Class Struggle in the Shadows of Mumbai’s High-Rises

An encounter with the living conditions of the working class, the inequalities that define our cities, and the struggle to rise above them.

It was the sixth day of Navaratri. As we do every year, we set out to visit Devi temples. We make it a point to discover temples we have not visited before, and, to my surprise, there are still so many hidden in and around our neighbourhood.

Among the temples we discovered this year were two that represented famous temples of Maharashtra.

The first was the Shri Mahalakshmi (Ambabai) Temple, a temple dedicated to Goddess Mahalakshmi in Kolhapur, recreated in Kandivali West. Located at the far end of the suburb, close to the mangroves, it stood in an area where the towering high-rises gradually gave way to rows of modest houses. The surroundings had the feel of a village tucked away in the middle of Mumbai.

The second was the Shri Tuljabhavani Temple, dedicated to Goddess Bhavani, whose famous temple is in Tuljapur, Maharashtra. This temple was located in Kandivali East, off the Western Express Highway. The surroundings were entirely different. Narrow, dingy lanes ran between closely packed houses. One lane led into another, creating a maze in which it was easy to lose one's way.

It is the Tuljabhavani Temple in Kandivali East that I want to write about. Not because of the temple itself, but because of the world that surrounds it.

A World Hidden Behind the High-Rises

The lanes were so narrow that a bicycle could barely pass through without brushing against pedestrians coming from the opposite direction. Small houses stood shoulder to shoulder, leaving little space for light, ventilation or privacy.

Many of these houses could not have been more than 100 square feet. Within that tiny space, families had to accommodate practically everything: a place to sleep, a kitchen, a television, a refrigerator, a cooking stove, utensils and whatever little storage they could manage. The toilet was shared among residents, and some women were washing clothes just outside their doorways because they did not have a dedicated bathroom.

I could not help wondering how many people lived in each house. Four members, at the very least, seemed a reasonable assumption, though some families may have been larger.

Imagine living in such conditions. A space smaller than the living room of many urban apartments becomes the entire world for a family. There is little privacy, limited personal space and hardly any separation between the demands of daily life.

How do children study in these circumstances? Where do they find the quiet and concentration needed to learn? What happens when someone falls ill and needs rest? How does a family manage an unexpected medical expense when its income is barely enough to meet everyday needs?

These are not merely questions about housing. They are questions about dignity, opportunity and the kind of future available to a child born into poverty.

A child growing up in such an environment does not begin life on the same footing as a child living in a spacious apartment with a separate room, access to technology, a quiet place to study and parents who can afford additional educational support.

Both children may possess equal talent and ambition. Yet the opportunities available to them are vastly different.

This is where class struggle becomes more than an idea discussed in books. It becomes a reality visible in the everyday lives of people around us.

The Inequality That Defines Mumbai

What I witnessed is not unusual for those familiar with Mumbai. Even today, pockets of the city continue to exist in these conditions, often hidden behind the outward appearance of a modern, prosperous metropolis.

The discussion around the redevelopment of Dharavi, one of Asia's largest informal settlements, brings this contradiction into sharp focus. Redevelopment is presented as an opportunity to transform a vast settlement into a modern urban development. The involvement of powerful corporate interests, including the Adani Group, has also raised questions about who benefits from the transformation of valuable urban land.

Whenever a redevelopment project is announced, we must ask some fundamental questions. Who owns the land? Who profits from its rising value? What happens to the people who have lived and worked there for generations? Will they receive homes that genuinely improve their lives, or will the transformation primarily serve the interests of developers and those who control economic and political power?

These are questions that deserve transparent answers. The redevelopment of a slum should not be measured merely by the number of towers constructed or the market value of the new properties. Its real success should be measured by whether the original residents gain secure housing, better living conditions, access to livelihoods and a genuine opportunity to improve their economic position.

Otherwise, we risk changing the appearance of poverty without addressing its underlying causes.

A Personal Connection with Class Struggle

Perhaps my reaction to these surroundings was shaped by my own upbringing and family history.

