Patralekha Chatterjee | Why Indians Seek Work in War Zones, Despite Danger
Thousands stay despite risks, drawn by better pay and life abroad

With an intensifying air war between sworn enemies Israel and Iran, and an American attack on three key nuclear sites in Iran on June 21, all governments are urgently evacuating thousands of their citizens caught in the crossfire. Israel’s bombing of Iranian nuclear and military sites, and Tehran’s counter-strikes, have closed Israeli airspace, forcing evacuation via neighbouring countries.
Now entering its second week, Israel’s actions aimed at disrupting Iran’s nuclear programme have drawn widespread international criticism and raised fears of regional instability. Asian countries, with large numbers of citizens working, studying or travelling in the area, face significant logistical and diplomatic challenges.
India’s response — Operation Sindhu — has been launched to evacuate those who wish to leave either country via land borders and connecting flights. There are nearly 10,000 Indian nationals in Iran and over 30,000 in Israel. The government has already evacuated nearly 2,000 students and workers from Iran and is coordinating further repatriations, including for the nationals of Nepal and Sri Lanka.
The scale of this exodus underlines the turmoil engulfing the region. The rescue efforts have a familiar feel — this is not the first time Indians find themselves in a war zone overseas. Nor are rescue efforts novel. In April-May 2023, over 3,000 Indians were airlifted from Sudan under Operation Kaveri. Earlier missions include evacuations during the First Gulf War in the 1990s, Operation Rahat from Yemen in 2015, and assistance to citizens in Ukraine in 2022.
Yet, chilling images of war streamed into homes and onto smartphones do not dissuade those seeking a better life, even in high-risk environments.
Telephone conversations with several long-serving Indian caregivers in Israel over the past week revealed a deep reluctance to be evacuated. “No one wants to go back to India… At most, 10-11 per cent will return — and then come back,” says 50-year-old Soma Ravi from Telangana, a caregiver in a Tel Aviv suburb, where air-raid sirens have become routine. Formerly a farmer, Ravi has spent two decades in Israel and now leads the Israel Telangana Association, representing over 1,000 Telugus.
His stance reflects the situation of India’s estimated 15,000 caregivers in Israel, many from Telangana and Kerala, who prioritise opportunity over war’s dangers. Ravi says most Indian caregivers in Israel earn the equivalent of at least Rs 150,000 per month, and are provided food and accommodation, conditions that are rare in India. “We are fine. I receive a good salary, and it is a good life,” he explains. “Conflict is not new. We are used to Hamas, Hezbollah, Houthis — we know what they are capable of. We have the Iron Dome, and it protects us.”
He has unwavering faith in Israel’s defence systems, including mobile alerts and underground bunkers located in schools, hospitals, and other public venues and the “safe room” present in every apartment. “If there is an attack, we follow instructions. Restaurants and cinemas may be closed, but essential services continue. We are not overly worried.” He regards Iran’s missiles as “a slight concern”, but insists: “We just need to be more careful.”
What binds Ravi to Israel is not just the salary — which he says surpasses Gulf wages — but also working conditions. “I can eat whatever I like from the family fridge and dine with them at the table,” he says. “Could you imagine that in India?” Arguably, a foreign caregiver living with an Israeli family is typically safer than many other migrant workers.
Jomy John, a 36-year-old nurse and caregiver from Kerala, working near Beersheba, shares Ravi’s pragmatic outlook. Speaking from a secure, air-conditioned safe room equipped with oxygen and a television set, he says calmly: “It’s comfortable, and I’m watching TV.” A member of the Israel Malayalee Association, John has lived through four or five conflicts. Previously employed at a hospital in Gurgaon, he felt undervalued; in Israel, he earns “several times more than India’s best caregiver salaries” and is treated “like a family member”. He describes Iran’s missiles as “a bit scary”, but not terrifying. Newcomers may panic, but they adapt quickly.
I spoke to other Indian caregivers in Israel. Through the conversations, their focus is on their chosen path: surviving well and thriving personally, amid turmoil and global uncertainty. They avoid references to the big geopolitical picture, the human toll of the conflict and the humanitarian catastrophe. They underplay dangers. Yet the risks are real. Indian caregiver Sheeja Anand from Kerala was injured in Ashkelon by a missile strike in 2023, after a video call with her husband.
It’s not just caregivers or construction workers who are attracted to difficult terrain. Rising domestic education costs have driven students to Ukraine and Iran. In Iran alone, over 4,000 Indian students (half from Kashmir) are pursuing professional qualifications. Many found themselves stranded when conflict erupted; over 100 students, including 90 from Urmia Medical University, were evacuated through Armenia and Doha, arriving in Delhi on June 17. A MBBS degree from a private medical college in India costs about Rs 1 crore, while in Iran’s government-subsidised universities, which have English-medium programmes, the entire course costs Rs 30 lakh.
Desperation drives this migration. After all, war does not deter the poor. Everywhere, the desperate vote with their feet.
A 2023 India-Israel agreement increased Indian labour quotas for construction and nursing. Salaries exceeding Rs 1 lakh per month plus medical insurance still dwarf earnings in India, even if safety remains an issue.
“Masons, painters, electricians, plumbers and some farmers said they were looking for jobs in Israel, with some willing to risk going into a conflict zone because they could make five times more money in a year than they would at home,” said the Times of Israel in January 2024
The caregivers I spoke to reject any sense of victimhood. Nonetheless, their agency, and that of the stranded students, illuminates the underlying reality: poverty and limited prospects at home drive many Indians into conflict zones.
Most Indians who choose a life in conflict-prone terrain come from economically marginalised backgrounds, with little hope for high-paying jobs at home. Confronted with rockets, drills, and alerts, they maintain a composed exterior, valuing financial security and family support over personal safety. Others may question their self-focus amid horrors in Gaza, civilian deaths and devastation in the neighbourhood, but it is a poignant survival strategy.
While ensuring the safety of its citizens and assisting those who may want to leave, India, a $4 trillion economy and the world’s fourth-largest, must confront a deeper question: why do war-torn lands remain such a compelling destination for so many of its people?
The writer focuses on development issues in India and emerging economies. She can be reached at patralekha.chatterjee@gmail.com