack of proper nutrition is also contributing to the worsening health of the residents. The symptoms related to nutritional deficiencies point to a lack of calcium, vitamin D and vitamin A, among other essential vitamins. Anemia, which results from a lack of iron, is especially common. On attending to the residents’ complaints of itching and rashes, dermatological conditions and fungal infections were also observed. Stubborn cases of ringworm (tinea corporis) are especially common.
The residents of the basti maintain personal hygiene to the degree they can, however, a lack of time and resources proves restrictive. Ideally my advice would be to take time off work for ailments; visits to specialist doctors; washing clothes, bedsheets, and everything that has been in contact with the infected. But at this juncture it is quite impossible for the residents to entertain the idea of taking time off work, given the financial torment they are in; visits to specialist doctors are impossible as they will incur an unaffordable cost; water is scant and barely suffices for everyday chores like cooking and bathing, is often unfit for drinking, and has even proven to exacerbate the already existing dermatological conditions. The residents have borne this contradiction of necessity and fact for 6 months now. The residents need timely treatment for their conditions, many of which have now turned chronic. Drastic changes in the living conditions are imperative. Availability of good nutrition is a necessity, given the population of mothers, infants and adolescents in the basti. There needs to be an infrastructure of care and medicine that the residents have uninhibited access to, since some of the conditions have now turned chronic, and other conditions run the risk of turning chronic if immediate and proper care is not afforded to them. Ringworm itself requires weeks of treatment.
We carried out a crucial drive to deworm children. Because of the abhorrent living conditions the children are forced into, they developed worms that could have, without our timely intervention, seriously hindered their already suffering nutrition, and stunted their growth.
Chapter 4: Reclaiming a Night on the Footpath
Inside a tarpaulin tenement by the road-side, in the shadow of Powai’s posh high-rises, hang quotations from Savitribai Phule, who started India’s first school for women across caste and religious lines in Pune in the late 19th century. A group of women gathered under the sole LED bulb, which illuminated the blue walls of their makeshift ‘library’, to discuss an incident from last month.
On the eve of 14 August, hours before India’s 77th Independence Day, women from Jai Bhim Nagar basti joined the ‘Reclaim the Night’ protest at Galleria Mall, Hiranandani. The residents of the Hiranandani-Powai held the protest in response to the brutal rape and murder of a young doctor at R.G. Kar Medical College and Hospital in Kolkata.
Looking back at what occurred, the women discuss how they heard about the incident and why they decided to join. “Hum bhi aayenge, hum samajhte hain, hum idhar andhere me rehte hain sadak pe… raat bhar neend nahi hai, koi bhi aate jaate rehta hai.” (We wanted to go, we understand. We live in the darkness by the road-side, sleep evades us at night, people keep coming and going.)
Jai Bhim Nagar residents have been waging an anti-eviction struggle since their homes were demolished in June. But their spirit was crushed when they were denied their right to protest at the protest site by women from the gated complex, saying that their issues were different from those gathered there.
4.1. Mahilaye Peechhe Nahi Hatengi!
New forms of urban untouchability and segregation stalk our cities, as more gated residences put up biometric security, surveillance and separate service elevators for those who call these high-rise homes their workplace. The discussion brings up these aspects. The majority of women of Jai Bhim Nagar come from historically oppressed backgrounds. Many came to Mumbai after marriage for work, and others grew up here. A mix of Marathi, Kannada, Vadari, Bhojpuri and other languages mixed up and served as Bambaiya Hindi can be heard in the ‘library’. These women have been living on the footpath around their basti for almost three months after their homes were illegally demolished by the Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC) on June 6, 2024. Several women and men suffered gruesome injuries from police weapons. Many of them, employed inside the Hiranandani premises, have lost their employment or have had to take up work at lower wages. Yet, braving the devastating Mumbai monsoon, they continue their protest by living on the street under extremely unhygienic and unsafe conditions. The women cannot sleep all night as they sit guarding their young children in the pitch dark, where there are no street lights. Fresh on their minds is another recent incident of a four-year-old schoolgirl who was raped inside her kindergarten in nearby Badlapur, Thane.
