GENERATIONAL

Contributor: Divas Vats

Five men, at the corner of the lane in the western district of Balangir in Orrisa, were playing cards. Ashish, an activist from Balangir who helped me navigate through the basti, sparked a conversation. He knew two men from the group already.

Hindi, though foreign, is still understood by large chunks of the population. It was my discovery to the first ever benefit of a Hindi soap opera. But, why do they need to know Hindi in the first place? The people here are good to go, in their native language – Oriya. Nevertheless, to break the ice, I shared my name, asked theirs and told a little about where I am coming from. In a first, I felt the element of dignity here, you’ve already been told that the people we’re meeting engage in manual scavenging but, it’s difficult to strike the first conversation on the subject, itself. Their eyes tell you that they aren’t proud of their occupation.

                                           

कहाँ काम करते हैं ?

कॉलेज में, राजेंदर कॉलेज में ।

अच्छा, ये सफाई का काम ?

हाँ

सफाई में क्या ?

वही लैट्रिन टॉयलेट साफ़ करना, नाली ड्रेनेज वगैरह ।

Both, Aadesh and Raidhar, 34 and 50 years old respectively are into manual scavenging for 13 and 28-30 years now. Their parents were manual scavengers too. Their mother cleaned the dry latrines in the neighboring villages what now has become a city with concrete roads, they recall. It is an occupation, their forefathers were into. Upon asking, of how much thought did they give on choosing the occupation, I was, in the next moment, struck by a self – realization – to ask them why they do and how it began, what they have been doing all these years and to further boast the act and its specific prohibition would be stupid of oneself.

I felt puzzled and left the origin of their work – lives mid-way and switched to the future. Aadesh has a son and Raidhar, two sons and a daughter. Aadesh speaks about educating his son, with an apparent lack of confidence having no clue, how to go about it, howsoever he may feel, education could make his son’s life better than his own. He is five years old already and hasn’t initiated school.

Raidhar’s daughter got married a decade ago in the same locality. His younger son works in the Municipal Corporation, an elder in a hospital, he says, with somewhat ease. Much difficult, it is for him to communicate his son – in – law’s profession. He says, with apparent discomfort, about his employment in an ayurvedic hospital. I was prompt to ask, in housekeeping? assuming a step of progression, to which Aadesh intervenes, Nahin, ‘Safai ka Kaam’.

I was standing in front of two human beings whose generations – past and future were involved in manual scavenging. Their current income – per month do not exceed four thousand rupees. Aadesh tells, his salary is only three thousand, he began with four hundred rupees thirteen years ago in the same college but he adds up another thousand, by working independently with Raidhar whom he applauded as the septic – tank expert in the town, people come to him from far off localities in the city and often wait – for days, if he’s gone to another city for a wedding or the likes.

All of a sudden, I’m reminded to ask the impact of demonetization on their lives. Wilson forwarded us an email to locate non – metropolitan stories of struggle due to the banning of 500 and 1000 rupees notes. They had no issue, rather they were completely unaffected. Noticing wonder, on my face, Aadesh speaks up, “Paise honge to na bank jayenge”, khate hain – Jan Dhan wale par khali. I ask them, what is it, belonging to the non – safai work they’d be willing to do, in an event of an opportunity. I emphasized on the question thrice to locate the priority list. It simply doesn’t exist. In fact, they have never given it a thought. The job they have ‘found’ for themselves were inherited and given. The choice is a narrative they aren’t exposed to. However, they clearly concede an urge to try something else – and better. What would be the reason for not doing it if we find something decent which supports our living too? Raidhar quips.

On my fourth day in Orrisa, I noticed a universal scenario from Bhubaneswar, the capital to the west in the district of Balangir where I met Aadesh and Raidhar. None, not one individual wants to carry on with manual scavenging. The work is dirty, spreads vernacular diseases, their occupation makes them untouchable and unacceptable in society, their children are discriminated in school, alcoholism – which comes attached with the occupation is destroying their families, authorities do not respond to them and the core where it all comes from; they do not have a voice.I wonder, what has failed them so terribly in an institutional manner? A country with no dignity; to offer it to people who have been cleaning it for generations to make it more respectable and dignified? A cycle which seems almost impossible to break, shackles that keep you intact, a system that doesn’t respond, growth and development are only words.

I’ve nothing that I can tell Aadesh or Raidhar that makes their lives better. Even, anything for their children other than one or two government schemes which can get them a handful of compensation unlikely, to make any significant long term impact. Because you try to find a remedy when an individual or an organization fails you, what if the entire country in sight makes them unheard and unseen?