(This article is based on an interview conducted on 3rd November 2025. The article was first published in GroundXero.)
Starting August 1st 2025, 1500 sanitation workers have been protesting the loss of their jobs. They have been relentlessly protesting, even as they face police repression and a dire economic situation. This is a conversation with two of the protesting workers, Kuttiamma and Rita.
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Sanitation workers Rita (left) and Kuttiamma (right) in their house. |
Background
Every morning at 6:30 am, about 30,000 sanitation workers sign into work at ward offices all over Chennai. They then fan out into the city’s neighborhoods to sweep the streets and collect garbage for the next few hours.
In 10 out of the 15 zones in the city, these sanitation workers are employed by private companies, and in the other five they are under the Greater Chennai Corporation (GCC). On August 1st 2025, two additional zones, Zone 5 and 6, were transferred from the Corporation to a private company called Delhi MSW Solutions Pvt Ltd under the Ramky group.
When sanitation workers in Zone 5 and 6 reported to work on the morning of August 1st, they were told they could not sign in. They were told to join the private company Ramky instead. Ramky was offering a lower salary, and it was not clear whether they would employ everybody.
But there was no time to figure out the details. “Get out, get out, neenga inga ninna prachanai varum." You will cause problems if you stand here, they were told as they were forced out of the ward offices. These workers had signed in and out of work in these same ward offices for the last 10, 12 or 15 years.
1,950 workers were thrown out of employment that day. They were contract workers under the Corporation under the National Urban Livelihood Mission (NULM) scheme.
Of the terminated workers, about 1,500 decided to protest to demand their jobs back. They went to the Greater Chennai Corporation (GCC) office in Rippon building. They sat outside the building day and night. Thirteen days later, on the night of August 13th, they were violently dispersed by the police.
Since then, they have done various protests to bring attention to their problem, like aiming to deliver petitions to leaders in power, going on hunger strikes, offering to go back to work without pay, and going as far as wading into the sea. At every one of these events, several hundreds of them have been detained by the police. “Namma enna desadrohi-yaa,” they ask. Are we enemies of the nation?
More than 3 months later, their protest is continuing. Most of them are from the Adi Dravidar and Arundhatiyar castes, and a majority are women who are the sole earners of their households. Three months of no income means they can’t pay rent, school fees, or loan installments. There is also the risk of not having any job if the protests fail to yield results. Nevertheless, workers have resolutely refused to join Ramky, showing up to protests every week, facing detentions and arrests in the process.
What drives these workers to protest? Workers had hoped and believed that their NULM jobs under the Corporation would be made permanent. In fact, this was a point in the DMK election manifesto in the lead up to the May 2021 state elections. In an event addressing sanitation workers in January 2021, Chief Minister Stalin, who was then the leader of the opposition, famously said, “wait for four months”. Any hope of becoming permanent employees is shattered if now they are made employees of a private company.
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On November 5th, workers walked into the sea in protest, saying there is no option “but to die”. (Photo provided by workers.) |
Kuttiamma and Rita
I talked to Kuttiamma, who has taken a leading role in the struggle. Kuttiamma started this job about 14 years ago when her husband died. She lives with Rita, her cousin, another terminated worker who is also part of the protests. Rita is also a single mother.
They live in a windowless house, with each wall painted a different colour. It is air-less and smells humid. The rent is Rs 6000, which they haven't paid for 3 months, since they lost the job.
"The police were here yesterday to kick us out", says Kuttiamma.
And where will they go then, I ask. "We will go back to the roadside. Both of us are from the Wall Tax Road area, we were born and brought up on the roadside. We were able to rent only because of this job."
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| Kuttiamma in a pink sari with a poster in the beach protest. (Photo provided by workers) |
A job with no timings
Like most sanitation workers, Kuttiamma and Rita describe their work via the natural and man-made disasters Chennai has faced -- Gaja puyal (Gaja storm), Nivar puyal, Varda puyal, Covid lockdown, Ennore oil spill -- each a battle they have won.
"We have struggled a lot in this job. We have worked through rains and storms. We have to go to work even if we have to wade through standing water. In the rains, we start work in the morning and finish only at night,” says Kuttiamma.
