SOCIOLOGY PROJECT – SEMESTER II

PROJECT TOPIC – INVISIBLE YET ESSENTIAL: A SOCIOLOGICAL

STUDY OF SANITATION WORKERS AND URBAN CASTE DYNAMICS
IN INDIA

FINAL DRAFT

SUBMITTED TO: PROF. SHRADDHA GAIKWAD

SUBMITTED ON:

NAME: DAKSH GULHANE

SECTION: A

ENROLLMENT NO: 2024 027

COURSE: B.A.L.L.B (HONS.)

Introduction

Before the city stirs awake, a lone worker in Mumbai descends into a clogged sewer, armed with
nothing but a bucket and an iron rod. In another neighborhood, a woman draped in a faded sari
sweeps the streets in the blue predawn light, her presence barely noticed by the people who will
soon walk on the spotless road. These silent figures are the sanitation workers – the invisible yet
essential backbone of urban India’s daily life. They toil in hazardous conditions to keep cities
clean, yet remain on the fringes of society, often overlooked or shunned.

Despite decades of social progress, sanitation workers in India (overwhelmingly drawn from
historically oppressed castes) continue to face severe challenges. This project examines their
situation through a sociological lens, balancing academic analysis with personal narratives. It
looks at the historical roots that confined certain castes to sanitation labor, the current realities
in urban India, and the interplay of caste, class, and stigma that perpetuates this occupational
segregation. We review the legal framework and government initiatives aimed at addressing
the issue and illustrate the human impact through real and fictional case studies. Finally, we
discuss sociological perspectives on why change has been slow and offer recommendations for
breaking this cycle of invisibility and indignity.

By looking at sanitation workers both as victims of systemic inequality and as individuals with
agency and aspirations, we aim to shed light on why those who perform society’s dirtiest jobs
have remained socially invisible – and what it will take to acknowledge and empower them.

Historical Context of Caste and Sanitation Work

To understand why sanitation work in India is so closely tied to caste, one must look to history.
The caste system – a rigid social hierarchy that has organized Indian society for over two
millennia – traditionally assigned occupations by birth. Those born into so-called “lower” castes
were relegated to tasks deemed impure or polluting by the orthodox Hindu social order. Chief
among these tasks was the cleaning of human waste. Handling human excrement or animal
carcasses was considered highly defiling, and the people burdened with this work were placed at
the very bottom of the hierarchy, essentially outside the varna (caste) system. They were labeled
“untouchables,” because others believed that merely touching them (or even their shadow) would
cause ritual impurity. This religious-cultural belief laid the groundwork for centuries of
exploitation: sanitation labor became a hereditary fate for certain communities. Over generations,
specific Dalit sub-castes – known by names like Bhangi, Chura, or Valmiki in different regions
– were forced to work as sweepers and scavengers. They lived segregated from the rest of
society, often in shanties at the edge of villages or towns, performing essential cleaning functions
yet treated as social outcasts.

Under British colonial rule, these patterns persisted and were even codified in new ways. The
British needed orderly cities and functioning cantonments, which required a sanitation
workforce. They largely recruited from the same traditional “sweeper” castes to do the jobs of
sweeping streets, cleaning latrines, and disposing of refuse. Municipal authorities provided
minimal wages and segregated housing (so-called “sweeper colonies”) for these workers, doing
little to challenge the caste hierarchy. By the early 20th century, an entrenched system was in
place: upper castes and classes avoided all sanitary labor, while Dalit communities were
effectively restricted to it. It was not uncommon to see Dalit women in towns carrying baskets
of night soil (human waste) on their heads – collecting excrement from homes that lacked flush
toilets – as an everyday, expected sight.

