 "Dharavi Google")
People who know him have stopped using Google. "They just call me up," says Rajesh Prabhakar, breaking into a wide smile. The "researcher" is amused at how locals in Dharavi, where he was born and has spent most of his life, expect him to know minute details about train schedules or school admissions. His real expertise lies in guiding crews of international news and documentary films around in one of the world's largest slums. But to residents of the area, it may seem that a man who speaks flawless English and mingles with foreigners would, like the most popular search engine, have all the answers.
Having navigated Dharavi's tricky roads ever since he learned to walk, the 41-year-old can cover key areas of the 175-hectare slum in just two hours. Since 2006, he has worked with teams from television channels including BBC, Discovery, National Geographic, CNN, Channel 4 and Sky News. He arranges for transport, accommodation, meals and just about anything that an out-of-town crew might need to shoot a story. He also lines up interview subjects for international writers and journalists, who only have to approach him with an outline of what they are seeking. His connections stretch to countries including the US, Britain, Australia, South Africa, Russia, Colombia, China and Japan.
The mild-mannered man, usually stays in the background, is not used to being the centre of attention. Joseph Campana, editor of the recently-released Dharavi: A City Within, was generous in his praise of Prabhakar, saying "there would be no book without Rajesh. His inexhaustible knowledge of the place and the people was an inspiration to everyone who worked with him." After he found a mention in the book and some newspapers, Prabhakar's sister called to ask "What do you do really?" He was not sure how to explain then but seems to have figured a way since. "You could say I sell stories. It's a good job." He himself can't explain what his work is and opts for a simple 'researcher'.
He is strongly-built with a swarthy complexion and a proud moustache. In a black cotton shirt, blue jeans and tough brown boots, carrying a rain-proof rucksack, he looks like a plainclothes policeman.
Prabhakar can gain entry into areas that are off limits to most visitors, like the pottery workshops of the usually reticent families in Kumbharwada. Even those who have not interacted with him, know him as the muchchad who is often accompanied by foreigners. Nicknamed Dharavi's encyclopaedia, he can set up appointments with a variety of characters - a Tamil SMS-poet who is a celebrity on Mumbai-Chennai trains, a cobbler with an MA degree, a B-boy dancer from the bhangari community, which exchanges vessels for old clothes, or a member of the water mafia. Since he started working as a researcher in 2006, he has created a mental register of about 3,000 residents. "Everyone has a story. So Dharavi has a million stories."
The allure of poverty has led many outsiders to attempt decoding the slum. They are struck by the harmony of residences and industry, notes Prabhakar, adding that Indian filmmakers or reporters are not as interested in the state of affairs there. According to him, international TV units are also smaller, more efficient and time-conscious. Journalists and documentarians keep in touch from their countries. Prabhakar's knowledge is no longer limited to Dharavi. Recently, he assisted Emmy-winning Canadian documentarian Sturla Gunnarsson in filming the various moods of monsoons across India.
Unwittingly or intentionally, he has even featured in some of these documentaries. He didn't know he had been filmed while driving English TV presenter Daisy Donovan around Mumbai until a friend from Britain called him after the telecast. During the shooting of a show on India's obsession with fairness, when a shopkeeper simply could not understand what he was required to do, Prabhakar stepped in behind the counter and introduced the various creams to viewers. Almost every travel show doing a segment in Mumbai makes a stop at Dharavi and Prabhakar has assisted in nearly all of them.
His research is born from incessant ground-level investigation. When crews are filming in the area, his day starts before the sun is up and ends well after it has set. On free days, he walks about the slum, talking to locals and collecting experiences. To win their confidence, he solves problems or pays them small rewards. As a kind of disclaimer, he adds: "It is not out of any political aspirations. I just pay in return for their help." While we are in Kumbharwada, a potter asks if Prabhakar can enrol him in a part-time English-language course. Another points at a family member and jokes, "Rajesh bhai, isko America ya kidhar bhejo (Send him to America or somewhere)." A lot of his sources have featured in various documentaries. Apart from getting them remuneration for their part, he keeps tabs on them and the developments in their neighbourhood.
There are many who want to be like him. His advice is: be genuinely interested and always keep your eyes open. As if to demonstrate, he shows us a colourful mural on the shutter of a tiny shop on the extensive 90-feet road in Dharavi. "Look at that painting. On the way back I will locate the artist and find out more about his work." Getting people to confide in you is a long-drawn process that requires persistence, he says. He can speak 10 languages including chor bhasha, a code language used in Dharavi.
He was born in Dharavi to a chemical factory worker and a housewife. He grew up there at a time when Vardarajan Mudaliar's clout was at its peak and alcohol was brewed in the lanes right outside his home. While he can afford it, he does not want to move out of his 150-sq ft transit camp flat, which he shares with his mother. He divides his time between Dharavi and Thane, where his wife of six years stays with her family.
Prabhakar says he has always been a man of the arts. Some time in the late 1990s, the humanities graduate had worked as a commercial artist for companies in west Asia. His monthly salary then was equal to what he earns for a single day's work now. He is keen on photography, harbouring dreams of being a warzone photojournalist. He picked up the skill from his uncle and later joined the Photographic Society of India. When he struggled to land a role in Indian newspapers, he did odd jobs for a local TV channel and various NGOs, where he began guiding international donors and visitors. The contacts formed at the time have helped shape his current profession.
He plans to make a documentary on the slum soon, and experiences such as handling the costliest video camera, Red Epic, are bound to come in handy. All his creative instincts - with the camera, drawing and sound - are put to use now. "Plus, I am my own boss."
