EditorialThe 14 students in the Cross-Cultural Workshop at XIC have done an outstanding job to produce this newsletter in such a short time. In less than two weeks, they have sat through ten lectures and spent more than 15 hours in Mankhurd and Byculla with pavement dwellers. This is the product of their labour and talent. I hope they have all become more sensitive to the world of the disadvantaged. Indu and I couldn’t have asked for a better group to work with. If they are successful in their careers as journalists, the effort will have been worth every minute!

Julian Crandall Hollick(Workshop Director)

Street Wise Writers:

Nathaniel Da CostaTanvi DeshpandeAnusha IyerShahid JudgeSatya KandalaSanika KanekarSupriya KapoorAmruta LakheShruti NagbhushanNishant ParekhVeda RamaswamyKasturi RoyNewton SequeiraPrachi Shailendra

Layout Editor: Shahid Judge

Masthead Design:

Nathaniel Da CostaEdited by:

Julian Crandall HollickIndu Agarwal

Special Thanks:

Maria Lobo, SPARC, Mahila Milan, and NSDF

Product of:

Cross Cultural Workshop, Xavier Institute of Communications

Satya Kandala andShruti nagbhuShan

In the 1980’s, banks refused to let the pavement dwellers open

an account. Today the women of Mahila Milan have come a long way and are financially self-sufficient.

This took dedication, focus and empathy, both individually and collectively. This group of women is like no other. They are the erstwhile pavement dwellers who fought for their right to decent housing for almost 30 years and won the battle. They did not stop there. Today, they are financially self sufficient and the group has enough money to give its members loans in times of need.

The women recall that while they were petitioning and meeting different government officials for pucca housing, the thought of ‘saving’ entered their head. “If we don’t save, what will we eat?” Jaitunbi reasons as she pockets the stray ten rupee note that she gets back as change for her ‘paan’. But the women recall how difficult it was in the beginning to convince people to part with their money and come save at SPARC/Mahila Milan. For people who didn’t have much, the idea of saving was alien. Banoo, who was in charge of collecting money, would return empty handed on most occasions.

Saving for progress -A passbook with entries of deposits and withdrawals

“ S o m e t i m e s , people would swear at us, calling us greedy thieves working for fair-skinned people,” Banoo recounts disdainfully. But soon a small revolution began on the pavements of Water Street, Byculla.

“Big sums of money are a problem. But for someone who earns a hundred rupees a day, saving five or ten rupees is possible. It was hard, but we kept at it and made it happen. We wanted money of our own to help us out in times of need. Who else would care?”

True. In a nation where poverty stares out of every street corner, there aren’t many who would help out in the time of need. “By mid-1980’s we were 536 families. All of us had but one goal; to rise above the pavement of troubles and being financially independent is a part of this.” And soon there came a time when the collection would be around thirty thousand rupees or more each month.

Then the group started giving out loans to the members of their community who needed to revive their business, educate their son or marry off their daughter. “People used to borrow

cautiously before. If they needed thousand, they would take only thousand. They were scared of the repayment and were anxious to get it done with as soon as possible. But today, people take up to one lakh or so without even thinking twice,” Banoo beams as she points at the column in her savings book that reads one lakh. The women talk about this big sum of money with a certain pride in their voice, as if to show the world that they have risen above the petty sums expected of the pavement.

Talking about the interest on the loan, the women keep it simple. They call the 2% charged levied, a two rupees ‘service charge’ on every hundred rupees. Their recovery process is simple too. The women visit the house of the loan defaulter. If it looks like they really are in no position to return the loan, they give them another loan to get them back on their feet and ensure that with the second loan the family stays afloat. If the man of the house dies or is suddenly bedridden with sickness, they write off the loan. These women, who have seen more than enough of their share of grief, are quick to empathise and act.

