A rosy facade, a rotten core

Every serious agitation by the underprivileged serves as an opportunity for public education. It stirs the layers of ignorance that occupy the conscious minds of those unaffected by the struggle, peeling away the masks of the state that obscure seething discontent and injustice. It brings hidden warts and sores into stark visibility, exposing the fragile underbelly of our comfortable existences.

Such is the case of the ASHA workers’ struggle that continues in the state capital of Thiruvananthapuram, which is in its 47th day today. Eight days ago, the striking union, Kerala Asha Health Workers Association (KAHWA), announced a hunger strike. Three women have been on hunger strike in front of the State Secretariat since then. The demands remain the same: a wage increase large enough to lead a dignified life, reasonable retirement benefits, and a pension plan.

Despite their critical role in public health—tracking pregnancies, child welfare, vaccinations, and communicable diseases—their honorarium remains a pittance. They are also called upon by the police for tasks ranging from monitoring fishermen during storms to identifying alcoholics or habitual smokers in their communities.

Their honoraria come from the state and the Union govt offers some incentives, but their remuneration, beyond doubt, is a shameful pittance. Many of their duties are nearly unpaid. In Kerala, especially, the number of tasks entrusted to them is very high, so high that they are on call 24 hours. And it is no secret that the cost of living in Kerala is relatively higher than elsewhere in the country. Given the fact that the aspirations of the young for social mobility in Kerala are sky-high among all sections of the people, to say that low-wage earners find life an uphill climb would be an understatement.

The ASHA workers’ protest has ripped off the rosy coverlet of Kerala’s health achievements, revealing that the system is built on the unpaid and undervalued sweat and tears of the most underprivileged women. Many were unaware that these workers, who shoulder enormous public responsibility, are paid irregularly and face the threat of job loss the moment they demand fair compensation. The strike has also made us wonder about the lack of empathy of the ruling classes towards the struggles for survival of the poor, as well as the strange contradiction by which a communist-led govt and CPM itself seem completely fixated on crushing the voice of the working-class poor with every possible form of verbal violence.

For those closely following the protest, the experience has been both heartening and painful. The protest site is a space of solidarity, where women of different castes, religions, and political affiliations unite in their common struggle. In an era where social media fosters bitter division, the protest demonstrates how shared human concerns—grief, laughter, and mutual support—can transcend political, societal and religious differences. However, the deeper insights from this movement are distressing.

A quick survey of 50 protesting women reveals just how precarious their lives are. Thirty-six belong to Dalit-Bahujan communities, while the remaining 14, though from general categories, are on the verge of financial collapse.

Among the 10 scheduled caste women surveyed, seven do not own homes, and the remaining three face severe financial threats. Of the 28 homeowners, 17 risk losing their properties due to mounting debts. High-interest loans have become a malignant force, corroding the self-worth of debt-ridden Malayali women. Women-headed households constitute a substantial segment—15 out of 50, far exceeding their proportion in the general population. Among the remaining 35 families where the husband is the head, 22 men are unable to contribute financially due to health problems.

The problem of indebtedness is so severe that some workers describe their situation as a choice between suicide at home and dying in public protest for dignity and rights. The staggering incidence of debt underscores the plight of Kerala’s poorest in ways no academic text can.

Yet, the only player in this game who has apparently learned nothing is the govt. The LDF administration, led by Pinarayi Vijayan, is poised to be recognized as a disgrace to Kerala’s legacy of Sree Narayana Guru’s social vision based on empathy toward those who suffer. Gathering around itself the tattered remnants of its once-glorious ‘Kerala Model’ cape, it makes threatening, irrational, violent, and sadly comical gestures – like someone gone mad with greed and fear. One can only pray that it will come back to its senses – it can, if only it wants to – seeing that we need the Left to remain, if Kerala is to be Kerala.

(The writer is a social critic and an academic)