Sudharak Olwe

They manually collect and dispose human excreta from dry latrines; unclog sewers, tanks, open drains and gutters; sweep the streets with basic tools like brooms, buckets, baskets and metal rods and hardly have any safety gears to cover their faces and bodies. The only thing they are prominently seen wearing on their face is a melancholic expression.
Manual scavengers and sanitation workers need no introduction, yet they are so easily forgotten. They spend their lives living in a loop of poverty, discrimination, humiliation, ignorance, and eventually succumb in the death graves, uncounted with their families thrown into the darkness of uncertainties. In most cases, their children tend to inherit their profession and are usually oblivious to the law which speaks of the illegality of their job and the financial and social exclusion they are subjected to. These children are then entrapped in the same loop thus living their routine caged lives. While men seek escape in liquor to temporarily numb their pain of descending into a black hole of filth, women adapt themselves to the inconvenience and humiliation for the sake of making ends meet.
“Initially, I used to feel nauseated. I wasn’t ready and felt ashamed to work because of the stigma attached to it. But now I’m used to the foul smells. Poverty leaves you with no options,” says 58-year-old Meena Devi, who cleans dry latrines in a Muslim neighbourhood in Bihar. She swiftly picks up the dried waste and human excreta using cardboard pads, shoves it in the partly broken bamboo basket and heads to dispose it off at a nearby ground. Under the blazing sun, she walks for about 4kms back and forth making her way through the fields to throw the waste in a manure pit. “With the amount of discrimination we face, what else can we do to feed our stomach? Give us another job and we will leave this one immediately,” she adds.



It’s impossible to fathom what goes through a mind of a manual scavenger or sanitation worker when they see how people maintain this non-verbal distance: pinching their noses while passing by; not allowing them entry in their homes; giving them the leftovers and hand-me-downs for their children. Well-known Dalit writer and poet Om Prakash Valmiki has rightly said, “Only those who face discrimination can know its sting.”
Inherited misery, destitution and discrimination are never easily purged, no matter how hard one tries. Photojournalist and Padma Shri awardee Sudharak Olwe, who has been documenting the lives of conservancy workers in Mumbai for about two decades, says that he finds no substantial change in the working methods of these workers despite the overall technological advancements. With powerful imagery, Olwe tries to bring out the painful stagnancy and sameness in the lives of the manual scavengers and sanitation workers across India.
Manual scavengers and sanitation workers don’t seek your attention, but their plight demands it. They don’t speak for themselves, yet theirs is one of the important voices, which when paid attention to, would make us realise the urgency for reforms and rehabilitation.
Bringing in reforms and their right implementation seems like an arduous journey of a thousand miles. However, it can be covered with steps taken together. That is how we can Include the Excluded. Shraddha Ghatge 2019.

Normalising discrimination

Patna Moholla of Ward Number 4 in Amanganj sees almost one fourth of its residents, especially from the upper-caste Thakur and Pandit community, using dry latrines. There are about 30-40 semi-pucca houses belonging to the Valmiki community, situated typically in the outskirts of the village, while the rest of the houses belong to either Muslims or castes like Pandits, Thakurs, Khatiks, Kallar and Tamere.
The discrimination faced by the Valmiki community which practises the age-old profession of manual scavenging is painfully omnipresent. The women scavengers narrate their experiences with an eerie indifference as if it were normal and business as usual. “We are not allowed to drink tea in any restaurant here. Even if we go to one small tea shop, we are served in disposable plastic glasses while others are served in regular tumblers,” says 39-year-old Betibai Valmiki who has been working with the Nagar Palika for over four years now. “They call us Mehtaranibai,” she says with a little chuckle.
While Manju Valmiki adds, “The discrimination is such that even if we try to change our lives by maybe opening a small grocery store or tea stall here, it won’t work. No one would come to our shop because we are Valmikis. They say that we should do what we are meant to do; that is cleaning dirt.”
Most of the women here suffer from asthma and malaria for being constantly exposed to dust and garbage for years. When asked if they get any medical assistance, Manju says, “All they do is just mark us absent and deduct our salary if we call in sick, let alone provide any medical allowance or assistance. Once or twice a year we go to medical camps organised by the government but those too are conducted just for the sake of it.”