The loan is sanctioned in the name of the woman of the household. And if

any male member wants to make a withdrawal from the savings it requires the woman of the house to be present as well. “Women are prudent. They withdraw as much as is necessary or even less. Men are spendthrifts; they waste all the money saved on getting drunk. So we make sure that the women are there to balance the mens’ claim and to make sure that their savings are safe,”Jaitunbi adds with a knowing smile.

Lopez, an accountant at Byculla’s SPARC office states that the Byculla centre alone has 22,000 accounts. Anyone could walk in and start a savings account with daily deposits starting as small as five rupees. Every person who has an account at the centre has their own book of records, which are later computerized. Speaking of the knowledge these women had about saving, Lopez said, “They are the real experts. They remember every account and deposit without even making a note. They are the pioneers who started the movement and lead the way. We are just following them.” He says this as he walks towards a large board that reads ‘Monthly Turnover’ and enters a five digit figure- 5,90,464, just from the Byculla centre. From just Rs. 5 to a whooping five-digit figure, success seems most inevitable for Mahila Milan!Turnover chart of Mahila Milan’s Byculla centre

The Bank that isMahila MilanLife’s Savings:

www.mumbaistreetstories.wordpress.com

April 2013 2

Going GlobalEleven ordinary women from the streets of Mumbai sparked a revolution in 1986, and shifted from the streets to pucca houses. They went a step ahead, and made this a global movement. This is their story.

Globetrotters, (L-R) Jaitunbi, Banoo, Mustari and Zahida tell us the story behind Mahila Milan

amruta laKhe and Shahid Judge

Four women sit at the SPARC office in Byculla. Banoo,

dressed in a light, simple pink saree has a proud face and a stern disposition. Next to her sits Jaitunbi who smiles at us continuously, often breaking into fits of laughter. Mustari sits on the other side of Banoo, quiet throughout, offering her occasional opinion, but otherwise observing the student journalists very carefully. Lakshmi is also present, looking graceful in a new saree, smiling at us through intelligent, kind eyes. Comfortable in each other’s presence, they begin to tell us their story. The extraordinary story of eleven ordinary women, who changed the world.

“All countries are poor,” says Banoo. “Because of the work Mahila Milan did for their community, other countries were very impressed and invited us over. We were illiterate women who knew nothing about travelling to other countries. But we knew how to do our job very well.” These women have frequently travelled to Bangkok, South Korea, Bangladesh, Kenya and even to the United States of America over the last

twenty years. Studying the living conditions of the poor in other countries helped them realize that they too had a right to live with dignity. They mobilised a movement in other countries, talking to the authorities and getting work started. “We carried out extensive surveys in these countries - how many people stayed in one house, how many kids they had, where their husbands worked. There were people living in the slums and on the streets, just like us. We showed their government how we had taken matters into our own hands. The people then began to work like us,” Banoo proudly states.

They spent 22 days in Bangkok, South Korea and Bangladesh. Mustari was very pleased with South Korea. She coyly states, “I loved Korea the most. It was so clean! There was not even a speck of dirt on the streets.” Jaitunbi interjects, “Look at Delhi; they say it is the capital of India, but look at the state of their railway platforms!” They remember their last visit to Bangladesh, where now the

street dwellers have moved into their own pucca houses, thanks to inspiration from the members of the Milan. “The houses they have built there are so beautiful! Among the street dwellers, they had engineers and architects, so they designed the houses very well. It’s funny, isn’t it? They are the beggars, but they are the engineers and architects too!” says Mustari giving us a rare smile.

Their next trip was to Sri Lanka. Mustari quietly comments that it is indeed

a very poor country, much poorer than India. “Because of the 2004 Tsunami, all their houses were destroyed. People were living in horrible c o n d i t i o n s . We went and spoke to the authorities and told them that

their people were living in such pitiful conditions. They were very understanding and immediately asked for land to be allotted to those people 40 miles away from the coast,” she recalls. Raising her head slightly Banoo says, “They were so grateful, that when they started the construction,

they invited us to inaugurate the land. They all have their own houses now.”