“When there was an oil spill in the sea in Ennore, we took out the oil from the water with our bare hands, our feet would sink into the sand. The work went on late into the evening."
Their working hours end at 2:30 pm. Do they get paid overtime when they work into the evening, I ask.
“No.”
Kuttiamma continues, “If a minister is going to visit a temple, they would take a gang of ten of us to clean. When we are signing out at 2:30 pm, we get called (if there is any such work to be done). We’ll have to stay there till he comes and goes. All evening, we’d be standing there holding our brooms.”
“The time when Jayalalitha died, we were at the beach for ten days. People kept coming. They would throw their plates after eating. Do you know how people plucking tea leaves have a basket in their back? Like that, we had a bag hanging down our back. The whole day, we kept picking garbage with a stick, and putting it into the bag”.
A permanent job, hoping and dreaming
Sanitation workers were celebrated as “warriors” during the Corona lockdown.
“During the Corona lockdown, we went to work every single day. There were no vehicles. Sometimes we walked all the way. We didn't worry about ourselves or our families. We did it because we thought Stalin would come to power and make us permanent," says Kuttiamma. "If we leave this job for Ramky now, continues Kuttiamma, “ten years of our work will amount to nothing.”
“Ramky will not employ people over 45. I am 42 now, in 3 years they will kick me out of the job", says Kuttiamma. "Without our livelihood, how can we take care of our children? The CM makes sure his son is the deputy CM, and can become CM one day. But they think our future generations should just be stuck on the roadside?"
“We are engaged in these struggles for our future generations. We don’t want your sambar soru. We want our jobs,” Kuttiamma says in response to CM Stalin's meal scheme. The meal scheme was announced on 14th August, after the PR debacle of police violently evicting protestors on the night of 13th August.
The right to struggle
“We may be street dwellers. But we are also citizens,” says Rita in a soft voice. “The CM is not willing to listen to us. Even if 5 of us gather, the police detain us.”
Kuttiamma and Rita have gotten detained at least 6 times in the last 3 months. Each time, they were released late in the evening or at night.
Besides organizing protests, workers have also been raising funds from the general public, raising awareness of their struggle in the process. Money raised from the public, together with donations from workers in other unions, was used to give rice, oil and dal to families of all protesting workers.
But even this came with difficulties. Kuttiamma says, “the government took away our jobs, and now they are not even letting us beg on the street! When we go around with our donation box, the DMK party people stop us, 'why are you begging here? Go work in Ramky, they are giving you jobs. Is that salary not enough for you', they ask us in an insulting way.”
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| More than a 1000 sanitation workers gathered in Rajarattinam stadium on 25th October. |
The deviousness
The Corporation has presented this as a case where workers have been offered jobs in Ramky in lieu of their NULM jobs. But the details are murky.
On October 7th, the contracting company Ramky informed the High Court that they gave appointment letters to 821 Corporation workers, but only 421 joined. However, the number of terminated NULM workers is 1,950. Of these 1316 workers have signed a counter-letter, submitted to the court, demanding their jobs back.
Indeed, several protesting workers have not received these appointment letters. On the other hand, some workers, including Kuttiamma and Rita, said they were offered bribes of Rs 50,000 to join Ramky. “But how can we join Ramky when 1,500 families are stuck without a job”, Kuttiamma said.
She also said, “Some workers signed to join Ramky. But after inspecting their documents, Ramky refused to take them because they were aged above 45.”
The information of how many NULM workers have been offered jobs, and the basis on which these workers were chosen, is not transparently available. As workers say, the age of the workers was likely a criterion in who was offered jobs. It is also likely that Ramky identified workers who are more vocal, and pressured them to join, going as far as offering them bribes.
The union
The protesting workers are part of the union Uzhaipport Urimai Iyakkam (UUI), led by Advocate K Bharathi. The union UUI is under LTUC, which is part of AICCTU.
Currently, Kuttiamma is one of the four union representatives in her ward which has 200 workers. She says, “we joined UUI in 2023. We got our current wage of Rs 753/day through the efforts of Bharathi thozhar (Comrade Bharathi).We did a 4-day hunger strike, and won this wage of Rs 753 per day.”
