In this article I am going to talk about Trashci in India. India often captivates the imagination as a land of vibrant colours, spiritual awakening, and ancient wonders and for many, it’s a dream destination filled with visions of majestic palaces, serene temples, and breathtaking natural landscapes. However, upon arrival, the stark reality of widespread trash and generally environmental pollution can be a deeply disappointing and disillusioning experience. The contrast between the country’s profound beauty and the pervasive litter scattered along roadsides, in waterways, and across bustling city streets shatters the idyllic expectations of many travellers, turning what was once a dream into a complex and often challenging journey.
Table of Contents
Mumbai (Bombay) Slums and Trash
Mumbai’s sprawling slums, face a staggering challenge when it comes to waste and pollution. Due to extreme population density and a lack of formal waste collection infrastructure, the narrow lanes and open spaces become choked with garbage. This creates a deeply unhealthy and dangerous environment, with refuse piling up and mixing with open sewers. This lack of sanitation leads to a host of health crises, from infectious diseases like typhoid and cholera to chronic respiratory illnesses from the burning of trash. It’s a vivid example of how poverty and inadequate urban planning can directly impact human health and the environment.
Despite the dire conditions, a powerful and resilient informal economy has emerged from this very crisis. Residents of places like the Dharavi slum have become the backbone of Mumbai’s recycling efforts. An army of thousands of “rag-pickers” and waste sorters meticulously sifts through the city’s refuse, recovering everything from plastic and cardboard to metals and e-waste. This massive operation, which recycles an estimated 80% of Mumbai’s discarded materials, is a fascinating display of human ingenuity and resourcefulness. These entrepreneurs and laborers turn what others see as trash into a thriving, multi-million dollar business, all while helping the city manage its staggering volume of waste.
While this informal system is vital for both the city’s environment and the livelihoods of its workers, it comes at a great cost. The people working in this dangerous industry often lack basic safety gear, exposing them to toxic chemicals, sharp objects, and disease. The air, ground, and water are severely contaminated from the unregulated processing of hazardous materials. Still, the communities are working to find solutions. Grassroots organizations and community-led initiatives are striving to improve sanitation, educate residents on waste management, and create safer working conditions. The challenges remain immense, but the spirit of resourcefulness in these communities offers a glimmer of hope for a more sustainable future.
The Haji Ali Dargah, a beautiful and sacred mosque on the Arabian Sea, draws thousands of devotees and tourists. However, it also has a controversial reputation for its large population of beggars, who congregate at the causeway leading to the shrine. While many pilgrims come to offer prayers and charity, this very act of giving is linked to a darker, more complex reality that has long been a subject of public debate and police investigations.
For years, there have been persistent allegations that begging at the Dargah is not just a result of poverty, but is controlled by an organised begging mafia, who is might be actually mutilating them. Reports from law enforcement and journalists suggest that these rings operate by exploiting vulnerable people, often forcing them to beg and seizing a large portion of their daily earnings. It is rumoured that these operations are highly structured, with beggars assigned specific territories and shifts, all under the watchful eye of local controllers. This has raised concerns about human trafficking and the exploitation of children and disabled individuals, sometimes even making that way, who are often the most visible on the causeway.
Also, if you are lucky in some places of Mumbai you will see a lot of rats lurking by the sides of the streets. Especially if thera re trash around. I remember walking into one restaurant and I could see rat eyes looking from the gutters on the side of the street.
Polluted Varanasi Ganges River
Varanasi, one of the world’s oldest continually inhabited cities and a spiritual centre of Hinduism, stands as a beacon of culture and faith. For millions, it represents the promise of salvation, with the holy Ganges River at its heart. However, this sacred city is also grappling with a profound paradox: its spiritual significance is deeply intertwined with severe and complex pollution challenges. The environmental degradation of Varanasi affects its streets, its sacred river, and its very air, creating a striking contrast between the city’s spiritual ideals and its physical reality.
One of the most immediate and visible problems is the issue of solid waste. Despite ongoing government initiatives like the Swachh Bharat Mission, the city’s infrastructure struggles to manage the vast amount of trash generated daily by its resident population and millions of annual tourists. Solid waste is often seen strewn across the narrow, winding streets and along the river’s ghats, or steps. The city’s municipal services are frequently overwhelmed, leading to waste being openly dumped or burned, which not only creates an unsightly environment but also contributes to air pollution. While recent reports indicate progress in solid waste management in rural areas of the district, the urban core remains a significant challenge. This pervasive litter problem is a stark reminder of the gap between the city’s cleanliness goals and its lived experience and a bigger problem of trash in India.
