In February 2024, we revisited the regulations identified in the 2022 report to see if the legal position regarding women’s work has changed in any way. We found that legal barriers largely continue to exist, with only a few states easing restrictions on women’s employment at night.

Listed below are our findings:

1. There are limitations on working at night in several states

There are 24 states with laws that limit women’s participation in various kinds of factory operations. Among these, there are 11 states that bar women’s employment at night. Two laws govern these strictures: the Factories Act, 1948, at the union level and the shops and commercial establishments laws at the state level. Governments have argued that these stipulations are necessary to prevent sexual violence and safeguard women from the physical dangers of longer working hours.

Even when women are allowed to work at night, the laws place several prohibitive conditions on their employment. For example, in most states employers must ensure that female workers make up a minimum proportion—either 10 or two-thirds—of the workers and the supervisory staff for the night shift. Such constraints make it difficult for employers to run night shifts with women workers, thereby reducing job opportunities for women. To illustrate: an employer would have to cancel a night shift if some women are on leave and there aren’t enough female workers to fulfil the two-thirds requirement.

Some states permit women to work at night in commercial establishments ranging from offices and theatres to warehouses and hospitals. States such as Bihar, Chhattisgarh, and Gujarat require inspectors to be “satisfied”, ensure that establishments provide “adequate protection of (women’s) dignity, honour and safety”, and mandate facilities such as shelters, restrooms, toilets, and night crèches.

Though Indian states have historically prohibited women from working at night, there have been gradual relaxations on this front. However, the pace of reform is slow. Since 2022, states such as Andhra Pradesh and Madhya Pradesh have done away with laws that prevent women from working at night. Women in Andhra Pradesh are now allowed to pursue factory work at night, and those in Madhya Pradesh can engage in night-time work at commercial establishments. However, most other states, including Bihar and Rajasthan, continue to prohibit women from working at night in factories, while West Bengal continues to prohibit women from working at night in commercial establishments.

2. Women tend to be excluded from higher-paying jobs

Under the Factories Act and other labour laws, women are prohibited from working in various industrial processes even during the day. These laws are based on the assumption that some industrial processes may be too dangerous for women. The alleged heightened risk factor and increased susceptibility to accidents when women work with certain machinery led to bans on employing them in processes deemed dangerous or hazardous by state governments. Since 2022, no state has eased restrictions on women’s employment in ‘dangerous’ jobs. Women’s participation in new and growing industries and better-compensated work is also curtailed.

Even in traditional industries, the law may exclude women from jobs that pay more. Processes that women are prohibited from participating in—such as glass manufacturing and the processing of oils and fats—are generally better compensated.

The table below shows a comparison of minimum monthly wages in some industries from which women are prohibited and where women are allowed to work. The industries in which women are prohibited usually have higher minimum wages.

India’s 10 most populous states collectively impose 139 prohibitions on women from working in specific industrial processes ranging from electroplating and generation of petroleum to the manufacturing of products such as pesticides, rechargeable batteries, and so on. In many cases, there is no literature that identifies the special danger to the women, as opposed to the men, working in these jobs. Besides, these roles are open to women in some states and prohibited for those in others, which makes it evident that there is no scientific basis for exclusion. For example, women can be engaged in abrasive blasting (used for cleaning surfaces across industries) in Karnataka, but not in the neighbouring state of Maharashtra.

3. Moral policing furthers discrimination

Archaic laws continue to keep women out of various types of jobs that are considered incompatible with the gendered expectations that society has of them, such as working in liquor establishments. The prohibitions are based on the belief that it is morally inappropriate for women to serve liquor in public. For example, according to the Punjab Excise Act, 1914, this restriction is necessary as it prevents “the woman folk from becoming addicted to the intoxicants and avert and avoid any conflict between sexes and chances of foreseen sexual offences”.

Among India’s 10 most populous states, West Bengal does not allow women to participate in the alcohol serving/selling industry at all. Even in the states where women are allowed to participate in the alcohol service industry, their involvement depends on the type of alcohol being served, a rather arbitrary criterion. India divides the alcohol industry into two classes—country and foreign liquor. Some states allow women to participate in one while barring them from the other. Women in Uttar Pradesh, Madhya Pradesh, and Maharashtra can serve/sell foreign liquor, but not country liquor; on the other hand, women in Andhra Pradesh can serve/sell country liquor, but not foreign liquor. In other states such as Telangana, women can secure a licence to sell foreign liquor, but cannot work in establishments serving foreign liquor.

There have been a number of court judgements that have upheld women’s right to work at liquor shops. However, these interventions haven’t led to a change in state laws and women’s employment in such establishments continues to be penalised. 

How can women’s workforce participation be improved?

The situation on the ground won’t become better without a change in the perceptions and laws preventing women’s employment. The government and policymakers can enable this by: 

1. Addressing gender stereotypes in legislation

Gender differences should not be used as a basis for greater disparity through legislation. Many Indian laws continue to be influenced by stereotypes and promote discrimination rather than eliminating it. It is high time that such antiquated laws are amended to align with international frameworks put forth by Convention on the Elimination of all forms of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW) and International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR).

Several states and courts are beginning to question and overturn discriminatory laws based on outdated stereotypes and their harmful impact on women’s economic roles. Regions such as Haryana, Himachal Pradesh, Karnataka, and Punjab are issuing exemptions to factories through government orders informed by landmark decisions, such as Vasantha R vs Union of India. In the Vasantha R decision, Madras High Court struck down the law forbidding women’s employment at night as unconstitutional and laid down model conditions subject to which they could be engaged in night-time work. State governments have used these models as templates to set conditions within their respective jurisdictions.

2. Providing clarity on the implementation of laws

Currently, laws can be changed by the state government through three different legal instruments: amendments in acts, amendments in rules, and by issuing government orders. Additionally, laws can be pronounced—wholly or partly—unenforceable by court judgments.

When acts are amended but rules are not revised in keeping with the law, it can create confusion. Take, for instance, the Uttar Pradesh Factories Act and Rules, 1950. While a 2017 amendment in the act removed the restrictions on the employment of women in night shifts, the Uttar Pradesh Factories Rules, 1950, which continues to be valid, states, “No woman shall in any circumstances be employed in any factory more than 9 hours in any day or between the hours of 7 pm and 6 am.”

A more streamlined approach to the implementation of laws and amendments would ensure that the progressive measures taken by states actually benefit the working women.

3. Ensuring safety at the workplace

Prohibitions on women’s work were first adopted based on a paternalistic approach toward women’s safety. However, these laws continue to exist in our statute books because government functionaries are risk-averse. They worry about opening up industries to women because they may be blamed for mishaps that some women may experience. The solution to the problem may involve greater public awareness and acceptance of risks and planning for their mitigation. Instead of making it overly expensive or operationally difficult to employ women, state governments can make sure that companies deploy safety measures such as CCTV and GPS-enabled transportation to ensure women’s safety.

It is important to consider that restricting women’s work creates greater poverty for women, which has its own health and safety implications. 

Suyog Dandekar and Eknoor Kaur contributed to this article.

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Know more

• Listen to this podcast to understand how gender norms shape women’s access to the workforce.
• Read this article to learn more about women’s employment in India’s factories.

For approximately 27 years now, I have been building traditional houses and doing carpentry work in Spiti. I spend my summers building mud houses, consulting, and helping locals undertake various types of renovation work, and devote my time to carpentry during winters.

The houses and architectural practices in Spiti have undergone considerable changes since I first started working. One of the major reasons for this is evolving livelihood patterns. While agriculture has remained the primary source of income for people in Spiti, over the years they have moved away from food crops and opted for cash crops such as green pea. Tourism has also become a popular means of livelihood. This photo essay traces the history and reasons for this shift and explores how it impacts Spiti’s culture and architecture. 

Spiti’s architecture has traditionally been dominated by wood, mud, and stone. The choice of material would also be dependent on local availability and climatic conditions. In addition, due to regional variations, some materials were extremely scarce in certain areas. For example, in the Todh valley region in upper Spiti, raw materials such as wood, good-quality soil, stone, and iron were difficult to find. Hence, the design and structure of a house would be mostly mud-based with minimal use of resources that were locally unavailable. In lower Spiti, in regions like Sham valley, easier access to building materials meant that earth was used extensively to build walls and roofs and stone was used at the base of a building for stability.

Earlier, Spitians were primarily dependent on agriculture and livestock rearing and the architectural designs were built to accommodate the agro-pastoral needs of the household and the community. Structures for cattle such as corrals, livestock pens, and storage rooms for grains and tools, as well as dry toilets, dhangtseys (open courtyards), and flat roofs were integral to houses in the agricultural society.

The communities were familiar with the local resources and materials used for construction, and the simple architectural methods meant that there was an easy transfer of knowledge. Building a house was a communal event; community members would come together to make shelters for one another in exchange for barley, vegetables, and other products.  