In the early 20th century, reformers tried to change this. Mahatma Gandhi advocated for the
“dignity of labor” and urged upper castes to do cleaning work themselves, while Dr. B.R.
Ambedkar demanded the complete abolition of the caste system and pushed for legal
safeguards. Their efforts led to untouchability being outlawed in the Constitution of independent
India (1950). However, abolishing untouchability in law didn’t automatically erase it from
practice. In the 1950s and 60s, many Dalit communities were still trapped in their traditional
sanitation roles.

Change began slowly. By the 1970s and 80s, public awareness of the plight of scavengers grew,
thanks to Dalit activists and sympathetic social workers. Still, progress was slow: traditional dry
latrines remained in use in many areas, and the caste prejudice that kept sanitation workers in
their place remained strong. One striking historical anecdote: during the Partition of 1947,
Pakistan’s government reportedly barred Hindu sanitation workers from migrating because it
could not run its cities without them. This showed that Dalit cleaners were valued for their labor
but denied basic dignity and freedom.

In 1993, over four decades after independence, India finally passed a law explicitly banning
manual scavenging (the Employment of Manual Scavengers and Construction of Dry Latrines
Prohibition Act). This law, and a stronger one in 2013, were products of decades of pressure and
highlighted the government’s recognition that caste-based sanitation work is an enduring blight.
The historical trajectory is clear: from ancient caste edicts to colonial reinforcement to
postcolonial reform, the association of sanitation work with the lowest castes has been
remarkably persistent. Understanding this legacy is crucial for tackling the issue today, because
it reminds us that current realities have deep roots in social and cultural history.

Current Scenario in Urban India

Fast-forward to the present day, and the essential role of sanitation workers has only grown with
urbanization – yet their working conditions and social status remain distressingly similar to the
past in many ways. Modern Indian cities produce enormous quantities of waste and sewage each
day, and an army of workers labors around the clock to manage it. It is estimated that around
five million people work as sanitation workers across India , with a large proportion in urban
areas . They sweep streets, collect garbage, clean public toilets, and unblock sewers. The
majority of them still come from Dalit communities, often from the very castes that historically
performed this work. Despite their vital contribution, they largely remain invisible to the
mainstream. City dwellers notice clean roads and functioning toilets, but seldom the people
laboring behind the scenes at dawn or dusk to make that possible.

A typical day for an urban sanitation worker is arduous. For example, municipal street sweepers
begin work before dawn, pushing brooms through dusty streets, often without any protective
mask or gloves. By sunrise they have amassed piles of garbage which they haul into carts or
trucks. It is backbreaking work, and yet the pay is usually meager. In several cities, sweepers and
garbage collectors are employed through contractors on daily wages. Job security is scarce:
some have permanent government jobs with modest benefits, but many are contract workers who
can be dismissed easily and often face delays in payment. This precarious employment has led to
periodic strikes – for instance, New Delhi’s sanitation workers have struck work multiple times
to protest unpaid wages, during which heaps of garbage piled up in the streets, posing a public
health risk and reminding everyone how crucial their labor is.

Beyond street sweeping, urban sanitation work includes the dirty and dangerous business of
sewer and septic tank cleaning. Even in 2025, it is not uncommon to find men descending into
manholes and septic pits with rudimentary equipment. The law may mandate mechanized
cleaning and protective gear, but on the ground one often sees barefoot workers waist-deep in
sludge, using a bucket or an old metal bar to scoop out blockages. In city sewers, workers face
toxic gases, filth, and risk of drowning. The news media reports frequent tragedies: if a sanitation
worker is overcome by poisonous gases in a sewer, others often jump in impulsively to rescue
him – a chain of death that has killed multiple family members in one go. For instance, in a
recent incident in Uttar Pradesh, a worker lost consciousness while cleaning a septic tank, and
his son climbed in to save him; both died, as did two other relatives . Such stories underscore the
lethal hazards these workers face routinely. Official statistics record hundreds of deaths from
manual sewer and septic tank cleaning in the past few years. One government report
acknowledged over 300 such deaths between 2017 and 2022 , and in reality the numbers are
likely higher. Activist organizations like the Safai Karamchari Andolan claim that if all
unreported cases were counted, India loses on the order of one to two thousand sanitation
workers every year to these “accidents” . Each of these deaths speaks to a blatant violation of
safety laws and the expendability with which society treats these lives.

