The hidden lives of those who protect Mumbai from floods

On the morning of May 24, Rajshri Kale wheeled a tottering handcart to a roadside drain on Prakash Thorat Marg, in Mumbai’s Chembur West. There, her husband stood ankle-deep in dark water, digging out sludge, which he scooped into a metal ghamela, a kind of tub. Rajshri picked up the ghamela, emptied it into her handcart and wheeled it to a heap of garbage nearby, into which she tipped the tub to empty the sludge.

Their three-year-old daughter, who had accompanied them to the worksite, followed Rajshri to and fro on the busy street. When she began to cry, Rajshri fished out a one-rupee coin from the sludge, wiped it clean with her dupatta and handed it to the child, who immediately stopped crying, played with the coin for a few moments, and then put it in her mouth.

Passersby hurried up and down the street. Upon noticing the cleaners at work, many frowned with disgust, and then covered their noses, to block off the stench from the sludge. But Rajshri and her group continued their work. They handled the waste with their bare hands, and wore no boots, gloves or masks, or any other protective equipment. Occasionally, as one lifted wet sludge out of the drain and filled it in a tub, it splashed onto their arms and legs.

The Kale family, who belong to the Pardhi community, had travelled to Mumbai in early April from their village in Maharashtra’s Parbhani district. They were hired to clean the city’s stormwater drains – work that falls under the supervision of the Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation.

Mumbai’s stormwater drainage system is more than 100 years old – its intended functions include preventing flooding in the city. According to the municipal corporation, it stretches across more than 3,000 km, and includes major and minor nallahs, roadside open drains and closed pipe drains. The municipal corporation has a dedicated department to maintain the stormwater drainage system – desilting the drain network is a key duty of the department. The work is carried out in three phases: before monsoons, during monsoons and after monsoons. In preparation for the 2024 monsoons, the municipal corporation has set aside Rs 243 crore for the desilting of major and minor nallahs and the Mithi river.

In what is almost an annual ritual, every monsoon, citizens and politicians criticise the municipal corporation about water-logging and flooding in the city. In 2021, a right-to-information application filed by the Bharatiya Janata Party MLA Ameet Satam revealed that between 2010 and 2020, the municipal corporation had spent Rs 7,000 crore on desilting work. The money went “down the drain”, Satam said, since it didn’t stop waterlogging in the city. Environmentalist Debi Goenka has noted that “Desilting is an annual money-spinning exercise.”

Meanwhile, the struggles of those who carry out this work have received less attention. Every year, over 4,000 workers, mostly belonging to the Pardhi, Wadari and Masan Jogi communities, all of which fall under the category of “nomadic and denotified tribes”, or NT/DNT, travel from Gujarat, Maharashtra, Telangana, and Karnataka and stay at Jai Ambe Nagar, an informal settlement in Chembur West. Social workers estimated that of the entire community at Jai Ambe Nagar, around 80% migrate seasonally, while the remaining stay permanently in Mumbai. The workers at the settlement are hired to desilt stormwater drains in the central and northern parts of the city, around the central suburban railway line.

In 2023, the Jan Haq Sangharsh Samiti, a collective that works on the rights of sanitation workers in Mumbai, released a report about the working conditions of storm water drain cleaners. For their research, they conducted interviews with over 2,000 workers at Jai Ambe Nagar, including in-depth interviews with around 200. The report recorded widespread violations of the workers’ basic human rights. “The workers provide an essential service to the city, but they are forced to work and live in exploitative and degrading conditions, often at risk to their lives,” it noted.

Among the gravest problems pertaining to Mumbai’s drains is the city’s failure to separate its sewers from its stormwater drains, although Section 239 of the Mumbai Municipal Corporation Act of 1888 directs that the two should not be connected. The act states that the commissioner of the municipal corporation should ensure that there “shall be one drain for sullage, excrementitious matter and polluted water” and “an entirely distinct drain for rain water and unpolluted sub-soil water or for both rain-water and unpolluted sub-soil water each emptying into separate municipal drains”.

But scholars and activists have found that sewage regularly enters Mumbai’s rivers and its stormwater drainage system. One paper, which examined Mumbai’s drainage systems after the deluge of November 26, 2005, observed that “the real crux of the poor drainage system in Mumbai is that unlike the city proper, the suburban Mumbai has not yet developed a sound network of under-ground drainage system. The open gutters serve as the outlets for both the sewage and storm water flows.”

This fact is also evident in the municipal corporation’s work tenders. The draft e-tender for the year 2023-’24 on the municipal corporation website states that the, “Tenderer should note that all S.W.D. nallas carry sewage flow throughout the year.”