The most critical and well-documented environmental issue facing Varanasi is the severe pollution of the Ganges River. The river, revered as a goddess, is polluted by a combination of sources. Untreated municipal sewage is a major contributor, with billions of litres of wastewater from the city’s outdated drainage system flowing directly into the river each day. This, along with industrial runoff, introduces a dangerous cocktail of contaminants. The water is often found to contain high levels of various bacteria, including faecal coliform bacteria (indicators of faecal contamination), E. coli, Salmonella (which causes typhoid fever), and Vibrio cholerae (the cause of cholera). Additionally, bacteria like Staphylococcus and Streptococcus, which can cause skin infections, and Klebsiella, a potentially pathogenic genus, are present. Interestingly, the Ganges also contains bacteriophages, viruses that infect and kill bacteria, which may play a role in regulating bacterial populations. The presence of these contaminants makes the water unsafe for bathing or drinking. Historically, the issue of open defecation has also contributed to this problem, although recent sanitation drives have aimed to make the area “Open Defecation Free.” Nonetheless, the burden on the city’s sewage treatment facilities remains immense, and the river continues to suffer from the constant influx of pollutants.
A unique and deeply personal source of pollution in Varanasi stems from its role as a sacred site for cremation. The burning of bodies at ghats like Manikarnika is a central religious practice, believed to offer a path to salvation, though mainly accessible for the rich as it is quite luxurious way to go. While the ritual of immersing an uncremated body is now considered illegal by a Supreme Court ruling, the ritualistic washing of a body in the Ganges before cremation is still a central, customary part of the ceremony. This ancient practice, however, has a significant modern environmental impact. The large-scale burning of wood releases substantial amounts of particulate matter, sulphur dioxide, and other toxic gases into the atmosphere, contributing to a lingering haze and air quality problems that can be felt far from the ghats themselves. Additionally, the ashes and remains from the cremations, along with uncremated bodies, are often released into the river, further degrading its water quality and harming the aquatic ecosystem. Those who can’t afford traditional wood cremation can choose low-cost alternative cremation using cow dung cakes or pyre ovens. Can you imagine the smell of burning cow dung? Not to mention that often dogs and cows are eating what remains after the cremations. I saw them nibbling on fingers and toes of human remains, which was very unsettling image. Also, such exposure to animals can lead to spread of disease. The sensory experience of this process, including the odour of burning wood and flesh, which can be felt as far as Varanasi Aiport, is a powerful and unsettling aspect of the city’s environmental crisis, highlighting the difficult balance between preserving religious tradition and promoting public health and ecological preservation.
Delhi Trash
While India’s capital, Delhi, has made strides in modernization, the city still grapples with significant trash management challenges, particularly in the older, more densely populated areas. The contrast is stark; in New Delhi, you’ll find wide, clean boulevards and well-maintained public spaces, while in Old Delhi, the narrow, winding lanes are often choked with rubbish. This isn’t just an aesthetic issue; it’s a public health crisis. The sheer volume of waste generated by millions of people, combined with an overwhelmed collection system, leads to open dumps and overflowing bins. The waste attracts pests, clogs drainage systems, and releases harmful toxins when burned, contributing to the city’s notorious air pollution. However, abundance of outdated motor vehicles are the primary air pollutant in the city, creating heavy smog.
I didn’t take much of those trash pictures in New Delhi, though there was plenty of opportunities. Even when we stayed in one cheap Hotel Avtar , the beds were so dirty that I had to sleep in my silk sleeping bag linen. The blanket was so full of dust, that when I lifted it created a cloud in the room. Absolutely disgusting. Next morning we checked out and found a more decent place, Hotel Aura, just few blocks away.