However, things started changing in the 1990s as the government’s encouragement for the cultivation of green pea, a cash crop, began showing rich dividends. The pea farmers started going to places such as Chandigarh in Punjab to sell their produce. While coming back, they would pick up raw materials such as thicker wood, which then started replacing the thinner varieties such as juniper, willow, and poplar that we had in Spiti. People in the towns started aspiring for the big city life including the reinforced concrete (RCC) buildings that they saw there, which favoured materials such as steel, glass, and cement. Now that they had the means to achieve it, the Spitian town architecture started distancing itself from the remote villages.  

Concrete roads were constructed and connected to other regions. As the residents of Spiti started interacting with people from other districts, they began adopting their architectural practices. For example, mistris like me would visit hotels in Kullu and study the architecture. We saw that there were attached bathrooms everywhere and tiled roofs which we didn’t have. Those were the days before internet, so we would measure the bathrooms and rooms and document how they were built, and start implementing these learnings when we came home.    

Gradually, Spitian villages such as Kaza, Tabo, Rangrik, Losar, Khurik, Shego, and Lara began attracting many tourists, which proliferated the area with homestays and hotels. The economic boom meant that young people from the community were now going to schools and colleges, and entrepreneurship and jobs became real career options.

While the need for construction grew, communal labour was neither available nor could it meet the scale of demand. Spiti required workers, and they came in the form of migrants from lower Himachal districts such as Mandi, Kangra, and Shimla, and even from as far as Rajasthan, Bihar, Odisha, Jharkhand, and Maharashtra. This worked for the building owners because, unlike the locals who only worked in conducive weather conditions such as April–May when it is neither too hot nor too cold, the migrants were ready to work throughout the year. Our elders would advise us against building houses in June–July for fear of rain, but now construction goes on under tarpaulin shades during monsoon too.

Mistris like me are still needed because we teach the workers indigenous techniques such as the use of stone in building houses. But we are slowly losing this community knowledge. Building a Spitian house was an intuitive process for the communities because they already knew the basics. It didn’t involve unnecessarily complex methods and tools for implementation. We had our gyangon-da (a rammed-earth mason), piti dor-si (stonemason), and piti shingzo-wa (woodcrafter/carpenter) to teach us, but most young people had to learn how to build a floor, a roof, or a livestock pen themselves. The shift to non-traditional, industrial raw materials is now rapidly alienating locals from their own land, resources, and indigenous knowledge that they had preserved for generations.

A version of this article was originally published on Himkatha.

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Know more

• Read this article to understand traditional Spitian architecture.
• Read this article to learn about how women in Uttarakhand are turning into entrepreneurs by running homestays for tourism.

The role of food subsidy

The Public Distribution System (PDS) has played a crucial role in minimising the stress of low income and food insecurity among Adivasi households in the two states. Chhattisgarh in particular is known as a pioneer state in effectively implementing PDS throughout the state following the enactment of the National Food Security Act, 2013 (Drèze and Sen 2013).

The food subsidy provided through PDS is helping Adivasi households to get some relief amid their low incomes. In Chhattisgarh, where Adivasi households, on average, consume goods worth nearly Rs. 18,000 annually from PDS, only 13% is spent by the households, with the government’s subsidy of Rs 15,660 significantly contributing to lower income stress. Similarly, in MP, Adivasi households, on average, procure goods worth Rs. 10,000, while bearing only 22% of the cost, with government subsidy of Rs 7,800 making up the remaining 78% (see Figure 1). 

Figure 1. Average household income and subsidy availed from PDS 

Our study 

The study was designed to cover six facets of Adivasi livelihoods—cultural ethos, resource conditions, external interventions, household characteristics such as literacy and landholding, activities undertaken, and outcomes such as income, food security and nutrition. We conducted a household-level questionnaire survey to get a sense of household perspectives; used a village factsheet and administered semi-structured focus group discussions (FGDs) to capture the village-level perspective; and semi-structured personal interviews to understand the views of scholars, activists and community leaders. This data collection was done from May to August 2022. The overall sample composition is given in Table 1. 

Table 1. Sample composition

There are 46 recognised Scheduled Tribes in MP, with Bhils being the majority, followed by Gonds. Three groups—namely Baiga, Sahariya, and Bhariya—are recognised as Particularly Vulnerable Tribal Groups (PVTG). In Chhattisgarh, there are 42 tribal groups with Gonds being the majority. Of these 42 groups, seven belong to PVTG—Kamar, Baiga, Pahadi Korba, Abujhmadiya, Birhor, Pando, and Bhujia.

The sampling strategy was drawn to ensure that the tribal groups, generally concentrated in specific areas, are represented in the study as far as possible (Table 1). Accordingly, the Adivasi regions in MP were divided into three regions—Bhil, Gond, and ‘other’. Chhattisgarh was divided into north, central and south regions. There are disparities in household incomes even across regions within a state. The Bhil region in MP is notably ahead on account of its proximity to the industrial belt—even though it is prone to drought and has low forest cover. In fact, the average income here is at least 1.5 times that of other regions (Rs. 24,571 versus a range of Rs. 12,000-15,000).

The sample was drawn from tribal-dominated administrative blocks under the Intensive Tribal Development Programme (ITDP). In both Madhya Pradesh and Chhattisgarh, the sample was distributed over nine districts, proportionally to the population. Additionally, the PVTG population was given an 8% sample allocation, despite being 4% of the population. One thousand non-tribal households were also surveyed from ITDP blocks to draw comparisons between Adivasi and non-Adivasi households within the same regions.

Human development indicators among Adivasi households

Livelihoods and income: More than 60% of the Adivasi households in MP, 90% in Chhattisgarh and almost all PVTG households in both states report depending on forest products. The majority collect fuelwood, with 98% of households in both states utilising it for personal consumption.

However, contrary to popular belief, the contribution of income from forest gathering to the total income is almost insignificant in both states (Figure 2). As we do not have the imputed value of self-consumption for forest gathering, this may have led to some underestimation.

Figure 2. Contribution of forest gathering to household income

During the village-level focus group discussions, villagers report that the availability of forest products such as mahua, tendu leaves, char, and chironjee is declining every year. According to them, because of the Forest Department’s exclusive focus on timbers, these plants are disappearing fast from the forest. Even from the viewpoint of biodiversity loss and climate change, this phenomenon needs deeper exploration.

Food security and dietary diversity: Improved performance of PDS has possibly resulted in better food security in Chhattisgarh. However, excessive reliance on rice from PDS may have affected dietary diversity negatively. 

Figure 3 shows the percentage of households that have the resources to access adequate food that they generally prefer to eat. This includes food from own farming, PDS, and purchased food.  

Figure 3. Share of households reporting no issues in accessing their preferred food 

Source: Coates et al. (2007) 

Data on dietary diversity was collected using the Food Consumption Score (FCS) developed by the United Nations World Food Programme. FCS is a composite score based on dietary diversity, food frequency, and relative nutritional importance of different food groups. Figure 4 shows the percentage of households that had taken a combination of foods from diverse food groups necessary for nutrition.  

Figure 4. Share of households with acceptable dietary diversity 

Malnutrition among children: Within the sampled households in MP there were 506 children (276 male and 240 female) and in Chhattisgarh there were 455 children (239 male and 216 female) below the age of 60 months. Head circumference is one of the indicators of malnutrition among children below five years.³ Trained enumerators measured their head circumference with a measuring tape, and found that children from MP showed higher malnutrition as compared to children from Chhattisgarh. The non-Adivasi households in MP fared most poorly. Separate studies are needed to probe into this issue further and to understand the underlying reasons.

Figure 5: Share of children under five with malnutrition

Increasing landlessness: The rate of landlessness among rural households in both states significantly surpasses the national average of 8.2%. It is important to understand what is contributing to this high level of landlessness among Adivasis in these two states, since access to land and forests has been an integral part of Adivasi identity. Displacement and dispossession from land for development projects is commonly cited as the reason for Adivasis’ loss of land, but this may not be the sole contributor. Further study is needed to explore the contributing factors and potential changes over the past decade. 

Figure 6: Share of landless households 

Functional literacy: In surveyed villages, functional literacy tests were administered to heads of households and their spouses. Most of these individuals are within the age range of mid-30s to mid-40s, and were supposed to complete their primary education around 25 to 35 years ago. However, the results reveals that a majority of them did not even attend schools during their childhood.     

Figure 7. Share of respondents who cannot read and write 

Access to road connectivity and Anganwadis: Despite the above inadequacies, Adivasi villages in both Madhya Pradesh and Chhattisgarh exhibit improved road connectivity, with almost 80% of these villages having access to all-weather roads. However, only 42% of Adivasi villages in MP and 30% in Chhattisgarh are connected by public transport. Anganwadis, or childcare centres, are also present in almost 100% of Adivasi villages in both states. 