Patna Moholla of Ward no. 4 in Amanganj sees almost quarter of its residents, especially from the Thakur and Pandit community, use dry latrines. As we proceed into the Valmiki colony known as Indra colony, we see three to four traditional dry latrines with elevated pedestals and drop holes with a release at the back. However, the residents claim these are no longer used.
There are about 30-40 semi-pucca houses belonging to Valmiki community, situated typically in the outskirts of the village, while the rest belong to Muslims, Pandits, Thakurs, Khatiks, Kallar, Tamere and so on. Quite clearly so, being in the minority, the Valmiki community, also practising an age-old profession of manual scavenging, have faced and still faces discrimination which is painfully omnipresent. The women scavengers we interviewed narrated their experiences of discrimination with an eerie indifference as if its normal and business as usual. “We are not allowed to drink tea in any restaurant here. Even if we go to one small tea shop, we are given disposable plastic glasses while others are given in regular tumbler glasses,” says 39-year-old Betibai Valmiki, who works with the Nagar Palika for over four years now. “They call us ‘Mehtaranibai’,” she said with a little chuckle.
While Manju Valmiki added, “The discrimination is such that even if try to change our lives by say opening a small grocery store or tea stall, it won’t work. No one would come to our shop because we are Valmikis. They say that we should do what we are meant to do, i.e. cleaning the dirt.”
It’s been over four years now Betibai works with the municipal corporation. Initially, for over 10 years, she along with her sister-inlaw Manju, used to visit the houses to clean dry latrines with their bare hands and tin dabbas, however, now they have stopped now because people have built toilets and very few use dry latrines. This, they said, with a slight relief as now that they work with Nagar Palika, they at least get gloves and tools. She works in two shifts, 4am to 10am and from 2pm to 5pm. They earn on an average Rs 4,000 per month, but in cases where they ditch work or are marked absent for delay, they get Rs 3,000 or less. However, with their husbands working in the corporation as well, they manage their households with approximately Rs 10,000 per month.
Her modest semi-pucca house is built adjacent to the other three similar houses of their joint family. She also mentioned how they (Betibai and Manju) will be marked absent for the second shift since we had gone to meet them at that hour. Betibai, Manju and other neighbouring women were sitting on a freshly painted stone porch at the entrance of the house while the men had gathered around. Their tanned, gnarled hands and body speak of the years of hard work they had put in their thankless job.
Most of the adolescents in the school have dropped out and were whiling away their crucial years of education. They were seen lingering around in the house. When asked why so, Manju Valmiki says, “We don’t have funds to continue their education in private school besides, they too show no interest in studying.”
Adding further, 24-year-old Ajay Valmiki, one of the active members of the community who has completed double Masters in Science and Social Work, says, “Even child of our community faces discrimination in Anganwadis and schools. This results in high dropouts, especially in this community. Our children are heckled and made to sit on the floor while the upper caste children get the privilege of using the benches.” Ajay wants to pursue teaching and help his community grow and educate. His main concern is how there is no proper education in his community which also hits the rehabilitation. “With prevalent discrimination and no proper education, this community has a long way to go when it comes to rehabilitation. We, youngsters, are making an effort in every possible way, however these are the major loopholes which need to be fixed urgently,” says Ajay whose parents still work in the corporation.
About the health issues, Betibai says most of the women here suffer from Asthma and malaria for having exposed to the dust and garbage for years. When asked if they get any medical allowance or assistance, Laxmibai, another woman who works with the corporation for 10 years along with Betibai and Manju, says, “All they do is, mark us absent and deduct our salary if we call in sick, let alone any medical allowance. Once or twice a year we go to government medical camps, but those too, are for the sake of it.” They were made aware of the financial assistance they would get once they decide to quit this job through the survey conducted by Safai Karmacha Andolan under the aegis of National Safai Karamcharis Finance and Development Corporation. However, they did not see any positive outcome after the survey was conducted.
Most of the information of government schemes, facilities, grants, provided to the underprivileged communities in the village hardly reach to the actual people who are in dire need as they not only face socially and geographically exclusion but also financial one.
Manju’s family: Caption: Manju with her husband Ramlal Valmiki daughter Rashmi and son Ajay
Manju Valmiki’s son Ajay works as a safai karamchari with the local State Bank of India branch since two-three years. The 20-year-old who has studied up to 9th grade dropped out of school due to lack of funds. He, however, now earns Rs 5,000 per month and rides a bike.
Her two daughters, Shivani and Rashmi, both, have studied till 8th grade while the elder one Shivani dropped out and Rashmi is still learning. As we entered her recently painted house, a camera shy Shivani wasn’t really keen on getting her photographs clicked as she was washing dishes on the verandah. When asked if she could opt for some job like sewing, Shivani says, “Even if we set up a tailoring shop, people don’t accept us in the first place. Not a single girl from our caste does any job here except this traditional one.”
Manju’s husband Ramlal, who works with the corporation for over 8 years, returned from his morning shift and would be heading soon for another job.

