Manikandan, 42, of Pulianthope, a neighbourhood in Chennai, first went down a sewer hole over 10 years ago. His job stank then, it stinks even now. He has since been unclogging such holes, cleaning septic tanks and clearing night soil. All of it for the Rs 400 (Rs 500 on better days) that he is paid in a day. Grinding poverty and caste discrimination are among the factors that tether him and those like him to the unhygenic and life-threatening labour even now.
For the contractors who employ workers like Manikandan, safety is the least of their priorities. As a result, though the law mandates it, Manikandan has not for once seen the gears that will ensure his safety while he goes down a sewer hole. Helpless, he battles skin and eye irritation, doing the thankless job in a state that has recorded the highest number of manual scavenging deaths in the country.
The World Health Organisation describes sanitation workers as some of the most "invisible, unquantified, neglected and ostracised" people. Manikandan's family was in the dark about the nature of the work he was engaged in for almost two years until one day mediapersons started landing at his house to interview him. Speaking about the reaction of his family, he says, "Avanga kannula irundhu thanni vandirchu (their eyes welled up with tears)."
Manikandan was not always involved in servicing sewers. In 2011, he was engaged by the Chennai Corporation as a headload worker on a contractual basis after his mother shelled out a bribe to an MLA.
His mother passed away a few years ago. He is still to pay off that loan.
Later, in 2013, the Corporation sent Manikandan and nine others to clear waste at a slaughterhouse in Pulianthope. They worked there for around a year and a half before they chose to quit when a doctor from the government health department warned them about how the work made them vulnerable to asthma and skin diseases.
Some months later, a Chennai Corporation sanitation work contractor, Loganathan offered them a job. Mani alleged that Loganathan had hired them to work under a private contractor --- none other than Usha Mary, his wife. They were asked to unclog the sewers and drains at the Tamil Nadu Slum Clearance Board (storied tenements meant for rehabilitating urban slum dwellers) at KP Park in Pulianthope. Manikandan went on to work at the Kalyanapuram Housing Board, MS Nagar Housing Board, and PK Colony Housing Board for over two years.
He was later sent to work in the Vysarpadi area. Here, Manikandan and his co-workers were directed to enter sewer holes and manually clear the blockages. They were also called up whenever issues cropped up at Malligaipoo Colony, Udhayasuriyan Nagar, and MGR Nagar. Mani recalled that on many occasions when he and the men were working, garbage and used sanitary pads flung by the residents of the housing board flats would fall on them.
It was through a social activist that Manikandan and others came to know about the Safai Karmachari Andolan, a movement that aims to eradicate manual scavenging in the country. With the Andolan's efforts, Mani and two other co-workers were issued government identity cards, which accorded them some legitimacy. Mani and a couple of others received the compensation amount of Rs 40,000. Meanwhile, seven others were pressurized and threatened to sign an agreement falsely stating they did not engage in manual scavenging.
Once, when Manikandan was involved in clearing drains in Udhayasuriyan Nagar in the wake of the devastating Cyclone Vardah in 2016, a few college students visiting the area for a college project captured him working, on their video camera. Loganathan, who happened to arrive at that spot, blamed Mani for letting it happen, accusing him of having called the students to the spot. He went on to fire him. Mani felt he had been targeted for having secured an identity card.
Following that incident, Mani was jobless for around four years. It was his wife, a domestic worker, who helped make ends meet during that time. She earns around Rs 6,000 every month. "Avanga vela paakura veetula irundhu kondu vara roti thaan naanga elaarum saaptom (We eat the rotis she brings from her employer's home)," he says. As their financial woes began to mount, three of their daughters studying in convents were shifted to government schools. During the COVID-19 lockdown, he being out of a job could not provide his children with a smartphone for their online classes.
In 2021, Loganathan called Mani back. But Mani says he was not paid the fixed daily wage of Rs 750 per day but only Rs 500, and at times, only Rs 400 per day. On top of that, he alleged that Loganathan also verbally abused him. Frustrated, Mani sent several representations to the Tamil Nadu Chief Minister MK Stalin seeking a government job.
An article on Mani's plight was published in The Times of India in August following which Metro Water officials had reportedly made enquiries about him. A day after we visited Mani, he was suddenly asked to work in far-off Adyar. However, he tells us, "I'm yet to receive a call assigning me any work in Adyar or elsewhere."
When The New Indian Express Online spoke to the Assistant Engineer of Vysarpadi division at the Tamil Nadu Urban Habitat Development Board (TNUHDB) Gowthaman, he claimed that Mani used to work with the Chennai Corporation in the past on a contractual basis but denied that he was still employed with them.
Sudalai Muthu, Executive Engineer, Vysarpadi division, TNUHDB, stated that no transfer of the kind Mani mentioned usually happens in their department and that sanitation workers only interact with the contractor who hired them. He added that only if there was an issue with the concerned worker would the contractor have shifted him to another area.
The official also claimed that the Chennai Metropolitan Water Supply and Sewerage Board (CMSSWB) did not make workers engage in manual scavenging work and that they use machines to clear blockages in manholes. He added that they employ labourers only if it is a small, one-foot-deep manhole.
When The New Indian Express Online visited Mani at his home, we noticed a stack of suitcases taking up most of the space in his cramped living quarters. They contained clothes and a few belongings of his wife and four young daughters, aged 24, 23, 20, and 12. They are presently living in a state of limbo, he says, as the family could be asked to vacate at any given point in time as his house rent is overdue.
"We have not been able to pay rent for six months. My children wear old dresses and don't even have proper slippers," Mani rues.
One of his older daughters was training to be a lab technician but as Mani was unable to pay her fees, she had to drop out. Another daughter, who was enrolled in a BBA course, too had to leave her studies midway. His third daughter is a state-level boxer.
The endless state of uncertainty has seeped into other aspects of Mani's life as well. He has been desperately waiting for a decade now to get a permanent job.
Mani oscillates between diverse emotions over his plight. He is exasperated over not receiving safety gear for his work but is also afraid his higher-ups would let him off work again if he requested for it. He is also triggered by the news of the deaths of those involved in manual scavenging and sewer servicing.
Recalling the death by suicide of his colleague Kathiravan in 2017, Mani says that the latter was suffering from a splitting headache after inhaling toxic gases in a manhole. He was admitted to a hospital and was also treated at a psychiatric facility but even after being discharged, his condition did not get better. In agony, Kathiravan took his own life.
Mani also tells us of people reluctant to give sanitation workers a glass of water or a bucket to fetch water for their bath after they have finished work. He justifies, "Bayam irukkom la, avangala thappu solla koodathu..edavdhu infection vandudhomnnu bayapaduvaanga. Engaldhu abayagaramana velai." (Of course, they will be afraid. We can't blame them… They must be worried about catching an infection. Ours is dangerous work.)
However, he also asserts with awareness, "Oru manidhan manidhanoda malatha kai aala eduthu vela seiya koodathu." (No man should be asked to clear another human being's excreta for a living).
Mani went on to open a big grey suitcase bursting with wads of paper. It has newspaper clippings featuring him and his story and countless letters he has written to Ministries over the years requesting the government to regularise his job and provide safety gear for workers like him.
"Unga report publish aanaprom edhavadhu help kedakkuma? (Will your report at least get me help?)" Mani asks as we leave, the sliver of hope in his voice belying the despair in his eyes.
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