Way forward

While the SAL report primarily focuses on presenting the current state of Adivasi livelihoods without offering specific recommendations, personal interviews yield valuable suggestions for potential improvements. The quality of education in Adivasi areas has been identified by the communities as a crucial factor where government and non-government agencies should focus. Many of them said that the kind of education Adivasi children and youth get does not help them compete with non-Adivasi students. The necessity of vocational education to help acquire employable skills is also highlighted.

Almost all interviewees believe that the local governance system has to be strengthened in Adivasi areas, giving the local bodies the right to plan and execute what they need. According to them, this plan ought to be based on the values and worldviews of Adivasis. In contrast, most plans by the government and other agencies seem to reflect mainstream values of individualism, wealth accumulation and exploitation of resources. 

A majority of interviewees put forth the view that the effective implementation of the Forest Rights Act, 2006—especially in terms of community rights—can help rejuvenate forest biodiversity.

All the interviewees emphasise the importance of preserving Adivasi identity, tradition, culture, and customs so that their alternative values such as collectivism, living in harmony with nature, non-accumulation of wealth, do not get lost. Adhering to those values is the only way to save not only Adivasis, but also the entire human race.

This article was originally published on Ideas For India.

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Footnotes:

1. Adivasis are people generally belonging to the administrative category of ‘Scheduled Tribes’, primarily living in the central Indian belt.
2. In the 77^th Round of the National Sample Survey (NSS) (2019), an agricultural household is defined as one receiving over Rs. 4,000 annually from the sale of agriculture produce (crops, horticultural crops, fodder crops, plantation, animal husbandry, poultry, fishery, piggery, bee-keeping, vermiculture, sericulture, etc.) and having at least one member self-employed in agriculture, either in the principal or subsidiary status, during the last 365 days.
3. The head circumference of a child should ideally fall within the 3-97 percentiles of the recommended population scores.

This year’s kinnow harvest has been exceptional, due to favourable temperatures during the crop’s flowering stage, resulting in an anticipated output of 13.5 lakh metric tonnes. However, this bumper harvest has led to a significant decline in farm gate prices. The farm gate value of a cultivated product in agriculture is the market value of a product minus the selling costs.

The fruit used to fetch Rs 20-30 per kilogram. However, this year, farmers are getting only Rs 6-12 per kg.

Successive state governments had been dilly-dallying on the implementation of several crop diversification measures, and consequently, wheat-paddy monoculture is going on in the state unabated. While kinnow cultivation has been promoted as a competitive cropping alternative for farmers in southwest Punjab, the precarious pricing dynamics and weak institutional arrangements associated with it may not counter the dominance of a wheat-paddy monoculture.

Economic viability of kinnow cultivation  

A farmer will diversify from paddy to other crops if the returns are not only promising but also significantly higher than those from paddy.

We assessed the cultivation practices of kinnow and calculated the operational cost per acre based on the interactions with farmers from Jandwala village in Abohar.

Kinnow cultivation is quite laborious throughout the crop cycle and depends heavily on both hired and family labour. As compared to wheat and paddy, this crop is quite fragile as it requires the family labour to continuously micro-manage crop safety during and before the harvesting months.

Strenuous farm operations generally favour male labour, while for tasks such as tilling the soil and harvesting, female labour is preferred, as they do the work very neatly and are also available at lesser wage rates.

Farm operations based on labour

The incubation period, from three to four years, and the wear and tear of the plants are inseparable parts of the cultivation cost. The overall cost of cultivating kinnow per acre is Rs 47,000. The average yield from a kinnow farm is 100 quintals per acre, with an average farm gate price of Rs 700 per quintal this year. Consequently, returns per acre amount to Rs 70,000, and net returns over operational costs are Rs 23,000 per acre.

Comparatively, last year’s average price of Rs 2,500 per quintal resulted in net returns of Rs 2.03 lakh per acre. This demonstrates significant price variations and fluctuations in profit margins. On the other hand, paddy, with an average cost of Rs 20,000 per acre, yields net returns of around Rs 45,000 per acre. Paddy is a stable crop for farmers, with fewer fluctuations in returns due to open-ended procurement by the government with a minimum support price (MSP) and its weather resilience.

Furthermore, paddy is a relatively less labour-intensive crop. It does not require any micro-management as the harvesting is fully mechanised. This makes paddy an obvious choice for the farmers.

Market fluctuations

After bearing high investments in kinnow production, farmers have to face market asymmetries each year. Over the past few years, effective post-harvest management for kinnow growers has been lacking. There is an absence of processing units to absorb local kinnow production. While several private waxing and grading plants have emerged in the area, thanks to traders and business entrepreneurs, there is currently no buyback guarantee or price surety for the produce.

Despite the existence of a well-established citrus mandi in Abohar, it does not guarantee farmers a favourable price, even when factoring in the costs of transportation, loading, and unloading. Consequently, farmers find themselves heavily reliant on agents or contractors for marketing their produce. Given the perishable nature of the product, contractors play a crucial role in kinnow procurement, and as a result, price determination is largely dependent on them.

The contractors supply the fruit to other states, such as Delhi, Karnataka, and Jammu and Kashmir. The fruit is also supplied to other countries, such as Bangladesh and Nepal. Contracts are finalised in June and the rates are fixed on the basis of the number of flowers on a tree that indicate the output of the fruit. These contracts are not directly established with the companies, but are intermediated through a number of agents who further market the fruit. Payments are directly transferred to the bank accounts of the farmers. In case of any delay, an extra amount is also paid. Agents bear the entire cost of picking the fruit from the farms, which includes loading and unloading, grading and waxing.

Selling through contractors is found to be the most convenient marketing method, despite the fact that the prices offered by contractors are among the lowest across all marketing channels. As contractors form their cartel and prices are largely influenced by the market forces, it creates asymmetry of bargaining power in favour of buyers.

However, farmers prefer contractors because of the prompt payment they provide. Many smallholders have expressed the need for immediate cash after the harvest to settle loans from commission agents and moneylenders.

Hence, due to the lack of proper governance over an assured marketing system and value chain, kinnow has remained a risky investment for small growers, even when there is a niche demand within and outside Indian markets.

The way forward

The cost structure of kinnow cultivation suggests that it requires relatively more investment on labour, machinery, micro-management, and skill-level. As compared to paddy, the opportunity cost of establishing a kinnow farm is relatively higher. Therefore, it seems to be a risky affair to venture in, especially for small holders.

Hence, paddy is an obvious choice for the farmers in Punjab, as there are no economically stable and rewarding alternatives.

In fact, Punjab has been the top contributor of paddy in the central pool of food grains for the last ten years. Hence, blaming Punjab’s farmers for cultivating paddy and its consequential impact on the environment, especially during the seasonal rise in air pollution in Delhi, is a classic case of the pot calling the kettle black.

Thus, several measures need to be taken to safeguard kinnow growers. The agro food industry should be given priority to absorb the produce locally. Building relationships with food processors, juice manufacturers, and other agribusinesses can create a stable market for kinnow growers. Additionally, small and marginal farmers need hand-holding support from the government to diversify.

This article was originally published on The Wire.

As a part of its net-zero goals, India aims to have 50 percent of its cumulative electric power capacity from non-fossil fuel-based energy sources by 2030. This has the potential to transform how microenterprises access electricity supply.

A significant focus of this strategy lies on distributed renewable energy (DRE) projects. DRE refers to the generation of electricity from renewable sources (such as solar, wind, biomass, or small hydro), which are at or near the point of use, rather than at large centralised power plants. Unlike traditional energy systems that rely on a few large power plants to generate electricity for a wide area, DRE systems are localised and often modular. This allows for energy production at a local level, meeting the needs of specific communities, businesses, or even individual households, especially in remote or underserved regions of the country.

In the context of livelihoods, this means that appliances such as irrigation pumps, refrigerators, and food processors, which often run on erratic electricity supply, can then be powered using DRE sources. Additionally, they can be manufactured and retrofitted with energy-efficient motors that consume less energy. For small businesses and microenterprises, this could mean using a biomass-powered cold storage, solar dryers, food processing machines, solar pumps, and solar refrigerators.

Take the example of Lalita Devi, a member of Khet Kisan Producer Company, an eight-year-old farmer producer organisation (FPO) in Saraipur village, Uttar Pradesh. Lalita and her fellow farmers grow bananas. Earlier, they relied on two deep freezers and a refrigeration unit that ran on electricity. However, due to the inconsistent power supply and lack of storage space, a lot of their produce was going to waste, causing them monetary losses. They’ve now shifted to refrigeration technology powered by biomass or farm waste. Since the shelf life of the produce increases due to refrigeration, there is no longer an urgency to sell it immediately, allowing them to reduce income losses as well as on-farm waste. Today, the FPO has been able to cut down on losses and now the annual turnover is INR 1 crore. 