NO STRANGER TO DISCRIMINATION

Ashadevi, Ramkalidevi, Gayatridevi, Savithri – the only women manual scavengers working in the Sangrav village in Rajpur block.
The Rawat family - Shankar Dayal Rawat, Ashok Kumar Rawat, Nand Lal Rawat, Sunder Lal Rawat and their wives Ashadevi, Ramkalidevi, Gayatridevi, Savithri working as manual scavengers in the Sangrav village of Rajpur Block, Buxar District.
The Rawat family in Rajpur blockʼs Sangrav village is the only family of four brothers which works as manual scavengers. They have a septic tank at their home as too which they had opened to show us. The family belongs to Mehstar community and all the men and women in the family work either with the corporation or privately. The men – Shankar Dayal Rawat, Ashok Kumar Rawat, Nand Lal Rawat, Sunder Lal Rawat head out to clean septic tanks while the women – Ashadevi, Ramkalidevi, Gayatridevi, Savithri – work with privately individuals and clean flush toilets, roads and alleys.
When asked about the job, Ashadevi says showing us a big bowl and plates, “We still follow the age-old ways. We are given 1 kg rice and food grains in this tokra. Occasionally, we get money too. Itʼs after returning from work, we cook the food.”
“When there is septic tank cleaning, we get paid decent money up to Rs 4,000. But that gets shared between the workers,” says Shankar Dayal Rawat. Like, Valmiki and Dom, this Mehstar family is no stranger to discrimination. The Pandit and Muslim families here try to strain their dominance every now and then in the village and this community is usually on the receiving end. With no sign of assured rehabilitation, they donʼt expect to leave their jobs soon, at least for now.

Malin basti of manual scavengers

Malin basti, quite literally named by locals as ‘a settlement of manual scavengers’ for the Dom community near Taarbangla High school, away from the main town in Dehri on Sone in Rohtas District. About 40 men and women manual scavengers were asked to leave their jobs and look for alternatives about a year ago with an assurance of the one-time assistance of Rs 40,000 under the law: Prohibition of Employment of Manual Scavengers and Rehabilitation Act, 2013. However, nothing materialised in their favour. Neither did they get any money, nor were they given any alternate job. This led them back to their old job of cleaning roads and alleys, albeit privately. The air in their makeshift huts looms with desperation as people in tattered clothes gather around with hopeful eyes.
As they have no identification proof issued by the government, they are also unable to avail ration facilities under government schemes. While the men head out and clean septic tanks for a living, women go to the bazaars and small dhabas where they get cleaning work for Rs 100-200 a day. According to Preeti Devi, 25, “When we go to open a bank account, the bank officials refuse us saying that we don’t have documents. They tell us that we don’t need it since we don’t have any money and shoo us away. What should we do now?” This reinstates how the community is not only socially and geographically but also financially excluded everywhere. The Act, which speaks of eradication and rehabilitation, needs stronger implementation and urgent measures to rescue communities like Dom and Valmiki from their distress.

December 25, 2018 Ambedkar colony, Malin basti – how the community left their jobs with no alternatives
Malin basti, quite literally called, is a settlement of manual scavengers hailing from Dom community near Taarbangla High school, away from the main town in Dehri on Sone in Rohtas District. About 40 men and women manual scavengers were asked to leave their jobs and look for alternatives with one-time assistance of Rs 40,000 under the law: Prohibition of Employment of Manual Scavengers and Rehabilitation Act, 2013. However, nothing materialised out of the survey taken. Neither did they get any money, nor were they given any alternative job. This led them back to their old job of cleaning roads and alleys privately.
They have no identification hence they are not able to avail the ration facilities. While the men head out and clean septic tanks, women head to the bazaars and small dhabas where they get cleaning work for Rs 100-200 a day.
According to Preeti Devi, 25, “When we go to open a bank account, the bank officials deny saying that we don’t have documents and say that what need do we have since we don’t have any money. They shoo us away saying we don’t need a bank account. What should we do in this case?”
This reinstates how the community is not only socially and geographically but also financially excluded. The Act which speaks of eradication, rehabilitation needs a strong implementation and urgent measures to bring communities like Dom and Valmiki from their distress.

Living a caged life

“Initially, I used to feel nauseated. I wasn’t ready and felt ashamed to work because of the stigma attached to it. But now I’m used to the foul smells. Poverty leaves you with no option,” says 58-year-old Meenadevi, who cleans dry latrines in a Muslim neighbourhood in Bihar’s Rohtas district. She swiftly picks up the dried waste and human excreta using cardboard pads, shoves it in her partly broken bamboo basket and heads off to dispose it at a nearby field.
Under the blazing sun, in her slightly torn and worn-out saree, she walks for about four kms back and forth making her way through the fields to throw the waste in a manure pit. “With the amount of discrimination we face, what else can we do to feed our stomach? Give us another job and we will leave this one immediately,” she says.
From earning Rs 2 per house when she began with her mother-in-law almost 25 years ago, she now gets Rs 50. Meenadevi and her mother-in-law, both from the Dom community, used to work for majority of the houses in the same neighbourhood, when almost all them had dry latrines. “My mother-in-law died doing this job. She used to carry the excreta and sewage in tin cans. I did the same. Now, we don’t use tin cans. Nonetheless, the same fate awaits me,” Meenadevi said with a melancholic voice revealing years of pain and suffering.