Even when not fatal, the work conditions are bleak. Many sewer cleaners suffer from chronic
health issues – respiratory problems like asthma or bronchitis from inhaling toxic fumes, skin
diseases from constant contact with sewage, infections like tuberculosis or hepatitis from
exposure to pathogens . Protective gear like gloves, boots, and gas masks are supposed to be
provided by employers, but in practice most workers receive little more than perhaps a pair of
flimsy rubber gloves. It is not unusual to see a worker emerge from a manhole soaked in sewage,
with no more protection than a vest and shorts. Healthcare access for these workers is limited;
they often cannot afford private clinics and hesitate to take time off for medical treatment for fear
of losing wages. Mental health is another silent issue – the constant social shaming and the
knowledge that their work is viewed with disgust can take a psychological toll, leading to low
self-esteem or depression. Yet many workers take a grim pride in their role as keepers of the
city’s cleanliness. “If we stop working for even a week, the whole city will drown in filth,” one
sewer cleaner remarked, pointing out the irony that people realize their importance only when
garbage and waste go uncollected.

The social dynamics of sanitation work in urban India remain intertwined with caste, albeit in
subtle ways compared to earlier times. In big cities, there is a veneer of anonymity – a garbage
truck driver or a street sweeper might not immediately be recognized by caste by a passerby. Yet
within the system, almost all of these jobs are still held by Dalits, often from the same specific
communities that did this work generations ago. Municipal hiring no longer explicitly mentions
caste, but the reality is that few non-Dalits seek or accept these jobs. In some cases, municipal
contractors unofficially recruit from known “sweeper” localities or Dalit families because they
assume others will not be willing to do the work. Thus, the cycle continues: children growing up
in sanitation worker settlements see their elders doing this thankless job and often end up in the
same line because other opportunities are blocked by poverty or discrimination. Urban migration
has added another layer – many sanitation workers in megacities are migrants from rural areas or
smaller towns, brought in by middlemen. These migrants might not share the exact caste history
of the local Dalit community, but once they don the uniform and handle garbage or sewage, they
too are viewed as part of the same stigmatized group. In essence, performing the work can mark
one with a social taint, regardless of one’s original background.
Despite the grim aspects, there have been some improvements in recent years. Public awareness
of the plight of sanitation workers is arguably higher now than in decades past, thanks to media
reports and Dalit activism. The government’s flagship Swachh Bharat (Clean India) Mission,
launched in 2014, put a spotlight on sanitation issues – primarily focusing on ending open
defecation and building toilets. While the campaign was not specifically about workers, it
indirectly acknowledged their importance. In some cities, administrations have started investing
in mechanized street sweepers, vacuum trucks, and sewer-cleaning machines to reduce human
involvement in the dirtiest tasks. For example, New Delhi procured a fleet of modern sewer
suction and jetting trucks, and Bangalore and Mumbai have begun using robotic devices like the
“Bandicoot” robot to clean manholes . These technologies have the potential to make sewer
cleaning safer by turning “manholes into machine-holes.” Municipal bodies have also started
providing better gear – gloves, boots, even gas detectors – to sanitation staff, and a few have
instituted regular health check-ups.

However, such changes are uneven and slow. Many smaller cities and towns still rely almost
entirely on manual labor for sanitation, and the caste profile of that labor remains the same. The
gap between policy and practice is evident: laws say one thing, but on the ground another story
unfolds. The current scenario in urban India is thus a mix of partial progress and stubborn
continuity. We have modern trash trucks and public campaigns about cleanliness on one hand,
and barefoot cleaners and fatal sewer accidents on the other. What remains clear is that without
the toil of sanitation workers, urban life would grind to a halt – yet the question persists: when
will these invisible workers receive the recognition, safety, and respect that they deserve?