“Itna andhera me rehte hain, ladkiya rehti hain… kitna atyachaar ho raha hai idhar. Sarkaar kuch karti nahi hai, kuch toh karna chahiye,” (It’s so dark here, girls live here. This is unjust and the government is doing nothing about it), said one of the women during this discussion. The state of their settlement starkly brings out how women’s safety is linked to their right to housing and safe workplaces. This is the plight of all women who are rendered homeless following demolitions, which are increasing at an alarming rate in Mumbai.
Despite limitations within the data, the 2011 census shows that 41% of Mumbai’s entire population (75 lakh out of 1.8 crore) lives in slums. Housing conditions in the last 13 years have only gotten worse. In a city where almost half the population lives in slums, gender violence intertwined with specific material and social configurations produces its ugliest forms. The everyday life of women is put under the constraint of space and basic amenities, where women are vulnerable while performing most basic personal activities such as bathing, defecating, etc.
Most of these women work as domestic workers in gated communities, whose hunger for expansion is believed to be behind their displacement. When discussing workplace safety for women, these women are often neglected. The caste and class dynamics and unorganised nature of such work leave them exposed to various forms of abuse. In addition to being underpaid and overworked, the Indian government has not ratified the International Labour Organisation’s (ILO’s) Convention 189, which grants domestic labour recognition as statutory employment. This means women’s work in the household is not work, legally speaking. While the Maharashtra government rolled out welfare legislation for domestic workers in 2008 that took the form of cash transfers, the law does little to recognise domestic work as ‘work’, to say nothing of workplace safety. This means there are no written contracts, arbitrary hiring and firing is the norm, and there is a constant threat of being accused of ‘theft’ if one chooses to speak up. Police departments are not impartial when a complaint of sexual harassment is filed against residents of a posh Hiranandani locality by these basti-dwelling women.
4.2. If We Do Not Rise
Women’s movements across the globe have historically linked structural issues with patriarchal domination, raising the question of women’s liberation together with land rights, climate justice, democratic reforms and so on. The same can be seen in Maharashtra’s history in the latnis (roti rolling pin) movement. From the late 1960s to mid-70s, waves of women participated in this anti-price rise agitation when food and commodity inflation disproportionately pinched the women running households. Thousands of self-employed women, casual workers, lower-middle-class housewives and even organised workers marched to Mumbai’s Mantralaya. They conducted a ‘kachra tula’, where they weighed the effigy of then chief minister Vasantrao Naik against debris found in adulterated ration supplies. During former Prime Minister Indira Gandhi’s regime, the movement took on an added anti-Emergency dimension in Gujarat and Maharashtra.
This mass agitation after Independence harked back to the days of the Mahila Atma Raksha Samiti (MARS), a women’s self-defence organisation founded during the Great Bengal Famine of 1943. Due to the British-manufactured food crisis, which left over 38 lakh dead, many women who survived had been forced into prostitution or exposed to sexual violence in refugee camps. MARS rose to protect such vulnerable women, leading agitations for war food rations and launching the Tebhaga sharecroppers’ movement for land tenancy reforms.
Similarly, in Chhattisgarh, Andhra Pradesh and other states, women led the kabandi movement in the 70s. They linked domestic violence with the arrak and desi sharab cartels run by politically connected business families. Liquor bottles were smashed, and alcohol shops were set ablaze by militant women. They realised that the same capitalists who held back their family wages were responsible for encouraging wife-beating and anti-women attitudes through the unregulated sale of illicit liquor.
From the Telangana armed struggle (1946-51) to the Dalit massacres of Kilvenmani (1968), Karamchendu (1985) and Bathani Tola (1996), women’s bodies were treated as the site of the community’s honour. Rape of women from landless and small peasants’ families was used by the landlord’s caste militias like the Ranveer Sena as a form of ‘collective punishment’ for demanding fair wages or land redistribution. This was not to be accepted meekly any longer, with women even picking up weapons when police and courts failed to deliver justice.
