---
product_id: 1214418
title: "Behind the Beautiful Forevers: Life, Death, and Hope in a Mumbai Undercity"
price: "77 zł"
currency: PLN
in_stock: true
reviews_count: 8
url: https://www.desertcart.pl/products/1214418-behind-the-beautiful-forevers-life-death-and-hope-in-mumbai
store_origin: PL
region: Poland
---

# Behind the Beautiful Forevers: Life, Death, and Hope in a Mumbai Undercity

**Price:** 77 zł
**Availability:** ✅ In Stock

## Quick Answers

- **What is this?** Behind the Beautiful Forevers: Life, Death, and Hope in a Mumbai Undercity
- **How much does it cost?** 77 zł with free shipping
- **Is it available?** Yes, in stock and ready to ship
- **Where can I buy it?** [www.desertcart.pl](https://www.desertcart.pl/products/1214418-behind-the-beautiful-forevers-life-death-and-hope-in-mumbai)

## Best For

- Customers looking for quality international products

## Why This Product

- Free international shipping included
- Worldwide delivery with tracking
- 15-day hassle-free returns

## Description

Behind the Beautiful Forevers: Life, Death, and Hope in a Mumbai Undercity [Boo, Katherine] on desertcart.com. *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. Behind the Beautiful Forevers: Life, Death, and Hope in a Mumbai Undercity

