NEW DELHI: Padma Chaturvedi (name changed) is a rarity—she is a top-notch engineer in a public-sector giant based in Delhi. She earns a six-figure salary and drives a car to office. Her day begins at five in the morning. She bathes, performs puja, washes the kitchen and then starts preparing food for the family—her two adolescent children, in-laws and husband. After years, they have employed a maid to wash utensils, but not those used by her in-laws. After feeding everybody, sending off the kids to school and making sure everything is set for the day, Padma gets ready and rushes off to office. Her husband is an IT professional and gets back late. Half of Padma's work is done by the time he gets up.This is perhaps an extreme household but there are millions of working women —in rural and in urban areaswho daily cook at home, do the washing, take care of the kids and go out for work. Padma's maid Meena (name changed), though at the opposite end of the economic and social spectrum, has the same routine as Padma.
All over the world, care-giving by the woman of the house is an age-old, unshakeable practice of families. In more industrialized societies of the West, this may be softened with introduction of laboursaving devices, more employment opportunities and a lot of talk about women's liberation. In agricultural societies like India, it is a cornerstone of family 'values' forcing women's employment in the outside-the-home economy down to a mere 14%.
Care-work at home, though essential for life and its sustenance, is mostly 'unpaid', that is, it is not counted in any economic calculation, says Rajni Palriwala, professor of sociology at Delhi University. It is time-consuming, backbreaking and there are no leaves or vacations. "Time spent on care is of four types: thinking (planning) about care, taking care of, giving care and receiving care (personal care). Right from childhood, girls are trained in the nuts and bolts of these activities, their whole lives geared and targeted to this end," Palriwala explains.
But the real force of this hide-bound system becomes clear if you consider the kind of jobs women do get in the economy. Vast numbers of women are employed in care-giving jobs, which are seamless extensions of what they do at home—cooking, looking after children (including teaching younger kids), nursing the sick, the elderly and the disabled, washing and cleaning, down to even fetching fuel and water which go in as inputs for her work.
The biggest number of women is employed as maids, cooks, baby-sitters or governesses in homes, an occupation which is a direct extension of women's traditional care-giving role.
Based on NSSO data, Neetha N. of the Centre for Women's Development Studies estimates that their number is a huge 18 lakh. In Delhi, their number is over 90,000. While these maids may lessen the workload of the harried housewife, in effect it is just a transfer of traditional housework duties from one woman to another.
India has seen an explosion of 'schemeworkers' in the recent years as the government tries to deliver various services through schemes. All together these scheme workers are estimated to number a mindboggling 10 million (1 crore) people —most of them women. Three giant schemes make up the bulk of them. They are the Integrated Child Development Services (ICDS) which runs anganwadis employing over 27 lakh women, the Mid-Day Meal scheme employing another 27 lakh women cooks and the National Health Mission employing 8.5 lakh ASHAs (Accredited Social Health Activists) for primary healthcare in villages.
Just like unpaid house work, these care-giving jobs are shockingly low-pay ones. In the case of scheme workers, most of them are not even considered regular employees —they are referred to as 'volunteers' or 'activists' with the implication that it is a part-time job that needs to be done as part of the woman's larger social duties. Housemaids and cooks work long hours in different houses but still earn less than the minimum wage prescribed by law for unskilled workers. Apart from these, there are 9.9 lakh nurses and 5.5 lakh auxiliary nurses-cum-midwives (ANMs) in the country, forming the backbone of the healthcare delivery system in institutions. Then there are women primary schoolteachers which number 2.9 lakhs. Although in the government sector these jobs are better paid and secure, their private sector counterparts live on the edge with very low salaries.
It is commonly suggested that women can do care-work better, so why not let them do it. But Palriwala points out that they are better at it because that is the only thing they are trained to do by society. "Also, if women do care-work better why are they not paid fully for it," she asks.
