<p>Crouching over a rectangular mould and shaping wet clay to be cut into bricks for 16 to 18 hours a day was taking a toll on Poornima. Eight months into her pregnancy, the task of cutting 1,000 bricks every day was physically and emotionally impossible. But Poornima, and her distressed husband Marappa, had no choice but to work side-by-side, in trepidation. Afraid of physical abuse and dire consequences at the hands of the brick kiln owner, the couple could not even consider escape as an option.</p>.<p>A decade later, Poornima and Marappa wear matching smiles as they walk side-by-side through the rows of their lush green paddy crop. “I work here during harvest season, Poornima works full-time at her tailoring unit. I never thought we would be able to have our own livelihoods. I even have time for ‘timepass’ with my children,” says Marappa. Their sons, Naveen and Praveen, who were both born at the brick kiln, return from a school day to spend time with their parents, climb trees and play outside with their friends until dusk settles in their village in Bengaluru Rural. </p>.<p>The pair is among thousands of bonded labourers in Karnataka, who are employed and exploited in brick kilns, pig farms, tile factories, fish processing units and other industries. Four years into their plight, in 2014, Marappa’s sister escaped the factory to ask for help. She was among the eight members of the family who were trapped here. </p><p>Following a tip-off, police officials and the tahsildar arrived at the facility, as part of a rescue operation. Hours later, their statements were collected at the local police station, and soon after, they were given ‘release certificates’, acknowledging that they were once bonded labourers, now free. </p><p>Today, Poornima and Marappa are resolute in their decision to celebrate their own freedom by affording others the same opportunity. Having faced harsh challenges not just at the kiln, but after their rescue — due to continued harassment, struggles with rehabilitation and making ends meet — the pair works diligently to help others in similar circumstances.</p><p>“We did not have any documents, so it was very difficult to get IDs, which was needed to access any support. We had no knowledge of where to begin, and it took us a long time to understand the processes, so now we help others in the village, especially expecting mothers and rescued bonded labourers,” says Poornima.</p><p>As office-bearers of the Udayonmukha Foundation, a 120-member association of bonded labourers, they interact with survivors and speak to government officials.</p><p>A few months ago, Marappa helped investigate and pass on intel about a family trapped in bonded labour on a pig farm in a neighbouring district. “They escaped to come tell us and ask for help. But each time, they were beaten up and dragged back by the owner. One day, I went to the pig farm to see for myself. The family was being forced to live in very degrading and harmful conditions. I was determined to help them.” With this information and the efforts of various stakeholders, including proactive civil society actors and cooperative local administrators, the family was rescued and is now being rehabilitated. </p>.<p>For Poornima, freedom has also meant realising her dreams. “I had always wanted to learn tailoring, so I opted for training in that, once we were released,” says Poornima. A quick learner, she soon began stitching laptop bags, tote bags, decorations, table runners and mobile pouches.</p><p>Today, she is not only a tailor, but a trainer — so far, she has taught four women in the village, and several others await the opportunity to learn.</p><p>“Earlier, I knew only how to mend clothes, but Poornima taught us to stitch completely new designs, and the skill is helping us earn money. I also learnt how to use these new automated sewing machines, which makes stitching much easier,” says Dimple, one of the women.</p><p>“We get paid per piece that we stitch, so we are able to come to the tailoring unit and sew to make some money for our families,” says Dimple, one of the women. </p><p>The Udayonmukha Trust is supported by non-profit organisations, the state government and more recently, handicraft sales. Through the trust, a tailoring unit was set up in Poornima’s village, equipped with four sewing machines. Here, Poornima and a team of ladies from the village fill orders for bags, decorations and more, which often come in bulk. “During busy seasons, Poornima enlists additional help from other freed bonded labourers, from different districts,” says an NGO worker. They recently put up a stall at the Sunday Soul Sante in Bengaluru, where their products were in high demand.</p><p>Being able to teach tailoring has been transformative to their resettling in the village where Poornima grew up in Ramanagara. “The people in the community initially looked down on us, because of our background in bonded labour, but today, they admire us for the life we have built. I feel proud to be able to teach and help them,” says Poornima. </p> .<p>Their first order came in 2019, from the Rural Development and Panchayat Raj department, which ordered 250 laptop bags. “Udayonmukha had just been formed, and they had been requesting a venue for meetings. They have had meetings with the district authorities and the labour, revenue, women and child development departments,” says Priyanka Mary Francis, former commissioner of the RDPR department. </p><p>Rescued bonded labourers are in a unique position to advocate for change, as they “understand the ground situation, can sensitise authorities using knowledge from their own experiences, and spur coordinated efforts,” adds Priyanka Mary Francis, former commissioner of the RDPR department. </p><p>Marappa, who has been voted president of the foundation, believes advocacy and education are key. “I want to educate everyone about bonded labour, and how easily you can get trapped when you take an advance.”</p><p>He recounts how their ordeal began when the kiln owner offered to cover expenses when the couple wished to get married. “My sister’s family already worked for him, so we knew him well. Instead of giving me the money, he reassured me that he would take care of all the expenses, which amounted to Rs 20,000,” says Marappa.