On a narrow staircase of Dharavi, Samsuddin climbs to the first floor of a modest house, where his small printmaking studio hums with purpose. The air carries the faint scent of ink and fabric, and the rhythmic whir of a heat gun punctuates the day. Here, Samsuddin crafts t-shirts, shirts and pants adorned with logos and artwork, his hands moving with the ease of someone who has mastered the intricacies of a densely interconnected environment. Day or night, the studio is alive when orders come in, and for Samsuddin, that's precisely how he likes it.

He can print up to 20 shirts in one go, each batch taking about 30 minutes to print and dry. The pace is brisk, but it's what ensures every order, whether a handful or thousands, everything gets delivered on time. "It all depends on the orders," he says steadily. Some nights, work stretches past midnight, yet he never complains. For Samsuddin, this isn't just a job; it's freedom. "I love this work more than a stable job," he explains. "No restrictions. I can come and go whenever I want." That flexibility is his edge, drawing clients who value his speed and reliability. Most of his orders come from Badlapur and Panvel, which are located in the outer suburbs of Mumbai, especially schools needing uniforms. One order stood out: it came from his own village in Unnao district of Uttar Pradesh. "I was so surprised and happy," he says, his eyes lighting up at the memory. It felt like a small piece of home had found him in Dharavi.

Samsuddin doesn't have permanent employees, but when big orders roll in, sometimes 1,000 to 2,000 t-shirts, he hires help to keep up. The studio, though small, is a hub of efficiency, with every corner used with purpose. But it comes at a cost. The rent, a steep 9,000 rupees a month, including the power bill, is a constant weight, whether business booms or slows. Still, Samsuddin shrugs it off. "That's just how it is," he says, his pragmatism as steady as his work ethic.

He arrived in Dharavi in 1995, leaving behind Unnao district in Uttar Pradesh. Samsuddin's journey into printmaking began with his Mamu, his mother's brother, who first guided him through the narrow lanes of Sangham Galli in Dharavi. It was there, in 1995, that he took his first steps in this trade, learning the art of transforming plain fabric into something bold and personal. "I don't know why I chose this," he says with a faint chuckle, "but I'm glad Mamu showed me the way." Back then, his first job paid just 700 rupees a month, with 400 going to food alone. "It was tough," he recalls, but he smiles when discussing Dharavi's past. "It was beautiful back then, especially Kalakilla and the leather market," he says. Life wasn't easy, though; long water lines were a daily struggle. Still, he found his way into printmaking, though he's unsure how. "I don't know how I started, but I'm happy I did," he says with a quiet laugh.

He lives in Dharavi now, just a short walk from his workshop, in a home where his children are growing up. All of them attend local schools, and one daughter is carving her own path, studying design, a spark of creativity that makes Samsuddin's eyes light up. "She's learning to make things beautiful, like me," he says proudly.

When asked about redevelopment, he pauses. "Yes, we want development," he says, "but not by pushing people out. That's wrong." He believes in improving Dharavi while keeping its heart and its people intact.

From Sangamgalli to his studio's perch, he's woven himself into the fabric of this place. Perched above the street, his studio is a testament to the hustle that defines this place. It's not about grand plans or polished spaces; it's about getting things done, one t-shirt at a time. And in the hum of his heat gun and the stack of freshly printed shirts, Samsuddin adds his own thread to the intricate fabric of Dharavi.