In Jharia, home to the finest coking coal in India, contractors are sucking the life out of their workers.
For a princely sum of Rs 9,000 a month — half of which he sends to his family in Giridih — Ramlal Murmu toils for 12 hours a day, sometimes more, in soot-filled mine in Jharkhand’s Jharia coal fields. Murmu, 27, lives with four other workers in a shed outside the labour union office, near the Moonidih mines, where they work.
The labour office is frequented by, among others, Hari Thakur. At 53, he is almost twice as old as Murmu, works in the same mine, yet looks healthier than the haggard Murmu. This isn’t surprising — Thakur earns Rs 40,000 a month for working fixed eight-hour shifts and lives with his family in company quarters. Even though both Murmu and Thakur share a workplace, Thakur is on the rolls of Bharat Coking Coal Limited (BCCL), while Murmu works for an outsourcing company that excavates and transports coal from Moonidih for BCCL.
In Jharia, home to the finest coking coal in India, contractors are sucking the life out of already marginalised workers. Newslaundry went to the coal fields to observe the miners’ working conditions first-hand. We started with Jinagora open cast mines of Lodhna Area 10, where a local source advised us to pose as researchers from Delhi (workers are instructed not to interact with media).
Abhishek Kumar asked us to sit with him as he transported mining overburdens in a Hyva tipper. He and six others working in the same mine, operated by Dev Prabha (JV), live in nearby Nipania village. “We work for 12 hours a day,” said the 28-year-old. “My salary is Rs 10,500 but I get Rs 12,000 as they make me work on Sundays too. Taking a leave isn’t an option here.”
This was the first clear violation of rules that we found. According to the Mines Act of 1952, under no circumstances can a mine worker be employed for more than nine hours a day and six days a week. Kumar is also being paid almost Rs 5,000 less than what he is entitled to, as per regulations.
The wages of all mining workers across India are decided by Joint Bipartite Committee of Coal Industry (JBCCI), comprising representatives from managerial staff and trade unions. According to the worker’s skill level, daily wages vary from Rs 464 to 554. Workers are also supposed to get dearness allowance (DA), which changes from time to time. Barring three mines, none of the outsourcing companies are following JBCCI norms. Kumar falls under the semi-skilled category; accordingly, his wage should be Rs 14,820 for 30 days plus a DA of Rs 1,440.
According to AK Jha of Rashtriya Coal Mazdoor Sangh (RCMS), “Things in Jharia are going back to pre-nationalisation era… From utter disregard for workers rights to involvement of mafias in mining activity, everything is making a return.”
The blame falls squarely on changes in BCCL’s strategy. For the first time since its inception in 1972, the company recorded a profit in 2006. This was the result of two major decisions: cost reduction through various means including a freeze on hiring in the 1990s; and outsourcing excavation and transportation. These measures meant BCCL did not have to spend any additional amount on housing and healthcare of its employees and the education of their wards. According to its annual report of 2015-16, its present workforce is 53,670. In 1972, it was at 1.7 lakh.
As per the new systems in place, apart from earthmoving and mining equipment, outsourcing companies also provide BCCL with manpower. Newslaundry tried to access data of contractual workers and outsourcing companies, but was obstructed. “Thirty-one outsourcing companies are working at different projects,” said Dr AK Singh, head of BCCL’s Contract Management Cell. “I cannot give you numbers of contract labourers…Who is to say that the data will not become sensitive later, even if it is not sensitive today?”
Centre of Indian Trade Unions (CITU) leader DD Ramanandan said, “In the board meeting of Coal Mines Provident Fund (CMPF), BCCL accepted there were 90,000 contractual workers who are registered with CMPF.” However, he added the outsourcing companies prefer not to register contractual workers with CMPF, as every worker on record means more money has to be spent on providend fund and implementation of labour laws.
While labour ‘leaders’ fight turf wars, what affects the workers directly is the rampant disregard for Directorate General of Mines Safety (DGMS) safety guidelines. Mayank Singh (name changed), a 34-year-old at Jinagora, supervises lifting of overburdens at the open cast mine, and works without a helmet, mask, safety jacket or mining shoes. “The company provides us safety gear but I am not wearing it today,” replied Singh, when we asked him about his work gear. Within minutes, his senior supervisor arrived, also without safety gear. Kumar explained the absence that Mayank couldn’t: “We don’t get mask or helmet. Anyway, what’s need for helmet inside the truck?”
“Forget about safety kits,” said Ashwini Das, a 40-year-old from Bankura, West Bengal, who has worked at the mine in Loyabad for 18 years. “Ab toh adaat ho gaya hai garda khane ka. Paisa rahega tab na jayega doctor ke paas (Now we have habituated to the dust here. We don’t have money to see a doctor).” Coal pickers like Das are exposed to fine dust particles of coal as they manually discard stones or poor-quality coal.
Unorganised workers are worse off. At Godhar, on the Dhanbad-Bokaro road, workers load coal onto 51 trucks in a day, at the end of which they receive Rs 260. For them, masks that would stop them from inhaling minute coal particles, are an alien concept.
“Dhool jata hai, par kya karein? Kaam toh karna hi hai (We inhale dust, but what to do? We have to work here),” said Kailash Chauhan, 28. His younger brother, 26-year-old Virendra, added, “Gud khate hain isko ka katne ke liye (We eat jaggery to reduce bad effect of coal dust).” Traditionally, jaggery is believed to cleanse the respiratory tract, but details that workers drop in conversation suggest it’s a panacea in these circumstances. “I feel difficulty in breathing while working but haven’t visited a doctor,” said Ravidas, who is in his 30s. The ‘medicine’ that most of them rely upon is mahua (country liquor).
As far as the workers’ welfare goes, BCCL still manages initial medical examination (IME), which determines whether a person is fit to work in mines, and the initial 15-day training. Asked about non-compliance of safety guidelines, a BCCL official (requesting anonymity) said that “random checking of safety standards” take place in the sites and “defaulters are penalised accordingly.”
Their system doesn’t seem to be working. Many of those involved in mining-related activities suffer from tuberculosis and the incurable chronic obstructive lung disease (COPD). Other occupational hazards include “pulmonary infection, throat infection, and gastroenteritis which leads to malnutrition,” said Dr A Banerjee, chief of the Jinagora BCCL hospital, adding that alcoholism, professional distress and an unhealthy lifestyle make things worse.
GS Pandey, chief of medical services at BCCL’s Central Hospital in Dhanbad, assured us that medical cover is extended to all workers – be it permanent or contractual. “From 2013, health services such as primary medical examination, conducted every three years, has been extended to contractual workers too. We will survey them soon,” he said.
Contractual workers, however, are often unaware of the medical cover and those who are in the know say they are either turned away by BCCL hospitals. Family emergencies and their own battles with alcoholism, coupled with banks refusing them loans, leave these mine workers exposed to the duplicity of usurers. “Workers have lost their provident fund, even pensions,” said Samim Khan, a BCCL employee and RCMS member. “Moneylenders make them sign ‘loan’ documents, and keep their ATM cards and bank passbooks to ensure monthly payments.”
The tragedy is that while time has passed and some superficial changes have been introduced, the reality of the workers who power these mines remains tied to an age-old cycle of abuse, neglect and disease. Here in Jharia, exploitation has no expiry date.