At the gathering, women of Jai Bhim Nagar discuss the history of the women’s movement and proudly own their participation. They discussed with each other and reflected on their attempt to carve out a terrain where talking about women’s safety is intertwined with material and social configurations like housing. They shared their experiences of being denied the right to protest and shamed by distant relatives who saw their viral video where they raised the same question. Dismissing such ridicule and sidelining, Jai Bhim Nagar’s women asserted that it is only through the struggle for everyone that such rights will be achieved.
Bringing to action their resolve to continue their struggle and make their voices heard, the women organised a protest at Jai Bhim Nagar on 4 September 2024. They walked in locked steps, holding posters calling for an end to the Builder-Bulldozer Raj that is rampant across India. They also formed a human chain that stretched across the length of their huts, along the footpath, reaching Sabki Library. They remained resolute, even when the police showed up in large numbers with blaring sirens, and continued their discussion.
As the nationwide eruption to ‘Reclaim the Night’ embers, it is a moment to soberly reflect on why the women’s movement moved away from demanding such far-reaching structural changes. Calls for justice in the aftermath of gruesome violence may even lead to hanging the rapists, a call chief minister Mamata Banerjee recently espoused for the R.G. Kar incident. The women’s movement must not, however, lose this imagination, which led to radical changes such as land reform, abolition of landlordism, and end to the Emergency and caste atrocities.
The women of Jai Bhim Nagar are burning the night oil in their makeshift library to discuss these questions. A room of their own in this city may do much more for their safety than imagined by Virginia Woolf. Their issues may have more to do with the women of Hiranandani than what meets the eye.
This is a condensed version of an article published in The Wire,16 September 2024.
Chapter 5: Sabka Ghar, Sabki Pehchaan: A newsletter by the children of Jai Bhim Nagar
Jai Bhim Nagar ki Kahani, Bachon ki Zubani
Excerpts from a newsletter created by the children of Jai Bhim Nagar on the occasion of a mela, ‘Beghar chale Begumpura’ organized by Sabki Library. Written by Sakshi, Babu, Avinash, Neha, Harsha, Paayal, Shubham, Om, and Kushal.
Hamare mummy papa nana nani dada dadi log 30 saal pehle Jai Bhim Nagar aaye the. Idhar poora jangal tha tab, light nahin thi, paani nahin tha, poora machchhar tha jaisa abhee haal hai. Meter nahin aane diya Hiranandani ne, sarakar ne bhi kuchh nahin kiya. Sadak bhi idhar bahut saal baad mein bana aur sadak par light tak nahin lagai. Ham kama karake bana yen isko rehne layak. Ham sab safai kiye. hamen bolte hai ab niklo , kyoo? bahut maara sab logo ko police ne. Dadi ko bhee maara , bahut cho ta lagee thi . Hamara ghar tootne ke baad se bahut bura lagta hai. Mujhe sapane mein ghar aaya tha aur uthke dekha to road par hoon. Main rota raha raat bhar. Basti bahut yaad aati hai.
Jab se ghartootahai, humari padhai nahi ho rahi hai kyunki idhar light nahi hai aur saari kitaaben bheeg jaati hai. padhne me dikkat hota, hamesha gaadi ki aawaz rehti hai. Ab kabhi kabhi school bhooke pet jana padta hai. School me man nahilagta. Kabhi kabhi toh school se chutti marna padta hai. Meri maa ek bai hai. Meri 4 behene hain. Wo akeli sab kartihai. Bohot problem hota hai unko kaam karne me.itna kaam karne ke baad bhi paisa nahi milta, hume thik se khana nahi milta hai.
