“A law for domestic workers is not a demand, it is a need” says Gruhakarmikula Union Telangana State (GUTS) President Mrs. Vallala Manjula.
To an uninitiated reader, Manjula’s assertion may seem like a policy suggestion or a legal argument. However, her reality she argues is shaped by years of work inside the confines of the ‘private’ household. Domestic work takes place behind closed doors, within households that are treated as personal spaces rather than as places of work. This invisibility is reinforced by long-standing gender roles that see domestic work as something that women are simply expected to do. As a result, domestic work is often overlooked both by law and society, even as it keeps households running everyday and enables others to participate in the formal economy.
The International Labour Organization’s Convention No. 189 defines domestic work as work performed in or for a household, and domestic workers as those engaged in such work within an employment relationship. India, however, is not a signatory to this convention. Despite this recognition at the international level, domestic workers in India continue to exist at the margins of labour law. It is from this lived reality that Manjula speaks. This article reflects on her journey, from domestic work to union leadership, to examine what the law sees, what it ignores, and why that gap matters.
The Supreme Court Steps Back
The gap between lived reality and legal protection returned to the national spotlight on 29th January 2026, when the Supreme Court of India refused to entertain a petition filed by 10 trade unions of domestic workers seeking directions to the Union and State governments to create a legal framework and ensure minimum wages for domestic workers. Dismissing the petition at threshold, the Court held that it cannot ask the legislature to enact or amend laws. The decision has sparked intense debate, not only because of what the Court declined to do in the Order, but because of the oral observation made in the open court by the Chief Justice of India.
“Once minimum wages are fixed, people may refuse to hire. Every household will be dragged into litigation” CJI said. Needless to say, Manjula was in the frontlines of disseminating the Order and the oral observations made and also in collectivizing workers to criticize the Order. For Manjula, domestic work is not an optional labour that can simply be withdrawn. It is the work that keeps homes running every day, work that cannot be replaced by machines or technology. When fair pay is seen as a threat, it feels as though our work is valued only when it is cheap, she said.
“How many industrial units in the country have been closed thanks to trade unions?…They don’t want to work. These trade union leaders are largely responsible for stopping industrial growth in the country,” Chief Justice Surya Kant said. Reflecting on the remarks blaming trade unions for slowing industrial growth, Manjula spoke of the tenderness in which her friends unite against the law’s neglect towards them. Stressing that unions and collectives are spaces that are necessitated in the law’s absence, she shares that “If the law does not protect us, we protect each other.”
For decades, domestic workers and unions have organised and advocated with the conviction that the government and courts would one day recognise their reality. This decision, Manjula says, has dismantled that faith. What makes this moment striking is that exactly one year earlier, on the same date, the Supreme Court in a Bench led by Justice Surya Kant as he then was, had spoken about domestic workers in radically different tone and terms.
A Year Earlier: The Court Recognises a Legal Vacuum
In Ajay Malik v. State of Uttar Pradesh, the Court addressed the broader historical condition of domestic workers and the reality that there is no comprehensive legislative framework for the rights and protection of domestic workers, even though the case before it arose from criminal appeals. The Court observed that the nature of the case and the systemic exploitation it revealed made it necessary to engage with the larger issue. Domestic workers, it observed, remain largely unprotected and without comprehensive legal recognition, describing the situation as a legal vacuum. The result is predictable: low wages, unsafe working conditions, and excessive working hours without any effective legal recourse.
The Court did not consider these circumstances as isolated issues. It established a direct nexus between exploitation and the absence of regulation. Noting that when work relies on informal agreements and private negotiations, protection becomes uncertain and accountability weak. This uncertainty is the quotidian reality for many domestic workers. It was this concern that led the Court to ask the government to examine the need for a legal framework.
Following the directions issued in Ajay Malik, the Union Government constituted an expert committee on 2nd April 2025 to examine whether domestic workers required a dedicated legal framework. The expectation from domestic workers and unions, Manjula shares, was that the committee would address the legal vacuum that the Court had pointed out. The committee concluded that a separate comprehensive legislation for domestic workers was “not desirable”. It reasoned that domestic workers are already covered under the new labour codes and that the Code on Social Security recognises them as wage workers within the unorganised sector. Other laws, such as the law on workplace sexual harassment and child labour, were also cited as offering protection. Welfare boards set up by some State governments were presented as further safeguards.