Intersection of Caste, Class, and Social Stigma

The predicament of sanitation workers lies at the intersection of caste, class, and social stigma.
These three factors combine to trap individuals in a cycle of marginalization. By and large,
sanitation workers are Dalits by birth (caste), among the poorest of the poor (class), and
burdened with society’s contempt for the nature of their work (stigma).

Even today, caste plays a powerful role in determining who ends up doing sanitation labor. It is
no coincidence that the vast majority of street sweepers, drain cleaners, and garbage collectors in
urban India are from historically oppressed castes. Social prejudice effectively channels Dalits
into these jobs, while also discouraging people of higher caste backgrounds from taking them. In
turn, the low wages and harsh conditions keep these workers trapped in poverty. This is how
caste and class reinforce each other: being born Dalit often means growing up with limited
opportunities, and poverty pushes one toward any available job – which, for many Dalits, ends
up being the traditional cleaning work that others shun. What appears as an economic choice is
often the result of social exclusion; many Dalit youths find doors closed in other industries due to
subtle caste bias, leaving sanitation work as one of the few options.

The third element, social stigma, makes the plight of these workers even worse. There is a long-
standing cultural aversion to tasks dealing with waste, rooted in the notion of ritual purity. Thus,
the people who perform these “dirty” tasks become tainted in the eyes of others. Sanitation
workers frequently experience humiliations that echo old untouchability practices. For example,
some tea stalls still keep separate cups for Dalit sweepers, or residents might avoid touching a
garbage collector when handing over trash. While not always overt, this stigmatizing behavior is
deeply felt by the workers. It reinforces a sense of inferiority and shame that is profoundly unfair
– these workers know that if not for them doing this job, public health and city life would
collapse, yet they are socially ostracized for it. Women sanitation workers face a double burden:
they endure the caste stigma and harsh conditions, and often gender discrimination as well (such
as lower pay or vulnerability to abuse on the job).

These intersecting forces produce a kind of social immobility. It is very difficult for a sanitation
worker’s family to break out of the profession when they are dealing with caste discrimination,
economic hardship, and societal stigma all at once. Caste determines who does the sanitation
work, class conditions make it hard for them to escape it, and social stigma demeans them for
doing it.

Government Policies and Legal Framework

The Indian government has long recognized on paper that caste-based sanitation work is a
serious problem. Over the years, a robust framework of laws and policies has been developed to
tackle untouchability and manual scavenging. The Constitution (1950) abolished untouchability
(Article 17) and guarantees equality. Subsequent laws – such as the Protection of Civil Rights
Act (1955) and the Scheduled Castes and Tribes (Prevention of Atrocities) Act (1989) – made it
a punishable offense to discriminate against Dalits or to force them into degrading work.
Specifically targeting sanitation labor, the Employment of Manual Scavengers and
Construction of Dry Latrines (Prohibition) Act was passed in 1993, outlawing the practice of
manual scavenging (the manual cleaning of human excrement) and mandating the closure or
conversion of dry latrines. This was strengthened by the Prohibition of Employment as
Manual Scavengers and their Rehabilitation Act (2013), which broadened the definition to
include cleaning of sewers and septic tanks by hand, and required authorities to identify and
rehabilitate all persons engaged in such work. Under these laws, employing someone for manual
scavenging or sending a worker into a sewer without protective gear is illegal and punishable.
On paper, India also has institutions and schemes dedicated to improving sanitation workers’
lives. A statutory National Commission for Safai Karamcharis (NCSK) was established to
monitor implementation of programs for sanitation workers and advise the government. There
have been periodic survey and rehabilitation drives – for example, a central scheme offers cash
assistance and training to help manual scavengers transition to alternative livelihoods. Many
individuals (mostly Dalit women who once cleaned dry toilets) have received skills training or
small loans to start alternate livelihoods as part of these efforts. The government’s flagship
Swachh Bharat Mission (Clean India Mission), launched in 2014, while mainly focused on
building toilets and solid waste management, indirectly benefited sanitation workers by
eliminating many unsanitary dry latrines and elevating the public discourse on cleanliness (and
by extension, discussion of those who do the cleaning).

