“We eat on the streets, sleep on the streets, we are rogue vagabonds, our home is in Gulistan and our house is in Osmani.” - A group of pavement dwellers singing folk songs in Osmani Uddyan, a park in Dhaka.

Freedom. Democracy. Autocracy. Human rights. Fundamental. Primary. Secondary. Demand. Supply. These are words which are unknown to many of the 15 to 20,000 pavement dwellers of Dhaka city. Others know them but do not care. Their main concern is food, clothing and a place to sleep. They live for the present. One day at a time. No past, no future.

Thousands of people sleep, stay and spend the day on the sidewalks and pavements of Dhaka. Initially arriving as migrants lured to the capital by the promise of better opportunities, they engage in a variety of activities to make money, including being porters in transport centres, labourers unloading trucks in the market, rickshaw pullers, maid servants, sex traders and solid waste recyclers. Here, they become the natives of the streets.

In Bangladesh, pavement dwellers are looked down upon as social outcasts. But they are conscious of their identities as human beings. Amrao manush is a Bangla phrase meaning ‘We are humans too’. The name was proposed by two women pavement dwellers from separate locations in Dhaka. We might assume that the biggest struggle for homeless people is unemployment and homelessness. But the reality is that their situation robs them of their human dignity, renders them “invisible” to the rest of society and denies them access to the rights and resources that others enjoy.

The number of pavement dwellers may not seem large in the context of Bangladesh, a country with a population of 150 million. But their population over the last decade has increased at the same rate as the population of Dhaka, which is currently between 7 and 10 million. The capital itself is in line to become one of the world’s largest megacities, set for a population of 20 million over the coming years. Many of the newcomers arrive after having been pushed out due to floods arising as a result of climate change damaging their livelihoods in rural areas, or due to crippling debts. But for the future influx of pavement dwellers, the move will not bring the better life they hope for. Instead, they are in danger of becoming some of the most vulnerable people in the country.

While the term ‘megacity’ implies images of gleaming skyscrapers, the reality is that rapid urban growth will also see a rise in exclusion. Not everyone who comes to the city will ‘make it’. As urban populations in South Asia – where a disproportionate number of megacities will be located – grow, so will the number of pavement dwellers. They are at risk of becoming even more hidden.

I was pulled to Dhaka from the countryside as a migrant – like the pavement dwellers I have photographed – in 1990. My beginnings inspired me to raise awareness of these people’s vulnerable position. After 10 years of shooting breaking and spot news as a press photographer, I felt it was time to enter another kind of life with a longer project. My empathy with the sprawling, huddling gangs of street people is strong and I became friends with several of them.

If awarded this grant, I would continue in Dhaka and travel to neighbouring India. In Mumbai, 60 percent of the total population consist of pavement and hutment dwellers. Kolkata is also set to see the biggest population of homeless people in the world. I want to enable these homeless people to fight for their own rights and portray the inner story of how these people want to portray themselves. With my photo essay I hope to make a voice for the voiceless. Rather than simply portray pavement dwellers as victims requiring assistance, I want to show how their struggle is also mine. This grant will support me to do that.