Naziya Sheikh | Mid-Day Meal Boss
Naziya Sheikh makes an unlikely boss. All of 19, she's the supervisor who commands a staff of 15 in a small kitchen that makes food for 570 children in 38 anganwadis in Shaheen Bagh. Her day starts at 4am and by 9, the cooks have the food ready to be sent off. By 11, the cleaners arrive to wash the utensils and then Naziya does her day's stock-taking and inventory control. It's about a seven-hour day for which she earns Rs 1,200 a month. But her work does not end there. When she's done at the kitchen, she heads to an anganwadi where she works as a 'helper' : odd-jobs, including baby-sitting. For this she's paid Rs 2,500 a month. Pay on time is a rarity. "A month or month-and-a half here and there is the norm," she says, polite appeals over phone to the department of social welfare the farthest she's got. "I can't go to the social welfare department alone. I need to go in a group. But our timings hardly ever work out. The supervisor I've spoken to over phone is always nice, but that's about it," she says. Naziya also runs the house, supporting her mother, and four siblings.
The minimum wage in Delhi for unskilled worker is Rs 6,656 per month for an 8-hr day. Naziya gets Rs 3,700 for nine hours of work every day.
She wants to be a teacher. "I love teaching children," says Sheikh, who studied in a local government school herself. But her studies were put on hold two years ago after her father, a construction worker, died and she had to start earning. She's now joined a correspondence BA course.
— Kim Arora
Susan Varghese | Nurse in a Private Hospital
Every morning when she goes for a round to check on a ward's patients, she administers bitter pills along with a reassuring dose wishing speedy recovery. For 26-yearold Susan Varghese, a nurse at a top private hospital, her work is all about providing holistic care. This she learned from her mother, a nurse in Bahrain. In her short career so far, Varghese has acquired the art of dealing with a variety of patients. A little chit-chat, she says, helps bond with patients. "We've to adopt different approaches. Treatment is followed as per doctor's advice. But the real challenge is to administer the treatment and make the patient comfortable. We're the crucial link,'' she says. Brought up in Bahrain, Varghese wanted to be a doctor but settled for the nursing profession. She worked in a hospital abroad for over three years before moving to Delhi. Familiar with a nurse's wider range of responsibilities in developed nations, she hopes Indian hospitals will eventually allow greater autonomy for nurses. Though things have changed of late with many hospitals improving facilities for paramedical staff, the bulk of a nurse's work is limited to simple patient-care. She feels there's need to redefine and broaden the role of nurses. Posted in the cardiaccare unit, Varghese finds nursing challenging. "As care-giver, we have to emotionally be there for patients, it can be draining. On days when the workload is too much, it can be difficult to handle the pressure," said Varghese. But nurses can be the best care-givers cum counsellors. "I once explained to a patient an angioplasty process. She thanked me later as she wasn't scared when she was wheeled into the cathlab."
— Risha Chitlangia
Babita & Vimla | Anganwadi Worker & Helper
In a tiny, one-room dwelling, Babita recites poems before a group of 15 children below six. They watch her wideeyed as she tries to sound cheerful in the cramped anganwadi in the resettlement of Madanpur Khadar. None can tell from her zeal that she has not received her monthly salary of around Rs 5,000 for almost nine months now. Babita's not alone in the crisis in the capital's anganwadis that are supposed to be a creche for children (between ages 0 and 6 years) of underprivileged, working moms. The large workforce of teachers and helpers who drive the government's flagship ICDS programme are hard put to make ends meet.
Babita has a six-day week. She leaves her year-old daughter at her mother's before reaching the anganwadi. "There is no toilet there so it's not possible to keep very small children at the centre. We mostly have kids between 3 and 6 years. If they wish to go to the toilet, we've no choice but to send them to filthy public toilets," says the 22-year-old. Neither is there any drinking water. Children either carry water from home or drink untreated water from hand-pumps. "About 120 children are enrolled but there's space only for 15 to 20. We get a maximum of 30 on a given day," she said. But despite the odds, Babita is keen to continue. "I want to work. But I wish things could be better and a monthly salary becomes a reality," she added.
Vimla Devi (35), a helper, is also desperately waiting for her Rs 2,000 salary that hasn't come in months. In the job for six years, her salary goes into school for her four kids. "Keh rahein hain ke Rs 2,500 ho jayega. Magar pata nahin kab milega," she said wryly before leaving to escort the children to their homes.
— Ambika Pandit
