Justice Madan B. Lokur: Manual Scavenging Persists Despite Laws, Central Monitoring Committee Never Met

On 1 September 2026, the Press Club of India in New Delhi became the stage for a stark confrontation between India’s constitutional promises and the lived reality of caste-based oppression. Nearly 200 activists, legal practitioners, former judges, and women from four states gathered under the banner of the Safai Karmachari Andolan (SKA) to demand an end to manual scavenging—a practice legally prohibited since 2013 but which, as harrowing testimonies revealed, continues to trap entire communities in a cycle of untouchability, violence, and dehumanisation.

The event, held 80 years after India’s independence, exposed a profound disconnect: successive governments have declared the practice eradicated, courts have demanded proof, and a Central Monitoring Committee created to oversee the end of manual scavenging has not met even once in three years. Former Supreme Court judge Justice Madan B. Lokur, who addressed the gathering, called this failure a damning indictment of the government’s priorities. “The committee was meant to be the institutional backbone for ending manual scavenging,” he said. “Its silence speaks volumes about where this issue stands in the national agenda.”

Background: A Law on Paper, a Crisis in Practice

The Prohibition of Employment as Manual Scavengers and their Rehabilitation Act, 2013 (MS Act) was enacted with the twin objectives of prohibiting the hazardous cleaning of human excreta and providing rehabilitation to those historically forced into the occupation. Yet the practice persists, sustained by the rigid hierarchies of caste that assign the work of cleaning latrines and sewers to Dalit communities, particularly those sub-castes traditionally designated as ‘scavengers’.

A national survey conducted in 2018 across 194 districts identified 58,098 people engaged in manual scavenging. The government’s own data, however, tells a contradictory story. On 7 December 2021, the Ministry of Social Justice and Empowerment informed the Lok Sabha that there was “no report of people currently engaged in manual scavenging” as defined under Section 2(1)(g) of the MS Act. The testimonies shared at the SKA programme shredded that official narrative, revealing a hidden economy of caste labour that operates outside official recognition.

Testimonies: ‘We Have Lost Many Lives to This’

The women who spoke at the gathering offered first-hand accounts of lives spent cleaning human excreta—not by choice, but because caste discrimination leaves them no alternative. Ramdevi, a 64-year-old from Uttar Pradesh, has been engaged in manual scavenging for approximately 50 years. She receives no regular wage, only 20 kilograms of rice and 20 kilograms of wheat once a year. When she falls ill, her daughter-in-law is expected to take over. If no one from the family is available, the excreta remain in the latrines until Ramdevi returns. “After three or four days, the waste becomes dirtier and the smell more intense,” she said. “But I have no choice. No one else will do it.”

Maya Bai Balmiki, 52, has cleaned dry latrines for 37 years. After her husband died, her caste determined the only work people would offer her. Rambati Balmiki, 50, described cleaning human excreta for 35 years, her husband cleaning septic tanks, and receiving as little as two to five rupees a month from some households. Saroj Didi from Haryana recounted brutal treatment: after a day’s work, she was given a single roti thrown at her, which she had to catch in the pallu of her sari. If she dropped it, she was beaten and forced to pick it up and eat it. She also recalled falling from a ladder while cleaning; instead of helping her, those around beat her with sticks to make her get up—ensuring that no one had to touch her.

Narayan Amma carried 18–20 baskets of human excreta every day. She was never granted leave, even after childbirth. “We have lost many lives to this in our country,” she said. “We cannot have even a single dry latrine left in this country.”

The Legal Fraternity Speaks: Untouchability, Not Just Labour

Justice Madan B. Lokur walked the gathering through the legislative and institutional measures introduced to end manual scavenging. He noted that the Central Monitoring Committee, intended to oversee progress, had not convened a single meeting in three years—a period during which deaths of sewage workers continued unabated. He outlined four broad areas for the way forward: the Swachh Bharat Mission must explicitly include the eradication of manual scavenging; dry latrines must be demolished and affected families identified and rehabilitated; rehabilitation must address both stigma and livelihood; and those affected must be fully integrated into society.

