Moga Bonded Labour Scandal: Officials Shield Slave Masters

Moga Scandal: Administration’s Lies Leave Rescued Bonded Labourers Stranded

In early January, social activist Nirmal Gorana received a distressing tip-off. A well-known advocate against modern slavery, bonded labour, and human trafficking, Gorana was informed that over 50 bonded labourers, including children, were being held in inhuman conditions at a brick kiln in Moga, Punjab. Among them was Anuj Kumar, who managed to escape. Determined to expose the brutal reality, he reached out to Gorana, recounting the horrific conditions inside the kiln.

The Probe received this lead from Gorana and decided to investigate the claims. A crucial piece of evidence soon emerged—Anuj Kumar’s wife, risking everything, secretly filmed a video from inside the brick kiln, a desperate plea for help that left no room for doubt.

In the video, Anuj's wife Preeti, a bonded labourer trapped at the kiln stated:  "My name is Preeti. I am a resident of Saharanpur, Uttar Pradesh. My husband, Anuj Kumar, was given an advance payment of 10,000 rupees by a contractor, and we were brought to this brick kiln. For the last five months, we have been working continuously for 16 hours a day. We are forced to work and are being held in bondage. They have also made our children work. We want to go home, but the owner does not allow us to leave. Despite making around 1.5 lakh bricks, we have not received any wages."

Another video soon surfaced, recorded secretly by Sandeep Kumar, another bonded labourer. His testimony revealed an even more distressing reality—his wife, eight months pregnant, was also being forced to work under harsh conditions.

"My name is Sandeep Kumar. I am from Banhera Khas village in Saharanpur, Uttar Pradesh. The contractor gave my father an advance of 30,000 rupees and brought us to this brick kiln. For five months, my family and I have been trying to repay the debt, but they have kept us in bondage. They force us to work. We want to leave, but they will not let us. We are from the Dalit community, and they abuse us constantly. We have made around 4.5 lakh bricks in the last five months, but they still claim our debt is not cleared. They have not paid us our wages. My wife is eight months pregnant, and they are making her work forcibly. We just want our wages and to return home," he said.

The Escape That Exposed the Tragedy

On January 16, The Probe, along with activist Nirmal Gorana, traveled to Muzaffarnagar and Saharanpur—the hometowns of more than 50 bonded labourers trapped in the Moga brick kiln—to gather more information. To uncover the full extent of the exploitation, the team asked if any labourers could risk an escape and speak out. Two of them managed to break free. One of them, Arvind Kumar, took a dangerous chance to meet The Probe team and reveal the shocking details of life inside the kiln.

"There are 19 children there. All of them are minors. They are working without wages. We are being forced to work. If we try to leave, we will lose all our money," Arvind Kumar explained.

When asked how he knew about the children, he responded, "They are from my family, my village, and my neighbourhood."

Despite repaying their initial loans, the labourers remain trapped as the kiln owners withheld their wages, making escape nearly impossible.

"Some took loans of 10,000 rupees, some took 15,000 rupees, but all of it has been repaid. Now, our wages are stuck with them," Arvind said.

Surveillance, Beatings, and Forced Labour

Arvind's revelations only grew more harrowing as he described the brutal physical abuse inflicted on workers—including children. Even the youngest were not spared. If they refused to work or dared to ask for their wages, they were mercilessly beaten, he said. “They beat us up and threaten us to make us work,” he stated, adding that surveillance inside the brick kiln was suffocating. “If we go somewhere, they keep a watch on us.” Every movement was monitored, ensuring that no one could escape or seek help. The brick kiln operated like an open-air prison, where forced labour thrived under the watchful eyes of those in power.

A Desperate Return to Bondage

Despite a brief escape, Arvind had no choice but to return. His parents were still inside the brick kiln, and all his belongings remained in the hands of his employer. With no other option, he was forced to go back—to the very place he had fled from. His only hope was that one day, all of them would be rescued, and the cycle of exploitation would finally be broken. When asked whether he had to return, he responded with resignation: “Yes, I have to.”

Generations Trapped in Bonded Labour

It was hard to believe—children, beaten and forced into bonded labour, despite the Bonded Labour System (Abolition) Act, 1976. But Arvind’s words were clear—this was nothing new in his village. Generations had been trapped in this vicious cycle, with even the youngest forced to work under brutal conditions. Just a few steps from where we met Arvind, we spoke to Shyla (name changed), a rescued child bonded labourer, whose story was equally heartbreaking.

“Yes, small… small children were also there,” she said, describing the conditions at the kiln. When asked if she wanted to go to school, she responded without hesitation: “I want to go.” But her reality was far from the dreams of a child. “When nobody gives us money, then how will I go?” she asked, revealing how education remained an unattainable luxury.

A Mother and Daughter’s Struggle

Gorana then introduced us to Maina and Aarti (name changed), a mother-daughter duo who had once been trapped in bonded labour. Maina’s ordeal took place in Tarn Taran, Punjab, where she toiled for eight long months in 2021—without ever receiving a single rupee for her labour. Originally from Banhera Khas village in Saharanpur, she had been lured into bonded labour with the false promise of fair wages, only to find herself caught in a never-ending cycle of forced labour. “We were made bonded labourers and taken there. No money was given to us,” she said, explaining how the employers kept all their belongings, including their bike.