Old Delhi faces a unique set of challenges due to its historical infrastructure. The tight, crowded streets make it difficult for sanitation vehicles to navigate, and a lack of proper public bins means people often resort to littering. This problem is compounded by a profound lack of access to clean water. In many parts of Old Delhi, municipal water supply is intermittent or non-existent. As a result, residents, including men, women, and children, are forced to rely on public water sources for daily tasks. It’s a common sight to see people showering on the street, using water from public taps or standpipes, which further adds to the unhygienic conditions and creates puddles that mix with the garbage, creating an even more potent breeding ground for disease. I took my colleague to Old Delhi, when we were visiting Delhi for work, and he was literally shocked. It was my second time there, so I knew what to expect there.
These interwoven issues of trash and water scarcity create a cycle of poverty and poor health. The lack of proper sanitation and clean water makes residents, especially children, vulnerable to infectious diseases. While the government has launched various initiatives to improve sanitation and public services, the scale of the problem in a city as vast and ancient as Old Delhi requires a comprehensive and sustained effort to modernize its infrastructure, educate the public on waste disposal, and ensure every resident has reliable access to clean water.
Jaipur After Holi Festival
My journey continued to Jaipur, the “Pink City,” a place that promised a cleaner, more organised urban experience. For the most part, it delivered. The wide, dusty streets, framed by beautiful terracotta-hued buildings and ornate archways, were remarkably free of the casual litter that had become a constant backdrop in other parts of the country. It was a welcome change, a moment of relief. Yet, even here, a vibrant cultural tradition left a powerful and colourful, if temporary, stain. I arrived just after the Holi festival, and the city still hummed with the afterglow of celebration. The air, thick with the scent of marigolds and incense, was punctuated by the lingering sight of a hundreds of little bonfires. These bonfires, next morning was just piles of charcoal, dotted the street corners, a testament to the night of burning and revelry that had just passed. But it was the Holi dyes that truly painted the picture of this beautiful city’s temporary mess. The streets and alleyways, from the grand boulevards to the smallest lanes, were marked by brilliant splashes of fuchsia, electric blue, and deep red. These vivid stains, a cheerful residue of joy and abandon, slowly bled into the paving stones and lingered in puddles, telling a silent story of a festival where, for a moment, cleanliness took a backseat to pure, uninhibited fun.
A short journey from the city’s orderly streets, the Monkey Temple, or Galta Ji, presented a striking and disheartening contrast. While the city centre had largely recovered from the post-Holi chaos, this sacred complex, nestled within a rocky gorge, felt as though it had been forgotten. The moment I stepped through its gates, the idyllic image of a peaceful pilgrimage site was shattered. Swarms of monkeys, considered sacred and a key attraction, bounded over a carpet of discarded plastic bottles, food wrappers, and religious offerings. The beautiful, multi-tiered temple, with its intricate carvings and stunning views, was marred by the sheer volume of rubbish. Devotees and tourists alike seemed to ignore the piles of litter, creating a bizarre and unsettling scene where spiritual reverence coexisted with blatant disregard for the environment. The monkeys, far from being pristine symbols of divinity, rummaged through the refuse, turning the sacred grounds into a scavenger’s paradise. This beautiful temple, designed to be a sanctuary, instead became a powerful and sad visual metaphor for a country still struggling to reconcile its spiritual heritage with the realities of modern waste.
Venice of India – Udhaipur
Continuing my journey, I arrived in Udaipur, the “City of Lakes,” which felt like a breath of fresh air. Compared to the bustling chaos of Delhi and the fleeting cleanliness of Jaipur, Udaipur was a picture of serenity. The pristine lakes, framed by magnificent palaces and ancient temples, gave the city a calm and majestic feel. It was noticeably cleaner, and for the most part, the urban landscape was free of the dense layers of trash I had become accustomed to. However, even in this tranquil setting, the underlying issue of waste management was never far from sight. Pockets of rubbish would appear unexpectedly, tucked away in alleyways or on the less-frequented back streets, a reminder that the problem, while less visible, still existed.
The most bizarre and memorable encounter with this duality occurred at a local temple. The temple grounds, like much of the city, were reasonably clean and well-kept. As is customary, I took off my shoes at the entrance, as the guard insisted and while w were distracted, my shoes were stolen. I’ll write about that in another article as it is a whole story that ended relatively well (minus my shoes). The cows and dogs were a common view in Udhaipur feasting on trash.
