At 9, Aslam became a slave

Editor's note: GlobalPost has changed Alsam’s name in accordance with Indian law requiring that rescued minors remain anonymous.

NEW DELHI — On Nov. 11, 13-year-old Aslam woke up at 6 a.m. Fifteen minutes later, he was at his table at a New Delhi garment factory. He had only gone to bed at midnight, and was drowsy and irritable. But with the holiday season just around the corner, there was much work to be done. And there was no point in complaining.

His job was particularly tedious, and required extreme precision — sewing tiny sequins onto women’s garments. In fact, all 30 children in the unit were working 16-hour shifts in order to meet holiday demand. They usually put in 10 to 12 hours a day. The work was relentless, interrupted only by short breaks for tea and lunch.

Just before noon, a few hours after a basic breakfast of lentils and flatbread, Aslam heard his owner shout from outside the unit: “Run quickly! Hide! The police are coming.” The children began running — some left the unit, others hid behind the numerous cupboards. Aslam crouched under a table.

“My heart was pounding — I really did not want the police to arrest me, and put me in jail," the boy recalls.

"I was crying when they came in," he says. "There were some people with them who were not wearing uniforms; they spoke to me kindly, but I knew they would take me to jail."

In fact, the police were at the factory that day to rescue the children. Accompanying them were members of Bachpan Bachao Andolan — the organization founded by 2014 Nobel Peace Prize laureate Kailash Satyarthi — which has helped rescue more than 80,000 children from the clutches of modern-day slavery over the past 30 years.

That is still a drop in the bucket according to a report released Nov. 17 by an Australian human rights group, the Walk Free Foundation. In their report, India emerged as the country with the highest number of people living in enslaved conditions: 14.3 million. The report said that women and children are disproportionately affected. And it added that the issue is not being adequately tackled by the government.

That Aslam was afraid of the police arresting him is a reflection of how little the children had come to expect from the state. That day, Aslam and 11 other children (the rest had “escaped”) were taken to a judicial magistrate, where they told their stories for the first time. Their stories were nearly identical — except for a few details.

At 9, a slave

Aslam was born in a tiny village in the north Indian state of Uttar Pradesh to a tailor and a housewife. The eldest of five siblings, he knew from a young age that he would have to contribute to the family's income.

“When I was 9, I stopped going to school," he said. "A few months later, my parents borrowed 30,000 rupees ($484) from a man in Delhi. In exchange, I was sent to Delhi to work in his factory until we repaid the debt. My parents also thought that it will be useful for me to pick up a skill.” 

For the next year and a half, Aslam worked up to 16 hours daily, for 100 rupees per month (about $1.5). The wages were used to pay off the debt — slowly. He worked and slept in the factory along with the other children, and was provided three meals a day by the owner. Sometimes, he was allowed to go outside to buy food. Once, he was given leave for a week to go back home for Eid, a Muslim holiday.

“We worked all the time, we worked even when we were ill. My master would give us medicine, and insist we continue working," he said. "Once I got tuberculosis. That time he took me to the hospital. But otherwise I worked every single day.” 

“If the work was not done properly, master would scream at us, and sometime he would hit the children as well," he added. "I was good at my work, so I was never beaten, but I saw at least three to four children being hit by master.”

'Let down by everyone'

After giving his testimony to the judicial magistrate, Aslam and the other children were given medical examinations and sent for rehabilitation to the Mukti Ashram, a center for rescued children in New Delhi run by Satyarthi. Even though they were being treated kindly, the children were scared.

“I didn’t know where we were being taken," he recalled. "I had two pairs of clothes with me, and nothing else.”

Center officials say his reaction is completely normal.

“When the children first come here, they are frightened and anxious, they don’t trust anyone," said Aditya Mishra, project officer and manager at the Mukti Ashram.

"We usually counsel them right away, and tell them exactly what has happened, we assure them that they will soon be back with their families, and we make sure to speak to them with respect.”

“They have been [so] let down by everyone, by their parents, by the person who employs, in some cases the person who trafficked them — that they can no longer believe that someone wants to genuinely help them," he added. "On day one certainly, they don’t trust us at all. It takes time.” 

The Indian courts mandate that rescued children must spend at least 30 days at a rehabilitation center like Mukti Ashram before returning to their families. They are divided into groups, and given clothing and assigned living quarters. They participate in counseling sessions, non-formal educational activities and are encouraged to participate in activities involving sports and arts. Every evening they are allowed to watch television, a favorite activity.

The children, many of whom have never even set foot in a school, are also taught basic writing and math skills. Unlike most children their age, Aslam and his friends are excited to be in a classroom.

It’s not unusual for children like Aslam to end up working again after being rescued, something Mukti Ashram works hard to prevent.

“We have a strict follow-up system, which means we keep going back to the villages and following up on the cases of rescued children to make sure they are not working again,” explained Aditya Mishra. “It’s important that they learn how to be children again.”

Getting schooling

Aslam does not see his years as a bonded laborer as particularly odd. When asked whether he thinks if what happened to him was unfair, he shrugs. “What choice was there?" he asked. "My parents had taken a loan, I had to pay it off. I have four brothers and sisters and I had to work to help my parents.”

At one point in GlobalPost’s interview, Aslam decided he no longer wanted to dwell on the past. His face lit up, though, after being asked about what he is doing now.  

“I have been learning how to write. I can now write my name in Hindi and English," he said, taking this reporter's notebook and meticulously writing his name and address in it. “My teacher said that today we will learn how to write longer sentences. I want to surprise my mother by showing her I can write now.”

When asked what he wants to do when he goes back to his village, he shrugged. “I would like to go to school but I have brothers and sisters," he said. "And most importantly, I want to make sure they don’t have to experience the things that I have. I want to make sure they get an education.”

“My teacher told us about the rights of children in India," he added. "So now I understand also that working before I am 18 is against the law.”