But the human side of the slum is another story entirely.

Poojari has come to know many of the locals, and he introduced me to several who were eager to tell me about their lives in Dharavi and to learn about mine in America.

At one point, I sat down with three men in their 20s who told me that in four years Dharavi will be gone; the government is making room for office towers. "The city will give us a place to live," one of them said, "but where will we find new jobs?" We ended the tour at a one-room school and community center, where Reality Tours now offers English classes twice a day and an NGO trains electricians at night. Once a week, Chris Way uses the space to teach chess to anyone who'd like to learn.

In all, I took three poverty tours in India. Far from being the exploitative experiences I'd anticipated, they opened up a world that I felt privileged to enter—one which allowed me to make a brief but meaningful connection with the locals and, in turn, their country. How else would I have met the young man who has lived on the streets of Delhi since he was eight and is now finishing college? Or the former street kid who's now breaking into Bollywood? Dharavi taught me that I have a lot to learn. Seeing poverty isn't pleasant. It isn't comfortable or pretty. But if we avoid it, we'll never see a destination—or even ourselves—in full. That's reality.

Good Works
The Salaam Baalak Trust, co-founded by film director Mira Nair, runs five shelters for Delhi street children, providing them with education, health care, arts and athletic training, and other support. A $50 donation pays for a full medical exam for a child; $35 purchases a school uniform. For more information, go to salaambaalaktrust.com.