Workers cleaning stormwater drains, thus, are also technically manual scavengers. “When we first open the drains, the air is so noxious that we have to keep the cover open for half an hour or so to let the fumes dissipate,” said Lala Kale, who lives in Jai Ambe Nagar. “Often, fresh sewage from neighbouring buildings flows into the drain while workers are doing the cleaning. Sometimes workers faint inside the drain while doing this work.”

Vandana Taire, a community leader from Panchsheel Nagar, a few kilometres from Jai Ambe Nagar, noted that contractors encourage workers to drink alcohol so that their senses are deadened. “It helps workers somehow bear the stench of the drains, but it is also dangerous,” said Taire.

The engagement of labourers to clean stormwater drains containing sewage is a violation of the Prohibition of Employment as Manual Scavengers and their Rehabilitation Act, 2013. The act defines a manual scavenger as a person engaged in “manually cleaning, carrying, disposing off, or otherwise handling in any manner human excreta” in a variety of spaces.

The Jan Haq Sangharsh Samiti has demanded that, “all gutters, drains, rivers, and stormwater drains of Mumbai should be declared as sewer lines” and the work performed by the workers should be prohibited along with other forms of manual scavenging laid out in the law. It has made several attempts to hold dialogue with the municipal corporation, but it hasn’t received any response.

On May 21 this year, in response to a complaint by an NGO in Govandi, the National Human Rights Commission issued a show-cause notice to the assistant commissioner of the M East ward, citing violations of the human rights of workers desilting stormwater drains under the Manual Scavengers Act, 2013. The commission asked why the workers should not be provided compensation of Rs 50,000 each. Scroll phoned the assistant commissioner and sent a text message asking if they had responded to the notice – this story will be updated if they reply.

A senior municipal official told Scroll over the phone on condition of anonymity that he was not aware of any violations of the workers’ rights. “We try to insist that labourers are provided with safety gear and other necessary provisions,” he said. “And we penalise the contractors if this is not done.”

Shubham Kothari, co-founder of the Jan Haq Sangharsh Samiti, refused to believe that the municipal corporation was unaware of the dire condition of the workers. “They are aware and unwilling,” he said. “The BMC just doesn’t want to work things out.”

When I asked Chandra Pawar, a worker, if I could take photos of him, he asked me to wait, and went to his bag to extricate a fluorescent orange vest that the municipal corporation supplies to contractors. Then, he returned and gently put the garment on before jumping back into the drain he was cleaning.

I asked him if the vests served any purpose. “It doesn’t really protect us,” he said. “It makes us feel hotter in this heat. But we’ve been told to wear them while doing this work.” He then took off the vest, and resumed his work.

All the workers I observed on the ground wore flimsy sandals or flip flops while working. “No worker is provided with any safe gear,” noted the Jan Haq Sangharsh Samiti report. “Only a poor quality jacket and ineffective shoes and gloves are provided to them.”

Taire noted, “At times, workers are provided gum boots and reflective jackets when the BMC sahebs come for checks, but these are taken back the next day.”

As the day progressed at Prakash Thorat Marg, one of the workers began developing hives on her hands, but she continued working. “Workers routinely get cuts or rashes and develop skin infections while doing this work,” said Ambar Kade, a leader of the group. He asked a young labourer to show me his back, which had been covered in rashes for days. “We are forced to keep working despite these problems,” Kade said.

The Jan Haq Sangharsh Samiti has also flagged this problem. “Due to the lack of safety measures provided for the workers, the contractual labourers have wounds on their arms and legs and are prone to bites by snakes and other poisonous animals,” the organisation noted. Indeed, workers told me that they encounter rats, snakes, scorpions, and other pests while working. On May 24, I observed fat bandicoots emerge from the drains at Prakash Thorat Marg. Though they normally keep a distance from humans, these drew quite close to the workers standing in the drains, who then shooed them away.

Despite facing these immense risks, the workers receive no support to cover medical expenses from the municipal corporation because they have no contracts with the body. “The BMC has foregone all its responsibilities to the workers by giving out tenders to contractors for this work,” said Kothari. He added that most workers who visit hospitals on their own for work-related injuries are turned away by hospital staff.

Workers said contractors take no responsibility for their health either and did not provide workers with any insurance or support with medical expenses. Nor did they accept any liabilities for injuries or accidents. This despite the fact that according to the rules of a draft e-tender on the municipal corporation website, the responsibility for all injuries and deaths lies with contractors. Further, the draft contract notes, “the tenderer has to check the health of all the labourers employed by him at every fortnight and take precautionary measures and treatment as per the advice of the Medical Officer. If record is not maintained by the Contractor, penalty of Rs 1000 per labour will be imposed.” Kothari explained that workers were unaware of such rules, and how to ensure their implementation.