The women share another exciting incident that occurred when they went to help the slum dwellers in Kenya, in 1999. The locals thought the Mahila Milan members were builders who had come to demolish their homes, hence leading to a protest. “It took them some time to realize that we were one of their own, and were there to help them,” Banoo explains. “After that we spent a month there, helping them build thier own homes, mixing cement and concrete.”

The women unanimously agreed on being treated with dignity and respect wherever they went. With Sheela didi at their side, they were sent only to the top level officers. “We spoke to the most powerful people in these places. Sheela didi had complete faith in us. She made us sit with them and let us do the talking,” Mustari said, smiling through her watery eyes, offering a toothed smile. “The people we visited have all visited us too. When they visit India, we greet each other like old friends - we sing, we dance, we celebrate. They are very impressed with our successful work, especially our Saving Scheme.”

Mahila Milan won the United Nations Women’s Right Award in the year 1995-96. It was a great honour for their work to be recognised by such a powerful international body.

Lakshmi fondly remembers the trip to New York. “These trips made us realise we are not the only poor people in the world. There are people who are more unfortunate than us. Sometimes we feel like we are much better off. And we always feel obliged to help them, like we help our own people,” she smiles. “After all, we’re in this together.”

Lakshmi Naidu, a founding member of Mahila Milan, collected the UN Award on behalf of the group

“She’s one of us. You make a move on her and we’ll kill you! Go away now!”

The message is as clear today as it was during the Hindu-Muslim riots of 1993. Lakshmi Naidu may have been the only Hindu living on the streets of Nagpada with more than 500 Muslim families, but was never alone. And the residents of Nagpada and Kamathipura pavements have proved time and again that the religions are a binding factor, not a dividing one.

“It’s we who create the disharmony in society, not a Hindu God or a Muslim God,” says Sona Pujari. “We do not fight. How does it matter if my neighbour is a Hindu or a Christian or a Muslim? We all are Hindustani first. We have fought together to build our rightful homes. If we had thought of religions among us, we would have never achieved this. Our unity is our greatest strength,” adds Shehnaz Sheikh.

Most of these dwellers are migrants from Bihar and had a very traditional mind-set when they settled down on the Mumbai streets in the 1960s. And when the leaders of the fledging Mahila Milan had started working in the 1980s, most of them had to overcome this mind-set, which did not permit women to get outside their huts, especially

“We all are Hindustani first!”

Photo Courtesy: Martine Crandall Hollick

Prachi Shailendra

to work! As Sagira Ansari explains, “My husband had threatened to divorce me. But I wanted to be a part of Mahila Milan to learn new things, broaden my vision and think clearly for myself.” And so, she decided to think for herself instead of accepting blind faith. She has had a happy married life, and so had most other women in Mahila Milan.

As Sona puts it, remembering the 1993 riots, “At Kamathipura, our huts were against the church wall with Mother Mary on the other side. We told her: Look, you may be facing the other way, but we are behind you, on the other side. So you should look after us as well as the Christians. See, we believe in every God.”

Mahila Milan celebrating the festival of Id-ul-Fitr at the Byculla office of SPARC in the year 1993

“The people we

visited have all

visited us too. When

they visit India, we

greet each other

like old friends - we

sing, we dance, we

celebrate.”

April 2013 3

Starting a movement is easy; but the ability to keep it going is what needs true dedication. The eleven women who started Mahila Milan brought about a drastic change in the lifestyles of 536 families who lived on the pavements of Byculla. They started a movement that stayed not just in Byculla but spread the world over.