</p><p>In turn, the couple was to work at the factory to pay off the loan in five years. “Two years in, we began to see his behaviour change,” says Poornima. The kiln owner became physically abusive and controlling. He began to claim that it would take them 10 years now to pay off the loan, which had compounded to Rs 80,000. Medical care, provisions and basic facilities were scarce. “The saddest incident was my younger sister-in-law losing her baby. The owner did not even allow her to leave the facility to get medical attention when she complained of unbearable stomach pain,” says Poornima. </p><p>While many consider bonded labour to be obsolete, this is far from the truth, says Rajendra Prabhakar, executive director of Maarga, an organisation that works with bonded labourers in Bengaluru. “The form may have changed, where people are not literally chained or trapped. But the abuse and exploitation continues,” he says. </p> .<p>Bonded labour often involves restrictions on freedom of employment and movement. “In most cases, an advance payment is given by the employer, following which the worker is trapped. Technically, they can work off the advance, but in reality, this never happens, as the interest is compounded. There is also a lack of transparency regarding payments and accounts, and very low wages below minimum standards,” he adds.</p><p>There is also a strong link between human trafficking and bonded labour, explains a community support worker. “We are seeing a lot of migrant workers these days from other states. They are given Rs 20,000 to 30,000, along with the promise of a job. However, once they come here, they find themselves trapped, and indebted to traffickers.” </p><p>Unfortunately, in many cases, people are unable to escape this situation. Owners get wind of police coming and relocate them. </p><p>In Poornima and Marappa’s case, the owner was convicted and sentenced. However, this is extremely rare. In most cases, survivors continue living close by and remain vulnerable to exploitation. </p><p>This is why complete and sustainable rehabilitation is vital. “Besides, rehabilitation only offers breathing room. There is a need for action beyond this, in setting them up with productive assets like land and capital,” says Prabhakar.</p><p>Having carved out a new life thus far, the couple says they have a long road to forge ahead. Several ideas and projects are in the works, including discussions to set up training in Ari embroidery, making a prototype for the National Gallery of Modern Art and expanding the team at the tailoring unit to take more orders. </p><p>On the advocacy front, meetings with zilla panchayat leaders and other government departments for consistent sensitisation are a priority. Along with this, the focus is on strengthening the union among survivors in different districts and reaching more bonded labourers. “Having gone through what we went through, I want to help everyone protect themselves from such situations. I work hard to share what I have learned because I want to see the end of bonded labour in my lifetime,” says Marappa.</p>
<p>Crouching over a rectangular mould and shaping wet clay to be cut into bricks for 16 to 18 hours a day was taking a toll on Poornima. Eight months into her pregnancy, the task of cutting 1,000 bricks every day was physically and emotionally impossible. But Poornima, and her distressed husband Marappa, had no choice but to work side-by-side, in trepidation. Afraid of physical abuse and dire consequences at the hands of the brick kiln owner, the couple could not even consider escape as an option.</p>.<p>A decade later, Poornima and Marappa wear matching smiles as they walk side-by-side through the rows of their lush green paddy crop. “I work here during harvest season, Poornima works full-time at her tailoring unit. I never thought we would be able to have our own livelihoods. I even have time for ‘timepass’ with my children,” says Marappa. Their sons, Naveen and Praveen, who were both born at the brick kiln, return from a school day to spend time with their parents, climb trees and play outside with their friends until dusk settles in their village in Bengaluru Rural. </p>.<p>The pair is among thousands of bonded labourers in Karnataka, who are employed and exploited in brick kilns, pig farms, tile factories, fish processing units and other industries. Four years into their plight, in 2014, Marappa’s sister escaped the factory to ask for help. She was among the eight members of the family who were trapped here. </p><p>Following a tip-off, police officials and the tahsildar arrived at the facility, as part of a rescue operation. Hours later, their statements were collected at the local police station, and soon after, they were given ‘release certificates’, acknowledging that they were once bonded labourers, now free. </p><p>Today, Poornima and Marappa are resolute in their decision to celebrate their own freedom by affording others the same opportunity. Having faced harsh challenges not just at the kiln, but after their rescue — due to continued harassment, struggles with rehabilitation and making ends meet — the pair works diligently to help others in similar circumstances.</p><p>“We did not have any documents, so it was very difficult to get IDs, which was needed to access any support. We had no knowledge of where to begin, and it took us a long time to understand the processes, so now we help others in the village, especially expecting mothers and rescued bonded labourers,” says Poornima.</p><p>As office-bearers of the Udayonmukha Foundation, a 120-member association of bonded labourers, they interact with survivors and speak to government officials.</p><p>A few months ago, Marappa helped investigate and pass on intel about a family trapped in bonded labour on a pig farm in a neighbouring district. “They escaped to come tell us and ask for help. But each time, they were beaten up and dragged back by the owner. One day, I went to the pig farm to see for myself. The family was being forced to live in very degrading and harmful conditions. I was determined to help them.” With this information and the efforts of various stakeholders, including proactive civil society actors and cooperative local administrators, the family was rescued and is now being rehabilitated. </p>.