24th December 2018: Dehri on Sonne, Rohtas District Ghusia Kallan, Vikramganj, Halkhor, Dome community
Meenadevi It’s one thing to empathise with and another to actually live a caged life of manual scavenger. When you see a 58-year-old Meenadevi cleaning one of the last few dry latrines present in Ghusia Kalan village in Vikramganj Tehsil, you can’t help but feel angered and helpless over her pathetic situation. Apart from a few Muslim households, she has been working with the local hospital since 2012. However, she hasn’t been paid since because the Hospital authorities keep telling her that “they are operating at a loss.” Meanwhile, she is hoping that someday, she would be paid the whole amount.
In a slightly torn and worn-out saree, Meenadevi walks about 2 kms from her house into the village where most of the Muslim families still demand manual scavengers for cleaning their dry latrines. From Rs 2 per house she used to get when she began almost 25 years ago, she now earns Rs 50. However, the work has reduced a lot as there are hardly any dry latrines left. She doesn’t work with the corporation as of now.
The locality Meenadevi takes us has several mud and semi-pucca houses lining the path and an open ground which was now turned into a small dump yard. She enters the Khatun household where she has been working for over 25 years and takes us to the spot where dry latrine is situated. Quite swiftly, she breaks a long dry branch of the tree lying on the ground and uses it to collect the waste lying from behind the open vent near the drop hole of the latrine. Once that’s done, she picks up the now dried waste and human excreta using cardboard pads, shoves it in the partly broken bamboo basket and heads to dispose it off to a near by ground. She walks for about a km back and forth four times making her way through the fields to throw the waste in a ground where it gets mixed with the manure. “I’m thinking of quitting now. There are hardly any dry latrines left and since people have begun building flush toilets, they no longer need us. Besides, I’m getting old to invest in this kind of hard labour,” Meenadevi says while we accompany her to the fields.
Munni Khatun, the owner of the house, then pours water from a distance so that Meenadevi can wash her hands. Meenadevi and her mother-in-law used to work together in almost all the houses in Ghusiya Kalan when the number of dry latrines were high. “My mother-in-law died doing this job. She used to carry the excreta and sewage on tin cans. I did the same. Now we don’t do it that much though. Maybe, the same fate awaits me. If given a chance I would leave this job immediately, but we don’t have any alternative,” Meenadevi said with a voice which revealed the pain and suffering she has been through over the years. Meenadevi’s entire family has been involved in manual scavenging. Her husband Mahendra and one of her three sons clean septic tanks on a regular basis. Sometimes, even Meenadevi accompanies them. Apart from Khatun household, Meenadevi works in 10 other houses in the neighbourhood to clean the flush toilets daily in the morning around 6am and leave around 1pm. And earns round about Rs 5,000 or less a month.
When asked about her life as a manual scavenger, Meenadevi says, “Initially, I used to feel nauseated but now I’m used to the foul smells. I wasn’t really ready and felt ashamed to work because of the stigma attached to it. But poverty leaves you with no options.” Speaking on discrimination, “They don’t let us enter the house. They give us the money or any food from the outside.” When asked why she is still doing this job despite the humiliation she faces, “What else can we do to feed our stomach? Give us another job and we will leave this one immediately,” Meenadevi says.
As you enter Meenadevi’s semi-pucca house, you would find a parrot named Mithu squeaking and acknowledging her presence as she taps its cage. It was quite symbolic as she might even see her life’s reflection in that caged parrot. A tiny uneven passage leads to small open foyer which has a hand pump surrounded with utensils, chulha with cow-dung cakes. The adjacent wall has a huge crack which seems fragile. There were tattered, washed out woollen clothes hanging on the string.
There is a small kitchen with bare minimum utensils, gas and food items. A closer look at the house and one could sense the life of penury Meenadevi and her family is living but that doesn’t stop her from laughing or playing with her parrot.

