Fractured futures: Why child labour still traps thousands in south India

Rising costs and structural inequities continue to push children into labour and migration, stripping them of education, safety, and justice

Bengaluru: While toiling in the agricultural fields of Bihar, Munir* often imagined cities as shimmering with opportunity. At 13, when he was offered the chance to move to Bengaluru for a short-term tile-laying job, those distant possibilities drew tantalisingly closer.

Upon arrival, he envisioned moving seamlessly from one job to another, lodging with a relative in a cramped city room. “Back then, I would take on many jobs in the village anyway and was not particularly good at studies, so school seemed pointless. This felt different,” he recalls.

The pattern of migration from the region for skilled construction work appealed to him even as a boy. “Even with most of my family working, it was difficult to find money to eat,” he says. Many boys in the village worked in some capacity or had plans to migrate. Then, Munir thought he was lucky.

At a traffic signal in Bengaluru now, he has a minute to haul the box of mulberries above his shoulder and dart from car to scooter to auto to make a sale. “My relative buys mulberries in bulk, and we distribute them into boxes and sell them at signals,” he says.

Sometimes, to exhaust the stocks, he spends seven to eight hours a day on the road. His feet ache, his breathing has grown laboured, and as meals become more irregular, his health has suffered. “I barely have enough for my living expenses. More than that, one day I have a job, the next day it is gone. It is easy to feel dejected in such an environment. I miss my home, my mother and family. It is hard to keep going when nothing is improving,” he says.

When he was new in the city, many people would ask how old he was. Now, those questions have thinned to a trickle. At the signal just a few metres ahead, a traffic cop stands, keeping a watchful eye on vehicles poised to start. “Initially, I was scared that I would be caught and put somewhere. Now, I pass for an adult,” the 16-year-old says. 

Munir’s work places him in the category of a ‘street child’ — defined by the Commission on Human Rights in 1994 as any child for whom the street (including unoccupied dwellings or wastelands) has become a habitual abode or source of livelihood. 

Although often assumed to have declined, child labour remains a stark reality across both urban and rural landscapes in Karnataka.

According to data from Child Rights and You (CRY), out of 2,750 adolescents surveyed, 12% were involved in full-time work and 6% in part-time labour in 2024 in the state. 

About 16% of children aged six to 18 were engaged in either full-time or part-time employment in Karnataka, Telangana, Andhra Pradesh and Tamil Nadu. Data was collected from 51,254 children across 20 districts.

Children continue to labour in brick kilns, waste segregation units, agriculture and in domestic environments, despite decades of legislation meant to protect them from exploitation.

A rise in the cost of living, deepening agrarian distress, and adult unemployment have only made them more vulnerable to entering the workforce early. “The nature of child labour has become more unorganised in cities post-pandemic. Many child labourers are part of families that migrate to cities and eventually become involved in the informal sector,” says Vasudeva Sharma N V, executive director of the Child Rights Trust. Work on the margins, he adds, is difficult to monitor or regulate.

This shift to the unorganised sector has also coincided with declining awareness about the toll child labour takes on children. “Employing children is passed off as ‘helping’ the family to earn some extra money. This mindset is dangerous because it denies children their right to learn, grow, and dream,” says Peter Suneel, general manager, programmes, CRY, South division. 

Many activists also report backlash from the public in railway stations, apartment societies, and neighbourhoods when they intervene in suspected child labour cases.

Push factors

Meera* was only 12 when she began reeling silk in a tribal village in Jharkhand. Orphaned at a young age, she relied on her extended family, who frequently weaponised food as a means of control.

When the prospect of employment as a domestic worker in Bengaluru arose, it appeared to her as a chance at escape.

Once in the city, her expectations quickly unravelled as she was passed from one ‘handler’ to another, three or four in succession, each time uprooted and placed in a new household.

“She was 14 when she approached the police station herself after being subjected to repeated physical and sexual abuse. She was employed as a child domestic worker,” says P Lakshapathi, founder and executive director of the Association for Promoting Social Action. The organisation runs two childcare homes in Bengaluru. 

As in Meera’s case, children who migrate for work often have the consent, and sometimes the encouragement, of their families. For Munir, stagnating wages in agricultural labour and extreme poverty drove him to move. “Even though there are jobs in Bihar, they are not easily available and money is limited,” he says. Those with larger parcels of land can still make a living from agriculture.

Poverty, disadvantaged caste backgrounds, landlessness and family issues remain major drivers of child labour. Dalit and Adivasi children, for instance, are disproportionately represented as child workers — an NSSO report found that tribal children faced a child labour incidence of 3.8%, notably higher than the national average of 2.74% in 2005.

Often a symptom of deeper social inequities, child labour can only be tackled when these roots are addressed. “Ensuring adult employment in native regions and making sure welfare measures like food rations reach migrant families will help control child labour, since children are often pushed towards work when parents are desperate,” says Sharma. He stresses that source states with high migration need stronger follow-up systems to ensure children who drop out of school are not lost to labour.

Out of classrooms

While many parents view schooling as a long-term investment, immediate needs have also started to weigh heavily. “We also want our children to move forward, but staying in one place without a job is difficult,” says Amitha, a flower seller in Bengaluru.

Amitha has two children — a boy and a girl, both under 10, who help her sell flowers for a few months in the year. “They go to school when we go to our hometown in Odisha. It is too difficult to get documents together every time we move,” she says.

It is common for children to migrate with families. Sometimes, entire families relocate; other times, children move with aunts or uncles. Yet having a guardian nearby does not guarantee school access.

Language differences, the lack of schools close to settlements, and missing documents often shut migrant children out of the classroom. A 2020 study by the Kailash Satyarthi Foundation found that only 55% of migrant children accessed education, compared to 75% of those who remained in their villages.