The livelihood opportunity of DRE

Recognising the potential of DREs in supporting the growth of microenterprises in rural areas and creating dignified economic opportunities for marginalised communities, the government has taken several steps for promoting DRE technology. In February 2021, for instance, the Ministry of New and Renewable Energy (MNRE) released a DRE policy framework. This framework calls for the convergence of DRE technologies with livelihoods programmes of other ministries such as the Ministry of Rural Development, Ministry of Agriculture and Welfare, and Ministry of Tribal Affairs. In addition to the framework, there’s scope for other collaborations between different national and local programmes focused on livelihoods, such as PM Formalisation of Food Processing Micro Enterprises (PMFME), National Agriculture Infra Financing Facility, and Mudra Yojana.

Financing becomes critical to enable the adoption of DREs.

Take the example of Ramesh Khangoudar, a farmer from Belgavi, Karnataka. Due to frequent power cuts in his village throughout the year, he was on the lookout for a more reliable methods to process his crops post-harvest, and sell them. After working with solar-powered technology in his farm, he wished to adopt more DRE machinery for post-harvest processing. To achieve this, he utilised the financial assistance available under PMFME for food processing entrepreneurs and acquired a solar-powered oil extraction unit, flour mill, and turmeric pounder. He now sells his farm-processed goods through a petty shop under his brand name, and has established a small agro-processing business.

International philanthropies such as Good Energies, IKEA Foundation, and DOEN too are advocating for universal energy access. IKEA Foundation, for instance, has partnered with GIZ to help smallholder farmers and food producers access DREs. 

However, there are still several gaps that are hindering the wide-scale adoption of DRE technology.

1. High costs of technology: DRE-powered solutions are capital-intensive, even though they can be more economical than grid or diesel variants over their lifetime. Often, micro-entrepreneurs looking to adopt this technology do not have enough disposable income to be able to afford it. Thus, financing becomes critical to enable the adoption of DREs. For example, the smallest capacity variant of a solar-powered refrigerator costs approximately INR 80,000. Paying such an amount in one go becomes challenging for a small kiraana shop owner or a marginal fisherperson with an average monthly income of approximately INR 9,000. Furthermore, accessing credit for such nascent technologies is difficult as most financial institutions do not have DRE livelihoods technologies in their portfolio.

2. Hesitation among buyers: The ‘touch and feel’ experience of the technology is important to instill confidence in the people buying it. For instance, a dairy farmer in Rajasthan needs to see how a solar refrigerator works before they adopt it. Therefore, it is important for the manufacturers of these technologies to make them available locally.

3. Limited training: DRE livelihood technologies are a nascent product and have not yet been mainstreamed for livelihoods. Therefore, there are limited skill training modules available. Imparting training on the operations, upkeep, and business value of these technologies is imperative. However, the manufacturers of these technologies are constrained by resources and capital in being able to have a cross-country presence and therefore it becomes challenging for them to provide training support. Not having enough skill training or capacity-building support means that the usage of technologies is delayed or does not happen at all.

4. Lack of after-sales services support and market linkages: Market linkages and after-sales services support are critical to encourage long-term use of such technologies. Market linkages, both backward (raw material) and forward (to sell the final product), are an important piece of the puzzle for sustained usage of the technologies. For example, to use silk reeling machines, cocoons need to be available along with a market to sell the silk yarn. In addition to market linkages, after-sales services such as repair and customer care support need to be present locally. This will ensure timely servicing of the technologies in case of damage, maintenance, and addressing of any usage-related query by the customer.

Grassroots nonprofits can play a critical role in the adoption of DRE technology

DRE for livelihoods requires mainstreaming. Although there’s some convergence at the national and sub-national levels, ensuring DRE technology adoption by micro-entrepreneurs demands collaboration throughout the ecosystem. Bridging existing livelihood efforts with DRE technology at the grassroots level is essential. This is where grassroots nonprofits can play a critical role.

1. Build awareness through existing networks: Grassroots organisations that have been working with community members in a particular region have an existing network to tap into and infrastructure that can be utilised. Regional centres of these organisations, for example, can serve as demo centres to help smallholder farmers better understand the technology. They can also help demonstrate the positive impact of DRE technologies. This can be done in collaboration with social start-ups through on-ground campaigns that focus on knowledge dissemination and community awareness. Additionally, these organisations can facilitate feedback from farmers about the technology and their needs, creating a critical link between manufacturers and users. 

2. Explore financing pathways for purchase of technology: Organisations can help inform and sensitise their partner financiers, such as microfinance institutions (MFIs) and rural banks, and build their confidence in DRE technologies. They can create awareness in their existing network of financiers that fund other livelihood activities, and enable integration of DRE livelihoods technologies in their portfolio by sharing ground stories and impact evidence. Further, their network of FPOs and self-help groups can be leveraged for group-based lending. This can be done in cases of large technologies such as biomass cold storage or solar dryers. Given the joint liability, this will improve lending feasibility for the financiers.

3. Leverage market linkages: To ensure the sale of products emerging from DRE-based production, market linkages that already exist for businesses in the region can be tapped into. For example, a nonprofit working with women micro-entrepreneurs will have established market linkages to sell the final products. These linkages can be leveraged for products emerging from DRE-based production as well. To this end, start-ups such as KrishiHub and Hesa can be effective partners since they possess useful market networks, particularly for value-added products such as jams, dried mangoes, and pickles.

4. Facilitate skill training programmes: Livelihood organisations can train a fleet of service providers at the local level for installation, repair, and maintenance of the technologies. This can also contribute to job creation. Organisations working at the grassroots can host programmes to provide information on what these technologies are, how they work, and how they can be used for livelihoods. Trained technicians can then provide last-mile coverage.

To scale the adoption of DRE technologies, it’s crucial to integrate them into existing livelihood initiatives. Policymakers and social enterprises should collaborate with grassroots nonprofits already deeply embedded in addressing various livelihood aspects. While these grassroots organisations possess valuable resources, last-mile reach, and community rapport to advance DRE technologies, additional support from stakeholders and philanthropists is necessary. This collective effort can create sustainable livelihood opportunities, bringing green alternatives closer to communities and contributing to India’s transition to net zero.

This article was updated on February 7, 2024, to reflect that India’s net-zero goals include meeting 50 percent of its electric power capacity from non-fossil-fuel-based energy sources by 2030.

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Know more

• Read this article to learn about solar pumps in irrigation.
• Read this article to learn more about how DRE technologies can aid India’s development.
• Read this article to learn how solar power impacts women.

Do more

• To learn more about sustainable livelihoods powered by DRE, reach out to the authors at divya.gaur@ceew.in and angarika.gogoi@ceew.in

Most of the labourers migrating from one village to another in the Kotra block of Udaipur district, Rajasthan, belong to the Adivasi community. They are accustomed to engaging in farm work in the neighbouring villages as it allows them to reside with their families, even if it means crossing the state border for this purpose.

What does migrating from one village to another mean?

Kotra block marks the southernmost tip of South Rajasthan. It is primarily inhabited by the Bhil community, whose livelihood has traditionally depended on the forests. Earlier, members of the community would earn their income by gathering and selling tendu leaves (used for making beedis), bamboo, various medicinal plants, and other minor forest products. However, several laws enacted 30–40 years ago forced them to abandon their forest-based lifestyles. The implementation of the Wildlife (Protection) Act of 1972 and the establishment of the Phulwari ki Naal Sanctuary in Kotra in 1983 greatly impacted them. The enforcement of this law and the policies surrounding sanctuaries resulted in government authorities discontinuing the community’s access to forest resources.

Since Kotra is on the border of Rajasthan and Gujarat and the fields of Gujarat start just 10 kilometres from here, there is no significant difference in the language and culture of these two areas. Therefore, the residents of Kotra found it better to migrate to the villages of Gujarat instead of the cities because it would be more difficult for them to go and live in the cities.

Sabarkantha and Banaskantha are two districts of northern Gujarat adjoining Rajasthan. The largest producers of vegetables in Gujarat, these districts have been adopting new agricultural techniques. There are many large farmer settlements here, one of which comprises the Patels, a traditionally agricultural community. They have several acres of land and tend to require local labourers. These districts get water from the Dharoi dam built on the Sabarmati river, and hence three to four crops can be grown in this area in a year.

Additionally, due to rapid industrial development in Gujarat, local labourers—such as those belonging to the Thakurda community, SCs, and landless OBCs—who used to participate in agriculture are now less inclined to do so. Instead of working in the villages, they have started settling in the cities. Due to this migration, the farmers of Gujarat were in want of labourers—this need was fulfilled by the Adivasi labourers of Rajasthan.

Why is migration a compulsion for Adivasis?

1. Size of land: Kotra is a hilly area with very little agricultural land. Of the total available land, only 19 percent can be farmed. Due to a large number of uncultivated areas, the means of livelihood here are extremely limited. A dearth of basic facilities poses an additional problem.

2. Lack of opportunities: Those who had some land in the area found that their families were growing while the land available for farming was decreasing. Since it is not possible to support so many people on land alone, they would end up selling it. Apart from farming, they do not have any skills that they can use to go to the city and earn money, nor are there such opportunities and facilities nearby.