“While some seek medical treatment, many treat themselves at home using traditional medicine,” said Bhavani Karmichi a worker in her fifties from the Masan Jogi community who lives in Jai Ambe Nagar. In late April, Karmichi cut her foot while collecting waste from a stormwater drain. Kavita Kale, a community member, showed me photos on her mobile phone of the bottom of Karmichi’s foot, with a deep and bloody gash. “I cannot afford doctors, so I made a paste using herbs and healed the injury at home,” said Karmichi.

In some instances, injuries force workers to stop work and leave the city. On May 12, Rajaram Pawar was working at a drain at Saki Naka, when its cover fell on his foot. He was rushed to a hospital, where he received several stitches. Afterwards, his foot did not heal properly, forcing him to return to his village in Parbhani, where he had more of a support system, and could undergo a surgery. “The supervisors refused to help with the expenses, I had to arrange funds from the community, I spent almost 50,000 rupees for treatment,” he told Scroll over the phone.

On the morning of May 24, at Prakash Thorat Marg, Balu Kale, a man in his mid-twenties, was given the dangerous task of cleaning the drain area adjacent to an electric box, from which a cable ran through the drain. At first, Balu refused to get into the water, saying it was too dangerous. Balu’s fears are not unfounded. In 2023, a sanitation worker died by electrocution while cleaning a drain in the city’s Kalina area.

But after a few minutes, a supervisor arrived at the site and yelled at him, forcing him to enter the drain. In a show of support, Ambar, the group’s leader, also got into the murky water and began shovelling the sludge out. “Look at the conditions we must work in,” Kale asked out loud. “What will happen if I get electrocuted and die? Will my family be compensated?”

The Jan Haq Sangharsh Samiti report suggests that the likelihood of compensation in such instances is low. It notes that in 2022 alone, the city saw five deaths of storm drain workers in the course of desilting work. In only one of these cases did the workers’ family receive some compensation from the contractor. Kothari told Scroll that the organisation had tracked five deaths in 2023, and four so far in 2024.

It isn’t only workers who face unsafe conditions, but also their children. Like Rajshri, Aarti Kale, a young woman worker, had also brought her child, a baby daughter, with her to the Prakash Thorat Marg work site. Once there, she hung her in a makeshift sling fashioned from a dupatta. Midway through her work, she took a quick break from emptying silt her husband shovelled out and took cover behind other women workers on the crowded street to breastfeed her baby.

Like Aarti, most workers who are parents have no choice but to carry their infants to the sites, since they stay out from around 8 am to 4 or 5 pm. At the sites, since both parents are busy, children typically sit around on top of drain slabs or on the streets.

Sakubai Kale, who is in her early forties, is a muqqadam, or community leader, in Jai Ambe Nagar. She recounted that she herself began cleaning Mumbai’s storm drains before she was an adult. “I remember when I was 16 years old, we were made to clean open drains in Dharavi for thirty rupees,” she said. “Not much has changed for us in all these years.”

About seven years ago, as a working mother, her life was visited by unthinkable tragedy. One day, she and her husband, Lala Kale, were cleaning a drain in the Vidya Vihar area. Their son Vishnu, who was around ten years old, had accompanied them to the site. Vishnu saw some fish inside a drain, grew fascinated and put his hand insiden. When he did, he fell inside the drain and was electrocuted by a live wire. Sakubai rushed him to the hospital, but he was already dead by the time they arrived. Vishnu is survived by four siblings.

Stormwater drain cleaners are not directly employed by the municipal corporation. Rather, they are hired through a contract system that comprises multiple levels of sub-contractors. These sub-contractors, the Jan Haq Sangharsh Samiti noted, do not sign contracts with the workers, and instead hire them through oral agreements.

Under this informal system, according to the Jan Haq Sangharsh Samiti, wages, which are usually to be paid weekly, are often delayed – in many cases workers are paid less than the amount they were promised.

Sakubai, who helps workers secure stormwater drain cleaning work, noted that this year too, contractors did not make payments regularly. As a result, though workers normally stay until June, by late May, many workers under her had left for their villages. She explained that she would have to send wages to their bank accounts, after she received them from the contractors.

Typically, a husband and wife team up, and earn around Rs 800 for eight hours of work – Rs 450 for a man and Rs 350 for a woman. “There are up to four levels of sub-contractors who oversee the drain cleaning work,” said Taire, who has also worked as a muqaddam. She explained, “The original sum of money kept aside for a pair is about Rs 2,500, but as it goes through multiple hands which receive cuts, by the time it reaches the workers it comes down to Rs 700-800 for a pair.”

