Uncertainty awaits migrant workers in the ‘Manchester of India’

Bhiwandi’s powerloom sector, previously battered by demonetisation, GST and Covid, could take another beating from the U.S. tariffs, which is worrying migrant workers and factory owners

Hepzi Anthony

Girijesh Prajapati, 25, from U.P.’s Gorakhpur district, hopes he can save enough money from working in Bhiwandi and eventually move to Dubai. Rukmani Pujari/The Migration Story 

BHIWANDI, Maharashtra: This city of powerloom factories wasn’t Qadir Sheikh’s first choice. He had worked at a chappal factory in Delhi, a jute sack factory in Hyderabad, and a handlooms unit in Mumbai before he moved to Bhiwandi to work in a powerloom factory. 

Originally from a family of weavers in Bihar’s Madhubani district, Qadir, 24, used to feel secure in his powerloom factory job. But things have changed now. “I have been working in powerlooms for about a decade and have seen the work reduce consistently over the years due to various factors,” Qadir told The Migration Story, his eyes darting between the several powerlooms he was monitoring in the factory he works in. 

“Earlier, one worker used to be in charge of six machines, but these days, one worker is responsible for 14,” he said, speaking over the din of machines.

The 50% tariffs on Indian imports, such as textiles, gems, jewellery, shrimp and seafood, that U.S. President Donald Trump announced in early August has also worried Sheikh. “Earlier, when the work was less, we would be asked to return to our villages for a few months till our factories got new work orders. I am concerned that a similar situation could play out again, and we could be asked to return home and not have work for a few months,” he said.

Bhiwandi, which, in 2016, accounted for 33% of the country’s powerloom factories, has often been dubbed ‘Manchester of India’. Until some years ago, it attracted migrants in droves, but this has changed with the slow decline of the powerloom industry in the city, approximately 44 kilometres from Mumbai. This decline has made migrants like Qadir consider other cities and sectors for work.

“The powerloom sector has been battered again and again due to various external factors, right from demonetisation to GST [Goods and Services Tax] to Covid and now, the U.S. tariffs,” said Sarosh Fakih, whose family owns powerloom factories. 

“Each time the industry tries to revive, there comes yet another blow. Apart from this, there are also international factors at play, like the huge [Indian] imports of Chinese yarn and competition from cheaper Asian markets like Vietnam, Cambodia and Bangladesh,” Fakih added.

Rashid Tahir Momin, a factory owner and president of the Bhiwandi Powerloom Weavers’ Federation (BPWF), says that the tariffs could impact the livelihoods of migrants from several states, including Bihar, Uttar Pradesh, Telangana and Odisha. 

“The U.S. tariffs are expected to have a trickle-down effect here soon. But only a small percentage of the greige [unfinished] fabric made here is exported to the U.S. and other markets like the U.K or Europe. A major part of our fabric output is used in India. So, since the markets are spread out, tariffs or decisions regarding one single market are unlikely to disturb Bhiwandi heavily,” said Momin. 

However, not everyone is as confident as Momin. Soon after the additional U.S. tariffs on Indian textiles were announced on August 27 this year, Bhiwandi East’s MLA Rais Shaikh wrote a letter to Maharashtra Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis, stating that the tariffs would “lead to loss of export orders, closure of units in major clusters, and large-scale job losses” in the powerloom sector. 

Considering these anticipated impacts, the legislator urged the state government to “safeguard employment and ensure the sustainability of this vital sector”. Without this, he said that “families dependent on this industry may be pushed into deeper distress”.

Uncertainty of work

The decline in Bhiwandi’s powerloom sector has pushed migrants to look for better paid work in other sectors and cities. Rukmani Pujari/ The Migration Story 

For Samtul Sheikh, 42, a worker at one of Bhiwandi’s powerlooms, the tariffs spell uncertainty. He is worried that they could translate into lower exports of unfinished fabric – and even less work for him. “I can work 12 hours [a day] now, but I may not be able to get that many hours soon. The owners could ask us to work less because less work is available, resulting in lower pay for me,” he said. 