In recent years, there is a push towards mechanization and worker safety. The central
government unveiled a plan called NAMASTE in 2022 (National Action for Mechanised
Sanitation Ecosystem) aimed at phasing out manual sewer cleaning entirely. It proposes funding
for sewer-cleaning machines and robots, as well as training sanitation workers to operate this
equipment or to transition into safer jobs (for example, assisting them to become entrepreneurs in
sanitation services, sometimes called “sanipreneurs”). Some state governments and city
municipalities have taken laudable steps on their own: deploying robotic sewer cleaners in
metros, issuing modern protective gear to workers, and setting up emergency response teams for
sewer accidents. Courts too have played a role. In 2014, the Supreme Court of India directed that
the families of all sanitation workers who died in sewer or septic work should be given ₹10 lakh
(approximately $13,000) compensation each , and it ordered governments to fully enforce the
ban on manual scavenging. This judicial pressure has forced authorities to act in some instances
– for example, expediting payments to widows of deceased workers and increasing oversight on
negligent officials or contractors.

Despite this comprehensive framework, the impact on the ground has been limited by gaps in
implementation. Laws exist, but prosecutions are rare when they are violated. Manual
scavenging in its crudest form (cleaning dry toilets by hand) has declined significantly compared
to a few decades ago, yet modern forms (like unsafe sewer cleaning) have not been eliminated.
The 2013 law required all insanitary latrines to be converted and all manual scavengers
rehabilitated by 2016, but that deadline passed unmet. Official surveys often under-report the
number of people doing such work – some local authorities hesitate to admit the extent of the
problem due to the shame or liability involved, or they define the work narrowly to exclude
sewer cleaners. Without accurate data, many workers remain excluded from rehabilitation
benefits. Additionally, many sanitation workers are employed informally or through layers of
subcontractors, making it harder to regulate their working conditions. This fragmentation of
responsibility – split between various municipal departments and private agencies – means no
single authority is held accountable for worker safety or welfare.
In summary, the government’s response has been a mix of progressive policy and patchy
execution. The legal tools to end caste-based sanitation labor are in place, and there are funds
and schemes on paper to assist workers. The challenge now is one of political will and social
mindset. Policies need to be translated into action on the ground – not just in a few pilot projects,
but across the country. The persistence of manual scavenging and hazardous cleaning in 2025 is
not due to a lack of laws or ideas, but a lack of effective enforcement and societal urgency.
Closing this implementation gap is crucial. The next section will illustrate, through personal
stories, why these policies matter and how their success or failure profoundly affects human
lives.

Real-Life Case Studies

Statistics and analysis can sometimes obscure the human face of a problem. In this section, we
turn to individual stories – a mix of real-life accounts and fictionalized scenarios inspired by true
events – to illustrate what sanitation workers and their families go through. These case studies
put a personal lens on the intersection of caste, labor, and dignity in urban India. (Names in the
real stories have been changed to protect identities.)

Case Study 1: Umesh – A Tragic Death in the Sewer (Real-Life)

In 2019, a young man named Umesh Bamaniya lost his life while doing sanitation work in
Gujarat. Umesh, only 23 years old, was sent to clear a blockage in an underground sewer serving
a slum area . Lacking proper protective gear, he suffocated in the toxic fumes and collapsed. By
the time his coworkers retrieved his body from the manhole, it was too late . His wife, Anjana,
was days away from giving birth to their first child when she received the news that she had
become a widow . Umesh’s death was not the first of its kind, and tragically it would not be the
last . Dozens of sanitation workers die every year in similar circumstances, sent into “gas
chambers” of human waste without safety precautions. The government paid a small
compensation to Umesh’s family, but no amount could fill the void for Anjana, who now had to
raise their newborn son alone. This real case underscores the ultimate price that caste-oppressed
sanitation workers sometimes pay. It highlights how the most hazardous duties are delegated to
the least protected members of society. Umesh’s story sparked outrage and brought brief media
attention to the plight of manual sewer cleaners, yet similar incidents continue to occur, pointing
to a systemic failure to value and protect those who keep our cities running.