Thirty years have gone by. Goals have been achieved, priorities have changed, and new generations have come up. Do the new kids on the Mahila Milan block share the same enthusiasm and passion that the original eleven had? What are their hopes and dreams? What keeps them going and how will they remember their heroes? We spoke to Shanti Shinde and Sunita Sonavne in Dharavi, second and third generation members of Mahila Milan to find out what they have learnt from the leaders and how they see themselves growing in this organisation. Sunita’s youth shows throughout the interview, with her speaking her mind and occasionally causing laughter and rebukes from the older members present. Shanti is more reserved, taking some time to think before giving her answers. Here are the excerpts from our interview.

Taking the Legacy Forward

Why did you join this organization?

Shanti Shinde Sunita Sonavane

We lived in the railway slums near Lower Parel. When the authorities razed our homes, we had nowhere to go. We didn’t know what to do and housing was a problem. Lakshmi akka, Rehmat akka and others came to our locality and tried helping us. The senior Mahila Milan ladies guided us throughout and provided us the support and got us involved.

I had come here for a job. Along with a few other members, I used to conduct surveys in the area. After 4-5 months of conducting surveys, (Jochin) sir said there is work in Mahila Milan and I can do the same work in the organization. That’s when I joined Mahila Milan and now it is a very integral part of my life. It’s like home. All the members are family.

What have you learnt in Mahila Milan?I am illiterate so I used to work in other people’s houses to earn a living. But it was insufficient to provide for my family. When I joined this organisation I was empowered. I now take up toilet contracts and earn a decent sum.

We have become confident, not only in our social lives but also in our private lives. We are not afraid of anything. We do not underestimate ourselves anymore.

How has the older generation inspired you?

I admire their dedication to work and wish to imbibe that quality. Their achievements make us want to work hard and achieve the same. It is said ‘A student is wiser than the teacher’. We try to take in whatever they teach us. And I think we can carry this forward and teach the next batch as much as we can.

The senior Mahila Milan members taught us everything. They taught us how to form a society, how to save and other important things. They guided us well.

Now that your primary objective of getting a house is achieved what do you wish to do next?

Our mission is not yet over. We want all the slum dwellers and pavement dwellers to move to better homes. We also want everyone to be employed. What is the use of a house if you aren’t employed?

Now that we’ve got a house to stay, I wish other pavement dwellers too get a house of their own. I wish the best for them too. I want their kids to study so that their life changes for the better.

When you joined Mahila Milan, the foundations of the organisation were firmly set; do you know and understand what it took to build this? Will the next generation understand the work you did?

I agree that our seniors struggled more than us. The kind of struggle they’ve gone through is unimaginable. We just deal with petty issues now; they’ve done the real work. Our condition is much better. But we’ve tried our best to match up with them. I want this organization to grow more and reach greater heights.

My children know what I have gone through and my struggles. There was a time when I couldn’t afford their education and was about to pull them out of school. I have given my children full freedom to pursue their dreams wherever they wish to, even if it isn’t with this organisation

nathaniel da coSta and SaniKa KaneKar

For videos of the interview, log on to www.mumbaistreetstories.wordpress.com

History is inundated with examples of women who have stood behind their men through triumph and defeat. Mileva Marić

collaborated with Einstein on his work. Edith Wilson nearly ran the government when President Woodrow Wilson had a stroke. Napoleon credited his wife Josephine for boosting his confidence before he went marching and George Bush was persuaded by his wife Laura to stop drinking and run for the President.

But the 11 women at Mahila Milan turned history upside down when they came together and fought against the Indian government for almost 30 years to get a concrete roof above their heads; while their men took a back seat and acted as their pillars of strength.

So why was it the women and not the men volunteered for this challenging task?

The women on the pavements are the ones who spend most of their days on the streets, they do the household chores and take care of their children, while the men are away working in different corners of the city. Their families, especially their husbands, unchained themselves from the orthodox mentality of women staying indoors and gave them the much

Women

SuPriya KaPoor, Veda ramaSwamy, and niShant PareKh

needed space to go ahead and organize themselves. There were still some families that were against

their women stepping out of the house. The rest of the women came together and explained to these families that the presence of all the women will add more strength to the group. They even managed to convince the families that they would continue to be good housewives even while working outside their homes.