Her daughter, Aarti, was also forced to work at the kiln. “I used to separate the bricks. I used to cook there. I used to set up the tent too. I used to do all the work,” she said. Like Shyla, she too wanted to study but was never given the chance. When asked if she went to school, she simply replied, “No.”

Even after trying to demand their rightful wages, they were met with silence and denial. “Have you ever gone to ask for the money? Have you ever gone with your mother?” we asked. “Yes, I went,” Aarti said. But when asked what happened next, her answer was stark: “They did not give us the money.”

After listening to the harrowing testimonies of Shyla, Maina, and Aarti, one thing became clear—the bonded labourers in Moga, Punjab, needed to be rescued. But how? Reporting the case to the district administration seemed like the logical step, but Maina’s experience painted a bleak picture of official indifference. “We went there,” she recalled, “but we were told, ‘Your complaint will not be registered here; it will be registered in Saharanpur.’” The endless back-and-forth between police stations in Harike and Saharanpur delayed any action for years. “Just like that, many years passed,” she said, explaining how they were sent from one office to another without any resolution. Even after approaching the District Magistrate, the SDM, and officials in Chandigarh, Delhi and Uttar Pradesh, their pleas for help were ignored.

A Life Stolen: 16 Years in Bondage

Joining Arvind Kumar was Ankush Kumar, another bonded labourer who had managed to escape the Punjab brick kiln. His voice trembled as he confirmed the grim reality—over 50 labourers were still trapped inside, including at least 26 children. His entire family remained enslaved. He himself had been forced into bonded labour at the age of 10 at another brick kiln in Punjab. “I was paying off my father’s debt,” he said, revealing how a loan of ₹50,000–60,000 had sealed his fate. Over the next 16 years, Ankush toiled without pay, unable to break free.

His work was never-ending, and even after 15 years, the debt was never considered repaid. “For 12 years, we were not paid anything for our labour,” he said. Yet, despite working day and night, he never saw a single rupee. “So even after working for 15 years, have you ever seen any money?” he was asked. “No, I did not receive even a single rupee,” he admitted.

Leaving was not an option. “The owner did not let us leave,” Ankush explained. “He didn’t give us any money for rent or transport.” His only escape came when he managed to reach activist Gorana, who helped him get out. But the years of forced labour had already robbed him of his childhood. “Even though I wanted to study, I was helpless,” he said, his voice shaking.

Tragedy struck his family again when his brother died in a work accident. “There was no investigation,” he said, recalling how his brother had died a horrible death while working at the kiln.

The Cycle of Rebondage

Even after his rescue, Ankush found himself trapped once again. With no work in his village, he returned to bonded labour, this time in the Moga brick kiln. “I was helpless,” he admitted. “That’s the only work I know.” When asked how he could return to the same nightmare, his answer reflected the brutal reality of bonded labourers: “When there’s no work in the village, you have to go out searching.”

The conditions remained unchanged. His uncle was beaten so badly by the kiln owner and landlords that his eye was severely injured. “He went to ask for money because we had no money to buy ration,” Ankush said. “The owner told him, ‘You won’t get any money, get out of here,’ and then started hitting him.” Medical treatment was denied, leaving the family in a desperate situation.

The Voices of the Enslaved

The testimonies we gathered revealed a grim reality—local administrations were often unwilling to register cases or issue release orders for rescued bonded labourers. Given this reluctance, and fearing that the authorities in Moga might not take action, we knew we had to escalate the matter. Reporting the story immediately could have put over 50 lives at risk, including Arvind and Ankush, who had already taken immense risks to speak to The Probe. A critical decision was made—to hold back our report until the labourers were safely rescued.

With no time to waste, Gorana filed a formal complaint with the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC). The response was swift. The NHRC intervened immediately, issuing directives to key officials—the District Magistrate of Moga, the Labour Commissioner of Punjab, the Chief Secretary, and the Director General of Police. The Commission ordered the immediate rescue of the bonded labourers and mandated that the rescued children be produced before the Child Welfare Committee.

Finally, in early February, the district administration carried out the operation, freeing 46 bonded labourers. However, another 10 workers were found missing from the brick kiln. But what followed was shocking. In its official report, the administration claimed that its investigation found no evidence of bonded labour at all.

But the NHRC refused to let this injustice go unchallenged. In a strongly worded response, the NHRC criticised the Punjab government for its flawed investigation into the rescue operation. The Commission highlighted glaring loopholes in the district administration’s report and condemned officials for their lack of understanding of labour laws. Now, the NHRC has demanded a fresh report by April 7, calling for accountability and corrective action.

But while the bureaucratic process drags on, the rescued bonded labourers face a different kind of struggle—the fight for survival. Jobless, with no legal recourse or compensation, they remain in limbo. No FIR has been filed against their former employers, and crucial rehabilitation packages remain stalled due to the Moga administration’s inaction. In a cruel twist, the burden of proof has been shifted onto the victims themselves—they must now prove that they were ever bonded labourers in the first place.

For the 46 rescued workers—and the 10 still missing—the battle for justice is far from over.

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