How 2 Men & a Small Idea in Udaipur Changed 12 Lakh Lives & Recovered Rs 120 Crore for Workers

It was another hot afternoon in Bhuj, Gujarat, when Ramesh Kumar put down his chisel and realised the wages had stopped coming. For over a year, he and 50 others had been building statues for a temple. The work was done, but the promised pay — more than Rs 5 lakh — never came.

Months of waiting turned into frustration. “How do we get what’s ours?” someone asked. None of them knew where to begin.

That’s when they approached a small legal aid cell run by Aajeevika Bureau in Udaipur. The case stretched over several rounds of mediation, but in the end, every worker received their full payment — some in cash, others by cheque. For Ramesh and his co-workers, it wasn’t just about the money. It was proof that even those on the margins could claim justice.

Across India, stories like this repeat every day. People leave their villages hoping for a better life in the city, only to find themselves invisible in its rush. They build our homes, cook in our restaurants, make our clothes, and carry our loads — yet most remain outside the safety net of law, wages, and recognition.

According to the Economic Advisory Council to the Prime Minister, India had 40.2 crore domestic migrants in 2023. Despite driving much of the country’s growth, they continue to live in temporary shelters, earn uncertain incomes, and lack access to basic services or social security.

For two decades, Aajeevika Bureau has been working to change that story. Founded in 2005, the Udaipur-based public service organisation has supported over 12 lakh vulnerable workers and their families. Through legal aid, skills training, and women’s collectives, it has shown that when migrants are seen and heard, they don’t just survive the system — they help reshape it.

The people who saw what others overlooked

Two decades ago, long before “migrant rights” entered public conversations, Rajiv Khandelwal and Krishnavatar Sharma began noticing the same unsettling pattern — entire groups of people powering India’s cities, yet living without recognition or recourse.

Rajiv, a development professional trained at the Institute of Rural Management, Anand, was then studying livelihoods in Rajasthan’s tribal communities. “We realised that income from migrant work had become central to rural households,” he recalls. “But the conditions under which people migrated — long hours, no contracts, no social protection — revealed a crisis that no one was addressing.”

For Krishna, a lawyer whose father served as a rural doctor in the 1950s, the urge to act came from a similar place. “My father’s commitment and principles shaped how I saw service. I wanted to bring that same responsibility to people who had no access to justice,” he says.

Their conversations soon turned into a shared conviction: migration was not an exception but an economic reality — and India needed an institutional response to it.

“When Aajeevika was set up, few government or civil society programmes specifically focused on migrant workers in the informal sector,” says Rajiv. “We had to start by simply recognising them.”

That empathy had deep roots. Rajiv still remembers a childhood lesson that shaped his approach. “When I was in school in Delhi, there was a blind school across the road, the one shown in the 1980 film Sparsh. I was asked to write answers for visually challenged students during exams. Once, the student I was helping gave wrong answers, and I corrected them. The next day, the principal scolded me. She said, ‘Did you think you helped the student by doing what you did? We don’t need sympathy or charity.’ That moment never left me.”

In 2005, the two co-founded Aajeevika Bureau in Udaipur. What began as a small experiment to provide identity cards and training to migrant workers soon evolved into a national effort to give them voice, visibility, and dignity.

Five years later, their model received international recognition when the Schwab Foundation honoured them with the Social Entrepreneur of the Year Award (2010) — a milestone that acknowledged the urgency of their mission.

From struggle to strength

When Pushpa Bai first joined the Ujala Samooh — a village-level women’s collective that supports tribal and migrant households to claim their rights and entitlements — she barely spoke. Her husband worked in a sweet shop in Ahmedabad, leaving her to manage the home and raise their children alone. For years, she stayed on the edges of village life, unsure if her voice mattered.

“Earlier, I would be scared to talk to people,” she says with a small laugh. “Now, I can discuss issues openly. If a family doesn’t get rations or if someone’s name is missing from MGNREGA work, I take action.”

Her courage began to ripple outward. When the sarpanchstopped holding regular gram sabhas, Pushpa and her group confronted him. “We kept reminding him to call the meetings,” she recalls. “Finally, he agreed.”

At one of those gatherings, she raised a question about women construction workers being left out of the Building and Other Construction Workers (BOCW) benefits. Within months, she and 25 others received scholarships and financial aid for their children’s education.