Analysis and Sociological Perspectives

The continuing plight of sanitation workers in urban India offers a stark lens through which to
view Indian society’s contradictions. Sociologically, it underscores how a traditional hierarchy
(caste) can survive and adapt within a modern, urban context. Decades ago, many believed that
urbanization and industrialization would dissolve caste barriers, especially in impersonal city
environments. However, the reality is more complex. What we see with sanitation workers is an
example of an ancient social order adapting rather than disappearing: the age-old assignment of
“impure” tasks to a specific group remains largely intact, even as cities modernize. This
persistence of caste-based labor roles reveals that legal and economic changes alone have not
entirely erased deeply entrenched social norms.

From a social stratification perspective, sanitation workers occupy the lowest rungs in both
caste and class terms. They have inherited a position of disadvantage – by birth they are Dalits,
and by occupation they are in menial jobs. The fact that this pattern continues in cities suggests
that urban modernity has not automatically translated into social mobility for all. India’s case
illustrates what sociologists call structural continuity: the caste system’s role in assigning
unpleasant but necessary work still operates, albeit through unofficial means. In effect, the very
occupation marks these workers with a badge of dishonor in the eyes of others. This is a prime
example of how an occupation can carry a social stigma that leads to discrimination. The notion
of pollution associated with caste has, in a sense, been secularized into a general disgust for
“dirty jobs” and those who do them. As a result, sanitation workers often face what is essentially
a form of social exclusion – effectively caste-based untouchability in a new form. Human Rights
Watch has even likened manual scavenging to a form of modern-day slavery, given how it
compels a group of people to perform dehumanizing labor under threat of poverty and social
ostracism .

However, sociology also offers insight into how change can happen. The rise of Dalit assertion
movements – such as the Safai Karamchari Andolan – is a case of a marginalized group
mobilizing to challenge their prescribed social role. By protesting, filing lawsuits, and forcing
uncomfortable issues into the public eye, these activists are attempting to rewrite the narrative.
They insist that sanitation workers be seen as citizens with rights, not as hereditary servants. This
collective action aligns with theories of social change that emphasize the importance of
marginalized voices demanding inclusion. We are seeing some shifts: media stories on sewer
deaths and exposés on manual scavenging have begun to stir public conscience, framing the
issue as a national shame rather than an accepted fact of life.

Another important perspective is the human rights and dignity framework. The condition of
sanitation workers tests India’s commitment to equality and justice. Sociologists might frame
this as the tension between formal equality (laws declaring everyone equal) and substantive
equality (the actual conditions people experience). Sanitation workers today have formal legal
equality, but the substantive reality of their lives is far from equal or dignified. Bridging this gap
requires not only policy enforcement but also a cultural shift – a revaluation of labor and a
rejection of casteist thinking. It calls to mind Dr. Ambedkar’s emphasis on the need for a “social
revolution” in the minds of people, not just on paper. Indian society needs to internalize that no
occupation makes a person inferior.

In summary, the situation of sanitation workers in urban India highlights the endurance of social
structures amid economic change. It shows how power and prejudice can render essential labor
invisible and undervalued. Yet, it also contains seeds of change: growing awareness, legal
activism, and the moral imperative of human dignity are all forces pushing against the inertia of
tradition. The analysis here reinforces that the plight of sanitation workers is not just a labor or
public health issue, but fundamentally a question of social justice. Addressing it requires
challenging age-old prejudices and restructuring how we value different forms of work – a
difficult task, but one that is essential for India’s aspiration to be a truly equitable society. The
final section outlines concrete recommendations that emerge from this understanding, aiming for
a future where those who clean our cities are no longer treated as invisible or disposable.