Masking Pain

Veiling her face and hair with her purple dupatta, 42-year-old Mukeshdevi enters the toilet, cleans it with bare hands, calls out to the owners of the house to release water so that the sewage flows into the open drain, exits the house and removes the accumulated sewage in the drain on the platform using a broom and a cycle mudguard. “Once this dries up, it is then picked up and disposed of,” she adds. This practice of toilets disposing sewage directly in open drains was observed throughout the city.
Mukesh Devi began cleaning toilets, dry latrines and open drains after she got married, about 25 years ago, as her mother-in-law was too old to continue work. As a woman manual scavenger from Meerut’s Bhagwatpura, she attends to around 10 houses, either daily or on alternate days, depending upon the demand of work and earns up to Rs 2,000 per month.
With a visibly fragile mother-in-law, five kids and two grandchildren to take care of, Mukesh Devi and her husband Sukhraj somehow manage to make ends meet with their income of less than Rs 10,000 every month. A sense of gloom prevails in her relatively disoriented and unkempt semi-pucca house. Her children had to drop out of school when her husband fell sick five years ago.
“What other option do we have?” she quickly responded when asked why she was doing this menial job. “Even if we open a shop, no one would buy from us because we are Valmikis* The people we attend to (mostly the upper caste families) give us water in disposable glasses. We don’t reveal our surnames because once they come to know that we are Valmikis, they treat us badly,” she says with a piercing glare.
*Valmiki is a scheduled caste. People belonging to this caste were historically known as untouchables.

16th December - Bhagwatpura, visit to Valmiki community in Meerut, Uttar Pradesh
Mukeshdevi with her children (Arun, Anuj, Swati, Preeti, Bharati) and mother-in-law at her semi-pucca home in Bhagwat Pura in Meerut, Uttar Pradesh. Mukeshdevi cleaning the open drains in one of the regular families which she visits in Bhagwat Pura in Meerut, Uttar Pradesh.
A 42-year-old Mukeshdevi didn’t reveal her surname because, “once people come to know that we are Valmikis, they treat us badly,” she says. She entered into this profession of cleaning toilets, dry latrines and open drains after marriage as her mother-in-law was too old to continue work. It’s been 15 years since. As a woman manual scavenger from Meerut’s Bhagwatpura, Mukeshdevi’s day starts at 7am and ends at 2pm where she, on an average, attends around 10 houses daily or on alternate days depending upon the demand of work and earns up to Rs 2,000 per month.
With a visibly fragile mother-in-law, five kids and two grandchildren to take care of, Mukeshdevi and her husband Sukhraj somehow manage to make ends meet by every month-end with less than Rs 10,000 income. A peculiar sense of gloom rent the air of her relatively disoriented and unkempt semi-pucca house, as we began asking Mukeshdevi about her family. Her children were simply hanging around in the house with no education as they had to drop out of their schools when their father fell sick five years ago.
While Mukeshdevi is away slogging for her living, her girls look after the household chores and their 85-year-old hearing-impaired grandmother Sumandevi. She, too, worked as manual scavenger for over 25 years and now seemed tired and fragile. The eldest son Arun usually works odd jobs, like his father, while the younger one, Anuj, does nothing. She walks us through a couple of houses where she works with her tools - broom and cycle mudguard - to scrape and clean the dirty open drains. Veiling her face and hair with her purple dupatta, she enters the toilet, cleans it with bare hands, calls out to the owners of the house to release water so that the sewage flows into the open drains, exits the house and removes the accumulated sewage in the open drain on the platform outside. “Once this dries up, it is then picked up and disposed of,” she adds.
When asked why she is doing this menial job, “What other option do we have?” she asks. “We have been doing this work since years. And why should we leave this job when there is no alternative? The government is not providing us with an alternative and even if we open a shop, no one would buy from us because we are Valmikis. Even today people we attend to (mostly the upper caste families) here pour water in our cupped hands or disposable glasses, chuachooth kitni chalti hai yaha abhi bhi (We still face acute discrimination even today).”
Not only Mukeshdevi, but all the residents of Bhagwatpura resonate with her when it comes to discrimination. Bhagwatpura, a quintessential small-town in UP’s Meerut, is visibly patriarchal and regressive as most of the women here have to veil their faces while heading out of their homes. With no septic tanks in the town, these women scavengers are left with cleaning the open drains.
Furthermore, it was quite evident that the community had no adequate knowledge about the government schemes designed for the rehabilitation of their own community. For instance, the manual scavengers were asked to leave their jobs and look for alternatives with one-time assistance of Rs 40,000 under the law: Prohibition of Employment of Manual Scavengers and Rehabilitation Act, 2013. Although, a survey was taken, and the number of scavengers were identified, not a single family we visited confirmed receiving such an amount. This has led them to go back to their old profession.