Basti me sab saath me reh kar tyohar manaate the, DJ lagate the. Sabse baat hota tha. Chote bache ko chor kar mummy log kaam karne jaate the saare basti ke bache saath me rehte the. Andar ek maidan tha, hum waha khelte the. Bohot acha lagta tha. Abhi sab alag alag ho gaye hain. Kuch bhikarne ka man nahi karta hai. Ab hum khel bhi nahisakte. Ab kidhar bhi jane me dar lagta hai. Pehle mujhe barish ki boonden achi lagti thi, ab mujhe barish bilkul achi nahi lagti hai. Maine bohot kahani suni hai ke pehle ek baar humari basti ko jala diya tha. Tab main paida nahi hua tha lekin logo se suna hai. Ab humare same humari basti tod di. Police log bhi Hiranandani ka kaam karta hai. Unko lagta hai hum mazdoor logo ke saath kuch bhi kar sakte hain.
5.2 Tumhara Ghar, Humara Ghar: Hiranandani se Samvaad
by Poonam Limbole, Jai Bhim Nagar resident / age 16
Ham khush hain lekin hamari khushi unke liye warning hai unhen samajhna chahiye ki hamari chuppi ka ye matalab nahin ki ham dar gaye hamari aavaz unke khilaaf ek taakat hai jo unhen yah dikhlaegi ki unki harakaten sirf unka hi downfall banegi jaise unhon ne socha ki vo sab kuchh chheen sakte hain, par asal mein unhon ne sirf apne liye khud hi ek khudkushi ki taraf kadam badhaya hai. Ab unhe pata chalega ki ham sab mil kar unka samna karne ke liye taiyaar hain. Hamara ghar toot gaya hai par ham unke khilaaf aavaz uthaenge lekin ham unhen yah batana chahate hain ki ham ek parivar hain aur hamari aavaz unki bekaar ki soch se jyada tez hai. Hamara ghar hamare liye sirf ek chhat nahin balki pahachan hai jab hamara ghar toot gaya to sirf ek jagah nahi gayi, balki hamari khushiyaan aur yaaden bhi chale gayi. Bachapan ki yadon ke sath isliye ham unlogon ke khilaf aavaz uthana chahate hain jo hamen is haalat mein dale hain. Hamen apne haq ke liye ladna hai aur yeh sab ko dikhana hai ke hamara ghar hamara adhikaar hai . Tumhara ghar to videshon churaee huee architecture par bana hai hamara ghar nahin tumhara ghar sirf ek chhat hai. Hamara ghar hamare yadon ka mahal hai. Tumhara ghar itna bada hai ham sochte hain ki kya tumhara ghar bhi tumhen chupane ki koshish kar raha hai aur hum bas chote si duniya mein khush hai. Tumhen dekhakar yah lagata hai ki tumhara ghar bhi tumhe gareebon ki kadar karna nahi sikhata hai.
Chapter 6: Domestic Workers Without a Home
As the first rays of dawn hit the broad, grey-bricked footpaths of Powai’s Hiranandani locality, Darshana begins her day. Inside the blue hues of her current ‘home’— the tarpaulin-covered dwelling within which she, her family, and hundreds of others rendered homeless by the BMC-led demolition of their houses have been living for the past four months—she starts her day with work. She washes dishes, cleans the cement side-walk on which her family and she sleep, and prepares meals on wood-fired chulhas using the limited utensils she could salvage before the kitchen in her home was destroyed by bulldozers. By the time the sun shines bright, she has readied her two children, fed them, and sent them to school.
Now, her work begins. Darshana and many like her march into one of the double-digit numbered apartments among the many high-rise Hiranandani buildings. From 10 am to 7:30 pm, she manages her employers’ household. Her tasks involve doing the dishes, dusting, mopping, laundry, cooking, and other chores around the house that go unaccounted for. She has been working with this family, including her ‘madam’ and ‘sir’, in-laws, and their son, for around four years. While in that time, life as she knew it had entirely upturned, almost none of that was reflected in the everyday realities of her job: she is still expected to arrive on time, stay beyond mutually decided work hours, and do all of the household chores with utmost precision. “They’re big people. If we do something wrong, they get angry, and we have to listen to their two cents,” she says, elaborating that mistakes include forgetting a task or making too much noise while organising the dishes. On Sundays, her employers are at home while she works, and she faces more scrutiny around the house.