“It has been proven that schooling is essential for the development of a child. Apart from this, every child has the desire to interact with other children in his or her own age range,” says Nagasimha G Rao, a child rights activist.

Experts note that education is one of the strongest safeguards against child labour. At its core, the Right to Education Act recognises that education empowers children to live with dignity and break free from cycles of poverty and inequality. 

“The system also has provisions like midday meals to keep children in school. But outcomes need to be consistent to rebuild public trust,” adds Rao. A more flexible model that accounts for language diversity can also help children on the margins access education.

When prolonged absence is recorded in schools, “there is a need to follow up with children early. Continued absence can be a precursor to child labour, child marriage, or trafficking,” says Rao. Effective rehabilitation hinges on coordination between schools, child welfare committees, the police, and the labour department.

Following up with children who are out of school is key to prevention. “If the child has been out of school for less than five months, he or she can continue on the prescribed track. Rehabilitation of children absent for longer becomes more complex,” says Kavita Ratna, executive director of the Concerned for Working Children. 

In 2019, the Karnataka High Court directed the Karnataka State Attendance Authority to notify parents if children had been out of school for two weeks or more.

“The authority must first persuade parents, then notify them, fine them, and issue a notice to them. It must share the progress of bringing children back to school with department officials every week,” the order stated. At the stage of prolonged absenteeism, however, many of these mechanisms fail to function.

Occupational hazards

Migrant children, many of whom are engaged in child labour, become difficult to trace once absorbed into the workforce. Within these spaces, they encounter acute risks. Domestic labour, often perceived as benign, is in fact among the most opaque and unregulated forms of employment.

“Young girls are routinely kept as ‘helpers’ in the house and remain indoors for most of the day. Here, they face the risk of routine physical, mental, and even sexual abuse. This type of work is very difficult to regulate, and few people notice or even complain,” explains Muni Narayanaswamy, chairman of the Child Welfare Committee, Bengaluru Urban. 

The Child Labour (Prohibition and Regulation) Amendment Act, 2016, bans the employment of children under 14 years in domestic work, categorising it as hazardous. For adolescents between 15 and 18, the Act permits work under specific conditions, including rest hours.

Employers are also required to notify inspectors about the engagement of an adolescent worker. However, in practice, families who employ children often do so informally and rarely notify the labour department.

“Are these children being provided the minimum wage for their work? Are they allowed to go to school? Do they have the chance to play? If not — and in most cases they are not — this constitutes bonded labour,” says Rao.

Cost of child labour

Four out of 10 children globally are involved in hazardous work, according to the ILO. In India, this often means working in brick kilns, exposure to pesticides in agriculture, street hawking, waste picking, or long hours in garages and small factories.

“In many pockets, children are now pushed into informal, hidden, and unregulated jobs — domestic help, small workshops, delivery support, even gig-based tasks,” says Suneel. The work is less visible but more exploitative, with longer hours, weaker safety protocols, and little accountability, he adds. Children involved in informal recycling, for instance, are two and a half times more likely to suffer injury and preventable disease than the national average.

Many children who are rescued from seemingly ‘safe’ workplaces need weeks or months before they trust people enough to recount their stories. Even children like Meera, who were proactive in their own rescues, require months to reconcile with their experiences and resume daily life after being placed in childcare institutions, explains Lakshapathi. 

Road ahead

Addressing socio-economic risk factors is central to tackling child labour, but enforcement against those who employ children is equally vital. 

The Child Labour (Prohibition and Regulation) Act provides for penalties, including imprisonment of up to two years and fines of up to Rs 50,000. Yet, enforcement tells a very different story. According to the Karnataka State Child Labour Eradication Project Society, over the past nine years, only 11% of registered child labour cases ended in the conviction of employers. 

The Juvenile Justice (Care and Protection of Children) Act also criminalises those who exploit children, carrying penalties of up to five years’ rigorous imprisonment and fines as high as Rs 1 lakh. The police are also empowered to book cases under Section 143 of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita (BNS) — for the trafficking of a person. 

“Once the investigation of the case is completed, officers must file a chargesheet under the Child Labour Act, Section 143 of the BNS and other sections of the Juvenile Justice Act,” says C K Baba, Superintendent of Police, Bengaluru Rural. When the case is chargesheeted under only sections 14 and 14A of the Child Labour Act, it is processed by labour courts. These courts impose penalties for first-time offenders up to Rs 50,000 and for second-time offenders up to Rs 5 lakh. 

To ensure that there are stricter penalties for repeat offenders, cases must be booked under all three laws. “This will ensure that repeat offenders are prosecuted to the full extent,” he says. Many parents under economic pressure also settle outside of court, which may contribute to reduced convictions. 

When prosecutions succeed, they can break cycles of exploitation. Rescue operations followed by justice not only hold offenders accountable but also open doors to rehabilitation. For instance, although Meera’s future once seemed bleak, she now lives in a hostel, attends school, and has even passed Class 10. “The recovery is tough, but she is doing it and progress is underway,” says Lakshapathi.

Meera’s case shows how powerful these interventions can be. Rescue followed by justice allows a child to return to education and safety. When employers go unpunished, however, families receive the message that suffering has no consequence, and the cycle continues. As Rao points out, protecting children cannot rest with one actor alone. “When we think of the welfare of children, we need to think of them as if inside a triangle of care involving the parents, the community, and the government. We cannot think of ourselves as exempt from acting and intervening to the benefit of a child,” he says. 

For laws and rescues to have a lasting impact, they must be reinforced by families who feel supported, communities that refuse to look away, and a state that tackles the structural inequalities driving child labour.

(*Names changed to protect privacy)