<p>For Poornima, freedom has also meant realising her dreams. “I had always wanted to learn tailoring, so I opted for training in that, once we were released,” says Poornima. A quick learner, she soon began stitching laptop bags, tote bags, decorations, table runners and mobile pouches.</p><p>Today, she is not only a tailor, but a trainer — so far, she has taught four women in the village, and several others await the opportunity to learn.</p><p>“Earlier, I knew only how to mend clothes, but Poornima taught us to stitch completely new designs, and the skill is helping us earn money. I also learnt how to use these new automated sewing machines, which makes stitching much easier,” says Dimple, one of the women.</p><p>“We get paid per piece that we stitch, so we are able to come to the tailoring unit and sew to make some money for our families,” says Dimple, one of the women. </p><p>The Udayonmukha Trust is supported by non-profit organisations, the state government and more recently, handicraft sales. Through the trust, a tailoring unit was set up in Poornima’s village, equipped with four sewing machines. Here, Poornima and a team of ladies from the village fill orders for bags, decorations and more, which often come in bulk. “During busy seasons, Poornima enlists additional help from other freed bonded labourers, from different districts,” says an NGO worker. They recently put up a stall at the Sunday Soul Sante in Bengaluru, where their products were in high demand.</p><p>Being able to teach tailoring has been transformative to their resettling in the village where Poornima grew up in Ramanagara. “The people in the community initially looked down on us, because of our background in bonded labour, but today, they admire us for the life we have built. I feel proud to be able to teach and help them,” says Poornima. </p> .<p>Their first order came in 2019, from the Rural Development and Panchayat Raj department, which ordered 250 laptop bags. “Udayonmukha had just been formed, and they had been requesting a venue for meetings. They have had meetings with the district authorities and the labour, revenue, women and child development departments,” says Priyanka Mary Francis, former commissioner of the RDPR department. </p><p>Rescued bonded labourers are in a unique position to advocate for change, as they “understand the ground situation, can sensitise authorities using knowledge from their own experiences, and spur coordinated efforts,” adds Priyanka Mary Francis, former commissioner of the RDPR department. </p><p>Marappa, who has been voted president of the foundation, believes advocacy and education are key. “I want to educate everyone about bonded labour, and how easily you can get trapped when you take an advance.”</p><p>He recounts how their ordeal began when the kiln owner offered to cover expenses when the couple wished to get married. “My sister’s family already worked for him, so we knew him well. Instead of giving me the money, he reassured me that he would take care of all the expenses, which amounted to Rs 20,000,” says Marappa.</p><p>In turn, the couple was to work at the factory to pay off the loan in five years. “Two years in, we began to see his behaviour change,” says Poornima. The kiln owner became physically abusive and controlling. He began to claim that it would take them 10 years now to pay off the loan, which had compounded to Rs 80,000. Medical care, provisions and basic facilities were scarce. “The saddest incident was my younger sister-in-law losing her baby. The owner did not even allow her to leave the facility to get medical attention when she complained of unbearable stomach pain,” says Poornima. </p><p>While many consider bonded labour to be obsolete, this is far from the truth, says Rajendra Prabhakar, executive director of Maarga, an organisation that works with bonded labourers in Bengaluru. “The form may have changed, where people are not literally chained or trapped. But the abuse and exploitation continues,” he says. </p> .<p>Bonded labour often involves restrictions on freedom of employment and movement. “In most cases, an advance payment is given by the employer, following which the worker is trapped. Technically, they can work off the advance, but in reality, this never happens, as the interest is compounded. There is also a lack of transparency regarding payments and accounts, and very low wages below minimum standards,” he adds.</p><p>There is also a strong link between human trafficking and bonded labour, explains a community support worker. “We are seeing a lot of migrant workers these days from other states. They are given Rs 20,000 to 30,000, along with the promise of a job. However, once they come here, they find themselves trapped, and indebted to traffickers.” </p><p>Unfortunately, in many cases, people are unable to escape this situation. Owners get wind of police coming and relocate them. </p><p>In Poornima and Marappa’s case, the owner was convicted and sentenced. However, this is extremely rare. In most cases, survivors continue living close by and remain vulnerable to exploitation. </p><p>This is why complete and sustainable rehabilitation is vital. “Besides, rehabilitation only offers breathing room. There is a need for action beyond this, in setting them up with productive assets like land and capital,” says Prabhakar.</p><p>Having carved out a new life thus far, the couple says they have a long road to forge ahead. Several ideas and projects are in the works, including discussions to set up training in Ari embroidery, making a prototype for the National Gallery of Modern Art and expanding the team at the tailoring unit to take more orders. </p><p>On the advocacy front, meetings with zilla panchayat leaders and other government departments for consistent sensitisation are a priority. Along with this, the focus is on strengthening the union among survivors in different districts and reaching more bonded labourers. “Having gone through what we went through, I want to help everyone protect themselves from such situations. I work hard to share what I have learned because I want to see the end of bonded labour in my lifetime,” says Marappa.</p>