"I'm a mountaincer, I climb mountains." declares Farouk, who is now retired, half defiantly, half whispering. "I've seen the untouched beauty of the Himalayas and when I come to Dharavi I do sometimes get depressed.But when I see the other plus factors of this place.... I really admire this area.

Farouk is standing with his two sons on the 16th floor rooftop of his apartment building, looking over Dharavi, a Mumbai slum that is home to an estimated one million people within its one square mile—a population density six times greater than Manhattan's.

It was not always this way. In the 18th century, Dharavi was an island, the area a mangrove swamp inhabited by fisherman. As the swamp began to fill in and the fishing industry to dwindle, a pottery colony was established.Immigrants from Tamil came and established tanneries, tucked away on the island since Hindu culture considers tanning unclean. Even when Farouk's mother moved here in the mid 1940s, it was a different place. Much of Dharavi was still marshland. "Dharavi was empty then, she says dreamily."There were a lot of grasses and other things. The people are the same now as they were then, but the grasses are gone."

Though he would leave for long stretches to work as a guide in the Himalayas, Farouk has lived his entire life in Dharavi. His mother was part of an influx of immigrants that came to Mumbai from the countryside in waves corresponding to famines. One such, in 1943, killed three million people in Bengal. And so Dharavi grew; organically, unplanned and unregulated with factories sprouting up amidst the apartments, most of which were built and occupied without legal right. The rest of the marsh was reclaimed with landfill. "There were a lot of tanneries"" says Farouk's mother, wincing. "They gave off a bad smell of leather and chemicals."

The tanners and the potters are still there, but Dharavis economy has expanded. Today, the community is a hotbed of entrepreneurship, the home of an estimated 15,000 factories based in hutments, as the slum apartments are known. "There used to be a lot of poor people", remarks Farouks mother. "They've improved their lifestyles and now there are no poor. At least they are eating good bread every day. They have a better healthy life."

Some reports estimate Dharavi's output at some £700m a year. Much of the profit comes from the recycling industry that has sprung up there since the 1970s. 250,000 people in Dharavi are employed by recycling. As much as 80% of Mumbai's plastic waste comes to Dharavi to be sorted, ground, and melted before being sold off to industries. One prominent British newspaper called Dharavi's waste industry "one of the most inspiring economic models in Asia.

"That may be, but Dharavi has other waste problems. There is a sewer system below the slum, but flats are without connections: it's too costly.Instead, residents pay to use public latrines— there is about one toilet for every 1,500 residents-while others simply squat by Mahim Creek. (A few years ago, gurus declared the water in the creek drinkable, which had the predictable consequences.) Sanitation conditions are abysmal, and yearly flooding in Dharavi during the monsoon season does not help. As a result, disease runs rampant.

There are other problems, too. Many Dharavians are forced to pay a premium for stolen electricity. Only about ten per cent of commerce is legal. Ten to fifteen people living in rooms the size of an American walk-in-closet is common. Running water is a recent phenomenon. Until recently, most were stuck hauling water long distances from wells where they were forced to pay local middle-men a premium to fill up their buckets.

For many residents, particularly those who may have been poorer in the countryside, these negatives are overblown. "Sometimes I feel they are showing the dark side of the moon, says Farouk of traditional media coverage about Dharavi, which focuses on the over-crowding and the lack of sanitation.

But life in Dharavi may be about to change drastically. In 2004, the government initiated plans to redevelop the community into a middle-class commuter neighbourhood. The reason: the slum's location. "This place is in the middle of Mumbai," admits Farouk's son Sam. "You can go anywhere from here." Indeed, Dharavi is situated between two railways and is not far from the Bandra Kurla Complex, a burgeoning commercial centre where approximately 400,000 people work. Dharavi's prime location is driving the Indian government's plan to relocate Dharavi's population and free up this former no-man's land for India's booming property market.

It is this battle over location that is at the heart of modern day Dharavi.In 1976, the government granted the squatters the title "identified encroachers," which gave them limited legal rights including the right to be compensated should the government decide to bulldoze the slum. Some in Dharavi would like to relocate because it means they will get an inflated price for their property. But those who work for the property owning entrepreneurs (and who aren't official residents of Dharavi) feel differently.Their knock-off energy and water prices mean their businesses have flourished and, if they move, they'll have to pay full price again. "And," Farouk's son Sam quickly interjects. "There's people that work here that own property there, he says pointing over at the Mumbai's wealthier suburbs beyond the financial district. "You have people that work there that live here. It just is what it is, with all of its complexities. To me it's home."

The redevelopment has been slow to get off the ground, due in large part to massive resistance from members of the community. But in a major breakthrough this June, the international accounting firm Ernst & Young was selected to oversee development of part of Dharavi. If the redevelopment of the slum succeeds, it will do so only at a cost —that of a loss of community. In a country so varied that at times a love of cricket is the only common denominator, Dharavi is a model for India's diverse groups living in harmony. "There's a lot of humanity, there are people who care forSTIPLAeach other. Women are very safe here. In Delhi women can't move around after 8 oclock alone, it's just not safe. But here they can, whether it's the middle of the night or not....

"If I die tomorrow, God will put me in a first class heaven. God will say, this is the man who has admired what I have created," remarks Farouk humbly. He is speaking of the mountains, but he could be speaking of Dharavi.