It is little wonder then that the current administration has seized on ?inclusive growth? as its mantra, and as elections approach in less than a year, it is spending heavily on education, widely acknowledged as a key barrier to upward mobility for the poor.

That the bottom of the pyramid votes became obvious to the Chands when they last went to the polls. ?I didn?t see too many people like us,? Mr. Chand recalled.

Hamilton Court, meanwhile, is rarely courted at election time. Inside its gates, the Chands have everything they might need: the coveted Sri Ram School, a private health clinic and clubhouse next door, security guards to keep out unwanted strangers and well-groomed lawns and paths for power walks and cricket games.

?Women and children are not encouraged to go outside,? said Madan Mohan Bhalla, president of the Hamilton Court Resident Welfare Association. ?If they want to have a walk, they can walk inside. It?s a different world outside the gate.?

For the Chands, the school was one of the building?s main draws. They bought their apartment just after the birth of their eldest, Aditya, who is now in first grade. Next year, they hope to enroll their youngest, Madhav.

The school recently hosted a classical music concert. The business school guru C.K. Prahalad gave a lecture the following week. Mr. Chand called Hamilton Court a community of ?like-minded people.?

Some 600 domestic staff members work at Hamilton Court, an average of 2.26 per apartment. The building employs its own plumbers and electricians. At any one time, 22 security guards and 32 surveillance cameras are at work.

?We can?t rely on the police,? Mr. Bhalla said. Gurgaon has one policeman for every 1,000 residents ? lower than the national average ? and a surfeit of what Mr. Bhalla calls official apathy. ?We have to save ourselves,? he said.

The guards at the gate are instructed not to let nannies take children outside, and men delivering pizza or okra are allowed in only with permission. Once, Mr. Bhalla recalled proudly, a servant caught spitting on the lawn was beaten up by the building staff.

Recently, Mr. Bhalla?s association cut a path from the main gate to the private club next door, so residents no longer have to share the public sidewalk with servants and the occasional cow.

The Gurgaon police chief, Mohinder Lal, said the city?s new residents had unrealistic expectations of the Indian police. If a police officer does not arrive quickly, Mr. Lal rued, the residents complain. ?They say, ?You?re late. Come back tomorrow.? ?

He, too, said that the police could not cope with the disorder of Gurgaon?s growth. ?Development comes, mess comes, then police come and infrastructure,? he said.

Gurgaon?s security guards, most of whom live in Mrs. Das?s slum, likewise have little love for law enforcement. They accuse the police of raiding their shanty, hauling men to the local stations and forcing them to clean and cook before releasing them back to their hovels, often without a single charge. The police say migrant workers are a source of crime.

One afternoon, Mrs. Das returned from her duties at Hamilton Court, cleaned up the lunch plates that her sons had left on the floor and took her plastic water jugs to stand in line under the acacia tree, only to discover that there was a power failure, which meant the water pump could not be turned on. Next to the water line, workers were ironing a pile of orange janitors? uniforms from a neighborhood mall; the laundry service is one of Chakkarpur?s many thriving private enterprises.

Mrs. Das already had two of her sons in a charity-run school nearby, but much to her shame, she missed the registration deadline for her youngest, now 6, who will now be a year behind his peers.

Her biggest regret is being unable to check her sons? homework. Mrs. Das has worked in other people?s homes since she was 7. She cannot read. ?If they are educated,? she said of her boys, ?at least they can do something when they grow up.?

Next door to Mrs. Das?s brick-and-tin room, a 2-year-old lay on a cot outside, flies dancing on his face. His mother, Sunita, 18, said the child had not been immunized because she had no idea where to take him, and no public health workers had come, as they are supposed to. The baby is weak, Sunita reckoned, because she cannot produce breast milk.

During repeated visits in recent months, a government-financed childhood nutrition center was closed. The nearest government hospital was empty.

Mrs. Chand, a doctor who decided to stay home to raise her children, trained in a government hospital. Her other maid told her recently that her own daughter had given birth at home, down there in the slum.

Sometimes, Mrs. Chand said, she thinks of opening a clinic there. But she also said she understood that there was little that she, or anyone, could do. ?Two worlds,? she observed, ?just across the street.?