3. Immediate need for money: A lump sum amount is required for necessities such as marriage expenses, medical emergencies, or digging a well. To meet these pressing economic needs, individuals often find themselves compelled to migrate.

How do migrant labourers work?

There is a constant need for labourers in farm work. If a farmer hires a labourer on a daily wage basis, it is relatively more expensive because the labourer has to be paid every month. Moreover, if the crop suffers damage, the farmer faces losses. Therefore, instead of hiring daily labourers, the method of sharecropping has been adopted in this area. Sharecropping involves a sharecropper, locally known as a bhagiya. Under this arrangement, the labourer gets a portion of the produce from farming activities. For instance, if a farmer grows 120 quintals of wheat, the sharecropper would get 20 quintals—one-sixth of the total produce—as wages. Any advance money given by the farmer would be deducted from this share. If additional labourers are hired during the crop cycle, their payment would also be deducted from this one-sixth share.

Typically, the farmer and the labourer enter into a verbal contract at the beginning of the season. The farmer gives the labourer an advance of INR 15,000–20,000. Once the contract is confirmed, the labourer, along with his family, engages in farm work and stays there for the entire kharif (seeds are sown at the onset of monsoon) and sometimes rabi (seeds are sown during early winter) season. This could last from six months to a year.

What is the reality of labourers engaged in sharecropping?

When we think about land, we must consider it as a sum of six parts: the land itself, water, seeds, fertilisers, new technology, and labour. Farmers say that due to new technology, labourers have to work less and so this must be taken into account as well. In such a scenario, when labourers are easily available, they end up suffering the consequences.

1. Minimum wage: The minimum agricultural wage in Gujarat is INR 268. When workers engage in sharecropping, this wage reduces to approximately INR 100—a big loss for the worker.

2. Lack of clear laws: There is no law for sharecropping and so if there is a dispute between the employer and the labourer, it is very difficult to reach a just resolution. There is a provision for the payment of daily wages under the labour laws, but such a system has not been established for agricultural work. The result is that if an issue arises, labourers often do not receive payment and have to return home empty-handed. Moreover, when labourers seek employment, they are unable to engage in political or social activities.

3. Calculation for advance: Farmers pay the labourers in instalments instead of giving them the advance all at once. When the labourer first goes to see the field, everything from how many more labourers he will bring to how much advance the farmer will give him is decided. For example, if the total amount is INR 30,000, the farmer will pay INR 15,000 initially, followed by the second instalment on the festival of Rakhi in August. July and August are important months for farming. The sowing season commences in June, with primary tasks such as removal of weeds and spraying of insecticides taking place alongside crop cultivation till August. The farmer ensures to extract work equivalent to the advance he pays to the labourer. If there is a discord between the farmer and the labourer in the period that follows, the labourer is dismissed without being paid the second instalment. As a result, his entire year is wasted—securing alternative employment in the sharecropping system is unlikely because all the positions are usually already filled. Thus, the labourer faces prolonged unemployment, often leading to debt.

4. Additional labour: In agricultural work, there are instances where additional labourers are hired. The wages for these additional labourers typically come out of the sharecropper’s allocation. This practice is generally acknowledged and accepted by the sharecropper.

What are the advantages and disadvantages for farmers?

1. Cheap and socially vulnerable labour: The migration of labourers from one village to another provides farmers with access to cheap labour throughout the year. Because these labourers often come from different states, the policies and regulations of the farmer’s state may not apply to them. Additionally, the state government tends to overlook the rights and welfare of migrant labourers, resulting in their grievances being underreported. This is partly why farmers prefer hiring migrant labourers over locally based individuals who may possess greater political or social influence.

2. Desired crop, desired share: Adivasi labourers prefer coming to villages rather than going to cities as the work here is familiar to them. The farmers have understood this, and so they decide what share the labourers will get. In Banaskantha, where potato cultivation is common, farmers share up to one-tenth of the crop with the labourers because the crop brings in more profit.

3. Labour expenses: The labourer’s share is used to cover all labour costs. Approximately 50 percent of the farming expenses go towards labour, and the remaining 50 percent is allocated to various inputs such as seeds, water, medicines, and electricity. In sharecropping, the labourer’s share not only covers these expenses but also accounts for additional labour, ultimately boosting the farmer’s profit.

So far, the only disadvantage that has emerged for the farmers is that labourers have sometimes run away with the advance and not come to work. This has been seen in 2–3 percent of the cases till now. If a farmer loses both his money and labour, he has to find a new person to do the work.

According to an estimate, there are more than 90,000 farmers in just these two districts of Gujarat, and each of them has their own share of land and labour. When we think of agricultural labourers, we often picture daily wage workers. However, apart from them, there are 30,000–40,000 labourers engaged in sharecropping in Rajasthan and Gujarat. Despite their significant numbers, this population of labourers remains largely unseen and unrecognised.

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Know more

• Watch a conversation with sharecroppers and farmers in Gujarat.
• Read this article to learn about how nonprofits can ensure safe migration for informal workers.

The manufacturing cycle, which lasts 10 hours, requires workers to manage hand-operated machines in stifling rooms, where temperatures rise to more than 45°C, humidity ranges between 30 and 60 percent, and air quality levels reach ‘unhealthy’ limits (35µg/m³ and above). The workers can do little about the heat, save shed their shirts and keep a gamchha (thin, coarse cotton towel) on hand to wipe their damp faces and stinging eyes.

Heat and the informal sector

Heat is an occupational hazard for a large segment of the informal sector, affecting both those who work indoors (blacksmiths, food processors) as well as outdoors (farmers, construction workers). A report by the World Bank estimates that up to 75 percent of India’s workforce depends on heat-exposed labour, which contributes to approximately 50 percent of the GDP.

Low-income communities have a high exposure to heat stress as it is, because of the density of their built environments, the heat-trapping design and material of their homes and workshops, the nature of their work, lack of effective cooling solutions, and poor access to affordable adaptation mechanisms. As temperatures rise—2023 was the hottest year on record—these factors heighten heat stress and can lead to a decline in household income through a series of direct and indirect consequences.

SELCO initiated a study in the summer of 2023 to examine the effects of heat on productivity and income of small-scale entrepreneurs and to investigate the disproportionate impact it had on women workers. We sought to quantify these impacts and document human stories of cause, effect, and adaptation to heat. We surveyed low-income communities engaged in food production or processing, food service, metalworking and crafts, and animal husbandry across North Karnataka, coastal Odisha, Madhya Pradesh, Jharkhand, and urban Gujarat. Some of the sites were not just prone to high heat and humidity but also to natural disasters like cyclones, which helped us understand how communities were building resilience to multiple stressors.  

Here are some of our findings from the study.

1. Shifts in time and place of work

Discomfort and fatigue from heat can result in productivity decline as workers slow down, take longer to complete a task, and take more frequent breaks. Nagabushan, a mobility-challenged person who runs a Xerox and stationery shop in Davanagere, Karnataka, was forced to shut his shop on summer afternoons, losing 1.5 to 2 hours of work a day. In the animal husbandry sector, entrepreneurs reported that more animals were falling ill and dying per cycle of rearing, and the quality and quantity of eggs and milk they produced had fallen.

Like the puffed rice producers of Kolikere, we found that other occupational groups such as the blacksmiths of Kolar, Karnataka, and the Dhokra (a type of metal craft) artisans of Mayurbhanj, Odisha, had also started to shift their hours of work—beginning before dawn, breaking off at midday, and wrapping up by 11 am or noon, before peak heat. Absenteeism was calculated by the number of days lost per month, which amounted to approximately two days of productive work.

The heat also drove workers indoors. But even though they escaped the direct glare of the sun, they still had to contend with indoor heat. For the Dhokra craftspeople, the impact of indoor heat wasn’t only physiological, but also material. They reported a lower output of produced goods because the wax required to cast their moulds couldn’t hold up to the heat and would lose form quicker than before.

2. Downskilling, early retirement, and reduced income

Reduced work expectancy due to heat may be the biggest challenge that low-income communities engaged in informal work face in the coming years. In the formal workforce, working till the age of 65–70 years is the norm. However, during our study, we observed that the health implications caused by prolonged exposure to heat—chronic fatigue, cardiovascular and musculoskeletal issues—had either forced people to stop working after the age of 40–45 or driven them to less laborious tasks within their trade. Workers in their prime now found themselves prematurely past it.

Unable to work heavy machinery, lift heavy tools, or stir large vats of food, they were assuming lighter tasks. Food manufacturers were taking up food packaging; seasoned blacksmiths were carving wooden handles for tools or polishing them instead of chiselling or forging the metal itself. As a result of this downskilling, they were earning lower wages in trades that are already marked by stagnant incomes.

Additionally, entrepreneurs such as blacksmiths and food processors who would have once done the heavy lifting themselves were now forced to hire younger hands, causing their out-of-pocket expenses to increase. If earlier their profit was INR 15,000 a month, now they were paying INR 5,000 to an apprentice, even though the produced output remained the same.