The struggle began with a lot of encounters with the demolition squads and these women stood at the forefront to protect their homes. Had men been the torch bearers of this struggle, the police and the government officials wouldn’t have thought twice before beating them up, arresting them and tearing down their houses. As women from 536 families stood together to defend their homes from getting razed, they defeated fear.

The women at Mahila Milan increased their

self-confidence by learning how to approach people in authority and how to speak to them. Mahila Milan fought with the state government, the police and the civic authorities, handled legal cases, set up bank accounts and initiated an internal savings scheme. They were on the path of giving police, politicians, bureaucrats and government agencies a reason to look at them with respect.

In 2006, their vigorous efforts succeeded as they acquired secured homes. But the battle still continues as they help urban poor all around India and the world.

We often wondered how difficult would it be for women living on the pavements of Mumbai to bring about a change for the betterment of their community. We didn’t have an answer before interacting with Mahila Milan. But now, we do. Is it difficult? Yes.Impossible? No!

Photo Courtesy: SPARC

take the

Lead

April 2013 4

The next 15 years were spent looking for vacant government land - land to build our own home.”

The room erupts with hushed voices. Words like slum, footpath, filth and human rights are passed around the class.

“You built your own house?” the students ask incredulously.

“Have you studied engineering?” asks another. Banoo understood the question. For most of the

world, without formal education one is not taken seriously, especially in India, where the name of the college is more important than the grade.

“None of us have received any kind of formal education. But we went to Kerala for a training programme and then Jockin Arputham (founder and chairman of NSDF) taught us the 1-2-3 formula. In fact after our training, we have even gone to South Africa, Kenya, Thailand and Cambodia to develop housing projects for the poor there,” says Banoo.

“1-2-3?” the class asks in unison.

“One ghamela of cement, two ghamelas

of sand and three ghamelas of gravel to prepare the concrete necessary for the supporting pillars of the building” clarifies Banoo.

“Mmmm… What about area: size and space?” asks another student.

“We devised our own scales. For instance one foot

Building Blocks of ChangeanuSha iyer and newton Sequeira

It is the year 2015 and 20 Architecture students at IIT Kharagpur are waiting for a guest lecturer when a diminutive woman walks in. Her plain

features complement the traditional saree that she wears.

“Put your books aside. Keep just a shoe lace, pencil and a handkerchief. I want you to build a house using just this.” Thisa gets the class’s attention.

The students struggle, some giggle while the back bench languidly doodles. Finally, some brave soul says, “Ma’am it is impossible!”

“That’s what we thought too,” says Banoo Sayyed Ishaq. “In 1985, the Supreme Court passed a ruling that allowed the Municipal Corporation of Greater Mumbai to demolish houses on the footpaths, houses that we had been living in for decades,” she continues.

A girl from Punjab asks, “What happened then?”

“SPARC and NSDF helped us organize all the slum dwellers and pavement dwellers. United, we stopped the demolition drive.”

“Spark? You mean a spark plug,” snickers a student at the back.

Banoo smiles sportingly. “SPARC stands for Society for the Promotion of Area Resource Centres. But yes, like a spark plug, it sparked a revolution.”

“Revolution! What revolution, Ma’am?” a student asks skeptically. Banoo smiles as she settles into the Italian leather chair, a far cry from the one in her one room house in Govandi, a Mumbai suburb.

“We used to live on the pavements of Byculla. Mumbai needed spaces and we were in the way.

was equal to the length of a mangalsutra or 5 metres was equal to the length of a saree,” says Banoo.

With raised eyebrows and gaping mouths, the students are glued to the conversation now.

She goes on, “It took us 20 years of running from pillar to post to acquire the land that was meant for us. In 2005, after numerous protests, Gautam Chaterjee, the Chief Manager of MHADA helped us get the necessary paper work done.”