Originally from Darbhanga district in Bihar, Samtul is the sole earning member of his family of seven, consisting of his mother, wife and four children. And he has debts – he had taken a loan of 70,000 rupees (at an interest rate of 4%) to hospitalise one of his children. He is still trying to pay it back.

Migrants like Samtul work in single-storied industrial units, which has several powerlooms packed in a single large room. The factories hire fewer workers nowadays to monitor these electric looms. They oversee several looms at a time, load threaded bobbins on them, often wearing earphones attached to their mobiles, using music to drown out the deafening noise of the looms. 

While the workers are required to work for eight hours a day, they usually end up spending the entire day at the factory, sometimes dozing off between tasks. They go back to their rented rooms only to bathe, eat, take short breaks and sleep. They try to put in as many hours of work as possible because their income depends on the amount of work they do.

“The only day of the week the machines don’t work is jumma [Friday]. So, I can go for namaaz [prayers] to the mosque nearby. I roam around a bit after, and by evening, I am back on our machines,” Qadir said. 

Of hopes and dreams

Qadir Sheikh, 24, from Bihar’s Madhubani district, is worried that work in Bhiwandi will reduce due of the U.S. tariffs. Rukmani Pujari/ The Migration Story 

Many workers in Bhiwandi pick up the skills they need to operate the powerlooms on the job. They start out as assistants and can get promoted to the position of jamadar or supervisor. The latter, perhaps the most senior person on the factory floor, arranges for other workers to come here and monitors their performance. 

Most also come with dreams in their eyes, eager to earn enough money to fulfill them. “The dream could be to marry off their sister, build their own house in the village or a toilet in their homes. Until they manage to earn that money, these workers will work extremely hard, with absolutely zero spending beyond food and rent,” said Rupesh Agarwal, a powerloom unit owner and one of the directors of the BPWF.

Take the case of 25-year-old Girijesh Prajapati from Uttar Pradesh’s Gorakhpur district. He’s been working in Bhiwandi to save 80,000 rupees, the amount of money he believes he would need to migrate to Dubai for work. The first time he tried to go to Dubai, he was swindled by an agent who disappeared with his savings of 65,000 rupess. But he is persistent because his one bigha farm – a little more than half an acre – in the village doesn’t fulfill the needs of his mother, four brothers and their families. 

Another worker, Sunil Soni, a 22-year-old from U.P.’s Ambedkar Nagar district, comes from a family of goldsmiths. He wants to earn 10 lakh rupees, set up his own gold shop back home and eventually return to his village. He hopes he can gather this money in the next five to six years.

Once the workers have earned the money they need, they leave for their villages. “Once they collect this amount, they return to their hometowns to fulfill their aspirations. Only after they are done with their wishlists and divested of funds, do they call us for train tickets to return to work,” said Agarwal.

‘Bhiwandi was like the Gulf’

A powerloom unit in Bhiwandi, Maharashtra. Pic credit: Prashant Nakwe

Bhiwandi has approximately 12 lakhs powerlooms – an estimated 33% of country’s total – and contributes around 20% to the national production of greige or unfinished fabric from this sector, according to a 2016 study on by the National Institute for Micro, Small and Medium Enterprises (ni-msme). The factories, which are spread across 700 square metres, have an annual turnover of 10,000 crore rupees and support families of around 20 lakh workers, most of them migrants from Uttar Pradesh and Bihar, according to the study.

Previously, workers who came to Bhiwandi were from weaving communities, but these days, most are unskilled labourers, drawn by the promise of timely fortnightly payments. 

“Bhiwandi was like the Gulf for them,” said Abid Khan, a local resident who was earlier associated with Indian National Trade Union Congress. “These workers, who barely manage to earn around 3,000 rupees a month in their hometowns, start earning over 15,000 rupees here, right in the beginning. For them, that is like a major bonanza, and this is what attracts them here.”

However, the slow decline of the powerloom sector has forced workers to seek out better paid work elsewhere. In fact, Soni told The Migration Story that his own factory has cut down work hours and when there are no orders, the owner sends workers home.  

