Chawl ‘sanskruti’ under hammer, old tenants retreat into personal spaces

Mumbai: Beginning today , another 537 families are set to receive keys to new homes at Naigaon’s Dr Babasaheb Ambedkar BDD Complex, a milestone in Mumbai’s largest chawl redevelopment project. Days earlier, the demolition of Haji Noorani Chawl and Laxmi Niwas Chawl in Prabhadevi for the Sewri-Worli Elevated Corridor served as a reminder that historic chawl neighbourhoods are rapidly being replaced by redevelopment and infrastructure projects. Lower and middle-income families from these ageing structures, where children roamed between homes and grandmothers watched over corridors, are being rehabilitated in self-contained high-rise units. The transformation raises a deeper question: what happens when a collective way of life is replaced by isolated floor plans?Architect Mihir Vaidya, 26, who grew up in Girgaon’s Datta Mandir Wadi and has researched chawl redevelopment, is keenly aware of this structural shift, which represents a turning point for the city’s historic core and threatens ‘chawl sanskruti’, a culture predicated on life outside the front door.Vaidya’s own home, Datta Mandir Wadi, is an H-shaped complex of roughly 85 units built around two courtyards and three temples, with a central deepstambha (lamp tower) dating back to 1872. The wadi’s origins trace even further to sacred footprints (swayambhu padukas) discovered beneath an ancient peepal tree. Interestingly, the temples have so far shielded the enclave from the bulldozer, as developers find it unviable to build around them. It houses over 200 residents who still rely on communal toilets. While some tenants favour redevelopment for property ownership rights, others prefer the courtyards and security of open corridors, where elders sitting outside create a human surveillance system no CCTV camera can replicate.Vaidya says standard calculations miss the point that residents here do not live exclusively within the four walls of a unit; their courtyards serve as playgrounds, corridors double up as living rooms and terraces host laundry and evening conversations. “Demolition of such housing stock would mean fragmentation of a social security net. Trading shared resources for self-contained flats can break up informal support systems, micro-economies, and everyday interactions that have sustained communities for generations,” he adds.A short distance away, the trust-owned Keshavji Naik Chawl carries its own historical weight. Built when Girgaon was the northern edge of the native town, the chawl was once surveilled by the British, reputedly receiving the first pistol Veer Savarkar smuggled from London. The enclave is celebrated as the birthplace of public Ganesh Chaturthi celebrations.Yet, demographics here are shifting rapidly. Prakash Gurav, 57, a contractor whose family has lived in the chawl since 1937, estimates that 60% of original residents have sublet and moved away. Common toilets eventually became hurdles that complicated marriage alliances and fuelled pandemic anxieties. Even so, vestiges of the old culture endure: when a neighbour was recently diagnosed with a brain tumour, nearly 20 residents accompanied the family to the hospital.Radhika Surve, 61, has experienced both sides of this transition. Having spent her life in chawls, she now resides in the high-rise that replaced Dada Maharaj Wadi. While all 163 original families chose to stay to remain close to local schools and social networks, the physical layout has altered daily habits. “In the chawl, I always cooked for more people than lived in my house,” Surve says with a laugh. Living in a flat, she adds, she still struggles to cook for just two people.But she notices a generational shift toward privacy within families around. Where elders once sat to match horoscopes, youth value personal space. Vaidya, however, nuances this, saying participation depends on the personality; many youngsters in his wadi remain involved in local temple activity.Dhuleva Heights, which replaced the century-old Shri Swami Samarth Nagar chawl, too has navigated this transition. In an unusual move, housing coordinator Vinod Tiwari purchased a room in the project himself. “People would tell me, ‘You don’t have anything at stake here’. So I bought a room… if the project failed, my money would also be at risk,” he says. Reassured, the community vacated and returned in three years. The chawl they left behind was where Lokmanya Tilak held meetings at its Omkareshwar temple, and Bandu Gokhale, a Samyukta Maharashtra Andolan martyr, lived. The 125-year-old temple is being rebuilt in marble by artisans from Rajasthan, but former committee chairman Paresh Anant Moghe says the collective sense seems a bit fractured. “Earlier, if something happened to your parents, the neighbours would take charge before you could even get home,” he says.Through his mapping of Girgaon, Vaidya sees segregation embedded in high-rise design. Developers place original tenants on lower floors or in rear buildings, reserving higher levels and front facades for premium buyers. The “othering” is through separate wings and entrances which minimise the casual, daily interactions that once occurred naturally. “In many towers, people share an address not a community,” he says.