Pushpa is one of nearly 15,000 women across Rajasthan who have come together under Ujala Sangathan, a collective of 700 small women’s groups formed with Aajeevika’s support. In Sayra and Kumbhalgarh blocks alone, these groups include about 3,500 women who are learning to speak up, make decisions, and lead community change.

Among them are mothers in Ahmedabad who drop off their children each morning at Aajeevika-run crèches near construction sites. These shaded, cheerful spaces are managed by local women for other working mothers. There are 11 such crèches, each holding between 20 and 65 children, collectively supporting about 450 children between six months and six years of age. “Here, at least they are safe,” one mother says simply.

The crèches are part of Aajeevika’s Mahila Shramik Shakti Kendras (MSSKs) in Ahmedabad and Surat — centres that help women access maternity benefits, safety training, and social entitlements. “Very often, there are no safety measures or training given to workers,” says co-founder Krishna. “They work at their own risk and fear losing their jobs if they speak up.”

At nearby worksites, Aajeevika staff often visit with safety gear and conduct short workshops on using tools, preventing injuries, and claiming compensation when accidents occur. “India continues to face one of the world’s highest risks of workplace accidents,” adds Rajiv. “We work with industries and small businesses to make workplaces safer. Even simple things like gloves or helmets can save lives.”

Training India’s invisible workforce for a fairer tomorrow

Opportunities also open up in the form of skill training. In towns like Udaipur, Banswara, and Nashik, hundreds of young people enrol at STEP Academy, Aajeevika’s skilling unit. Here, they learn trades like masonry, wiring, mobile repair, and security services — each course designed for those on the brink of migration or already working in low-wage jobs.

One of them is Rekha Kumari, 24, from Vavda village in Rajasthan. She studied till Class 10 and once worked as a head loader at construction sites. “People would laugh when I went out with a hammer and chisel,” she says. “I felt miserable, but I didn’t stop learning. Now they praise me.”

After her training at STEP, Rekha began working as a mason, earning about Rs 450 a day. “It feels good to know that women can also do such work,” she says. “I want other girls to learn masonry and support their families.”

Through its network of 29 facilitation centres across 13 cities and nine states, Aajeevika has supported workers like Ramesh, Pushpa, and Rekha in accessing legal aid, recovering wages, and connecting to welfare schemes.

Over the years, it has supported 12 lakh workers and families, recovered Rs 120 crore in unpaid wages, and linked 1.7 lakh migrants to social security schemes like pensions, rations, and e-Shram.

Along the way, the organisation has also worked alongside state labour departments, local administrations, and civil society groups pursuing the same goal — to make migration safer and fairer for every worker.

At its heart lies one simple idea: dignity begins with being seen. “If a worker is invisible to the system,” says Rajiv, “then rights, safety, and justice remain invisible too.”

That’s why Aajeevika continues to collaborate with communities and institutions to ensure every worker is recognised and protected.

A road ahead lit by workers

After 20 years of working with India’s migrant communities, Aajeevika Bureau is now looking to the future — one shaped by changing economies, climate realities, and new forms of work.

“We will continue our core work but also step into new spaces like climate change, just transition, and the gig economy,” says Smriti Kedia, who leads human and institutional development at Aajeevika. An engineer turned social worker, Smriti has spent nearly two decades in the development sector. “Urban entrepreneurs have many opportunities; we want the same for rural ones,” she adds. “Through STEP Academy, we’re investing in green skilling — training youth in solar and EV mechanics.”

The organisation is also piloting affordable housing for migrants through the Shelter Square Foundation, which recently opened a hostel with a mess facility for workers in Surat. “Our next focus is smaller industrial cities like Aurangabad, Indore, and Bhopal,” says Rajiv. “Labour right violations often go unnoticed there, and vigilance is low.”

Yet, perhaps the most powerful signs of change come from the villages themselves.

At agram sabha in rural Rajasthan, thesarpanch once began distributing snacks — one biscuit for each man, half for each woman. The women paused, looked at one another, and refused to accept it.

“This is not a fight for a biscuit,” they said. “It’s a fight for equality.”

The act of defiance rippled through the gathering. Weeks later, thepanchayat appointed five female worksite supervisors alongside three men under MGNREGA — a small but significant step toward gender inclusion in local governance.

Moments like these, Rajiv says, are what remind the team why their work matters. “When people begin to question unfairness themselves, that’s when you know dignity has taken root.”

For Rajiv and the team, that moment — when someone stands up for themselves — is the real measure of success. Because dignity, once claimed, never goes back into hiding.

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