Review: Correcting for How the Wind Blows - In the 1950s, the comedian Eddie Lawrence invented the Old Philosopher, a character who recited imagined calamities and asked, “Is that what’s bothering you, Bunkie?” As I read about the misfortunes chronicled in "Behind the Beautiful Forevers," I found myself thinking, Is that what’s bothering you, Pallavi? Except these calamities are all too real. Katherine Boo writes very well. Her reporting has been awarded a Pulitzer Prize and a National Magazine Award for Feature Writing, and she’s won a MacArthur “Genius” grant. "Behind the Beautiful Forevers" is her anthropological-by-anecdote study of Annawadi, an “undercity” – a temporary colony in makeshift shelters – of 3,000 squatters under the flight path of the Mumbai airport. It sits in the shadows of the “Glimmerglass Hyatt” and other luxury hotels, symbols of India’s newfound prosperity. As Boo explains in an author’s note, "Every country has its myths, and one that successful Indians liked to indulge was a romance of instability and adaptation – the idea that India's rapid rise derived in part from the chaotic unpredictability of daily life." And nowhere is daily life more chaotic or less predictable than in Annawadi. This book is not an academic cost/benefit analysis of modernization or an examination of the plight of the “average” Indian. It is the story of a half-dozen families living unimaginably brutalizing existences. There are stories of both courage and cowardice, filled with the personal complexities that permeate people’s lives. It is a grim subject, which Boo handles admirably in a brilliantly composed and eminently readable book – one that packs as much literary power as a great work of fiction. Annawadi is a hard place. Neighborhoods like the South Side of Chicago or North Philly may define poverty for most Americans, but Annawadi is different in kind from those communities – as harsh as the Dickensian slums of 19th-century London. No matter how dire things appear when we first meet Boo’s subjects, their reality is worse. Boo uses lucid, sober and elegant prose, along with novel-like narrative arcs and character development, to tell their stories. Death, disease and alcoholism are everywhere. One woman walks aimlessly through Annawadi for weeks after her son’s suicide, asking everyone she passes if they could tell her why her son had taken his life. A man explains that because he has advanced TB, “Lately if I don’t drink, I don’t have the strength to lift anything.” Here’s Boo’s wonderful (and awful) take on monsoon season: “On the high grounds of the liquid city, rich people spoke of the romance of monsoon: the languorous sex, retail therapy, and hot jalebis that eased July into August. At Annawadi, the sewage lake crept forward like a living thing. Sick water buffalo nosed for food though mounds of wet, devalued garbage, s***ting out the consequences of bad choices with a velocity Annawadi water taps had never equaled. People, also sick, stomped the mud from their feet and said, ‘My stomach is on fire, my chest.’ ‘All up and down this leg, all night.’” And yet there is hope too. Indeed, much like Dickens’ urban subcultures, Annawadi is a complex social landscape, where residents jockey to improve their position. Many are captivated with the opportunities of modern India and are on the make (or hope to be). There is even a brothel, run from his hut by a Muslim man who considers his whores a pack of malingerers. There are also goats that belong to him and have the run of the place. And, of course, this being India, there is corruption. Boo does a great job of illustrating its pervasiveness. Even the Catholic orphanage is run by a crooked nun. When Westerners visit, she recruits kids to beg for rupees from the rich white women. She pockets some of the money and shares the rest with local politicians and underpaid police dependent on graft to make a living. One of the children Boo focuses on, Sunil, refused to play the game and was banished from the orphanage, where he had occasionally gotten food and shelter. Most Annawadi residents do menial jobs, are unemployed or do something imaginatively entrepreneurial to get by. At least one – a woman named Asha – has decided that governmental sleaze has created an opportunistic path to respect and relative affluence. Asha is an intelligent woman capable of penetrating insight into people. But she also has profound wounds from her upbringing in rural India, where the limits of caste, gender and destitution are even more unforgiving and unrelenting than they are in Annawadi. The resentment triggered by those memories enables her to act amorally, without remorse or empathy. In a discussion with her daughter about how a nonprofit trust she controlled could be used to steal money intended to educate unschooled children, she says, “Of course it’s corrupt. But is it my