The reduced income also prevented people from seeking medical treatment for the symptoms of heat stress. We found men turning to drink to distract themselves from health problems, and liquor consumption was reportedly on the rise in some of the communities we spoke to because it was a cheaper palliative.

3. More burdens for women at work

Both men and women were affected by heat stress, but they responded to it differently. While men dealt with the situation by sitting out in the open, if they chose to, wetting their shorts, or taking their shirts off, women working in small-scale enterprises did the reverse. They layered up as it grew hotter because they wanted to protect their skin from burns and tans.

Women engaged in the supply chain for crafts-based, food-based, textile-based, and packaging enterprises largely worked from home, but their conditions were far from easy. Their homes were often heat traps, built of brick or stone, with tin or asbestos roofs and poor ventilation with few or no windows. In addition to discomfort from the heat, the lack of adequate lighting also damaged their eyesight. Fatigue was a recurring complaint, as they had to wake up earlier than before and stay up later than usual to make up for the lost noon hours when work was not an option and rest was also impossible because of the heat. Women in Puttur, Karnataka, who made puris for panipuri (a snack with a potato or lentil filling), would rise at 4.30 am or earlier.

In addition to paid work, they had to perform their household chores and responsibilities. As a result, women in their mid 30s and early 40s were constantly exhausted and felt unable to improve their quality of life. Some, especially those in the blacksmith community, also spoke about the worsening of their menstrual health, with more intense premenstrual cramps and painful periods, which they attributed to the heat. The evidence for this is still being built.  

What needs to change?

Given the imminent risks to their earning capacity, adaptation solutions that are accessible and reasonable for the informal sector are the need of the hour. Although some measures are currently in place, there is room to reconsider and enhance them.

1. Rethinking passive cooling solutions

As more work shifts indoors in the coming decades, work and home spaces will have to adapt efficiently and affordably to the rising heat. This necessitates improved cooling measures. These can be both active cooling solutions such as low-energy ACs, water-based coolers, and ventilation systems or passive cooling solutions such as shading for windows and facades, insulation material for roofing and walling, improved cross ventilation, increased roof height, and low-emissivity glass. Because the latter requires structural changes, and can be more capital-intensive, most people are opting for active cooling solutions. By one estimate, the demand for cooling solutions will increase nine times by 2037, when compared to 2018, and consume five times more energy—a contingency that is likely to place an even greater economic burden on low-income communities.

Therefore, at SELCO, we’ve been exploring ways to make workspaces economically robust and resilient to rising temperatures through low-cost and scalable passive cooling interventions.

The lowest hanging fruit is layout design. Blacksmiths, for example, typically sit close to the forge, which exposes them to high heat. We decided to create ergonomic workstations by moving their seats away from the forge, adjusting the height of their hammering stations to suit the angle of their work, and improving natural lighting and cross ventilation in their workshops. This helped minimise the strain on their bodies and increase their thermal comfort.

Poor layout can also hinder movement and if the space is hot, workers become more lethargic as the day progresses. To navigate this challenge, we suggested increasing the height of the roof at all workspaces. Roofs and walls are expensive investments; people cap their walls at 6–8 feet and cover them with a tin sheet to save money. A low, tin roof heats up a room quickly, but raising the roof by as little as 2 feet can bring great relief. To further improve cross ventilation and heat extraction, we communicated to workers the benefits of kitchen hoods, chimneys, and exhaust fans, and explained the requisite dimensions and features they should look for in such service products.

2. Introducing more budget-friendly products in the market

The myth is that the poor will not adopt climate-resilient measures; the truth is they cannot adopt them without financing support. With incomes already jeopardised by heat stress, workers’ capacity to reinvest in workspaces and safeguard themselves from rising temperatures diminishes. Poor access to institutional capital further narrows their options. During our study, we found that it was largely small-scale entrepreneurs who could invest in passive adaptation measures. They’d take a personal loan of INR 50,000–70,000 from credit cooperatives or housing finance companies to add a chajja (roof or overhang on a window) or paint a roof. But these investments were typically made at the time of a wedding, or when they had to repair their shop after the monsoon, or when they had access to capital subsidy for workspaces via schemes such as the Pradhan Mantri Formalisation of Micro Food Processing Enterprises Scheme (PMFME), Udyogini, Pradhan Mantri Awas Yojana (PMAY), Watershed Development Fund, and Mukhyamantri Krushi Udyog Yojana (MKUY).

What’s required to scale climate adaption, first and foremost, is market disruption. Affordable climate-adaptive products like cool roofing solutions should be available easily across the country. For this we need more private sector innovation around affordable adaptation measures, because the poor will need these measures most in the coming years, and in volume.

3. Improving financial assistance mechanisms

To develop and scale climate-adaptive interventions through subsidies and low-cost finance, solutions must be customised to suit those for whom they are intended. For instance, people in low-income communities often invest in their homes incrementally. Currently, a good roof costs INR 350–420 per sq ft (using reinforced cement concrete or precast slabs) for a 300 sq ft space—capital that is expensive for many. If lending mechanisms allow them to first start with an INR 100 per sq ft roof and work their way up to an INR 350 per sq ft roof later when their economic circumstances improve, they’ll still have the bare minimum cooling they need without straining their budget.

4. Redesigning existing schemes and policies

At the same time, we need local schemes that will incentivise people to avail of these solutions. The government is actively developing heat action plans and working with community-based organisations to drive mobilisation on the ground. Such organisations are critical for capacity building and community training, enabling access and inclusivity. But the focus thus far has largely been on health and well-being measures. What is lacking are approaches that link to productivity. Additionally, because heat is a slow-building phenomenon, it often isn’t viewed with the same sense of urgency as a natural disaster like a cyclone. As a result, the safety nets, adaptation measures, and subsidies designed for it are either non-existent, partially devised, or poorly implemented.

Therefore, there is a need to broaden our understanding of the consequences of increasing temperatures and redesign government schemes to build resilience to heat. Subsidies, for one, can be tweaked. Consider the PMFME, under the Ministry of Food Processing Industries. It was designed to facilitate 35–50 percent subsidies for capital investments in food industries, which include small businesses that manufacture snacks, colas, and so on. The latest update now says that no more than 25–30 percent (of the subsidy) can be used for building infrastructure; it can only be used for appliances for production. What this means is that people will invest in machines, but in workspaces that are not conducive for work in the first place.  

Adaptation measures must prioritise those most vulnerable to these stressors.

Here’s an example of a financing model that has worked. In Meghalaya, where communities are prone to multiple risks such as extreme heat, cold, rainfall, earthquake, and landslides, SELCO—in partnership with local nonprofits like Sauramandala Foundation and the state government’s PRIME programme—has developed 50 percent subsidy products that will help build energy-efficient and thermally efficient workspaces for micro enterprises like eateries and textile, food-, and agro-processing units. The remaining 50 percent will be taken care of by zero-interest loans. It’s a pilot that will cover 300 workspaces in three years.

As temperatures continue to rise and unpredictable weather patterns become the norm, it’s critical to evaluate their impact on all aspects of life—from where we live and the way we live to where we work and the way we work. Adaptation measures must prioritise those most vulnerable to these stressors, and focus not only on immediate well-being but on long-term income security as well. Building climate-adaptive workspaces is one way to do it.    

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Know more

• Watch this YouTube series to learn more about SELCO’s research into heat stress and livelihoods.
• Read these documents for a better understand of India’s Cooling Action Plan.
• Read this article on how heat stress poses a risk for delivery workers in India.

As the GA has been utilised and adapted by multiple organisations over time, in recent years a less prescriptive focus has evolved, with a broader goal of economic inclusion. In particular there have been successful efforts to leverage existing government services and market opportunities in GA programmes, build on what is already in place, and use the GA to connect, strengthen and supplement other poverty alleviation efforts.

As these adaptations have developed, one area that has received little attention is whether the “lens” of the GA can be applied to contexts beyond extreme poverty, addressing other situations where a complex set of factors lead to unsustainable and vulnerable livelihoods. Once such context is forced relocation, where livelihoods are severely impacted by climate change, infrastructure projects such as mining, or other disruptions that force people to permanently leave their homes. Whereas most livelihood projects that aren’t focused on extreme poverty would not require the intensity of the GA, relocation creates a similarly multi-dimensional and complex challenge.

In this article, I’ll share lessons from a two-year pilot in Guinea that tested the applicability of the Graduation Approach in rebuilding the livelihoods of a community that was relocated due to mining activities. The project was implemented by a local non-governmental organisation on behalf of the mining company, and I supported it as a consultant. I’ve left key names and references out of this article to protect the anonymity of the community and organisations involved.

