Basanti Naik, 43, lives in the Khargandi Sai Mandir basti in Bhubaneswar. She belongs to the Harijan community, a group that has historically been pushed into sanitation work. Like many women in her settlement, Basanti’s life has been shaped by poverty, caste-based expectations, and the constant pressure to provide for her family.

Basanti married young and, along with her husband, a long-time toilet operator, raised four children. Her eldest daughter, who is deaf and mute, is 28 years old. The second daughter, 20, has studied until Class 10. The third daughter studied till Class 5, while her son dropped out after Class 10. Her youngest daughter was married after she turned 20, successfully avoiding early child marriage, which is still common in the community. The children dream of working in beauty parlours and salons instead of continuing in sanitation work.

Basanti’s decision to become a toilet operator was driven by necessity. Her husband’s irregular work and substance abuse placed the family under growing financial strain. Around 15 years ago, when her children were still young, Basanti entered sanitation work. She earned just ₹3,000 a month—far too little to meet household needs.

Over time, as expenses rose due to schooling, medical care, and weddings, her income became the backbone of the family. Despite this, her work has always carried social stigma—sometimes even from her own children.

Basanti initially worked in private Sulabh Sauchalayas, maintaining public toilets. As a contract worker, she has never had job security. At one point, she was unemployed for eight months while toilets were under construction.

Later, she secured a job through the Garima Gruh programme at Capital Hospital—first under Sulabh and later under the Bhubaneswar Municipal Corporation. Despite working eight-hour shifts from 6 a.m. to 2 p.m. and performing physically demanding cleaning work, she remains on a temporary contract, earning ₹16,500 per month.

Her husband also works at private toilets and earns ₹13,500, but spends most of his income on intoxicants, leaving Basanti as the household’s primary stable earner. Commuting to work costs her another ₹30 daily from her limited income.

Basanti lives in a non-permanent settlement. Though her family holds a land patta (title), their basti is not officially recognised as permanent. Under Odisha’s Jaga Mission, slum dwellers are meant to receive secure land tenure, helping prevent evictions and enabling access to government benefits. But many settlements, including hers, remain in legal limbo.

She has also applied for the Biju Pucca Ghar Yojana, which promises permanent housing for the poor, but has not yet received benefits. Although her home now has a bathroom and toilet, the lack of permanent land rights continues to cause anxiety.

Launched in 2020, the Garima Scheme aimed to ensure dignity, safety, health insurance, and permanent employment for sanitation workers. Basanti hoped it would finally bring her job security.

However, she continues to work on contract, excluded from most entitlements under the scheme. Only her Ayushman health card is active. Insurance, permanent employment, and social protection remain out of reach.

In Basanti’s basti, most Harijan women work as toilet operators, while some men find work as bus conductors or in informal sanitation labour. This highlights how caste continues to dictate occupation across generations.

Basanti is determined that her eldest daughter—who is deaf and mute—will not enter sanitation work, fearing both violence and her inability to seek help. The daughter receives a disability pension of ₹1,000 per month but has few safe employment options, reflecting how caste, gender, and disability intersect to deepen vulnerability.

Basanti’s day begins before sunrise with a one-hour commute. At the hospital, she cleans continuously—scrubbing floors every hour to maintain hygiene in a crowded medical setting. Cleaning materials are provided, but the work is relentless and physically exhausting.

Her life is marked by constant anxiety: the fear of losing her contract job, insecurity over housing, and the pain of seeing welfare schemes fail to deliver what was promised. Yet, she continues working with the hope that one day she will receive permanent employment.

Despite doing essential public health work, Basanti remains economically and socially vulnerable due to her contract status. Still, efforts like the Jaga Mission, which granted her family a land patta, represent important steps toward greater security.

Encouragingly, none of Basanti’s children plans to be in sanitation work. Their aspirations reflect a slow break from caste-based occupational inheritance. Her youngest daughter’s delayed marriage signals another powerful shift away from harmful social norms.

Basanti Naik’s life reveals the deep intersections of caste, gender, informal labour, and urban poverty in India’s sanitation sector. While schemes like Garima and Jaga Mission promise dignity and protection, gaps in implementation continue to leave workers like Basanti uncertain and exposed.

Yet, her story is also one of quiet resilience—of a woman who has carried her family forward despite stigma, instability, and unrecognised labour. Her children’s dreams of different futures reflect a hopeful possibility: that dignity at work and freedom of choice may one day truly become a reality.