corruption? How can anyone say I am doing the wrong when the big people . . . say that it’s right?” Boo’s message is that notwithstanding the myth of economic growth through chaotic unpredictability, as the Indian economic miracle unsteadily lurches forward, it is accompanied by an ongoing search for solid ground on which citizens can seek the promised rewards. As Boo tells the story of Sunil – the boy banished from the orphanage – she notes that he had experimented with becoming a “road boy,” essentially a street urchin and thief. But he decided that was too risky; he would stick with being a scavenger who dumpster-dives for a living, seeking to recycle other people’s trash and providing one of Boo’s best metaphors: “Each evening, they returned down the slum road with gunny sacks of garbage on their backs, like a procession of broken-toothed, profit-minded Santas.” Sunil found his “territory” on a narrow ledge behind some dumpsters by the airport, where taxi drivers throw litter over fences adorned with repeated ads for floor tiles that promise to be “forever beautiful forever beautiful forever beautiful . . . .” From his precarious perch on the ledge behind the beautiful forevers, Sunil retrieves cans, bottles and whatever else he can salvage, providing Boo with another metaphor for the Indian economy, which she chooses to imbue with hope at the end of her tale. Then there’s Manju, Asha’s daughter, who is almost too perfectly emblematic of Boo’s vision of modern India. Manju is attending college – she wants to be a teacher – and no longer fits in anywhere. Her classmates think she’s peculiar because she’s from a slum, while her neighbors think it is weird that she is pursuing an education. She doesn’t understand why anybody would want to talk to her, and few do. But her biggest fear is that her mother will marry her off, in which case she “would die doing the things she was doing now: sweeping the dirt that had blown in from outside, mopping, then sweeping the new dirt that had blown in while she mopped.” Manju is nonetheless deferential to her mother, even agreeing to falsify documents as the secretary of her nonprofit trust. A recurring focus of the book is on the Husain family, especially their oldest son, Abdul. As Boo recounts their background and the details of their daily lives, we learn about Abdul’s expertise at evaluating scavengers’ rubbish, a vital skill that enables him to act as a middleman between scavengers and corporate recyclers. We also learn about the imprisonment, torture and trial of Abdul, his father and his sister on trumped-up charges of . . . well, they don’t know what exactly, but the allegations seem to have something to do with inciting their next-door neighbor to kill herself by self-immolation. The neighbor had an ongoing feud with various members of the Husain family over seemingly trivial matters; her dramatic suicide may have been triggered because a Husain home-improvement project financed by Abdul’s earnings caused rubble to fall into rice she was cooking for dinner. After being tortured and held in the local police station for months, Abdul was released to a juvenile facility (ironically because his mother was able to acquire false documentation that he was younger than he was). The trial of Abdul’s father and sister was held in a “high speed court” in Sewri, a South Mumbai neighborhood that is a one-hour bus-and-train ride from Annawadi, but it feels to the Husains as if it were another world, oceans away. I won’t reveal the outcome, but the fiasco illustrates the dictum laid down by Abdul’s father at the beginning of the first chapter: “Your little boat goes west and you congratulate yourself, ‘What a navigator I am!’ And then the wind blows you east.”
Review: Good read, but needed a character list - I was excited to read Behind the Beautiful Forevers for our College book group, but I have to admit it wasn't an easy read. I often wasn't sure where the author was going with the story and got confused as to who the different characters were. Because of my confusion with the different characters I used the Kindle x-ray feature (which is AMAZING) to develop my own character list that I shared with my book group and have posted on the following google doc - [...] (please feel free to print this off and use when reading the book!). With the help of the character list I was able to enjoy the book a lot more and by the end felt like I had really read something important. No, this isn't necessarily a book I'd recommend to all my friends, but it is very thought provoking and has many themes that carry over into life in the US - poverty, corruption, hunger, & violence. Something else that really helped me appreciate the book was the author's note at the end. My only wish is that it would have been at the beginning of the book. I think if it had I would have enjoyed the book a lot more.

