Cover story: Where Have All The Jobs Gone? [Pg.2]

Lies, Damned Lies, And Statistics...

Drive two-hours out of Delhi, into Haryana, on a hot May afternoon. After 120-km, turn off the National Highway eight, onto a dusty, scorched kuchcha track, suffer the bumps and the jerks for another 11 km and you'll reach the village of Sangwari Bhudro. Don't be surprised if you aren't met by a bunch of happy children, who stop playing their mindless games to gawk at the sight of a stranger in their village of around 150 families.

Instead, everyone seems subdued. Sitting on their charpoys, in the shade of their thatched or tin-covered huts, the residents of Sangwari Bhudro have a vacant gaze in their eyes, as though contemplating a bleak future. Unseasonal rains a little over a fortnight ago have destroyed most of their standing crop. So, there is little to do.

Walk five minutes through the narrow lanes of the village and you are into dusty scrubland, where thirty-six years old Gujjar Subhash Chand is grazing his 20-odd goats. Ideally, he should be better off. Unseasonal rains shouldn't worry him. But Chand appears as grim as the others. ''I don't know the name of the disease, but for the second time in three years, most of my goats fell ill and died last year,'' says Chand. ''So, I had to borrow Rs 3,000 from the local money lender to buy a new goat. I have to pay him Rs 250 every month.'' Considering that the most he earns by selling his goat is Rs 500 a month, to feed his family of six, his life can be called an existence at best.

Two meals a day, he does get. But it's usually roti, and only sometimes with dal. The day is spent grazing the goat. ''There is no other work for me in this village,'' he says. ''My wife and children can look after the goats, but what will I do? There is less work and more men in this village.''

Atleast Chand has work to do. His family does eat. And he won't enter government statistics as an unemployed. Though, it would perhaps be better if the likes of Chand were treated as unemployed. Maybe then the government would wake up to the plight of the underemployed-those who work, but who'll never earn enough to lift themselves out of poverty. Today, it can blissfully ignore the underemployed and say that we have over 250 million self-employed in the country. After all, Chand hasn't gone and registered himself in an employment exchange. He is technically in his own employment, throughout the year.

Strange as it may sound, some of our poorest states-Bihar, Uttar Pradesh, Rajasthan, and Madhya Pradesh-have the lowest unemployment count. That would be a heartening statistic, except when you realise that it's because the poor can't afford to remain unemployed for long. When it's not harvest season or sowing time, what do people do? And underemployment is a greater worry in the rural areas, which still contribute 76 per cent of our workforce. ''In a country with no social security system, being out of work means starving,'' says S.P. Gupta, Member, Planning Commission. So, they do any work, at any wage, and just about survive. But those numbers won't show up in any government statistic. All we have are guesstimates, which put the number of underemployed at over 40 million. That's nearly 10 per cent of our workforce.

Underemployment means an existence of mere subsistence. ''People might be employed, but they may not be above the poverty line,'' says Subir Gokarn, Chief Economist, National Council of Applied Economic Research. ''Nobody talks of the quality of employment.'' And the definition of poverty in this country is a sad joke in itself. If a rural worker can consume 2,400 calories a day, and a city-dweller 2,100 calories within 80 per cent of his daily income, he is above the poverty line.

Take the case of 30-year old Mohan, a native of Uttar Pradesh's Basti village. We're in the middle of summer and at five-feet nothing, he is manoeuvring his handcart through cycle-rickshaws and light commercial vehicles on Delhi's Maharaj Agrasen Marg. For the last 10 years, he's been carting luggage over a 3 km stretch, from India's largest wholesale market, Sadar Bazaar, to the Old Delhi Railway Station. And for the last three years, he's been receiving Rs 10 per trip. ''If I get lucky, I get to make four trips a day,'' says Mohan, as he stops by the roadside to quench his thirst from a matka, kept by the roadside, by a good samaritan shopkeeper. ''But on the whole, my income is around Rs 600 a month.''

Delhi is an expensive city. ''I sleep in a shop, so I don't spend on lodging,'' he says. But two basic meals a day take up around Rs 450-500 a month. He is just above the poverty line, and that's probably as good as life will get for him. ''It's getting tougher to find work,'' says Mohan. ''Too many have migrated to the cities and they are all competing for the same kind of work.''

But there is no other option but to struggle on. ''What do I do with my wife and three-year old son,'' he asks. ''I can't afford to bring them here. By working in the city, I can atleast send home Rs 100 a month.'' If he goes back to his village, he'll work four, maybe six months a year. And surviving the year on that money will be impossible. He tried that option before he came to Delhi 10 years ago, and it didn't work.

It doesn't seem to work for others too. Over the last five years, our agricultural workforce has come down by more than three million. Most will come to the cities and lead a life like Mohan's. That's their only chance of staying above the poverty line.

Sorry, Your Govt. Doesn't Need You...

Kolkata, the City of Joy and hotbed of India's trade union movement. As chairman of the All India Bank Employees Association (AIBEA), septuagenarian Tarakeshwar Chakrabarty has fought many a successful battle for the bank unions. But he seems in no mood to pick another one. Instead, there's an air of resigned acceptance around him. ''Since 1990, bank recruitments have come to a grinding halt,'' says Chakrabarty. ''In fact, barring co-operative banks, the banking industry has actually reduced its workforce by about 20 per cent.''

Most of this is courtesy the nationalised banks. Virtually everyone is talking VRS. Plus, they've hardly opened any new branches. And vacancies that arise due to retirements, transfers, promotions, and introduction of new products and services are taken care of by increased computerisation and management restructuring. Ten years ago, for every officer, there would be three subordinate employees. But there's been a virtual freeze on recruiting clerical staff for some time now. ''The industry will shed even more jobs in the future as banks merge and close loss-making branches,'' says Chakrabarty.

This isn't an isolated example. In Delhi, the National Federation of Postal Employees is also struggling to keep alive its waning power. As the Department of Posts takes on new responsibilities for itself-electronic money transfer, postal giro, and data mining among others-it isn't even talking about increasing staff strength. Including extra-departmental employees, it has stood at about 6.5 lakhs since 1984.

The railway unions couldn't be too happy either. In 1990, there were 18 lakhs railway employees, today they're down to 15.8 lakhs. This is virtually the story for the entire government, which has in the past, proudly looked upon itself as an employment generator. Today, it's all about disinvestment, downsizing, and expenditure control. While these are still mere buzzwords and not much downsizing has happened yet, at least fresh recruitments aren't happening. In fact, barring the Department of Telecom, all government ministries need to take finance ministry clearance to recruit staff. The public sector isn't recruiting-employment is down by 3 lakhs to 18.5 lakhs over the last 10 years-since the government isn't investing any fresh money into its companies.

After going up by about 2 lakhs in the eighties, the number of central government staff has remained static at about 33 lakhs all through the last decade. On the whole, if one includes state government employees, staff at government-funded institutions like schools and colleges, and local bodies, the total number of government employees in India, has stagnated at 19.4 million since 1994. Compared to this, the eighties saw employment in government rise by about three million.

This is where the poor state of government finances is having an impact. Many, employed at the local and state levels, don't even get their monthly salaries. So, it's a cleft the government is caught in. Post 1991, it put the onus of employment generation on the private sector, which hasn't been able to come up with the required investment to do so. And empty coffers make it impossible for the government to generate employment. For those without a job today, tomorrow doesn't look any brighter.

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