On 6 June 2024, when her home was demolished, Darshana’s employers permitted her a couple of days off work to deal with the disruption her life had faced. However, three days later, she received a phone call from them asking her to return to work. “She told me that if I don’t come back, they will keep some other bai, and I will be out of a job,” Darshana shared. “She said she couldn’t adjust and that all the other bai logg had returned to work, so I must also. She just said, ‘Quickly rent a room or something somewhere, and come back,’ as if it is easy to do.”
Still, Darshana maintains that her ‘madam’ is good and one of the nicer ones. Jaya, who has been a domestic worker for three years and lives adjacent to Darshana’s family, their settlements separated by filmy bamboo stems, shares that she lost her job after the demolition. Earlier, she would work throughout the day from 8 am to 6 pm, during which she would look after the house and cook, clean, and make juices for the children of the home, for which she would earn ₹15,000 per month. When she returned to work two days after the demolition, she was asked to leave₹ as her employer had ‘kept’ someone else. “She told me, ‘You have no home, how will you work? First, figure out your home situation, then return to work.’ Saying this, she paid me ₹2000 and removed me from work.” Two weeks later, Jaya felt lucky to find another job at a different building, where she cleans after an elderly couple and is paid ₹6000 per month. She remembers her previous employer bitterly, “We have given so many years to them and their homes, and in two days, they held our hand and left us on the streets,” she recounts, alluding that her experience is not hers alone.
Many, many other women in the basti have faced similar job losses after the destruction of their homes. Sarita, for example—who lives away from the 90 Feet Road, on the more secluded part of the settlements, where there aren’t even street-lights to offer relief and the illusion of safety—tells us that after she lost her job post the demolition four months ago, she has not been able to find a single replacement employment opportunity. She now feels as though the job she held before, which paid her Rs. 3000 per month for two hours of work a day and where she faced poor treatment from her employer, would have been better than the debilitating lack of income she faces now.
Darshana, Jaya, and Sarita, along with many other women from Jai Bhim Nagar, confirm that these experiences are shared by all of them. Nearly all the women have faced a loss of or threat to their work and income as domestic workers since the loss of their homes. In this moment of pronounced systemic injustice, the regular and everyday uncertainty of the nature of their livelihoods as domestic workers—which offers none of the rights justly exercised by their white-collar employers or those in the organised sector—is made clearer. Domestic work is not part of the statutory employment list, leaving them outside the ambit of basic worker protections such as minimum wages, paid leaves, collective bargaining, workplace safety, ESI/Provident Fund, annual bonus, and so on.
The imagined separation of the home as the woman’s abode of unpaid labour and the world outside as that of the productive male bread-earner is a patriarchal myth used by the capitalist mode of production. Recognising the home as a place of work is a struggle against the public – private gendered division of work. Most women domestic workers do not have any written contract specifying the exact services being bought, with many unpaid tasks being extracted. They can be terminated without serving any notice period. Even when the Maharashtra government recently set up the Gharelu Kamgar Kalyan Mandal, a welfare board envisioned by a 2008 state law, it avoided recognising domestic work as ‘work’. Roughly ten thousand of the fifteen lakh domestic workers estimated to be working in Maharashtra’s major cities are covered by this welfare measure to provide one-time cash transfers for maternity and old age. As a result, workers are either left to the employer or the State’s dole or benevolence as worthy recipients of charity or criminalised as ‘suspicious elements’ in the city. It is not uncommon to find false cases of theft being lodged when workers demand fundamental rights, even when acing violence and sexual abuse at the hands of the employers.