Samtul remembers a time not so long ago when his fellow villagers would clamour to work in Bhiwandi. “Pehle to yahan kachara uthane ke liye bhi taiyaar the [Earlier, they were even willing to even pick up garbage here],” he said. Back then, he could convince 10 to 12 people to come to Bhiwandi, and he would supervise them on the factory floor. 

But the enthusiasm of these workers has now dimmed. No longer a supervisor, Samtul has been struggling as a powerloom worker. He’s cycled through various jobs – construction worker, garage hand and so on – and shuffled between cities like Delhi and Kolkata.

“The moment these workers get their salaries, you can never be sure if they will return to work,” said Agarwal. “They just have to get a job that offers them a little extra money, and they will just disappear from work.” 

While speaking to The Migration Story at his powerloom unit, Agarwal spoke about how two workers had suddenly left to work as farm hands and pluck grapes at vineyards in Nashik. “When the work there gets over, they will call me up and ask me if a spot is still vacant for them. In case, I don’t have work for them, they will call up some other neighbouring powerloom factory and ask for work. Most of these workers keep shuffling between jobs,” he said. 

The powerloom sector also faces competition from local warehouses and app-based delivery services that have come up recently. “Workers have become delivery boys for these apps. I had workers who moved on to selling onions and potatoes on the street or putting up lemon juice stalls, which they found got them better incomes,” he added. 

Survival strategies 

Samtul Sheikh, 42, from Bihar’s Darbhanga district, is nervous that the tariffs might reduce the work for migrants in Bhiwandi – and land him in even more debt. Rukmani Pujari/ The Migration Story 

Moving between jobs in different sectors and cities, however, is part of the migrant workers’ survival strategy. The ni-msme study mentioned above states that the “socio-economic conditions of the workforce involved in the powerloom industry is very poor, and they are deprived of many facilities from the employer like PF [Provident Fund], overtime, bonus, leaves, housing, insurance, etc. and [they are] also not aware of any government schemes.” 

This notwithstanding, Agarwal said that he couldn’t improve the working conditions at his unit or give his workers a raise because of consistently “stressful market conditions” due to factors like demonetisation, the Goods and Services Tax, Covid-19 and now, the U.S. tariffs. “Low market rates for the past five years have meant lower [profit] margins for us. How am I to increase wages?”

Apart from this, he said that the sector currently uses an older, labour-intensive technology – which is dependent on migrant labour – and competition from units using newer technologies are affecting the returns from his business. 

“Our profit margins are falling but that’s because of factors like the entry of automatic high-speed looms that generate better quality fabric in greater quantity, less time and with lower power consumption,” Agarwal added. But new technology requires investments, and Agarwal admits that the capital required for this upgradation would be considerably high. 

Others like Fakih believe that the industry is affected not only by market pressures, but policy decisions too. “The failure of the Indian government to step in and offer support to the powerloom sector has forced it into direct competition with state-supported [textile and garment] sectors in Southeast Asian countries, tilting the balance largely in their favour,” he said.

That said, the central government and the Maharashtra government have introduced schemes to address the problems being faced by the powerloom industry and its workers. These include schemes like the Amended Technology Upgradation Fund Scheme introduced by the Union Ministry of Textiles, which provides subsidies to factories to invest in machinery, as well as group insurance schemes for workers (in case of death or disability) and scholarships for their children. The state government, in its turn, has initiated a scheme which aids powerloom units to augment investments, productivity, quality (of the fabric made), employment and exports.

However, over the years, the number of powerlooms in Bhiwandi has dropped significantly – from approximately 10 lakh to 3 lakh, in Agarwal’s estimation. So, in addition to a shrinking workforce, the number of industrial units may itself be dwindling. Perhaps then, Bhiwandi, the ‘Manchester of India’, could in the future no longer be able to help migrant workers earn a livelihood, support their families and realise their dreams, said powerloom unit owners.

But Agarwal sees the sector’s decline as a reason for change. “We probably need to pick up on the signs from the market, move on from our traditional machines and explore new technologies. Just as our workers are exploring newer opportunities, we, too, need to read the writing on the wall,” he concluded.

Edited by Subuhi Jiwani

Hepzi Anthony is a Mumbai-based independent journalist