Adapting the Graduation Approach to a relocation context

The community consisted of around 1,000 people living in a thriving regional town that has rapidly developed due to the presence of mining and related commercial activity. The community was relocated from a downtown market area to an area five kilometres from the town centre. As a result, most of the families who had been running informal enterprises around the market found that they could no longer do business downtown due to the cost of transport. There was another marketplace near their new area, but it was small with few opportunities for new traders, so most of these entrepreneurs had no choice but to trade mainly within their own community.

The pilot project aimed to help this community rebuild and expand their livelihood activities and establish a sustainable economic base in their new location. These community members may not have been living in extreme poverty, but many were struggling to create new livelihoods in a context where they were unfamiliar with market conditions, lacked the skills or social networks to engage effectively in self-employment or take up employment opportunities, and suffered from social and economic exclusion.

To respond to these challenges, the project incorporated the main elements of the Graduation Approach, but adapted it in three ways:

1. Targeting the whole community: Rather than targeting the “extreme poor,” the project included all relocated households.
2. Adapting activities: The broadening of the target group led to a focus on addressing the needs of people with a wider range of economic and social profiles, and to the identification of a small group of people with larger businesses who required a less holistic approach—something the project termed the “business support component.”
3. Market strengthening and community integration: The project included elements designed to enhance local markets and integrate the relocated community with other surrounding communities. For example, a marketplace was constructed by the mining company that would attract outsiders to come into the community, increasing the level of economic activity.

Leveraging the Graduation Approach to rebuild after relocation

The Graduation Approach typically aims to address the multi-dimensional nature of poverty. Rather than tackling a single element—such as enabling people to invest in an income-generating activity through microcredit—the approach identifies the constraints that face targeted populations and the opportunities available to them. The aim is to build households’ capacity to better manage their livelihoods, so they can break out of “poverty traps” and sustainably integrate into the mainstream economy.

The GA does not prescribe a set of interventions: Rather, it builds on people’s capabilities and links to existing civil society and services to develop a programme that addresses the multiple vulnerabilities and needs of different participant groups. As classically implemented, this process involves targeting those segments of the community that are economically (and often socially) the most marginalised. But in the context of a relocated community, the aim is to enable the whole community to rebuild their livelihoods—therefore the conventional GA focus on targeting the most vulnerable is not necessarily appropriate.

While the GA is commonly used in a refugee/displaced persons context, forced relocation of a community is a new setting for this approach. The project generated a number of lessons that highlight how the GA can be leveraged to address the complex challenges created by relocation. At the heart of these challenges are the issues created by being in a new location. For instance, while relocated people may have existing levels of experience, skills and capital, they may lack the ability to apply these in a new context. Their previous livelihood activities may no longer be relevant, their knowledge about local market conditions or opportunities may be lacking, and they may not have the social capital needed to build and engage with a customer base in their new environment.

In addressing those challenges, the project highlighted the following lessons:

Tailoring support to different needs

The GA is typically implemented with a fairly homogenous group composed of the most vulnerable members of a community, so a standard set of interventions can be designed that are used with all participants. But when the approach is focused on a whole community, there is much greater divergence of experience, needs and capacity. It is therefore important to segment the target community, and to design a project that adjusts the level of intensity of support needed. In this context, the project included a “Graduation” component focused on the more vulnerable community members, who received a typical range of support including participation in savings and credit groups, a cash stipend to help stabilise their situation and enable them to save, an asset transfer to start or build a business, training in financial capability and business skills, and regular support and monitoring by a mentor. A “business support” component included those with stronger businesses less affected by relocation, who received a cash investment, tailored business support and linkages to credit.

But while these different groups were easy enough to segment when the project was designed, in practice this distinction was less clear. We soon realised that the challenges of integrating into a new environment created by relocation were not adequately reflected in the project design, and even those community members who appeared to have stronger livelihoods in our initial assessment actually required key elements of the Graduation component to support their integration into a new economic and social environment. For example, most members of the business support component joined a community savings group—an intervention initially targeted to the Graduation component. The mistrust created by the relocation process also meant that data collected during our assessment was often incomplete or misleading—something that further complicated our efforts to accurately segment the community into different groups. This experience highlights the importance of good communication to build trust and understanding in what is often a difficult and confrontational relationship between a community and the company that’s forcing the relocation. For instance, in the context of this project, the traditional approach of the company paying compensation to relocated households had led to a lot of dissatisfaction and tension. But through close engagement with the community over the two-year pilot, the project helped thaw these relations and build a new level of communication.

Addressing the psychosocial impacts of relocation

In the context of GA programmes focused on community relocation, relationships with project staff (and the company forcing the relocation) are perhaps more critical and potentially challenging than in a typical Graduation programme. In our experience, the negative impacts of relocation created a sense of “entitlement,” in which community members expected compensation from the project, as it was associated with the mining company. This expectation undermined the project’s intended focus on self-reliance and sustained benefits, and made this a difficult message to communicate.

This challenge highlights the need for strong lines of communication and an ongoing process of building community understanding and trust. Through deep engagement and regular contact with community members via mentors—who lived in the community and visited households regularly—the project built this understanding and trust over time. This spilled over into increased dialogue between the community and the mining company more generally, leading to a recognition within the company of the value of the Graduation Approach. The company is now using the GA as part of its work to support other communities impacted by its mining activities.

In conclusion, the experience of implementing the Graduation Approach with an entire relocated community in Guinea demonstrates the value that a “Graduation lens” can bring to efforts to tackle complex livelihood challenges that go beyond extreme poverty. The project illustrates the huge potential of using the approach in a range of contexts where communities are forced to relocate, whether that’s due to infrastructure projects or the impacts of climate change.

This article was originally published on NextBillion.

As a bonded labourer, I worked for a man who ran a tree-cutting business in Tiruvannamalai. He paid us wages intermittently but controlled our entire day, deciding when we woke up, when we ate, and what we ate. We had no agency over our own lives. In 2013, we, along with two other families, were rescued by government officers. We were issued release certificates, which freed us of any debt or obligation to our former owner and made us eligible for compensation and rehabilitation from the government.

On our release, we settled in the village of Peranamallur near Vandavasi in Tiruvannamalai. In 2019, the Tamil Nadu government approached us with the offer to resettle us in a new housing colony they were building. We were promised proper houses, jobs, and one milch animal per family—in other words, a better life. In 2020, we moved to Dr Abdul Kalam Puram and have been living here ever since.

Today, I own five cows and work at the government-run charcoal-making unit within the colony. I am also an elected community leader, responsible for resolving disputes and conveying my people’s needs and demands to local government authorities. In this colony, we Irulars are connected by our shared history of bondage, which makes us part of one big family.   

5.00 AM: I wake up and tend to my cattle. Back in Peranamallur, we watched other people with their cows and goats and wondered if we would ever own an animal ourselves. But here, each family has been given a cow. The government has also set up a milk society through which we can sell milk directly to Aawin, the milk cooperative. When I am done milking for the morning, I deliver the milk to the society.

Around 7 am, I go to the forest to collect wood. We have been granted permission to cut velikaathaan, an invasive species of thorny shrubs. We carry it to the charcoal-making unit and burn it to make charcoal. We do this work throughout the year, except during the monsoon when the wooded areas are waterlogged. In a single cycle, we produce approximately 10 tonnes of charcoal. For each tonne, a person earns INR 6,000. This is INR 1,000 more than what people earn in neighbouring villages for making the same amount of charcoal.

Charcoal-making is just one of the occupations in the colony; we can also work at a brick kiln, a sanitary pad–making unit, a paper bag–making unit, and so on. We have formed common livelihood groups (CLGs), with a fixed number of members, for each occupation. For example, the charcoal unit has 16 people. Our work is monitored by the government to ensure all units function well.

People are free to switch to other business units if the work doesn’t suit them. Each CLG keeps a log of the number of days a person has worked and pays them accordingly, and when they leave they also receive the dividend earned from the interest on savings. The CLGs meet monthly to discuss the progress of the business and to plan the way ahead.

What I like best about this work arrangement is that I am the master of my own time. No one to tell me how to live my life. What’s more, I have even managed to save money for my family, children, and our future, which I couldn’t do before.

10.00 AM: On the days that I don’t go to the charcoal unit, I work for my community, resolving their disputes. The families in Dr Abdul Kalam Puram come from different villages and we have had our fair share of disagreements and quarrels, especially in the initial days of moving here. But we have always found a solution.

I remember an incident where two families almost came to blows. One of them had goats and the other had plants. The goats ate the plants and a dispute broke out between the families, which grew so heated that community leaders had to intervene. We suggested building fences around both houses. Fencing has now become a common practice here.

Life is much better now, but it is our responsibility to identify how it can be further improved.

There are 13 leaders in the colony—all chosen by the community itself through elections held at the community hall. The leaders are constantly in touch with civil society organisations that work here and with the local government to seek solutions to the challenges we face.