I grew up in a family with left-leaning ideological influences. The idea of class struggle was not unfamiliar to me. I had heard discussions about the working class, the relationship between labour and capital, and the need for workers to unite to secure their rightful dues.

One movement that I witnessed closely was that of the Mahindra Workers' Union, in which my father was at the forefront.

I remember discussions at home about negotiations with management, the strategies that needed to be adopted, and the importance of standing together while demanding a fair settlement. I witnessed the seriousness with which these matters were discussed and the effort that went into reaching agreements with management.

The underlying message was clear: workers often have to fight to receive what they are entitled to. Their individual bargaining power may be limited, but collective action can give them a stronger voice.

It also made me wonder how much the role of trade unions has changed over the years. Where unions continue to exist, are they genuinely protecting workers' interests? Or have some become compromised by internal politics and other considerations?

A union is meaningful only when it represents the people whose interests it was formed to protect.

My father's involvement gave me an early understanding of the unequal relationship between those who control capital and those who depend on their labour to survive. But standing in those narrow lanes in Kandivali, I saw another dimension of the same struggle.

Class struggle is not confined to the workplace. It continues long after a worker has received a salary. It is reflected in the house that the salary can afford, the school a child can attend, the medical treatment a family can access and the opportunities available to the next generation.

The struggle is not just to earn a living. It is to escape the conditions that make survival the central purpose of life.

The Cycle of Poverty

For a family living in a cramped house, a modest income must cover food, rent or housing costs, education, transport, healthcare and countless other necessities. There may be little left to save, invest or spend on improving the family's future.

An unexpected expense can wipe out months of savings. A serious illness can force a family into debt. A child who needs additional educational support may not receive it simply because the family cannot afford it.

This creates a vicious cycle. Limited income restricts opportunities, and limited opportunities make it difficult to increase income.

The consequences extend beyond one generation. Children who grow up without adequate space, educational resources or financial security may find it harder to compete for better jobs. As a result, they may enter adulthood facing many of the same constraints as their parents.

This is how poverty perpetuates itself.

And yet, it would be wrong to assume that the people living in these conditions lack ambition, intelligence or the willingness to work hard. Many work long hours, take up physically demanding jobs and make enormous sacrifices for their families.

The problem is that hard work alone does not always guarantee upward mobility. When the starting point is unequal, the effort required to reach the same destination can be considerably greater.

A child from a privileged family may have the freedom to experiment, make mistakes and try again. A child from a financially insecure family may not have that luxury. One failure can have consequences for the entire household.

Recognising this difference is essential to understanding class struggle in its real sense.

From Chawls to Flats: The Possibility of Change

As I walked through the lanes, another thought came to mind. Many people who came to Mumbai in search of a better life began their journey in chawls and other modest settlements. Through years of hard work, careful financial decisions, education and sacrifice, some managed to improve their circumstances and eventually move into better homes.

My own parents were among those who began their journey in a chawl in Jogeshwari.

Their lives remind me that upward mobility is possible. A family's circumstances at the beginning do not necessarily have to determine its future.

But it would be simplistic to conclude that everyone who remains poor has failed to work hard enough. The opportunities available to one family may be very different from those available to another. Access to education, stable employment, health, family support and a little luck can all influence the outcome.

Still, the stories of families that have moved from chawls to flats demonstrate something important: change begins when people develop the determination to improve their circumstances and translate that determination into sustained action.

Education can open doors. Skills can improve earning capacity. Saving and financial discipline can create security. Better choices, when circumstances permit them, can help families move towards independence.

These steps do not guarantee success, and no individual can overcome every structural barrier alone. But they can increase the chances of building a better future.

The challenge is to ensure that people are not denied the opportunity to make those efforts count.

The Contradiction of a Growing India

Walk out of these narrow lanes and look around. The landscape changes dramatically. Towering residential complexes, landscaped gardens, security gates, swimming pools, gyms and other amenities represent a very different standard of living.

Within a short distance, two entirely different worlds coexist.

In one, families struggle for adequate space, privacy and basic facilities. In the other, residents enjoy amenities that many people can only dream of.