## Technical Specifications

| Specification | Value |
|---------------|-------|
| ASIN  | 081297932X |
| Best Sellers Rank | #11,897 in Books ( See Top 100 in Books ) #3 in India History #7 in Poverty #80 in Sociology Reference |
| Customer Reviews | 4.2 4.2 out of 5 stars (9,839) |
| Dimensions  | 5.1 x 0.69 x 7.89 inches |
| Edition  | Reprint |
| ISBN-10  | 9780812979329 |
| ISBN-13  | 978-0812979329 |
| Item Weight  | 2.31 pounds |
| Language  | English |
| Print length  | 288 pages |
| Publication date  | April 8, 2014 |
| Publisher  | Random House Trade Paperbacks |

## Images

![Behind the Beautiful Forevers: Life, Death, and Hope in a Mumbai Undercity - Image 1](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/81Ok5i6G5+L.jpg)

## Customer Reviews

### ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Correcting for How the Wind Blows
*by M***Y on November 30, 2013*

In the 1950s, the comedian Eddie Lawrence invented the Old Philosopher, a character who recited imagined calamities and asked, “Is that what’s bothering you, Bunkie?” As I read about the misfortunes chronicled in "Behind the Beautiful Forevers," I found myself thinking, Is that what’s bothering you, Pallavi? Except these calamities are all too real. Katherine Boo writes very well. Her reporting has been awarded a Pulitzer Prize and a National Magazine Award for Feature Writing, and she’s won a MacArthur “Genius” grant. "Behind the Beautiful Forevers" is her anthropological-by-anecdote study of Annawadi, an “undercity” – a temporary colony in makeshift shelters – of 3,000 squatters under the flight path of the Mumbai airport. It sits in the shadows of the “Glimmerglass Hyatt” and other luxury hotels, symbols of India’s newfound prosperity. As Boo explains in an author’s note, "Every country has its myths, and one that successful Indians liked to indulge was a romance of instability and adaptation – the idea that India's rapid rise derived in part from the chaotic unpredictability of daily life." And nowhere is daily life more chaotic or less predictable than in Annawadi. This book is not an academic cost/benefit analysis of modernization or an examination of the plight of the “average” Indian. It is the story of a half-dozen families living unimaginably brutalizing existences. There are stories of both courage and cowardice, filled with the personal complexities that permeate people’s lives. It is a grim subject, which Boo handles admirably in a brilliantly composed and eminently readable book – one that packs as much literary power as a great work of fiction. Annawadi is a hard place. Neighborhoods like the South Side of Chicago or North Philly may define poverty for most Americans, but Annawadi is different in kind from those communities – as harsh as the Dickensian slums of 19th-century London. No matter how dire things appear when we first meet Boo’s subjects, their reality is worse. Boo uses lucid, sober and elegant prose, along with novel-like narrative arcs and character development, to tell their stories. Death, disease and alcoholism are everywhere. One woman walks aimlessly through Annawadi for weeks after her son’s suicide, asking everyone she passes if they could tell her why her son had taken his life. A man explains that because he has advanced TB, “Lately if I don’t drink, I don’t have the strength to lift anything.” Here’s Boo’s wonderful (and awful) take on monsoon season: “On the high grounds of the liquid city, rich people spoke of the romance of monsoon: the languorous sex, retail therapy, and hot jalebis that eased July into August. At Annawadi, the sewage lake crept forward like a living thing. Sick water buffalo nosed for food though mounds of wet, devalued garbage, s***ting out the consequences of bad choices with a velocity Annawadi water taps had never equaled. People, also sick, stomped the mud from their feet and said, ‘My stomach is on fire, my chest.’ ‘All up and down this leg, all night.’” And yet there is hope too. Indeed, much like Dickens’ urban subcultures, Annawadi is a complex social landscape, where residents jockey to improve their position. Many are captivated with the opportunities of modern India and are on the make (or hope to be). There is even a brothel, run from his hut by a Muslim man who considers his whores a pack of malingerers. There are also goats that belong to him and have the run of the place. And, of course, this being India, there is corruption. Boo does a great job of illustrating its pervasiveness. Even the Catholic orphanage is run by a crooked nun. When Westerners visit, she recruits kids to beg for rupees from the rich white women. She pockets some of the money and shares the rest with local politicians and underpaid police dependent