Double-deckers and Victorian Gothic are ironically glimpsed past Bombay's shanty-towns. Unforgettable images of brutality (the police sporadically demolish the huts, beat the inhabitants, destroy their possessions and livelihood) jostle the resigned: a girl recalls her teenage brother, shot by the police. 'Nothing remains. I do my work. When I think of my brother, I keep quiet'. An untouchable gratefully describes his 'good municipal job': unblocking open gutters, carting off the filth. The Advertising Club discusses improving the police's image. A cripple hobbles through floods on a peg-leg that turns out to be his limb, withered to a stick. Shot over three years, this is documentary to make you angry; for once, not with the British. MHoy.