In the committee’s view, the existing framework was broadly adequate. The problem, it suggested, lies in implementation, not in the absence of law. This approach fundamentally changes the framing of the problem. It turns the issue from recognition in law and realization of fundamental rights to questions of simple administration.
The Limits of the Law
For Manjula, the debate around “adequacy” of the law sounds very different when viewed from lived experiences. As a union leader, she spends much of her time helping workers deal with disputes that never enter formal legal spaces. Most of the disputes are resolved through negotiations, collective pressure, or simply by the workers leaving the household and getting another job. Legal action is never the first resort, not because there is no exploitation, but because the legal system appears distant, time-consuming, and uncertain.
From where Manjula stands, the issue is not only enforcement. It is about certainty and enforceability. Without defined standards for wages, working hours, leave, and termination, domestic work remains governed by personal arrangements marked by social hierarchies, rather than the law. Manjula’s views are shaped by her own years as a domestic worker before she became a union leader. She entered domestic work at the age of eighteen, earning a meagre ₹200 per month while working in several households. She was often asked to perform tasks beyond what had been agreed upon: a common condition for almost all of domestic workers. She also recounted being served spoiled food and diluted tea. At the time, voicing her plight felt utterly impossible; she silently endured, driven solely by the necessity of the income for her family’s survival. She tragically observed that countless domestic workers nationwide face analogous, grim realities, bearing their suffering in fearful silence, terrified of jeopardizing their only means of existence by themselves.
According to Manjula, this exploitation continues because of the nature of domestic work in India. Since domestic work happens inside private homes, it is rarely questioned or monitored. In Indian households, domestic workers are expected to perform a wide range of tasks, regardless of whether those duties were agreed upon at the time of hiring. From looking after children and the elderly to managing kitchen chores, shopping for groceries, or staying late during household events, they are often expected to do “everything”—whatever is needed at the moment. Unlike workers in offices or factories, domestic workers usually have no written contracts, no defined working hours, and no clear separation between personal favour and professional obligation.
Manjula’s journey began to change when she attended meetings organised by the National Domestic Workers’ Movement. There, she first heard that domestic workers have a right to be recognised and that their voices mattered. Years later, after training and community work with organisations supporting domestic workers, she became President of the Gruha Karmikula Union Telangana State (GUTS).
As a union leader, Manjula deals with cases of exploitation almost every day. Some involve delayed or unpaid wages, others involve sudden dismissal, verbal abuse, or false accusations of theft. Many workers approach her only after informal attempts to resolve the issue have failed. Her first response is usually negotiation. She speaks to employers, clarifies terms, and tries to secure wages or apologies without escalating the matter. When this does not work, the union intervenes collectively, accompanying workers to police stations, labour offices, or local authorities. In cases of serious harassment or defamation, Manjula helps workers file complaints and makes sure they are not left to handle the process alone. Much of this work happens outside formal legal systems, stepping in where the law offers little guidance or protection.
Her experience has led her to a simple conclusion. As long as domestic workers rely on goodwill rather than rights, exploitation will continue to be addressed after it occurs rather than prevented. The demand for a comprehensive law, for her, is not about confrontation with employers or the State. It is about bringing stability to a sector defined by uncertainty.
When read together, the events traced in this piece tell a story of movement and pause. Domestic workers and their unions continue to call for a comprehensive law. The Supreme Court has acknowledged their vulnerability in one moment and stepped back in another. In between, a committee has said that the existing framework is adequate. The conversation has moved forward, yet the lives it speaks about remain largely unchanged.
Domestic workers, Manjula insists, do not want to fight their employers or drag households into litigation. What they want is far simpler: stability in their work, respect in their workplaces, and clear rules that both workers and employers can rely on. They want to know what a day’s work means, what a fair wage looks like, and where to turn when things go wrong.
Author Bio: Yenugu Saryu Reddy is a fourth-year BBA LL.B. student at Mahindra University with a keen interest in labour, constitutional, and property law.