“Those days, as soon as we signed out of work at 2:30 pm, we would take the train, and rush off to Ambattur (where the protests were taking place),” she reminisces. “We’d come back at night, at 8 or 9. Bharathi thozhar also participated in the hunger strike. He is a great man, absolute gold!”
Although Rs 753/day is the legally mandated minimum wage for sanitation workers, it had to be won through protests and a court case filed by UUI. Prior to the 2023 verdict, the Corporation paid NULM workers less than minimum wage on the excuse that they were ‘scheme workers’.
Kuttiamma continues, “for a long time, we had been with a different union. Every month , that union would collect Rs 150 of chanda (dues), and we kept paying 150, 150, 150, 150. Whenever they had meetings we would go. But they only talked about issues of permanent workers – they have not been given gloves, brooms – we would stand there listening to them for hours. In the end, they would say just one line about permanency for NULM workers.”
“We left that other union when we won the wage increase (through UUI) two years ago. Bharathi thozhar has never taken money from us. Even now, for these ongoing cases, he hasn't taken money. When we ask him, he says ‘First let the jobs come.’ “
“We put up the UUI board in our ward. We pooled money and organized a grand event. We invited Bharathi thozhar. The ward councillor (DMK) was upset about the board. But we didn’t get scared by him. Bharathi thozhar is the one fighting for us.”
“Even if we had a brother of our own, he wouldn't be supporting us the way Bharathi thozhar supports us. Whenever the UUI union gives a call, we will go. We really like them.”
Rita’s woes
A majority of sanitation workers are women without any family support. Rita, who is now 34 years old, started working as an NULM sanitation worker 12 years ago, soon after her husband started a relationship with another woman.
After years of deprivations and fighting, she left him two years ago, and moved into this window-less apartment with her daughter. Her husband kept her son. “Aaru laksham kadan-oda vanthen,” she says. I came back with loans worth six lakhs.
Kuttiamma explains, “Her husband is an auto driver. And a heavy drinker. He would get into accidents. He would get injured and need to go to the hospital. The auto would need repairs. Every time, she would take out a loan to help him out.”
Rita says, “Velai irukku-nna dhairyamaa vandhutten. Enna naan paarthuppen-nna.” Since I had this job, I had the confidence to leave. I felt I could take care of myself. Rita had repaid half of her loans till the time they lost the job.
“Kadaisiyil intha velai-leye kai vechutaar kadavul,” Rita says, almost in a whisper. Today this job itself is about to be snatched away from me. She continues, “We are really struggling. There is no money for food. There is no gas in the house for the last 3 months. We haven’t cooked. We eat food given out by the neighborhood masjid.
“I don’t have any support, my parents are both dead. My life is full of sorrows. If not for these loans, I’d go away somewhere with my daughter, leaving everything.”
Kuttiamma scolds her, “What will I do then (if you are to go away)?”
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Rita and Kuttiamma’s daughters leading me to their house |
Loans
Like Rita, most sanitation workers are in debt. Kuttiamma has a loan from a moneylender in Sowkarpet. “It is a 30-paisa kadan (loan)”, she says, which means that if she borrows 1 lakh rupees, 30k rupees have to be returned on the spot, so that, the actual loan is just for 70k rupees. After this, she would pay ten monthly installments of Rs 10k each.
The Sowkarpet moneylender keeps the borrower’s bank passbook and ATM card, as a pledge. Kuttiamma hasn’t paid her installments in the last 3 months. “I got into a fight with that moneylender. He was telling me to go to the Ramky job.”
Will he charge penalties for the missed payments, I ask.
“No. Bharathi thozhar said we’ll go to the police if he does that. Since I told him that, he has kept quiet. He can keep the bank passbook and ATM card. I will repay when I get back the job.”
“That moneylender has the bank passbooks of some 500 workers in Zone 5. Everybody has taken loans from him!”
The job that gave nothing
Rita continues, “the government is attacking us who collect garbage, they are attacking us who earn 23,000 a month, whereas there are people who earn in lakhs sitting in AC.”
Kuttiamma adds, “If they had made PF contributions in this job, or if they gave us some settlement money (as part of the termination), we would be okay losing our jobs. We would have taken the money and started a shop. All these years, they have sucked our blood, and now they are telling us to work for Ramky!”
