Saturday, March 28, 2026

 

‘Don’t Kill Us’: Unheard Voices of India's Manual Scavengers, Sanitation Workers



Firaaq 




In a recent protest action in Delhi, Bezwada Wilson of SKA accused the government of hiding sewer death figures, stating that 41 workers had died in 2026 alone so far.

New Delhi: "Don't kill us." These lines were written on dark blue bands tied around the heads of every protester in Delhi’s Jantar Mantar on March 25. They became the collective voice of hundreds of people—most of them family members of those who died due to manual scavenging, a practice that is not only inhumane but also “illegal” under Indian law, yet continues to exist in India today.

On March 16, during the Budget Session of Parliament, in response to a question by Samajwadi Party MP Iqra Hasan to the Ministry of Social Justice and Empowerment regarding sewer deaths and rehabilitation of manual scavengers, the Union government reported that 622 sanitation workers had died in sewers and septic tanks in India over the past nine years.

In response to these numbers, organisations working on the ground on issues of manual scavenging and workers’ rights alleged that the Union government was hiding the actual figures. Safai Karamchari Andolan (SKA), led by human rights activist Bezwada Wilson, issued a press release on March 24, stating that 41 sanitation workers had died in 2026 alone so far, accusing the government of concealing the truth. The organisation gave a call for a protest at Jantar Mantar.

Sanitation workers or safai karamcharis, activists from 10 states, and family members of workers who died in sewers and septic tanks joined the protest in large numbers.

One of the protesters, Mangal, a resident of Delhi, shared how his father died in a septic tank in 2015, when he was just 18 years old. “My father, Ramkripal, was only 45 years old when he died because of manual scavenging”, he said. Life became extremely difficult for Mangal and his family after that. His mother died two years later due to hypertension and blood pressure issues.

As the eldest child, Mangal had to stop his education and start working to feed his six siblings. “I worked as a labourer, as a waiter, and now I currently work with Zepto,” he said. Mangal shared how his family received no support from the government, and that it was only later that activists from SKA reached out to him and offered solidarity.

He did not lose hope. He came to the protest not only because his father was a victim of an exploitative and casteist system, but also for sanitation workers who are still struggling for basic human rights—the rights his father never received during his lifetime.

Subhash, a member of SKA from Ludhiana, Punjab, shared how the Aam Aadmi Party government had earlier regularised sanitation workers in the city, and their salaries were paid by the municipal corporation. However, last year, the Municipal Corporation of Ludhiana handed over sanitation work to a private company. Since then, approximately 3,500 sanitation workers have become contractual workers, earning a minimum monthly wage of ₹10,000–12,000.

Subash also shared how one sanitation worker was removed from his job without being paid his salary dues.

Another worker, Vishal from Ludhiana, spoke about being forced into unpaid overtime. “There are no fixed timings. Sometimes I have to go to work as early as 6 a.m., and other times as late as 10 or 11 p.m.,” he said, adding, “I don’t get any safety equipment. The government promised machines, but it never happened.” When asked about holidays, Vishal said, “Technically I get Saturdays and Sundays off, but most of the time I am still asked to work on Sundays.”

Maangne se haq bhala kisko mila hai? Cheen lo haq agar honsla hai,” (You have to snatch your rights, pleading for rights has never worked)  one of the protesters recited these lines, reflecting their anger at the indifference of the Indian government and the failure of the State to recognise the existence of manual scavengers.

The National Commission for Safai Karamcharis received 842 complaints in 2025 regarding serious issues such as non-payment of wages, denial of safety equipment, and caste-based discrimination.

The irony writes itself. While sanitation workers were protesting in the national capital for a dignified life and against the systemic killing of workers, just 440 km away in Kanpur, two sanitation workers lost their lives in a septic tank.

The anger over denial and neglect was also expressed by the protesters in a memorandum issued to the Prime Minister by SKA: “On 19 March, the Ministry of Social Justice and Empowerment once again made the shocking and callous claim that there are no deaths due to manual scavenging. This is not just a denial—it is a deliberate erasure of our lives.”

The memorandum further raised the issue of the government allegedly hiding the actual number of deaths. It stated: “In 2023, Safai Karamchari Andolan documented 102 deaths; the minister reported only 65 to Parliament. In 2024, we recorded 116 deaths, but the official figure dropped to 54. In 2025, SKA recorded 121 deaths, but the ministry reduced the number to a mere 46. This year, in less than three months, 41 persons have already been killed inside sewers and septic tanks.”

The Indian government claims that India is now the third-largest economy in the world and is moving toward achieving the dream of “Viksit Bharat” (Developed India). But the most crucial question remains: whose India?

Will workers like Ramkripal, and the thousands of sanitation workers who died while cleaning the sewage of this country—workers whose existence the State has refused to fully recognise—be a part of this “Viksit” India?

In a country like India, where people are forced to protest not for special rights but for the basic right to a dignified life, where they must urge the government, “Don’t kill us,” society must pause and reflect.

Before moving toward a “Viksit Bharat,” perhaps we must first strive for a dignified India—an India where people are not forced to risk their lives just to feed their loved ones; an India where no one has to plead with the state to simply stay alive; and, most importantly, an India where people are not reduced to forgotten numbers, but are recognised as citizens who live with dignity.

Firaaq is a Delhi-based independent journalist and former scholar of human rights from the University of Punjab. He has worked with the Hindi language weekly, Nutan Charcha.

Additional field work by Mouli Sharma, a Delhi-based independent journalist.

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