Agra – The City of Taj Majal
Upon reaching Agra, my journey’s most anticipated destination, I was filled with a sense of immense excitement. This was the home of the Taj Mahal, the pinnacle of architectural beauty and a symbol of eternal love. My expectations, however, were brutally shattered. Agra, in my experience, was the most disappointing city of all. The streets leading to this magnificent monument were a far cry from what I had imagined. They were choked with rubbish, and the air was thick with the stench of decay. The jarring contrast between the ethereal perfection of the Taj Mahal and the filth that surrounded it was a truly disheartening experience.
The train ride into the city had offered a grim preview of what was to come. The view from the window was a relentless tapestry of trash. It seemed as though every field, every ditch, and every empty lot had become a dumping ground, a sprawling, unofficial landfill that stretched for miles. This was not just towns with a litter problem; it was a towns that seemed to be drowning in its own waste.
The final insult to my romanticised view of India was the sight of the Yamuna River, which flows alongside the Taj Mahal. Instead of a majestic, flowing waterway, it was a stagnant, polluted expanse, more a sewer than a river. Its surface was covered in a thick layer of sludge and rubbish, and the air reeked of industrial runoff and raw sewage. To make matters even more surreal, I saw cows, revered and sacred animals, wading through this toxic sludge, their heads bowed as they foraged for food amidst the filth. It was a heartbreaking and unforgettable image—a symbol of sacred life, a symbol of eternal love, all existing in a landscape of utter environmental neglect. The beautiful, pristine Taj Mahal seemed less a part of the city and more like a solitary, defiant ghost, isolated from the very world it was meant to grace.
If you have seen trash in other countries and you think it was bad, then you should see trash in India.
Trains in India
My experience of trains in India wre OK, except that it is extremely difficult to get the ticket on the same day. Also, I always travelled premier or second class, which looked like 3rd class or lower in European countries. However, some of the videos on the social media exposes the problems of litter in the trains, which I did observed while travelling in China in 2009.
Cow Dung And Urine Use in Festivals And Religious Customs
While the use of cow products like dung and urine is deeply rooted in traditional and religious beliefs in India, they are not considered sanitary from a modern public health standpoint, and their use carries significant health risks.
The Belief is that cow dung (used as fuel or ritual incense) and cow urine (Gomutra) are highly venerated, believed to possess powerful purifying, antiseptic, and medicinal properties rooted in the spiritual sanctity of the cow. The smoke from burning dung is thought to cleanse the air and ward off negative energies, while the urine is believed to sanitize surfaces and provide health benefits when consumed or applied.
The Reality is that both products are animal excretions and naturally contain a variety of microorganisms, including pathogens like E. coli and Salmonella. Direct contact, such as applying dung to the body or consuming diluted urine, introduces a risk of gastrointestinal and parasitic infections, and zoonotic diseases. Furthermore, burning dried cow dung for purification releases particulate matter and smoke into indoor environments, posing risks of respiratory illnesses like asthma and bronchitis, even though the smoke is traditionally believed to cleanse the air. Public health organizations advise caution due to these known contamination and inhalation risks.
In parts of rural India, particularly among some communities during festivals like Diwali, the custom of using cow dung (or cow poo) is not uncommon. This practice often involves smearing or throwing dung, sometimes mixed with urine, water, and herbal powders, in a celebratory context, believing the cow dung to possess purifying and medicinal properties. However, from a modern sanitation and public health perspective, this practice is not considered sanitary. Cow dung is organic material that contains various bacteria, fungi, and pathogens, including E. coli and Salmonella, which are readily found in the digestive tract and feces. Direct, widespread application of fresh animal waste to the body, especially if there are open cuts or if the material comes into contact with the eyes or mouth, introduces a significant risk of bacterial, parasitic, and fungal infections.
Summary
I know I sound very cricital about the pervasive environmental pollution and sanitation crisis observed across major Indian cities during my travels in the country I merely highlighted the stark failures in infrastructure and urban planning, particularly in densely populated areas like the Mumbai slums, where inadequate waste collection creates dangerous, unhealthy environments. I emphasized the paradox in sacred cities like Varanasi, where the deeply revered Ganges River is severely contaminated by sewage and the ecological damage caused by religious practices like cremation. Furthermore, the visible and widespread nature of the litter, even in places of spiritual and historical significance, is framed as a result of a pervasive poor civic sense among the public regarding public health and environmental stewardship. I also touched upon the existence of a vital but hazardous informal recycling economy and instances of social problems like organized begging at religious and other sites, which government should get a better handle on.