That’s all in a day’s work for the hundreds who clean Mumbai’s muck. Plunging their arms into sludge, scraping the hide and flesh of animals knocked down by speeding cars off the streets, handling toxic hospital waste, carrying mounds of putrefying garbage to the dumping grounds. Cleaning the kind of filth most of us would not touch even in a nightmare. Would never need to.
Though it’s rarely discussed, that’s a job ‘reserved’ for the lowest castes. "More than 80 per cent of the safai kamgars in the municipality are Dalits. You won’t find so many of us in other departments," says Haralkar. "Only Dalits work with this kind of filth. Using their bare hands, bodies. We get no respect for cleaning other people’s dirt. They made Coolie with Amitabh Bachchan, but would they make a film called ‘Sweeper’?"
Haralkar was among the few who managed to break away from the ‘trade’ to which his caste had condemned him. A decade after he filled his father’s shoes as a safai worker, a head clerk in the municipality encouraged him to apply for a job outside his circuit—as a painter in the waste management unit. "After I got that job, people looked at me differently. They called me by my name instead of "Oye, bhangi". My father was so moved he started crying. How many people like me have managed to rise to a more respectable job?" Haralkar asks.
He had other things on his mind as well. He was determined not to forget his past. "I wanted to give the children of safai kamgars the opportunity to break away from this vicious cycle. I thought the best way out of this rut was to get them to do well at school," he says. In ’98, the Safai Kamgar Parivartan Sangh that Haralkar founded began tutorial classes for the children. Many of the voluntary teachers here are also Dalits whose parents are in the same ‘profession’.
Most of the kids attend school by day and live in slums in Parel and Sion. The tutorials are run from two municipal schools in this area from 7-9 pm and cater to around 1,000 children. Late in the evening, when most schools are locked for the night, you can see a tutorial in progress in a run-down municipal school in Sion. "If I don’t come here to study, I would fail," says 12-year-old Sunil Kadam, a regular for the past three years. At home, it’s impossible to concentrate. "My father drinks and yells at us, so it’s difficult to do my homework. Even outside our house, it’s the same story. People get drunk and crash out in the bylanes. They get into fights. Here we get a quiet space to study," Sunil explains, his clear eyes wiser than his years.
Alcoholism is rampant among municipal workers, a fact that has much to do with how they earn a living. It’s also a major reason why their children suffer at school. "Many workers drink to cope with the filth, humiliation and stress. And their children tend to drop out of school," says Haralkar.
Although the venture has no regular funding, Haralkar is optimistic that they will somehow cope. There is no shortage of volunteers—like ‘principal’ Chandrakant Kamble whose brother was a sanitation worker. "More than anything else, the children come here and see role models who give them hope," says Kamble.
Some of it seems like a miracle—but Dalits too dream of a different life. Haralkar’s sons are among the few who’ve broken the vicious circle. One is a journalist, the other a photographer (he clicked the above picture). The organisation is headquartered ina municipal school in Parel that, ironically, used to be part of Haralkar’s ‘sweeping zone’. To find out more, contact: Safai Kamgar Parivartan Sangh, Jagannath Bhatankar Municipal School, Vitthal Chavan Marg, Parel, Mumbai 400012. Ph: 24102694.