A Thankless Job

Geeta Mattu, a Valmiki by caste, and Sashi Balmeek were cleaning one of the regular alleys of Agra Mohalla in Panna District where they found a hurt and comatose cow breathing its last near an open garbage point. “It will die in a few hours and will be picked up by the corporation workers who ferry the garbage truck,” says Geeta as she sweeps past the almost dead cow with dust settling over its body.
Geeta had to take up this job when a sudden financial crisis hit the family. She hates the job of a sanitation worker. “There is hardly any respect in it. We are treated so badly. It’s such a thankless job,” she laments.
Geeta, Sashi and a few other women sweep the roads and alleys from 5am to 7am. Then they carry on to clean the entire Agra Mohalla from 10am to 1pm. For this they earn up to Rs 7,000. While Geeta is a year-old in this job, 55-year-old Shashi has been working with the corporation for over 16 years but still hasn’t been made permanent. She earns the same as Geeta and the rest of the women.
Raju Dumar has spent quarter of his 50 years of life cleaning the streets of Agra Mohalla. He works as a permanent sanitation worker with the corporation and earns 13,000 per month. He too starts his day cleaning the alleys at 5am and is also involved in cleaning septic tanks.

Two women and one male sanitation worker met in Agra Mohalla, Panna, in Buri Sagar division on 21st morning Geeta Mattu, Shashi Balmeek and Raju Dumar, sanitation workers from Agra Mohalla, in Panna district.
Two women sanitation workers – Geeta Mattu (Valmiki) and Sashi Balmeek – were cleaning one of the regular alleys of Agra Mohalla in Panna District where we found a hurt, comatose cow breathing its last near an open garbage point. “It will die in a few hours and will be picked up by the corporation workers who ferry the garbage truck,” said Geeta as she swept past the almost dead cow – which now had dust settling over its body.
Geeta Mattu (Valmiki) (yellow saree) (33 years old) and Shashi Balmeet (pink sweater)
Geeta had to take this job up because of a sudden financial crisis in the family. She hates to do this thankless job of a sanitation worker. “There is hardly any respect in this job. They treat us so badly. It’s such a thankless job.” Geeta, Sashi and a few other women sweep the roads and alleys from 5am to 7am. Then they head on to clean the entire Agra Mohalla from 10am to 1pm. For this they earn up to Rs 7,000. While Geeta is a year-old in this job, Shashi has been working with the corporation for over 16 years but is still not made permanent. This 55-year-old Shashi earns the same as Geeta and rest of the women.
Raju Dumar has spent quarter of his 50 years of life cleaning the streets of Agra Mohalla. He works as a permanent sanitation worker with the corporation and earns 13,000 per month. He, too, starts his day cleaning the alleys at 5am and is also involved in cleaning septic tanks.

Uncounted death and misery

Kirpal Valmik’s 55-year-old widow Mamta quietly swept the ground of the Amanganj bus stand with no gloves or shoes in the thick of winter with the cold biting into her already paining hands and toes. Her composed face barely revealing the amount of poverty and pain she has lived through. Working in two shifts, she now makes Rs 17,000 a month. Mamta became a permanent employee of the municipal corporation after she lost her husband about 27 years ago. She has singlehandedly raised her children and married her two daughters in recent years. Her son, Surendra too works with the corporation as a sweeper.
This is a case of two men, one who died (Kirpal Valmik) and the other who survived (Santosh Valmik), in a septic tank accident which injured four others in 1992 – a time when the work carried out by manual scavengers was not even recognised as a punishable offence. Only a year later, in 1993, The Employment of Manual Scavengers and Construction of Dry Latrines (Prohibition) Act was framed which punished the employment of manual scavengers and construction of dry latrines. This meant that they were neither entitled to any compensation nor was their employment recognised as an offence.
Santosh and his five colleagues were pulled out of the 13-ft septic tank filled with sewage with an iron equipment on that fateful day of 10th July 1992 when they all almost drowned and were badly injured. “I remember the day well enough,” says Santosh shakily as he recalled the incident. “We were told by the owner of the tank that it’s 6-feet deep. However, as we entered, I realised that it had much more depth because of my height which is 6.2 ft. We usually drink before we take a plunge into such tanks in order to help us cope with the smell. However, as we dived in further, we began drowning. Later, we were all rescued from the tank and admitted to the city hospital where we regained our consciousness only after 5-6 days. Kirpal died, while we survived. This incident caused a permanent damage in my eyes and gave me a chronic infection,” he says.
Neither was a FIR registered nor were their statements officially taken as it was “considered” that the workers went by themselves to clean the tank and no one was called. Santosh still works with the corporation as a regular Safai Karmachari, so does his wife and two sons. He wears a jacket to his job to protect him from the cold which has ‘Being Human’ printed on it, ironically enough for the inhuman treatment this job gives him, and the huge price which he has paid for it.