She continues, “In this job, we got nothing. No weekly offs, no Deepavali bonus. We have just worked and worked and worked. If (on any day) we didn’t do the afternoon signature (signing out), we would lose half a day’s pay. No holidays for festivals. If we took off for Deepavali or Pongal, the next day, they would remove us from the job.”
“And the work we had to do after Deepavali! We had to segregate all the waste, separate out the paper and the cardboard. The supervisors would sell the cardboard and paper, and make money. Our job was to segregate and give it to them.”
The talk of waste segregation makes her more angry “Antha makkum kuppai makkatha kuppai pirikkira velai irukke..appappa..” Segregating wet and dry waste..that work was undescribably horrific!
“All kinds of waste would be there. We would open the garbage bags, there would even be adult diapers in it. Even after we came home, we could still feel the smell. We wouldn't be able to eat.”
“The segregation work was done only by us, not the permanent staff. Everything had to be separated out – food waste separate, clothes separate, shoes separate, cardboard separate. We would do this work sitting in a tin shed in the MCC, there was no ventilation there, there were no toilets.”
“Then, we had to mix all the compostable waste, compactify it with our feet, and feed it into the compostor. And the smell that gave off..”
“Finally, when we were done, we would wash our hands in a hand-pump on the street, or in some building where they let us use the tap.”
“Vayithu pozhappukaaga ippadi asinga pattu, vekka pattu, sahichhundu velai paarthirikkom.” We have done such degrading shameful work. All for our livelihood.
“We never imagined we would be thrown out of the job like this.”
But we loved our jobs
“We did our jobs with great happiness”, they both say. And I am shocked. I ask “how, in spite of all the indignities?”
Rita says, “ithu sor potta deivam.” This job is the God that fed us.
“This job supported me when my husband abandoned me. My daughter was just 6 years old.”
Kuttiamma explains, “We are people who don’t have any close family. We shared our happiness and sorrows in this job.”
She reminisces, “We used to have tricycle carts, before we had BOVs (battery-operated vehicles). In the rains, with water up to our waist, we would push the cart, we would gather the garbage using a hand-woven basket, sieve out the water and put the waste into the cart. It used to be a lot of fun working together.”
“At 11 am every day, we would have tea together. That was a source of happiness. If we missed a day of work and stayed at home, we would feel bad. How to say this, Enga kanavar-na eppadi engalukku pidikkumo, antha mathiri intha velai engalukku pidikkum.” The way we like our husbands, in a similar way we like this job.
A constricted path ahead, but the struggle goes on
The legal system extends the societal callousness towards sanitation workers. The Madras High Court refused to interfere with the privatization of sanitation work in Zones 5 and 6, saying it is a policy decision taken by the government. The courts have allowed the privatization policy to roll ahead without paying any heed to workers' rights being upheld.
Private companies in Chennai do not pay minimum wage to their sanitation workers. In this case of Zone 5 and 6, the private company has been asked to pay workers their last drawn NULM salary as a stop-gap measure.
Workers engaged in a work of permanent nature for longer than 480 days are required to be made permanent -- this law which the Corporation has already been violating is brushed off into irrelevance as the policy of privatization is allowed to march ahead.
The courts have been proactive about curtailing workers’ access to spaces to protest. The August 13th protest was shut down following a court order. Subsequently, no space was given for workers to continue their protest. The court turned down the union’s request to allow an indefinite protest at Rajarathinam stadium (a protest venue with visibility).
Police excesses have gone unquestioned. On one occasion, the police detained workers who were conducting a hunger strike in their own house. The police were gently scolded by a judge for this particular event in a High Court hearing.
Going forward, the Court has given permission for four workers to conduct a hunger strike in the union office. The workers on hunger strike can be switched with other workers, but the number can not increase.
Following this order, 4 women workers have started an indefinite hunger strike on November 17th. Kuttiamma and Rita are part of a small support group for these 4 workers, and are currently staying in the union office.
The struggle goes on, approaching the end of a fourth month. In the beach protest, the workers phrased it as a vaazhvaa chaavaa poraattam. A protest of life or death.
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