Jai Bhim Nagar women’s routines have become harsher since the demolition. The drudgery of their work at home was multiplied by the absence of electricity, water, and household assets they had spent years accumulating. This has meant that they spend longer hours working—the lives of most women at Jai Bhim Nagar and across the slums of Mumbai have always been mired by the multiple types of labour that every waking hour is spent completing. For instance, irregular water supply and unsanitary toilets giving rise to disease affects her more as taking care of the children and the aged is considered the woman’s responsibility (as we discussed in Chapter 4). This is also reflected in how women are at the forefront of the struggle for rehabilitation, leading many delegations and gheraos demanding regular and clean water supply, sanitary living conditions and fumigation of mosquitoes from the municipality.
The demolition in Jai Bhim Nagar was based on a complaint to the state Human Rights Commission that urban squatters were affecting the quality of life in Hiranandani’s gated complexes. Ironically, for most women living in Jai Bhim Nagar who are domestic workers in its high-rises, their very settlement was premised on improving the quality of life in the area. They were housed there and allowed to live, on the condition that they would not withhold their labour for domestic work, casual construction, electrical and other mechanical jobs, etc.
This is a paradox of neoliberal urbanisation. Cities are de-industrialised, throwing toiling people to the margins of the metropolis, and in their place emerge globally-networked centres of finance and services. The dreams of the land sharks, town planners, and those who come to inhabit these oases of opulence, is to create a ‘world class’ city sanitised of all toiling humanity. This has only one roadblock. Essential labour such as domestic work, sanitation, construction, and various types of services requires that working people live near enough to their city without disturbing its lifeless beauty. The need to exploit people’s capacity to work cannot be eliminated as long as profit remains the motor force of society. The basti, the barrio, the favela, the ghetto, the shanty town – the clinking wine glasses in infinity pools on top of the highest sky-rise face their horrific presence in the skyline. With a grin they seem to declare: Hamin ast -o- hamin ast -o- hamin ast!
This routinely takes on stark appearances when there is a minimum of resistance, such as in 2017 when a Bengali migrant domestic worker, Zohra, in Noida’s posh Mahagun Moderne gated community went to demand her wage dues and was forcefully withheld.[21] As the Uttar Pradesh police hesitated to file a complaint against the powerful employers, agitated residents from Zohra’s slum gathered outside the building complex for her release. This escalated to the private security firing on the crowd and the basti-dwellers being framed for ‘rioting’, theft and other criminal charges. The American estate-management company running the high-rises identified and blacklisted 80+ women domestic workers, a malicious media campaign painted the Bengali-speaking Muslims as ‘illegal Bangladeshi infiltrators’, and Zohra’s entire basti of 60 homes was promptly demolished by the police. Then BJP MP Mahesh Sharma assured the residents that 13 arrested slum-dwellers would not receive bail for years. The usefulness of insecure housing as a disciplining strategy for the urban precariat cannot be emphasised enough.
In interacting with the high-rises of Hiranandani, the women of Jai Bhim Nagar notice how their labour goes unidentified as real, respectable work both in their place of work and at home. The women recount their experiences of being thoroughly screened at the gates of the buildings upon their entry and departure. “The guards put their hands inside our purses when we go in and make a list of all of the items and money in it. When we return, they check again to ensure it is the same. When we get paid, our madams must write us a gate pass to allow us to take our salary home,” shares Sarita, who recognises the implicit discrimination inherent in these routine practices. Jaya shares a similar anecdote, following up with the request to not have her real name mentioned, “If my sir and madam find out I am saying this, they will remove me and tell all the other houses not to keep me because my behaviour is ‘bad.” She laments that this network of domestic work employers is brutal and their actions ironic. While the women working in their buildings are given no basic respect, they are expected to maintain the same for their employers. Upon not adhering, they are replaced.