Conclusion and Recommendations

Sanitation workers may be “invisible” in daily life, but they are utterly essential to the
functioning of our cities. This study has shown that their invisibility is not just literal (working
out of sight, at odd hours) but also social – they are overlooked and marginalized due to
entrenched caste biases. The challenge ahead is to make Indian society acknowledge these
workers’ humanity and ensure that no one is condemned to a life of indignity for doing such
essential work. Change is both necessary and possible. Below are key recommendations to move
toward a more just situation for sanitation workers:

• Enforce Laws and Ensure Accountability: India already has laws banning manual
scavenging and unsafe sanitation labour – these must be enforced strictly. Government
authorities should prosecute contractors or officials who send workers into sewers without
protection. Each death or injury on the job should be investigated and punished under the law.
Also, the Supreme Court’s mandate to compensate families of deceased sanitation workers
should be implemented in full, to at least provide some justice and deterrence.

• Mechanize Hazardous Tasks and Provide Safety Gear: Modern technology and equipment
should replace manual handling of waste wherever possible. Municipalities need to invest in
sewer-cleaning machines, vacuum trucks, and protective gear so that no human has to directly
enter toxic environments. Where workers still must handle waste, they should be equipped with
proper protective equipment (gloves, boots, gas masks, etc.) and receive training in occupational
safety. The goal should be to eliminate, in the coming years, the practice of anyone physically
entering sewers or septic tanks.

• Rehabilitate Workers and Educate the Next Generation: A comprehensive rehabilitation

program is essential to help sanitation workers find alternative livelihoods. This includes
providing skills training, reserved job placements (in less dangerous work), or financial support
to start small businesses. Alongside this, special scholarships and educational support should be
given to the children of sanitation workers. Breaking the generational cycle requires that the next
generation have the qualifications and opportunities to pursue careers outside the sanitation
sector. Government and NGOs can partner to mentor these youth, so that being born into a
sweeper family does not mean ending up in the same job.

• Combat Stigma and Promote Dignity of Labor: Society-wide campaigns are needed to
change perceptions. Public officials, celebrities, and community leaders should emphasize that
no work is shameful and that those who keep our environment clean deserve respect. Schools
should teach children about the dignity of labor and the evils of caste discrimination. Media can
highlight positive stories of sanitation workers and their contributions. Community events that
bring citizens and sanitation workers together (for example, joint cleanliness drives) can
humanize the workers in the public eye. The aim is to eradicate the notion of “untouchability”
and replace it with appreciation and empathy.

• Empower Sanitation Workers through Organization and Voice: Sanitation workers should
be encouraged and assisted to unionize or form associations that can advocate for their rights.
With a collective voice, they can negotiate for better wages and conditions and call out abuses
without fear of losing their jobs. Moreover, their representation in decision-making bodies
should be ensured – for instance, including worker representatives in municipal sanitation
committees or advisory boards. Hearing directly from those on the frontlines will lead to more
sensible policies and also empower the workers by giving them a say in their own working
conditions.

Implementing these measures will require resolve and coordination from government at all
levels, as well as support from civil society and ordinary citizens. Importantly, it requires a shift
in mindset – recognizing that the cleanliness of our cities is a collective responsibility, and that
those who shoulder the toughest part of that responsibility deserve protection and honor, not
prejudice.

Closing Thoughts: The true measure of social progress is how a society treats its most
disadvantaged members. Sanitation workers, who literally and figuratively carry much of
society’s burden, have been denied their share of progress for far too long. It is time to rewrite
this narrative. An India that ensures safety, dignity, and opportunity for its sanitation workers
will not only have cleaner cities – it will have a cleaner conscience.