on graft to make a living. One of the children Boo focuses on, Sunil, refused to play the game and was banished from the orphanage, where he had occasionally gotten food and shelter. Most Annawadi residents do menial jobs, are unemployed or do something imaginatively entrepreneurial to get by. At least one – a woman named Asha – has decided that governmental sleaze has created an opportunistic path to respect and relative affluence. Asha is an intelligent woman capable of penetrating insight into people. But she also has profound wounds from her upbringing in rural India, where the limits of caste, gender and destitution are even more unforgiving and unrelenting than they are in Annawadi. The resentment triggered by those memories enables her to act amorally, without remorse or empathy. In a discussion with her daughter about how a nonprofit trust she controlled could be used to steal money intended to educate unschooled children, she says, “Of course it’s corrupt. But is it my corruption? How can anyone say I am doing the wrong when the big people . . . say that it’s right?” Boo’s message is that notwithstanding the myth of economic growth through chaotic unpredictability, as the Indian economic miracle unsteadily lurches forward, it is accompanied by an ongoing search for solid ground on which citizens can seek the promised rewards. As Boo tells the story of Sunil – the boy banished from the orphanage – she notes that he had experimented with becoming a “road boy,” essentially a street urchin and thief. But he decided that was too risky; he would stick with being a scavenger who dumpster-dives for a living, seeking to recycle other people’s trash and providing one of Boo’s best metaphors: “Each evening, they returned down the slum road with gunny sacks of garbage on their backs, like a procession of broken-toothed, profit-minded Santas.” Sunil found his “territory” on a narrow ledge behind some dumpsters by the airport, where taxi drivers throw litter over fences adorned with repeated ads for floor tiles that promise to be “forever beautiful forever beautiful forever beautiful . . . .” From his precarious perch on the ledge behind the beautiful forevers, Sunil retrieves cans, bottles and whatever else he can salvage, providing Boo with another metaphor for the Indian economy, which she chooses to imbue with hope at the end of her tale. Then there’s Manju, Asha’s daughter, who is almost too perfectly emblematic of Boo’s vision of modern India. Manju is attending college – she wants to be a teacher – and no longer fits in anywhere. Her classmates think she’s peculiar because she’s from a slum, while her neighbors think it is weird that she is pursuing an education. She doesn’t understand why anybody would want to talk to her, and few do. But her biggest fear is that her mother will marry her off, in which case she “would die doing the things she was doing now: sweeping the dirt that had blown in from outside, mopping, then sweeping the new dirt that had blown in while she mopped.” Manju is nonetheless deferential to her mother, even agreeing to falsify documents as the secretary of her nonprofit trust. A recurring focus of the book is on the Husain family, especially their oldest son, Abdul. As Boo recounts their background and the details of their daily lives, we learn about Abdul’s expertise at evaluating scavengers’ rubbish, a vital skill that enables him to act as a middleman between scavengers and corporate recyclers. We also learn about the imprisonment, torture and trial of Abdul, his father and his sister on trumped-up charges of . . . well, they don’t know what exactly, but the allegations seem to have something to do with inciting their next-door neighbor to kill herself by self-immolation. The neighbor had an ongoing feud with various members of the Husain family over seemingly trivial matters; her dramatic suicide may have been triggered because a Husain home-improvement project financed by Abdul’s earnings caused rubble to fall into rice she was cooking for dinner. After being tortured and held in the local police station for months, Abdul was released to a juvenile facility (ironically because his mother was able to acquire false documentation that he was younger than he was). The trial of Abdul’s father and sister was held in a “high speed court” in Sewri, a South Mumbai neighborhood that is a one-hour bus-and-train ride from Annawadi, but it feels to the Husains as if it were another world, oceans away. I won’t reveal the outcome, but the fiasco illustrates the dictum laid down by Abdul’s father at the beginning of the first chapter: “Your little boat goes west and you congratulate yourself, ‘What a navigator I am!’ And then the wind blows you east.”

### ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Good read, but needed a character list
*by K***S on February 20, 2014*

I was excited to read Behind the Beautiful Forevers for our College book group, but I have to admit it wasn't an easy read. I often wasn't sure where the author was going with the story and got confused as to who the different characters were. Because of my confusion with the different characters I used the Kindle x-ray feature (which is AMAZING) to develop my own character list that I shared with my book group and have posted on the following google doc - [...] (please feel free to print this off and use when reading the book!). With the help of the character list I was able to enjoy the book a lot more and by the end felt like I had really read something important. No, this isn't necessarily a book I'd recommend to all my friends, but it is very thought provoking and has many themes that carry over into life in the US - poverty, corruption, hunger, & violence. Something else that really helped me appreciate the book was the author's note at the end. My only wish is that it would have been at the beginning of the book. I think if it had I would have enjoyed the book a lot more.

### ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ The Underbelly of Globalization
*by B***Y on March 12, 2012*

Katherine Boo has written a remarkable book about Annawadi, a slum within the perimeters of the Mumbai airport and within view of the city's most luxurious hotels. Behind the Beautiful Forevers: Life, death, and hope in a Mumbai undercity is about the lives of the people who live in Annawadi - their hopes, despairs, and day-to-day lives. Written in the form of an ethnography, the author is not seen or heard. She is invisible as she documents the lives of others. The book takes place between November 2007 through March 2011. Though it is non-fiction, it reads like fiction, each page taut with action, emotions, and depth of character. "The slumdwellers I'd already come to know in India were neither mythic nor pathetic. They were certainly not passive. Across the country, in communities decidedly short on saviors, they were improvising, often ingeniously, in pursuit of the new economic possibilities of the twenty-first century." "Although I had no pretense that I could judge a whole by a sliver, I thought it would be useful to follow the inhabitants of a single, unexceptional slum over the course of several years to see who got ahead and who didn't, and why, as India prospered." In Annawadi "only six of the slum's three thousand residents had permanent jobs." All the names and events in this book are real and the author utilizes "written notes, video recordings, audiotapes, and photographs" to document the contents of this book. The first person we meet is Abdul. His age isn't clear but he's somewhere close to seventeen. He is a garbage recycler, spending his days in city dumps and selling and buying recyclables. For Annawadi, this is a good job. Many of his neighbors have to resort to eating rats and frogs found at the sewage dump for dinner. This makes Abdul feel like he is upwardly mobile. "It seemed to him that in Annawadi, fortunes derived not just from what people did, or how well they did it, but from the accidents and catastrophes they dodged. A decent life was the train that hadn't hit you, the slumlord you hadn't offended, the malaria you hadn't caught." Unfortunately for Abdul, he is unable to dodge the catastrophe that will change his life. Because of a series of disputes with his neighbor Fatima, 'the one leg' (because she was born with only one leg), Fatima sets herself on fire and blames Abdul and his family for the act. She states at some point that they set her on fire, and at other points that they drove her to do it. Neither of these allegations are true but Abdul and his family are charged with the crime and a court case is in the horizon. In Mumbai's slum, everything is about money and getting paid off. The police expect pay-offs, as do the mediators and the investigators. While Abdul's family has finally been able to get ahead, this court case takes all of their resources to fight it. Abdul's father and sister are incarcerated in a horrible jail and Abdul is in a youth facility where he is regularly beaten. "The Indian criminal justice system was a market like garbage, Abdul now understood. Innocence and guilt could be bought and sold like a kilo of polyurethane bags." The children of Annawadi are resourceful, but not resourceful enough to avoid getting bitten by rats, having boils form from the rat bites and, in some cases, having worms emerge when the boils burst. Many of the children sleep on the floor of a hut if they are lucky enough to have any shelter. Sunil is a child we meet after he is thrown out of the orphanage where he'd been living. His mother died and his father is a drunk. Once back in Annawadi, he needs to transition: "reaccustoming himself to scavenging work, to rats that emerged from the woodpile to bite him as he slept, and to a state of almost constant hunger." He treated his hunger by eating discarded cigarettes or by lying down. His biggest fear was that his hunger was stunting his growth and he worried about this all the time. "To jumpstart his system, he saw he'd have to become a better scavenger. This entailed not dwelling on the obvious: that his profession could wreck a body in a very short time. Scrapes from dumpster-diving pocked and became infected. Where skin broke, maggots got in. Lice colonized hair, gangrene inched up fingers, calves swelled into tree trunks, and Abdul and his younger brothers kept a running wager about which of the scavengers would be the next to die." Many of the youth of Annawadi use Eraz-ex to get high. It's like white-out and is huffed. It is highly toxic to the liver and other organs and shortens the life span significantly. Others give up on life completely and there is a high suicide rate. The means of choice is usually rat poison. The residents of Annawadi are squatters as the land is owned by the airport. It was rumored that the airport was going to raze the slum and build high-rises, some intended for the inhabitants - 269 foot apartments, some to house up to eleven residents. "Annawadians understood that their settlement was widely perceived as a blight, and that their homes, like their work, were provisional." The slum is filled with hucksters and scam artists. One of the more interesting characters is Asha. She is determined to get ahead politically and raises money for many non-existent charities and schools. She gives a cut of the money to the funders and keeps part of it for herself. She is also involved in many of the financial transactions that occur in Annawadi. She offers to intervene with the police and court system for Abdul and his family for a price. There isn't much that goes on financially in Annawadi that Asha is not involved in. Interestingly, she has a daughter, Manju, who is a true idealist and will be the first female college graduate in Annawadi. One would think that the poor would unite together to try to get out of their situation. "Instead, powerless individuals blamed other powerless individuals for what they lacked. Sometimes they tried to destroy one another. Sometimes, like Fatima, they destroyed themselves in the process. When they were fortunate, like Asha, they improved their lots by beggaring the life chances of other poor people". There is no cooperation in Annawadi. It is each for themselves and perhaps their families. "Poor people didn't unite; they competed ferociously amongst themselves for gains as slender as they were provisional." This is an amazing book. It is filled with horror and despair but there are also elements of hope and humor. Katherine Boo catches the micro and macro elements of Annawadi and its inhabitants. She delves into the culture and provides the reader with an ethnographic story that is as mesmerizing as it is real. There is no putting this book down. It catches the reader and carries him away. I found that when I came up for air I had to shake my head a few times to be sure I wasn't in Annawadi and was in my home in the United States. The book is that real. I recommend it to anyone who likes to read about cultural differences and wants a book that is a real page-turner. It is intelligent, fascinating, and will raise as many questions as it answers. It is a book for our global era and economy. It is about the underbelly of globalization.

## Frequently Bought Together

- Behind the Beautiful Forevers: Life, Death, and Hope in a Mumbai Undercity
- The Cold War: A Very Short Introduction (Very Short Introductions)
- The Best We Could Do: An Illustrated Memoir

---

## Why Shop on Desertcart?

- 🛒 **Trusted by 1.3+ Million Shoppers** — Serving international shoppers since 2016
- 🌍 **Shop Globally** — Access 737+ million products across 21 categories
- 💰 **No Hidden Fees** — All customs, duties, and taxes included in the price
- 🔄 **15-Day Free Returns** — Hassle-free returns (30 days for PRO members)
- 🔒 **Secure Payments** — Trusted payment options with buyer protection
- ⭐ **TrustPilot Rated 4.5/5** — Based on 8,000+ happy customer reviews

**Shop now:** [https://www.desertcart.pl/products/1214418-behind-the-beautiful-forevers-life-death-and-hope-in-mumbai](https://www.desertcart.pl/products/1214418-behind-the-beautiful-forevers-life-death-and-hope-in-mumbai)

---

*Product available on Desertcart Poland*
*Store origin: PL*
*Last updated: 2026-02-04*