This reality is not limited to only the adults. Shruti, 16-years old and an aspiring journalist from Jai Bhim Nagar, works full-time at an apartment in Hiranandani, owned by a couple. While she enjoys writing and often expresses her razor-sharp critique of the juxtapositions prevalent in a place like Hiranandani, Powai—and most other parts of the city, where the rich live in high-rises equipped with every facility and the poor that sustain those buildings with their labour live without their basic needs met—she has only completed her education until the 7th grade. While she wants to study more, often visiting lessons at the ‘Sabki Library’ and learning fractions alongside younger students, a lack of sufficient funds for schooling and consistently rude treatment from teachers at school because of the same saw her leave school. Right after this, she began her first job as a 24-hour domestic worker at the age of 12. Now, in her third full-time job, where she cooks, cleans, and looks after a home, she earns a salary of ₹15,000 that sustains her family of five.
She notes that in the subsequent months after the demolition, girls of Shruti’s age are no longer seen at the basti. This was reflected when these working women joined their ruling class counterparts at a ‘Reclaim the Night’ vigil for women’s security held inside Hiranandani’s Galleria Mall in the aftermath of a medical student’s rape and murder in Kolkata (discussed in Chapter 4). Shruti explains, “Families don’t want their young daughters to live on the streets, where they are vulnerable to all kinds of dangers and their safety is at risk. They would rather take their daughters out of school and put them to work in gated communities, where they might be safer. While most mothers have faced discrimination in these homes, they would still prefer their daughters to live there, inside four walls, then on the street where there is no guarantee of life or safety. I know my mother would want the same for me, even if I were not getting paid and fed at my work.”
Regardless of whether these women and girls are first generation women earners or the second, the responsibility of running their household rests on them, with their husbands, fathers, and brothers often involved in ad-hoc daily-wage jobs that offer no certainty, many of whom have seen no employment at all since the demolition. In many cases, they are the primary bread-earner. The precarity of ‘unauthorized living’ unfolding through the demolition of these women’s homes has only made visible the violence woven into the lives they live. As many of them have articulated, “Woh humme naukar samjhte hai, insaan nahi.” (We are primarily seen as servants, not as people.) In singular systemic moments of crisis or collapse, such as slum demolitions, the reality of “unauthorised living” worsens an existing reality, whether that is of adult women facing precarity in their livelihoods as domestic workers, or young girls beginning to work as domestic workers, losing their right to education.
Capital thrives on cheap labour and segmentation. The working class while asking ‘Whose city is it?’, militantly asserts the inalienable right to the dignity of life and labour. This possibility in Jai Bhim Nagar is the potential of the struggle of toiling people to fight for the cost of its ‘social reproduction’ i.e. of housing and rent, health, education, and transportation. These are reflected in some of the present demands—the movement is now proceeding with the demand for proper rehabilitation which is a political demand for a dignified and free life. Linked to this is the possibility of taking this struggle against exploitation to the production site and the connected workplaces—asking for higher wages and better working conditions. Hiranandani was forced to put up with the bastis of Jai Bhim Nagar for the steady flow of its inhabitants’ labour to its posh homes. Now that they have been turned to rubble, it is worth asking whether they can be rebuilt better if the organised working class could exercise its structural power to withhold its labour. While the struggle of Jai Bhim Nagar, in isolation, is far from the level of organisation needed to pull off this task, anti-displacement struggles can always take such a turn. This presents a possibility of unearthing and positing, through a period of struggle, a form of organised working-class power.
All names were changed at the request of those interviewed. This is a condensed version of an article published in Sabrang, 18 November 2024.
Chapter 7: Resistance Continues
Amidst the blue tarpaulin tents lining the footpath beside Hiranandani’s posh high-rises, Sabki Library emerged through the solidarity of Mumbai’s student-youth and Jai Bhim Nagar residents. Built by the same hands that erected Hiranandani’s towers, it stands in stark contrast to their exclusionary nature. Here, kids learn and dream of free quality education. Women discuss global feminist movements and demand rightful homes tied to their safety and jobs. The community gathers for medical care, aided by young Mumbai doctors, while the BMC ignores their plight. They celebrate resistance at the Beghar Chale Begumpura mela, raising slogans of liberation, moving towards Sant Raidas’ visionthe 17th-century saint-poet Sant Raidas’ Begumpura – a place with no pain, no taxes or care… None owns property there!’