This contrast raises an uncomfortable question about India's development.

India has become one of the world's largest economies, yet the benefits of economic growth are not distributed evenly. Prosperity is visible everywhere, but so is deprivation. The city continues to build taller towers while many of its residents struggle to secure adequate housing.

Economic growth is necessary, but the growth of the economy does not automatically translate into an improvement in everyone's living conditions.

A nation cannot measure its progress only by GDP, the number of billionaires it produces or the scale of its infrastructure projects. It must also ask whether ordinary working people can afford decent housing, whether their children have access to quality education, whether healthcare is within reach and whether a family can withstand a financial emergency without falling into debt.

The real measure of development is not merely how high the tallest building rises, but how far the people at the bottom of the economic ladder are able to climb.

Politicians, Welfare and the Responsibility of the Individual

People living in these settlements are often at the centre of political promises. Welfare schemes are announced with considerable publicity, and politicians speak about housing, employment, education and poverty alleviation.

Yet the existence of a scheme does not necessarily mean that its benefits reach every person who needs them. Implementation, awareness, access and accountability matter. Welfare programmes must be judged by their actual impact on people's lives, not by the publicity surrounding their announcement.

There is also a danger that people living in poverty become instruments of political calculations rather than participants in their own development. Their immediate needs may be addressed through short-term promises, while the larger problems of education, employment, housing and economic mobility remain unresolved.

The answer, however, cannot simply be to dismiss government support. Public investment in schools, healthcare, affordable housing, sanitation, skills and employment opportunities is essential. Such support can give individuals the foundation they need to improve their lives.

But government support, by itself, cannot substitute for individual initiative.

A person must also be willing to learn, acquire skills, seek better opportunities, make informed decisions and persevere through setbacks. Parents must be encouraged and supported in investing in their children's education. Young people must be given the confidence and resources to imagine a future beyond the circumstances in which they were born.

The responsibility is shared, but it is not identical. Governments must create fairer opportunities, institutions must function honestly, and society must recognise the dignity of every worker. Within those conditions, individuals and families must do whatever they can to build a better future.

The objective should not be to teach people to accept poverty, but to empower them to escape it.

The Struggle Must Lead Somewhere

As I left the Tuljabhavani Temple and walked back towards the main road, I could not stop thinking about the people living in those narrow lanes.

The temple was a place of faith, but the surroundings prompted questions about life beyond faith. People can pray for prosperity and a better future, but they must also have the means and opportunities to work towards them.

My upbringing taught me to recognise the importance of collective action. My father's involvement in the workers' union showed me why people must stand together when confronting unequal power. My parents' own journey from a chawl to a better standard of living showed me what determination and sustained effort can achieve.

These experiences lead me to a conclusion that brings together both ideas.

Class struggle is real. Economic inequality is real. The disadvantages faced by children born into poverty are real. We cannot pretend that everyone begins life with the same opportunities, nor can we expect individuals to overcome every obstacle without support.

But we must also avoid treating people as permanent victims of their circumstances.

The purpose of recognising inequality should be to create the conditions in which people can rise above it. Collective action can protect workers' rights. Good governance can improve access to essential services. Education and skills can expand opportunities. And individual determination can turn those opportunities into meaningful change.

Ultimately, a person's circumstances should not become a permanent definition of who they are or what they can achieve.

The narrow lanes of Kandivali are a reminder of how much work remains to be done. They are also a reminder that behind every small house is a family with aspirations, children with potential and individuals who deserve the opportunity to lead a life of dignity.

We may not be able to choose the circumstances into which we are born, but we must strive to ensure that those circumstances do not decide the course of our entire lives.

For the people living in these chawls, the struggle must go beyond surviving one day at a time. It must be a determined effort to build a better life, educate the next generation and break the cycle of poverty.

Society and the government must provide the support and opportunities that make this possible. But the determination to use those opportunities, to keep moving forward despite setbacks and to refuse to accept poverty as a permanent destiny must ultimately take root in the individual.

That, to me, is where the real struggle begins — and where the possibility of change lies.