It was long before this book, “Adrishya Bharat” could move
from my huge pile of “To read” books to the “Read” shelf. I had received it as
a gift in my first year of college and I was expecting that maybe, it wouldn’t
be socially relevant after all this time but going through the book and a
little homework afterwards proved to be a rude awakening.
This book, put together by Bhasha Singh, documents the
journey she undertook through India during the period of 2005 -2011, bringing
to the fore the lives of manual scavengers and how the practice of manual
scavenging still thrived, years after The Employment of Manual Scavengers and
Construction of Dry Latrines (Prohibition) Act, 1993 was enacted.
The common thread that runs through the book is the
description of the inhuman practice of a person carrying human excreta on her
head, hence dehumanising her. I specifically use the pronoun ‘her’ because it
is observed that apart from the fact that this profession is reserved for
people belonging to the lower rungs in the caste hierarchy, there is also the
feminisation of it, that is, it is mostly assigned to be executed by women.
As if the work they carry out was not demeaning and
dehumanising enough, they are identified solely by their profession and not
their names. In fact, authorities at different levels categorically deny the
existence of manual scavengers and manual scavenging, claiming that they all
have been rehabilitated. Their efforts are directed more towards covering up
than working towards the alleviation of people. Called by different names in
different parts of the country, manual scavengers are destined to the same fate
– oblivion.
The nature of work takes away their chance to a healthy
life whereas the social stigma attached to the work, the discrimination faced
by the workers snatches away their right to a dignified life. These workers try
their best to keep their children from inheriting the profession, trying to
educate them but the venom of stigma seeps into the lives of children too.
Instances of these children being asked to do odd cleaning jobs at school is
common place. They are also discriminated against by other children belonging
to other strata of the society. The instances mentioned in the book also
reminded me of similar accounts of discrimination I came across while reading
Daya Pawar’s autobiography ‘Baluta’. The burden of being born in the lower rung
of the society is shouldered by the person throughout his/her life and it
pervades through all spheres of the person’s life.
The plight of manual scavengers is aggravated by the fact
that they are deeply socially conditioned to accept the work of manual
scavenging as their work, they accept it as their lot and are unwilling to
leave the pits. They believe that it has always been their source of livelihood
and has nourished their families; hence they have an obligation to carry it
forward and are committed to the work. They like the certainty of their present
and believe that the very system that oppresses them would come to their rescue
in troubled times. This blind faith in the system is not unfounded as the
opportunities for alternative employment are slim.
The laws are in place, without sufficient teeth but with
plenty of loopholes, which end up prosecuting the already oppressed workers
instead of correcting the wrong.
The bright spot in this grim reality is that in many
regions, the manual scavengers have joined hands to form organisations and
political participation is opening a window of freedom for them.
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Jumping to the present, we see a new found enthusiasm regarding
cleanliness, thanks to the Swachh Bharat Abhiyan. So much so that it has found
its way to our new currency too. It is peculiar that the burden of uncleanliness
and consequently, cleanliness is pushed on the households. The environmental
pollution and degradation caused by industries has been totally neglected. The
Cleanliness Survey, or the Swachh Sarvekshan lists elimination of manual
scavenging as their aim, but that’s about it. The surveys don’t discuss the
status of manual scavenging or make it a criterion to rank the areas. The M.S.
Act 2013 has been in force for some time now, but hardly any prosecution has
been held under it. The practice of manual scavenging continues, in some places
under the euphemism of “conservancy work”. Deaths of workers going down in
sewers are not a thing of the past and the responsibility for such events is
shrugged off as quickly as possible. Compensations are meagre or none. The
Indian railway continues to be the largest employer of manual scavengers,
though I’m sure they must have their own jargon for it. Wherever the workplace
might be, these workers more often than not work without any protective gear.
We, as a country, swing between denial of the existence of this draconian
practice and reinforcing it. On one hand, screening of the documentary Kakkoos, which captures the lives of
manual scavengers, was prohibited in Madurai and on the other hand, a minister
from Karnataka put forth the proposal to legalise manual scavenging for “emergency
purposes”!
They say a picture tells a story worth a thousand words. I
came across this photo essay by Sudharak Owle, capturing the hell the “conservancy
workers” go through on a daily basis and I believe I shouldn’t be alone in witnessing
this harrowing reality and the guilt for the persistence of this practice
should be collective, so here is the link to it: http://www.galli.in/2013/10/search-dignity-justice-sudharak-olwe.html
There are people and organisations fighting this practice
with all their might and working for the rehabilitation for the workers, Bezwada
Wilson, the recent recipient of Magsaysay Award and convener of the Safai
Karamchari Andolan being one of the prominent ones. Wilson points out that,
more than availability for alternate jobs and construction of toilets, there is
a need for a shift in the attitudes.
I hope when the thesis and anti-thesis collide, there will
be a resultant synthesis. Maybe there is hope for a better future, for a life
of dignity for the manual scavengers. Maybe.
