Inequality in India

This is what inequality looks like: a posh enclave of Delhi, the capital of India, with tree-lined streets and imported Mercedes parked in front of modern four-flat buildings. One of these buildings is where I live. One set of neighbors, at the moment, is a community of squatters - young men, women, children - living in the unfinished construction project two doors down. In Delhi, there's an unwritten rule that the men and women building the fancy apartment buildings that go up every day in enclaves like mine, replacing grand houses once inhabited by traditional joint families, may live in the spaces until they are finished. No one seems to ask the workers anything, not their names or where they're from, not the government, not the housekeepers and drivers who spend their daytime hours in these streets and apartments, not even journalists like me. Nightly fires burn, illuminating the emptiness within, people scrape food off metal plates, children laugh and women hang cleaned clothes to dry. My dog's favorite morning walk is through the alley behind my building, where some of the men have strewn black tarps over upright pieces of wood. There are two-inch mats on the ground, scuffed up sneakers outside. Every morning there is a fresh pile of ash.