Author: PRIA Blog
Last week, when I went for a walk in my neighbourhood, I found four young women hesitatingly begging from passers-by. I recognised one of them as she used to work as a domestic helper in my neighbour's home. Since the ‘rise’ of the second wave of COVID infections in April this year, she was ‘let go’ mid last month. Little do we realise that ‘letting go’ of a temporary domestic worker, many a time through just a phone call (“Do not come from tomorrow”) may suddenly shatter a family, its livelihood, and self-respect. Millions of domestic workers have faced this reality in the past month, for the second time since 2020. Their situation in large cities has once again become precarious. Mamta is one such domestic worker in Gurugram; she was asked to stop working in the middle of April by the two families who employed her to do the household work of cleaning, washing, laundry, and some cooking. One family did not pay her April salary either. Fortunately, the other family is now phoning her to come back to work after getting Mamta’s entire family vaccinated. Over the past week, she has tried to find out how to get vaccinated. The lack of clear information about the place, time, and cost of vaccination confuses her. She was told that she has to register on an app on her mobile phone; hers is not a very ‘smart’ one! So, she asked her neighbours in the basti (informal settlement). There is confusion, fear, and pain amongst them. Nobody knew how to get vaccinated.
A recent survey conducted by the Martha Farrell Foundation in parts of Delhi and Gurugram brought out the fact that only 35 (out of 669) domestic workers had had the first jab. Most complained about their inability to get registered online through the app. Earlier in March, walk-in registration was possible, but now no longer. Domestic workers cannot sit in front of their (non-existent) laptops for hours to get a slot for vaccination; many cannot afford even the even rental charge for a data connection on their phones. Several recent media reports have found many informal workers in similar situations in cities (what can one even say about villages?). But, it should not be surprising, since much of the urgent communications about finding hospital beds, oxygen, and ambulances have been happening on Twitter, and that too in English mostly. There are an estimated18 million Indians on Twitter, about 10% of global users, according to Twitter data. None of the domestic workers we surveyed are on Twitter. So, finding information about available vaccine slots in and around your home is a challenge for such families. Some domestic workers heard that vaccination was happening in a mall in a nearby neighbourhood. When a few went to the mall, they realised it was ‘drive-in’ only, and only cars were allowed, not motorcycles or even three-wheeler rental autos. Obviously, the camp was designed exclusively for the vaccination of the urban elites! The virulent second wave of infections has caused fever in many of their family members. But, they are unable to get tested. One domestic worker spoke to PRIA about her experience in South-East Delhi. She wanted to get husband tested as he was showing symptoms of COVID. But, she found out that ‘free’ testing of COVID was no longer available in the nearby public health facility. One of her former employers told her that she (the employer) will arrange for her entire family of five get tested on her campus the following day. When the family reached there, they learnt that it would cost ₹800 per person for testing—a princely sum of ₹4000 for the family. That was nearly the entire amount she used to earn every month before the present lockdown. For others living on that campus, ₹800 was just the price of a hamburger! And, the 'madam' did wonder why the 'maid' could not use her savings. What savings? Months of lockdown last year had deprived the family from any regular income, and so small savings were exhausted. There was no saving for food and rent, leave alone for testing, medicines, and vaccines!
With the middle class in India rapidly expanding over the past two decades, the provision of domestic services through such informal workers has also grown. Official data, howsoever inadequate, put their numbers at around 5 million, 80% of whom are women. If India’s middle class is estimated to be at least 50 million households, then domestic workers are deployed in each of them, part- or full-time. A rough estimate then would indicate about 20 million domestic workers. And, still, in India’s newly legislated Labour Codes, domestic workers are not classified as workers. So, even those social security benefits that some other informal workers (like in construction) are eligible for are not available to domestic workers. And, the central government announced an increase in Dearness Allowance of central government employees this week—about 15 million, nation-wide. Most families of domestic workers are desperate to find some food and income for their survival. The second wave of COVID has devastated them. Now, they hear of next waves in near future. As one of them remarked, "As these waves rise again, how much further will we fall?”
PRIA’s MobiliseHER team traveled to Bangalore during the week of June, 10 – 14, 2024. The aim of the visit was to gain relevant insights into the civil society ecosystem in Bangalore and meet different organisations to understand the city through a lens of gender and inclusive mobility.
Working at PRIA, often leads us to various cities across the country. Each trip is an opportunity to witness firsthand the challenges and triumphs of different communities.
Mr. Yedukrishnan V has recently joined PRIA after gaining valuable experience in the development sector. Drawing from his journey in the social sector and personal encounters in Kerala, he emphasises the importance of participatory governance and research in empowering marginalised communities.'