The questions start flying thick and fast.“Who was the architect?”“How many families got homes?”“Why are you teaching us?”“Why did you have to go to South Africa and

Cambodia to teach them construction? Don’t they have experts?”

Banoo thinks for a moment before replying. “It is the poor who understand the poor the best. We knew how to design houses, but more importantly, we understood what the people needed. That is why we were invited by the governments of those countries.”

Banoo goes on to inform the class how the blueprint of the house was created. “We used bamboo sticks, sarees and cardboard to create 4 different sample flats. Each of the 536 families living in Byculla chose the model which had a loft. We decided to construct toilets outside the house compound.”

“Why did you decide to have the toilets outside? Isn’t it a little awkward?” says another student.

“We decided to have common toilets to give women a chance to step out of their houses and interact with each other. It became a means of socializing.”

Intrigued by her response, the questions keep coming. The change in the students, themselves from different parts of the country, is evident. The students are richer by her knowledge and inspired by her stories. The skepticism has given way to a new- found respect. The conversation moves to the IIT canteen.

Authors’ Note: This is a fictional story based on facts

Us and ThemtanVi deShPande andKaSturi roy

The kids have arrived. A fresh bunch this year, but the reluctance

and apprehension I sense is familiar. They look about the street leading upto Milan Nagar with interest, and why not. They have been plucked out of their air-conditioned classrooms to be brought to a place they expect to be filthy and unpleasant in every sense of the word. And yet, what they find is a modest, residential area with pucca houses. Our houses.

As they step inside, with their laptop bags and fancy cameras, I extend a reassuring smile, showing they won’t be treated here the way we might be treated in a well-furnished apartment in some posh Mumbai locality. They cram into the small room and accept glasses of water with gratitude. And then, they don’t know what to do. Staring at each other’s faces, they wait for someone to start. They look at Julian with pleading eyes and when he doesn’t help, we break the ice.

That is not difficult though, since it’s a story we have been

narrating for the past 20 years. We tell them about our lives before SPARC happened. How most of us came to Mumbai after being married off at an early age, how we made our peace with the shanties in Byculla, how we worked mostly as domestic help, the terror unleashed by the monsoons, how we raised our kids in narrow gullies we called home until the houses were demolished. Eyes widen with shock, and I look at their awestruck faces with amusement.

Then comes the part they have been waiting for. We tell them about how we took matters into our own hands and struggled for the right to have pucca roofs over our heads. Everybody loves a happy ending, don’t they? The students’ faces break into smiles as they listen to how we were invited to other countries to share our stories and help others build on what we did. This time around, their eyes widen with surprise. I can see respect there. And a hint of pride.

As soon as we are done talking, they break into eager questions. We take turns answering them.

And now they want to take photographs, something I can never get accustomed to. I smoothen my saree and look at the camera. The picture has come out good and I smile to thank the student. She tells me her name and I ask where she is from. It is amazing how all of us have made Mumbai our home now.

I ask her what kind of a journalist she wants to become. “A good one!” she replies promptly, while putting on her shoes. “The

Mahila Milan shares its experiences with Journalism students from XICgood ones don’t cover our stories,” I tell her and a look of embarrassment crosses her face. I want to tell her how important it is to understand the power a journalist wields, how he or she can change a life, change for the better or the worse. “But then… not all journalists are like that… we have been taught ethics and journalistic principles…” she says. Principles. I don’t know what that means. SPARC made it a point never to offer or accept bribes. I wonder if we could have afforded to do

that without their support. Can we, the mango people of India, stick to our guns on an empty stomach? “That’s what we are here for, right? To fight your battles for you!” I sigh. “Will you? Or will you be too busy trying to save your job? Ultimately, everybody has to fight their own battles!” She doesn’t know what to say. I don’t even expect her to. They’re all far too young. But I hope they think about it and not become just another mic-thrusting, camera-wielding lot.

Photo Courtesy: Martine Crandall Hollick