20th December, 2018 Here is a case of two men, one who died (Kirpal Valmik) and the other who survived (Santosh Valmik), in a septic tank accident in 1992 – a time when the work carried out by manual scavengers was not even recognised as a punishable offence. Only a year later, in 1993, The Employment of Manual Scavengers and Construction of Dry Latrines (Prohibition) Act was framed which punished the employment of manual scavengers and construction of dry latrines. This means, they were neither entitled to any compensation nor was their employment recognised as an offence.
Kirpal Valmik : A 55-year-old Mamta Valmiki lost her husband Kirpal while he along with five colleagues were cleaning a 13-ft deep septic tank in 1992. It was a usual morning for Mamta until she came to know about five manual scavengers, including her husband, were injured in a septic tank accident after inhaling toxic gases. However, it was only later when she reached the hospital, her husband succumbed to the injury while the rest four survived. We found Mamta near the Amanganj bus stand around 6am when she was quietly sweeping the ground with no gloves or shoes even with cold biting into her fingers and toes. Her composed face barely revealed the amount of poverty and pain she lived through.
Notwithstanding the weather, Mamta cycles her way to work from Hinauti village and reaches Amanganj bus stand by 5 am in the morning. She mostly cleans the roads, bus stand ground and alleys. She works two shifts 5am to 10am and 2pm to 5pm and earns Rs 17,000 as she is now a permanent employee having joined after she lost her husband about 27 years ago. She singlehandedly raised her children and married her two daughters in recent years. Mamta has a son Surendra who too works with the corporation as a sweeper.
When asked if they received any compensation at all for the death, Mamta says with an eerie poker face but pain in her voice, “We received nothing. I had to struggle my whole life to bring up my children. We are used to this struggle now, one day at a time.” They say change is the only constant, but it not be the same for manual scavengers. For them, it’s the routine life of discrimination, poverty and survival which kills them slowly, one day at a time.
Santosh Valmik : After Mamta’s interview as we proceeded to interview another woman named Rambai who was sweeping the road behind the bus stand, we incidentally bumped into her husband Santosh – a 6.2ft man who was one of the five manual scavengers injured in the same septic tank accident in 1992. He seemed slightly inebriated even in the morning and his feet were wobbly while crossing the same road where he saw us talking to his wife. His towering slender figure almost eclipsed the front view of the road as he approached us with a smile and rubbing his hands. “I have developed this chronic infection since Diwali and am unwell since last few days,” Santosh said showing us his hands which seemed gnarled, tanned and almost blue like a blood clot.
Santosh and his five colleagues were pulled out of the 13-ft septic tank full sewage with iron equipment on that fateful day of 10th July 1992 wherein they all almost drowned and were badly injured. “I remember the day well enough,” said Santosh shakily as he recalled the incident. “We were called a day before cleaning of the tank, which we were told by the owner of the tank RK Singh, as 6 feet. However, as we entered, I realised that it had much more depth because of my height. We usually drink before we take a plunge into such tanks in order to help us cope with the smell. However, as we dived in further, we began drowning. Later we were all rescued from the tank and admitted to the city hospital where we regained our consciousness only after 5-6 days. Kirpal Valmik lost his life, while we survived. This caused a permanent damage in my eyes and had got a chronic infection,” he said.
Neither was an FIR registered nor were their statements officially taken as it was “considered” that the workers went by themselves to clean the tank and no one was called. We met Santosh again after a few hours in his semi-pucca house where his tall frame was resting on his bed, while his daughter was making cow-dung cakes along with his wife. Even in that frail state, he asked them to prepare tea for the visitors. He and his family obliged us with a photograph. Santosh still works with the corporation as a regular safai karmachari and wears a jacket to his job to protect him from cold which has ‘being human’ written on it, ironically enough for the inhuman treatment this job gives him, and the huge price which he has paid for.

Lost in fire: A basti, hope, and dignity

In April last year, the Dom community residing on the outskirts of Thillai Gaon in Hathni Block lost about 9 to 10 houses and most of their cattle in a fire. The cause of the blaze remains unknown. While some believe it was an accidental fire, many think otherwise. There have been recent instances of children from upper caste communities in schools fighting with the Dom children because they think that ‘Doms don’t deserve to be in school’.
The walls of the houses are discoloured and damaged; a layer of hay is spread across for a bed; malnourished children roam around in tattered clothes; elderly men clean wheat obtained from another village. Even as the community seems to be gradually rebuilding their lost homes, they are still trying to live a life that is perennially subjected with humiliation, deprivation, and struggle on a daily basis.
All their identification documents, including ration and Aadhaar cards were lost in the fire which made it difficult for them to avail subsidized ration facilities by the government. The community further claims that they received no compensation despite a survey conducted a couple of months ago.
Almost all the men of the Dom community work alternatively as either manual scavengers or sanitation workers in Sasaram. On cleaning of septic tanks, 23-year-old Sukhadee Dom says, “There are several instances when we fall unconscious while opening the lid of a septic tank which releases toxic fumes. We sit aside for a while and then start working again.” They also make do with whatever is available as part of tools, says Sukhadee, “The employers give us dirty tins and buckets. We don’t even get any gloves or any other gear.”