This amounts to around 40% less per worker than the daily minimum wage of Rs 671, which is to be paid to workers categorised as “sweepers and scavengers” under Maharashtra law.

The low wages trap workers in a cycle of poverty that propagates centuries-long patterns of oppression. The Jan Haq Sangharsh Samiti press note on its report states that between 80% and 90% of the contractors are from upper-caste groups, while the workers are from Vimukta, Buddhist, Dalit, and Adivasi communities. The oppressive and exploitative dynamics of the working relationships have once again “revived the caste-based order in villages”, it observes.

Many of the workers’ parents had done the same work, as had their grandparents, explained Shalubai Kale, a worker in her late forties. The Jan Haq Sangharsh Samiti found that in many instances, children who had been educated were forced to do the same work because their families remained poor, and they had no other opportunities available to them. The collective has demanded a scheme that would provide “scholarships, trainings and jobs to the children of these workers”.

Members of Nomadic Tribes/Denotified Tribe groups, particularly the Pardhi community, often carry out this work because they still face criminalisation, said Shaileshkumar Darokar, chairperson of the Centre of Study of Social Exclusion and Inclusive Policies at the Tata Institute of Social Sciences, Mumbai. “Pardhis are hunted people in rural areas, they are always treated with stigma and forced to live on the outskirts of villages,” Darokar said. “They come to cities to live with dignity, but they become victims of informalisation of labour in the city.”

As a result of a deep-set “desensitisation”, there was a lack of political will in society to address the problem, Darokar argued. “The present conditions of sanitation workers are deeply entrenched with class and caste,” he said. “The law must be implemented in letter and spirit, but there seem to be challenges in that, and nor do we see any hue and cry about it even in civil society. The administration should be sensitive to the basic rights of such workers and should ensure justice for them.”

At one site a few kilometres away from Prakash Thorat Marg, close to the Tilak Nagar station, workers had to jump into drains that were more than ten feet deep. This was not an uncommon situation – according to the Jan Haq Sangharsh Samiti survey, drains ranged from three to 35 feet in depth. At the site, neither the municipal corporation nor their contractor had provided workers with ladders to enter the drains – one worker had carried a makeshift ladder, but it was broken and was left unused on the footpath.

As the younger men in the group jumped into the drain, Dipak Kale and his wife Kalindi, both in their fifties, and considerably older than the rest of the group, sat on the footpath staring at the drain anxiously. “I can jump down into the drain, but I’m not sure that I will be able to pull myself up,” Dipak said. Kalindi explained that this was their first time in Mumbai. “There is no work in our village in Parbhani, so we decided to come to the city,” she said. “It is hard work, and we are not given any amenities.”

As the sun beat down, I asked the workers if they were drinking enough water. “We carry some water with us from home in the morning, after that we go to the bastis near our work sites and ask people to share water,” said another worker Shantibai Kale. “Recently, my husband was given dirty water to drink, which made him sick.” The contractor’s failure to provide workers with water was a violation of the terms of municipal corporation’s e-tender, which states, “The Contractor shall make his own arrangements for drinking water for the labour employed by him.” Kavita Kale said, “We never receive water from the contractors, people have to fend for themselves.”

Workers also face risks as a result of working in extreme heat – especially at unsheltered sites such as the one near Tilak Nagar station. “With climate change, the temperature has only risen,” Kothari said. “Many workers spend the day with half their bodies submerged in water and the other half under the harsh sun. It is bound to make them fall ill.”

After finishing work under the glaring midday sun, Bhavani Karmichi walked along with other workers to another site nearby to be desilted. This site had some shade from an adjacent flyover. The workers sighed in relief and sat down to eat lunch. When Karmichi asked what they needed to do next, workers pointed to a manhole in the middle of the lane next to the flyover, which appeared to open into a deep drain. “We haven’t been made to clean such deep drains before,” she said, dismayed. “Do they want us to die cleaning these drains?”

Despite Karmichi’s protests, representatives of the contractor arrived at the site and barked instructions to the workers. Once the drains had been cut open using a welding machine, workers were lowered into the drain by peers, who held them by their arms.

No barriers were put in place to prevent vehicles from entering the lane, leaving workers exposed to grave risks from traffic. In June 2023, a sanitation worker in the suburb of Kandivali was emerging from a manhole when a car mowed him down. The worksite had not been barricaded. After fighting for his life in the hospital, the worker died ten days later.

“Stop the big vehicles from coming through,” one supervisor said to the workers. “If the smaller ones don’t stop, then let them come and get stuck inside the drain.”