As we leave the slum, the human search engine that is Prabhakar too sets out into one of the many little lanes; his strides determined to gather more tales.
Having navigated Dharavi's tricky roads ever since he learned to walk, the 41-year-old can cover key areas of the 175-hectare slum in just two hours. Since 2006, he has worked with teams from television channels including BBC, Discovery, National Geographic, CNN, Channel 4 and Sky News. He arranges for transport, accommodation, meals and just about anything that an out-of-town crew might need to shoot a story. He also lines up interview subjects for international writers and journalists, who only have to approach him with an outline of what they are seeking. His connections stretch to countries including the US, Britain, Australia, South Africa, Russia, Colombia, China and Japan.
The mild-mannered man, usually stays in the background, is not used to being the centre of attention. Joseph Campana, editor of the recently-released Dharavi: A City Within, was generous in his praise of Prabhakar, saying "there would be no book without Rajesh. His inexhaustible knowledge of the place and the people was an inspiration to everyone who worked with him." After he found a mention in the book and some newspapers, Prabhakar's sister called to ask "What do you do really?" He was not sure how to explain then but seems to have figured a way since. "You could say I sell stories. It's a good job." He himself can't explain what his work is and opts for a simple 'researcher'.
* * *
He is strongly-built with a swarthy complexion and a proud moustache. In a black cotton shirt, blue jeans and tough brown boots, carrying a rain-proof rucksack, he looks like a plainclothes policeman.
Prabhakar can gain entry into areas that are off limits to most visitors, like the pottery workshops of the usually reticent families in Kumbharwada. Even those who have not interacted with him, know him as the muchchad who is often accompanied by foreigners. Nicknamed Dharavi's encyclopaedia, he can set up appointments with a variety of characters - a Tamil SMS-poet who is a celebrity on Mumbai-Chennai trains, a cobbler with an MA degree, a B-boy dancer from the bhangari community, which exchanges vessels for old clothes, or a member of the water mafia. Since he started working as a researcher in 2006, he has created a mental register of about 3,000 residents. "Everyone has a story. So Dharavi has a million stories."
The allure of poverty has led many outsiders to attempt decoding the slum. They are struck by the harmony of residences and industry, notes Prabhakar, adding that Indian filmmakers or reporters are not as interested in the state of affairs there. According to him, international TV units are also smaller, more efficient and time-conscious. Journalists and documentarians keep in touch from their countries. Prabhakar's knowledge is no longer limited to Dharavi. Recently, he assisted Emmy-winning Canadian documentarian Sturla Gunnarsson in filming the various moods of monsoons across India.
Unwittingly or intentionally, he has even featured in some of these documentaries. He didn't know he had been filmed while driving English TV presenter Daisy Donovan around Mumbai until a friend from Britain called him after the telecast. During the shooting of a show on India's obsession with fairness, when a shopkeeper simply could not understand what he was required to do, Prabhakar stepped in behind the counter and introduced the various creams to viewers. Almost every travel show doing a segment in Mumbai makes a stop at Dharavi and Prabhakar has assisted in nearly all of them.
His research is born from incessant ground-level investigation. When crews are filming in the area, his day starts before the sun is up and ends well after it has set. On free days, he walks about the slum, talking to locals and collecting experiences. To win their confidence, he solves problems or pays them small rewards. As a kind of disclaimer, he adds: "It is not out of any political aspirations. I just pay in return for their help." While we are in Kumbharwada, a potter asks if Prabhakar can enrol him in a part-time English-language course. Another points at a family member and jokes, "Rajesh bhai, isko America ya kidhar bhejo (Send him to America or somewhere)." A lot of his sources have featured in various documentaries. Apart from getting them remuneration for their part, he keeps tabs on them and the developments in their neighbourhood.
There are many who want to be like him. His advice is: be genuinely interested and always keep your eyes open. As if to demonstrate, he shows us a colourful mural on the shutter of a tiny shop on the extensive 90-feet road in Dharavi. "Look at that painting. On the way back I will locate the artist and find out more about his work." Getting people to confide in you is a long-drawn process that requires persistence, he says. He can speak 10 languages including chor bhasha, a code language used in Dharavi.
* * *
He was born in Dharavi to a chemical factory worker and a housewife. He grew up there at a time when Vardarajan Mudaliar's clout was at its peak and alcohol was brewed in the lanes right outside his home. While he can afford it, he does not want to move out of his 150-sq ft transit camp flat, which he shares with his mother. He divides his time between Dharavi and Thane, where his wife of six years stays with her family.
Prabhakar says he has always been a man of the arts. Some time in the late 1990s, the humanities graduate had worked as a commercial artist for companies in west Asia. His monthly salary then was equal to what he earns for a single day's work now. He is keen on photography, harbouring dreams of being a warzone photojournalist. He picked up the skill from his uncle and later joined the Photographic Society of India. When he struggled to land a role in Indian newspapers, he did odd jobs for a local TV channel and various NGOs, where he began guiding international donors and visitors. The contacts formed at the time have helped shape his current profession.
He plans to make a documentary on the slum soon, and experiences such as handling the costliest video camera, Red Epic, are bound to come in handy. All his creative instincts - with the camera, drawing and sound - are put to use now. "Plus, I am my own boss."
As we leave the slum, the human search engine that is Prabhakar too sets out into one of the many little lanes; his strides determined to gather more tales.