A few years ago, I was having lunch with a friend at home in Kathmandu. Between mouthfuls, he suddenly said: “I know my cousins occasionally rape Tharu girls.” I remember not being sure whether to swallow my food or throw up.

My friend wanted to get the information off his chest, but I also knew that he would never confront his cousins – let alone work on prosecuting them. And that is just the problem with much of the South Asian middle class. We build glass walls around ourselves and hope that the other half – who lives in poverty and exploitation every day – will just sort itself out. 

Tharus are just one of the indigenous groups that are exploited regularly. Many become bonded laborers, known as kamlaris. When they demonstrated in Kathmandu last June, it was not surprising that most activists or political groups ignored them. They were beaten brutally by the police. But these girls persisted until the government was forced to listen to them. 

The Kamlaris were demanding that the government look into the death of a 12-year-old kamlari girl who was burnt alive in her owner’s house. The police said it was suicide but many felt the facts did not add up. And even if it was suicide, no one asked why a 12-year-old would choose to pour kerosene over herself and light it inflames rather than carry on living; no one reflected on how desperate she must have been.

The isolation of these kamlaris who live and work as maids in Nepali homes intrigued me, and their determination fascinated me. There was desperation in that protest as the girls were beaten back by the police that is rarely seen in Kathmandu’s constant round of petty rallies and fake outrage. I felt that I had to find out more.

The first task was to find a kamlari working in Kathmandu. We knew hundreds were hidden away behind the high walls of middle-class homes across the city but we found that no one wanted to talk about them. I called a journalist from western Nepal, where most of the kamlaris come from. He told me, “Everyone in power has a kamlari.” When I asked him for names, he said, “I’m not going to name names. Frankly, I have political ambitions.”

We decided to look for the girls ourselves. Armed with hidden cameras, our team set out, and after just a day of searching, we found eight kamlaris. One was even locked inside the house of a local police officer.



Fortunately, there are NGOs in Nepal working to free the kamlaris and we did not need to knock on every door. Former kamlaris have also organized themselves, and have a common voice.

Talking to the kamlaris, I heard plenty of horror stories of abuse, violence and rape. But more common were the stories of petty behavior aimed at humiliating them. One young girl told me that she had to feed her owner’s dog cornflakes in the morning while she herself only got stale food. Another talked of being fed rotten rice. The owners could have afforded to provide better food but it was a way of keeping the kamlaris in their place. It was inconceivable that these girls could be seen as equals in any way. For the owners, the girls were born to be used and abused.

Hearing their stories, it struck me once again how ugly human cruelty can be. What makes people exploit young children? And how is exploitation so easily accepted – especially by the educated middle class?

The families of the young kamlaris were equally culpable. Man Bahadur Chhetri, a man who has dedicated almost a decade to helping kamlaris, told me how the parents of these girls do not value their daughters. Like the rest of Nepal where people prefer sons to daughters, Srijana’s parents had seven girls and then a son. They would never have sent their son to work at someone else’s house. But Srijana was dispensable. When Chhetri’s NGO started working with Tharu families, they could convince parents to keep their daughters at home with the reward of a pig or goat.

Another inspiring NGO worker we met is Krishna Chaudhary, a man who was almost killed during Nepal’s decade-long insurgency while trying to save the lives of kamlaris. He showed me a large gash on his leg from when the then Maoist guerillas beat him up. He refused to let the Maoists conscript the girls to join their war.

Meeting people like Krishna and Man Bahadur Chhetri can restore one’s faith in humanity.

But even after years of activism, exploitation of the Tharus still persists. The kamlari system has been outlawed but we went to some villages and found that Tharu tenant farmers still have to do extra work in the homes of their landlords in exchange for the right to till the land. Wives of farmers go to the landlords’ houses and complete all the domestic work for free. The only difference was that it was not little girls who worked there and the farmer’s wives could return home to their children.



PHOTO COURTESY: BISHNU KALPIT

But we found that there are exceptions, and not all kamlaris are abused. One girl who was rescued by a local NGO did not want to return home to her family. It appeared that the owner of the house where she worked in Kathmandu treated her well, sending her to a private school along with his own daughter, something her own family could never afford. At the end of our filming, it was the kamlaris themselves who left me most inspired. They are some of the bravest girls I have ever met. Rising from childhoods of neglect and abuse, many have forgiven their landlords and are now dedicated to bringing about changes.

Perhaps if middle-class Nepalis would apply more introspection in their lives, they would realize that these girls are not their equal. Many rises far above them.

Published on: 27 September 2013 | Republica