Dear Reader,

Bengaluru is justly renowned for its affable culture, temperate climate, and, over the past few decades, building an information technology ecosystem that few cities in the world can rival. Yet this rapid development and rise have come at a significant cost—most notably its notorious traffic which clogs the city’s roads and frays the spirits of those who navigate it daily through endless snarls and gridlocks.

Be that as it may, this seeming curse for most residents has become an unlikely source of livelihood for an unlikely community miles away in Rajasthan. The Migration Story records that at Bengaluru’s busiest intersections, migrant hawkers—many from Rajasthan—turn stalled vehicles into captive markets, selling flowers, snacks, toys, flags, and knickknacks to commuters waiting at signals. Their work is precarious and hazardous, shaped by heat, pollution, and the constant risk of eviction, yet it reflects the ingenuity and resilience of informal urban economies. The story situates these livelihoods within broader patterns of rural distress, migration, and urban inequality, revealing how Bengaluru’s congestion sustains invisible workers even as it frustrates and irritates its formal residents.

Once revered as the cultural and ecological lifeline of Kerala, the River Bharathapuzha, with the largest basin in the state, is today on the brink of erasure. Keraleeyam Masika documents the river’s journey along its banks from Ponnani to Parali, interweaving memories of elders, artists, and residents who recall a vibrant river marked by vast sandy expanses, clear flowing water, fertile riverbanks, and historic and iconic cultural gatherings like the Nilatheeram Mamangam and Sarvodaya festivals. It situates Bharathapuzha not merely as a geographical feature, but as a living archive of Kerala’s social, cultural, and cinematic history, immortalised in works like G Aravindan’s iconic film Thampu.

Against the past history and status of the river, the present waterscape appears stark and degraded—stagnant pools, deep pits from decades of intensive sand mining, collapsing groundwater levels, shrinking agriculture, and the entrenchment of illegal extraction networks. The documentary, the first of a series, frames this decline as a failure of governance and development priorities, where extraction has overshadowed restoration and sustainability. Through evidence and investigation, it raises a broader question about ecological responsibility—whether Bharathapuzha can be revived as a living river, or whether it will endure only as a fast-fading memory in the hearts and minds of those who once knew it as such.

On 29 January 2026, the Supreme Court of India declined to entertain a public interest litigation filed by a coalition of domestic workers’ unions seeking constitutional recognition of minimum wages and statutory protection for household labourers. The petition argued that the failure to ensure minimum wages and formal legal status for domestic workers amounts to forced labour and violates fundamental rights under Articles 21 and 23 of the Constitution, pointing to their exclusion from the Minimum Wages Act, 1948, and the Code on Wages, 2019. The unions highlighted the systemic exploitation of largely women workers whose pay and conditions are left to employers’ discretion, deepening inequality and discrimination.

A Bench led by Chief Justice Surya Kant and Justice Joymalya Bagchi held that fixing minimum wages and welfare frameworks falls within the legislative and executive domain, cautioning against judicial overreach into socio-economic policy. The Court expressed concerns that a judicially mandated wage regime could produce unintended consequences, including litigation burdens on households, and advised petitioners to pursue remedies with state governments and legislatures. However, by turning away the plea at the threshold, Supreme Court Observer argues that the judgment leaves unresolved a long-standing debate on legal protections for one of India’s most vulnerable workforces.

Administering the backward regions of India, is often challenging and thankless. Appointments in these towns are usually seen as a “punishment posting” or a posting-in-wait for greener pastures. However, in a refreshing change, मैं भी भारत talks to Dr. Mittali Sethi, District Collector of Nandurbar, who reflects on governing one of India’s most underserved tribal districts with trust, language, culture, and technology as the key ingredients of governance. She describes her quest to learn local tribal languages to reduce the distance between administration and communities, arguing that communication is the foundation of effective governance. In a district marked by isolation and historical mistrust, she says language opened doors—allowing residents, especially women, to articulate problems that rarely surface in official data.

She points out that districts like Nandurbar face health gaps like underdiagnosed sickle cell disease, plans for universal screening, and community-led efforts on water, gendered labour, and vaccine hesitancy. Rejecting the idea of tribal postings as hardship roles, she calls the work deeply fulfilling and says lasting good governance depends on empowering communities beyond any official’s tenure.

For more such stories from the grantees this week, please read on.

Warmly,

Sunil Rajshekhar
IPSMF