Left to right: Health camp; women of the basti raising their voice against ‘builder – bulldozer raj’;discussion on the increasing crimes against women; first art session at Sabki Library; discussion on the history of women’s movement andmovie screening.
Left to right: Health Camp; organisation of cultural event ‘Beghar Chale Begumpura’; remembering Mahatma Jyotirao Phule on his death anniversary; marking 150 days of Jai Bhim Nagar struggle; diya art making session at Sabki Library; art session marking completion of four months of Sabki Library.
Left to right: Yoga session at Sabki Library; remembering Savitribai Phule on her birth anniversary; remembering our heroes of freedom struggle and their unprecedented contribution towards our liberation.
[1] For a block level analysis, see Bharat, N. et al. (2021). Fractal urbanism: City size and residential segregation in India. World Development, 141.
[2] For a discussion on both these laws, see Chapter 2.
[3] Interview of Niranjan Hiranandani in NBM&CW. Accessed on https://www.nbmcw.com/archived/people-watch/niranjan-hiranandani-managing-director-hiranandani-group.html (19 November 2024).
[4] Ajay Mohan & Ors vs HN Rai & Ors.
[5] Case Diary No. 3062 of 2023.
[6] Case No. 7422/13/16/2023, Diary No. 12462/CR/2023.
[7] LC 280 of 2018, LC 317 of 2018, LC 398 of 2018.
[8] During the Special Investigation Team (SIT) investigation order by the Mumbai High Court in response to the criminal petition filed by the residents of Jai Bhim Nagar, the SHRC has denied issuing any such order for demolition. The court has finally highlighted the highly questionable role of SHRC, and yet, as of Oct 31, 2024, no arrests have been made.
[9] Case Diary No. 3062 of 2023
[10] Case No. 7422/13/16/2023, Diary No. 12462/CR/2023
[11] Government Resolution No. SANKIRIN-2021/C.No.208/NAVI-20
[12] Sections 141, 143, 145, 147, 149, 151, 152, 353, 333, 332, 324, 326, 427, 186, 188, and 189 of Bharatiya Nyay Sanhita.
[13] Smt. Radha Langri vs The Commissioner. Accessed on https://indiankanoon.org/doc/108708031 (19 November 2024).
[14] HLRN. Press Release (New Delhi, 4 March 2024). Accessed on https://www.hlrn.org.in/documents/Press_Release_Forced_Evictions_2022_2023.pdf (19 November 2024).
[15] Olga Tellis & Ors vs Bombay Municipal Corporation & Ors. 1986 AIR 180. Accessed on https://indiankanoon.org/doc/709776/ (19 November 2024).
[16] CWP 4215 of 1995 in the Delhi High Court.
[17] U.P. Avas Evam Vikas Parishad & Anr. vs Friends Coop. Housing Society Ltd. & Anr. 1996 AIR 114. Accessed on https://indiankanoon.org/doc/967399/ (19 November 2024).
[18] Chameli Singh And Others Etc. vs State Of U.P. And Anr. AIR 1996 SC 1051. Accessed on https://indiankanoon.org/doc/64823282/ (19 November 2024).
[19] This includes Murarji Nagar, Garib Nagar, Gautam Nagar, Indira Nagar, Phule Nagar, Parksite, Ramabai Nagar, Hari Om Nagar, Devi Nagar, Chaitanya Nagar, Panch Koti, Gokhale Nagar, and Hanuman Tekri.
[20] Over one hundred people participated in the first camp, and over 60 in the second one. Together with the survey results, this demonstrates that the worsening sanitary and water conditions forced people to vacate the protest site.
[21] See our fact-finding report. COLLECTIVE. (2017). FF report on the incident in Noida on 11-12 July 2017. Published on 14 July 2017. Accessed on https://collective-india.com/fact-finding-noida-domestic-worker-case/.
