‘If we meet Modi ji, we'll ask for our mehnat ki mazdoori': UP woman freed from bonded labour invited to Independence Day event

Indian Express

2 days ago

Fifteen days ago, Sanno and her husband, Danish, were summoned to the Labour Department office in Uttar Pradesh's Muzaffarnagar to sign a self-declaration form.
The document certified that 'Mrs Sanno, wife of Mr Danish, resident of village Sikreda, has been released as a bonded labourer,' and awarded Rs 2 lakh as rehabilitation.
It went on to read: 'You have been invited by the Government of India as a special guest at the Independence Day celebrations at the Red Fort,' with a passport-sized photo of Sanno affixed at the bottom.
For the government, Sanno is a success story — a symbol of rescue, rehabilitation, and freedom. But for her family, along with many others rescued from bonded labour, 'freedom' still tastes of brick kiln dust.
On an afternoon in 2019, a mini-haathi truck had trundled into the narrow lanes of Muzaffarnagar's Sikreda village. The driver handed over Rs 10,000 in advance — enough to tempt a family living on the edge — and promised work just 9 km away at a brick kiln in Bodi village.
Sanno and Danish packed up their belongings and loaded their four children onto the truck. 'We had been out of work, living on the edge. Rs 10,000 was enough to tempt us,' said Sanno.
They were joined by four other couples from the village, all in search of work and a better future.
At the brick kiln, each couple was promised Rs 1,300 as daily wage — but the work soon turned into captivity, they said.
Asking for more money meant the threat of a gun pointed at the men's heads. Once, when a worker demanded his due, the kiln's mukhiya (supervisor) slapped him so hard — in full view of everyone — that no one else dared to speak up, they said.
'They wouldn't let us go out,' recalled Imrana, another worker from the same kiln.
The families said they were paid in the form of raw dal and chawal and Rs 2,000 in cash every 15 days, with the rest 'promised' once the bricks were ready. That day never came.
A year later, Danish opened Google on his phone, searched for a helpline number, and made a call.
A rescue operation was carried out under the Bonded Labour Abolition Act, 1976, five families were freed, and the brick kiln was sealed — but the wages for an entire year's work disappeared with it.
'It was after being freed that their struggle began,' said Nirmal Gorana, convenor of the National Campaign Committee for Eradication of Bonded Labour, which was involved in highlighting the case.
'The scheme promises complete social, economic, and psychological rehabilitation — but in reality, they are left to fend for themselves,' he added.
Four years of struggle
The families said they had returned home with the promise of rehabilitation: the Act provides up to Rs 2 lakh for women and Rs 1 lakh for men, along with non-cash rehabilitation in the form of land and housing.
They dreamt of opening small shops and moving their children from madrasas to regular schools. But, they claimed, the scheme has been delivered in fragments.
In Sanno and Danish's case, they've received two payments of Rs 45,000 that the brick kiln owed them. Between the unpaid kiln wages and the remaining rehabilitation money, they claimed nearly Rs 4 lakh is still owed.
Last month, Danish got a call from the Labour Department. 'They asked if we were ready to visit the Red Fort, that we would get to put our complaints in front of Modi ji. They said maybe the money that's pending will be paid,' he recalled.
Sanno added, 'If we meet Modi ji, we will request him to ensure we get our mehnat ki mazdoori (money for our hard work), if not the rehabilitation money.'
They now live in a kachha makaan held together with tarpaulin sheets, bamboo poles, and salvaged bricks.
Life remains a daily struggle, pieced together from whatever work the village has to offer. Some days, they clean the open drains that wind between the mud houses. In the weeks following the sugarcane harvest, they tied up ganna bundles, earning just a few hundred rupees a day.
They work in shifts ploughing or weeding fields, carrying sacks of grain, digging pits, hauling bricks at construction sites — anything that will bring in a day's wage.
Along with Sanno and Danish, two other couples — Khursheeda and her husband, and Shabnam and her husband — have been invited to the event.
On August 15, they will travel to Delhi, sit among the special guests at the Red Fort, and watch the Tricolour be hoisted — a world away from the kilns where they once laboured.
The couple has a list of things they hope to do once the remaining money arrives.
'If I get the rest of the money, I will open a shop — any shop that puts a meal on my kids' plates and helps pay their school fee,' Danish said.
'I would want to invest in building a house,' Sanno added.