Article 17 of the Constitution abolishes untouchability,” Justice Lokur said. “Yet the testimonies we have heard today demonstrate that untouchability continues to exist in deeply entrenched and brutal forms. This is not merely a failure of implementation—it is a failure of constitutional morality.”

Justice Sudhanshu Dhulia, also a former Supreme Court judge, argued that manual scavenging should not be viewed merely as a labour-rights issue. “At its core,” he said, “it is an issue of untouchability.” He pointed to India’s technological progress and questioned why that advancement has not eliminated hazardous work inside manholes and sewage systems. “If technology can take us everywhere, why has it not taken human beings out of manholes?” He also called for a pension system for survivors of decades of manual scavenging.

Senior Advocate Anjana Prakash, former judge of the Patna High Court, emphasised that the problem cannot be resolved through legislation alone. “The law must not only be implemented; society itself must recognise people engaged in manual scavenging as equals,” she said. She described the practice as a “shameful reality” and called on citizens to demand immediate government action. “This is more than a legal issue. It is a societal injustice deeply rooted in caste.”

The Demand for Evidence: A Second Injury

Bezwada Wilson, a leader of SKA who was born into a family of manual scavengers, drew attention to a particularly disturbing contradiction: governments and courts continue to demand photographic evidence that manual scavenging exists. He questioned how a person could be expected to hold human excreta on their head or around their waist merely to provide proof of their exploitation. “Demanding such photographs places an additional burden on people who are already being dehumanised by a system that has failed to recognise and eradicate the practice,” Wilson said. “It turns their suffering into a demand for proof rather than a call to action.”

Usha Ranganathan, a board member of SKA, highlighted the deeply entrenched nature of caste-based occupation. She argued that the burden of ending manual scavenging has effectively been placed on the communities themselves, who remain trapped in a system where their caste determines the work they are expected to perform.

Analysis: The Gap Between Law and Reality

The gathering underscored a fundamental failure of governance. The MS Act, 2013, is comprehensive on paper, but its implementation has been sporadic at best. The absence of Central Monitoring Committee meetings for three years suggests that the issue has not received adequate governmental priority. Meanwhile, the Swachh Bharat Mission, while constructing millions of toilets, has not been explicitly linked to the eradication of manual scavenging. Building sanitary infrastructure alone cannot dismantle the caste-based allocation of this work.

The testimonies also reveal that manual scavenging is not simply degrading labour; it is a manifestation of untouchability and caste-based violence. Women are beaten, denied leave, and forced to work even after childbirth. Their children inherit the same occupation because no other employment is available. Rehabilitation, as Justice Lokur stressed, must go beyond removing people from the work—it must restore their dignity, equality, and full participation in social and economic life.

The Way Forward

The speakers at the gathering called for a multi-pronged approach: complete demolition of all dry latrines; identification, compensation, and rehabilitation of affected families; dismantling social stigma through education and vocational training; and ensuring that the Swachh Bharat Mission explicitly includes manual scavenging eradication as a core objective. A pension system for survivors, as suggested by Justice Dhulia, would provide some measure of justice for decades of unpaid, hazardous labour.

Ultimately, as Senior Advocate Anjana Prakash noted, the issue is not just legal but societal. The law must be implemented, but society must also recognise the equal humanity of those forced into this work. Until then, the gap between India’s constitutional promises and the lived reality of manual scavengers will remain a shameful indictment of a nation that prides itself on progress.

Conclusion

The gathering at the Press Club of India was a powerful reminder that manual scavenging is not a relic of the past but a present-day crisis. The testimonies of women like Ramdevi, Maya Bai, and Saroj Didi are not just evidence of individual suffering—they are a collective indictment of a system that continues to permit caste-based untouchability. Justice Madan B. Lokur’s observation that the Central Monitoring Committee never met is a stark symbol of institutional neglect. The call from SKA and the legal fraternity is clear: end manual scavenging now, not with words, but with action that addresses the root cause—caste discrimination. The clock is ticking, and for thousands of families, every day without intervention is another day of dehumanisation.