One of these challenges is the distance we have to travel to reach the nearest hospital, which is 5 km away. We wrote to the collector, highlighting the inconvenience this posed because public transport services are irregular. Now, the district administration holds frequent medical camps within the colony itself. We also didn’t have a ration shop, but once we brought this to the collector’s attention, a defunct room in the colony was converted into a ration shop.

We would now like a bus service that can take our children to high school. The younger children attend an anganwadi in the colony itself, and students from the first to the eighth standard travel to school in the nearby village in an autorickshaw. However, older children have to travel 5 km to a high school if they want to study beyond standard eight. The nearest college is approximately 10 km away. I request the government to think about building a residential school and a college here.

We would also benefit from better roads and transport systems because we live on the outskirts of the city. Earlier, we lived in unhygienic conditions in our native village. Our homes were dilapidated and we were prone to all kinds of diseases. Life is much better now, but it is our responsibility to identify how it can be further improved.

6.00 PM: I return home and, until dinner at 8 pm, I spend time with my children. My son is in the seventh standard now. When he was younger, he hoped to be an IPS officer. There was a police station close to where we lived and he saw the respect with which the officers were treated. Now, after moving to this colony and witnessing the collector at work, he wants to be an IAS officer and serve his community. My elder daughter, who is in the fourth standard, wants to be a doctor. The youngest is only three years old. I hope for a bright future for all of them. They will grow up in a world where they can express themselves freely. They can travel, visit relatives, and do what they like—no one will stop them.

We plan to organise our festival Masi Magam in the colony soon. It’s an important festival for the Irular people and is celebrated in honour of the Goddess Kanniamma. We are currently raising funds to build our own temple here. As bonded labourers, we were never permitted to attend any celebration as a family; some of us always had to stay behind so the others would be sure to return.

I don’t miss anything about that life, and I’ll make sure my children never experience it.

As told to IDR.

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Know more

• Read this article to understand why bonded labour is on the rise in India.
• Read this article to learn about the intergenerational nature of labour exploitation in mining areas.

A shop-floor worker is in contact with only his petty contractor, an agent assigned by a higher-level contractor to source labour. In essence, these enterprises function as unregistered shop floors, each of which employs 20–30 workers who operate three or four machines within a unit. The workers are answerable to their direct petty contractor and not the company’s management or the primary employer. A common thread connecting these business set-ups and trades is the ‘boiler’, a furnace-type container that generates steam, necessary at every step of garment processing.

The boilers are required to operate all the time, except during maintenance, which means that the operators must work overtime. Since these boilers continuously produce high levels of heat and smoke, they can be hazardous to the workers’ health. Moreover, there are other risk factors such as explosions and burns.

This photo essay provides a glimpse into the lives of those employed in Narol’s boiler industry and shows how the workers’ socio-economic backgrounds and the informal nature of their work heighten the challenges in their lives.

Migrant workers, informal labour, and poor pay

Boiler work is typically carried out by seasonal migrant workers—hired on contract by petty contractors—belonging to scheduled tribes and denotified tribes. They mostly come from the border districts of Gujarat, Madhya Pradesh, and Rajasthan. A majority are landless labourers who migrate to cities like Ahmedabad to earn a meagre but continuous income, which isn’t available at their native place. They migrate with their families and their spouses usually work with them in these factories. Even when they go back to their villages during the agricultural season, they are employed as farm labourers in other people’s fields. There’s also no guarantee that their factory job will be secure when they return because their employment hinges on a verbal contract spanning six months to a year.

The contractor provides the workers a kharchi (advance) at the time of joining, and the remaining amount is paid in the first week of the month. These workers are paid below the minimum wage of INR 11,752 per month as required by law in Gujarat. The amount is much lower than the earnings of the workers involved in the processes at the higher end of garment manufacturing—such as dyeing, printing, and washing—who easily earn INR 14,000–16,000 a month. Further, boiler workers are forced to work for more than 12 hours instead of the mandated eight hours, and there is no compensation for overtime labour. They also lack the social security coverage provided by measures such as employees’ state insurance and provident fund.

Hazards in the workplace and hazards at home

Usually, the boiler workers are at the bottom of the socio-economic hierarchy at the workplace—they are from the most marginalised caste groups and do not have access to many educational and livelihood opportunities. The main reason they work in boilers is to maximise their income—they save on rent by living in on-site colonies—while holding a flexible job.

Non-unionised workers often don’t complain about the sheer dearth of safety protocols in the factories as they fear being terminated by employers. For operating a boiler with a capacity of two tonnes, four families are hired to work in two shifts. Men hand-fire the fuel, typically wood or coal; they stand near the 400–450-degree furnace and are continuously exposed to heat, smoke, and dust for long hours. Manual tasks such as cutting the wood into smaller pieces, carrying the fuel to the furnace, and ash disposal are taken up by women, exposing them to dust particles, charcoal, and ash, which is harmful to their health. Children roam around the factories unmonitored, as both spouses are involved in the work. There is also a risk of the boilers exploding and causing fires if they are not maintained and repaired periodically.

Chanda*, a 27-year-old boiler worker, says, “Women lend a helping hand to men as the wages earned by them are not sufficient to run the household. Women workers do not have privacy—we are harassed at worksites—and we’re paid half of what the men receive. We also have to cook the food, buy essentials, wash clothes and utensils, and look after the children.”

In larger and safer factories, the boilers run on low-emission fuel such as compressed natural gas (CNG), and an operator is needed only to monitor the fuel supply and set the temperature of the furnace. But such boilers with upgraded technology are not common in Narol, where even the operation, repair, and maintenance of the machines are outsourced to the contractors. These contractors lack connections with manufacturers of machines with better technology. Even if they know such manufacturers, they hesitate to reach out because such technology could replace the labour force and potentially lead to a loss of work for them.

Women’s health is even more precarious than that of the men in the household.

The workers reside in a temporary on-site structure that can be easily dismantled if the enterprise shuts down or is relocated. This structure is made of cheap material such as asbestos, brass, or sometimes steel; it is dingy and not well ventilated, so it remains dark, hot, and humid. In the factories, the workers are constantly exposed to hazardous conditions, and at home they lack a hygienic environment, which eventually contributes to them developing long-term illnesses. The burden of domestic work is solely upon women, and since they are engaged in both paid and unpaid labour for longer durations, their health is even more precarious than that of the men in the household.

Dr R K Prasad, a family medicine specialist and an educator at Basic Healthcare Services, a nonprofit that works on the health of marginalised communities, observes, “An individual working in boilers must be hardly consuming 800 calories a day, whereas they must be burning approximately 2,000 calories at work. This diminishes their quality of life over time. All the women working in the boilers [and the children of the workers] are severely malnourished. Some of the workers may have developed pneumoconiosis or ‘black lung disease’, which is caused by the chronic inhalation of coal dust over a long period of time.”

Union-led advocacy for more bargaining power

Section 4 of Boiler Operation Rules, 2021, mandates that a boiler operation engineer has to either directly be in charge of boiler operation or appoint an attendant. Additionally, Section 7 of the rules requires such personnel to be physically present within 100 metres of the boilers. A survey of 25 enterprises was undertaken by Karkhana Shramik Suraksha Sangh (KSSS), a registered trade union that focuses on the rights and entitlements of migrant workers employed in factories in Ahmedabad. The survey revealed that enterprises that have an operating boiler weren’t complying with either of these rules. It also showed that most factories violated regulations concerning wages, social security, overtime, and mandated working hours. The workers were not provided with safety gear such as masks, gloves, or boots; no officers were appointed or committees constituted to avert or respond to worksite emergencies or accidents in a timely manner; and there were no separate toilets for women or a day-care space for children. KSSS now provides preparedness training and legal literacy around rights and entitlements of the workers, supports them in mediation of industrial disputes with owners and contractors, and helps facilitate advocacy with various departments under the state and local governments.

The members of KSSS are a mixed group of shop-floor workers, including those in boilers, dyeing, printing, washing, stitching, and packaging, as well as petty contractors. Those petty contractors who are members of the union understand and empathise with the struggles of shop-floor workers, and they align with the union’s goals of advancing the rights and entitlements of Ahmedabad’s informal migrant workers.

The workers have now taken various issues to the Directorate of Industrial Safety and Health (DISH), the regional director of Employees’ State Insurance Corporation (ESIC), and the office of Directorate of Boilers, Gujarat. At present, DISH has issued notices to 11 enterprises for wage violations. ESIC too has agreed to inspect and penalise enterprises that do not provide workers with employees’ state insurance cover.

Madanlal,* a 37-year-old petty contractor at a boiler site and KSSS member, says, “Several enterprises, including the one for which I work, underwent boiler inspections after the union submitted a letter demanding the same. Later, the labour department also called for a meeting of all the boiler operators in one of the enterprises and an officer conducted a session on safety protocols. This was a result of the union’s advocacy.”

*Names changed to maintain confidentiality.

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Know more

• Read this article to learn more about the difficult lives of the boiler workers in Gujarat’s fabric industry.
• Read this article to understand why India’s garment factories need women leaders.