Tillai gaun – Manual scavengers basti burnt
On April 17, 2018, the Dom community residing on the outskirts of the Thillai gaon in Hathni Block lost about 9 to 10 houses and most of their cattle - mainly pigs and buffaloes - in a fire around 4pm. The cause of the blaze is yet unknown. While some think it was an accidental fire, some think otherwise. There have been recent instances of children from upper caste community in schools fighting with the Dom children because they think that ‘they don’t deserve to be in school’. Although there seemed to be no apparent rivalry, there have been clashes of the parents as well who have caused trouble.
One can still see the discoloured damaged walls of the houses, mud and a few semi pucca houses soaked in abject poverty where they have a layer of hay spread across for a bed and bare minimum clothing to wear and utensils to cook, partially burnt buffalo resting near the road, malnourished children, ailing elderly and men and women hoping that we could give them some job or alternative income. The community is gradually rebuilding their lost homes and trying to live a life that is subjected to humiliation, deprivation and struggle on a daily basis.
A teary-eyed Hariman Dom further explained how huge blaze from one end to the other killed most of their pigs and destroyed homes. The 60-year-old’s mud house was the one which was completely burnt. He had to build the house from scratch. He leg had developed a serious infection on his leg because of the manual scavenging he has been doing for 30 years. “I had also saved Rs 50,000 for my operation and had kept it in a small compartment on the roof. That, too, got burnt into ashes,” he said with a lump in his throat.
The fire even destroyed all their identification documents, including ration cards, Aadhaar cards, etc. which made it difficult for them to avail the ration facilities. The community further claims that they have received no compensation despite a survey which was conducted a couple of months ago.
Almost all the men of Dom community here work alternatively as manual scavengers or sanitation workers at Sasaram or any place where they could get work. While the women look after the house and children. A 23-year-old Sukhadee Dom, along with the other men, usually walks 4 kms back and forth to a site in Sasaram Market around 7am daily where they are picked up for manual labour, cleaning of septic tanks or roads, etc. They work the whole day and return home at 8pm. They get paid Rs 200-300 per day. When asked about the cleaning of septic tanks, Sukhadee described, “Just yesterday we, 5-6 of us, cleaned a septic tank in Sasaram. There are several instances when we fall unconscious as we the open the lid of the tanks. We then sit aside for a while and then start working again.” Explaining further about the tools they use, Sukhadee says, “They (the employers) give us dirty tins and buckets. We don’t get any gloves or any other gear.”
Rajwanti Dom had gone to bring medicines for her children only to return to a burning house. The roof was charred and so were all the family’s belongings and cattle. Thankfully her children escaped any injuries as they were playing outside. “We are struggling to survive ever since. A few authorities took down our names and details in the survey and assured us money, but nothing has happened since then,” Rajwanti said with an extremely painful voice. “In addition to that, we face discrimination on a daily basis. Especially our children. It’s hard to think how it would affect their psychology when they are exposed to such discrimination from this tender age,” Rajwanti says.
Although the cause of fire which gutted most of their houses and cattle is not known, for a community, which has faced injustice, negligence, and discrimination historically, there may be a possibility that the fire was a purposeful act. However, given the lack of evidence and lack of will from the authorities to correct the damage, it is quite evident that there is still a long way to go for this community to get back on its feet.

Marching forward: One book at a time

35-year-old Manju was in hurry when we met her, as her shift at the school where she works as a Safai Karmachari (sweeper/cleaner) was about to start. Manju earns Rs 2,500 per month which she says is a raise from what she used to get earlier.
Manju’s modest house in Ghaziabad’s Farukhnagar was much brighter than the other houses in the vicinity scattered with her 19-year-old daughter, Vidhi’s books.
Vidhi plans to complete her college education and pursue a course in fashion designing. “I want to carry forward my father’s profession,” she says confidently. Her father is a tailor, known as ‘Masterji’ by everyone. Vidhi, who came across as a bright, mature, sensible and confident girl during a chat, admitted to disliking her mother’s profession “This work is menial and insulting. It also brings in a lot of diseases. When I was young, we used to hate it when my mother and grandmother used to work with their bare hands. But now they don’t.”
She says that the caste discrimination in schools exists even today. Once, her upper-caste (Jat) classmate in school had instructed others that no one should talk to Vidhi because she is a Valmiki. To this, she strongly objected and escalated the issue to the school principal who later told the boy to mind his own business. “I told the principal firmly to either rusticate him or me from the school. The principal then punished the boy and left him with a warning,” she says with smile.
Vidhi and her siblings are amongst the most educated children residing in this area and they hope that they’ll be able to set an example for the rest of their community.