With Gen-Next Opting Out, Handloom Weaving a Dying Art in India

Pochampally, Telangana:

Beautiful, handwoven sarees and other material may become a thing of the past very soon. That is because Gen-Next seems to be moving away virtually en masse from taking up weaving as a livelihood option.

India has a heritage of handloom weaving that is unique and the largest anywhere in the world. But that is dying because of lack of support and policies that are killing the handloom industry that provides employment to the largest number of people after agriculture in the country.

The government says there are 43 lakh weavers in the country. Activists put that number at nearly two crore people.

Telangana and Andhra Pradesh account for the maximum number of weavers anywhere in the country at some two and a half lakh weavers. This is actually down by 50 per cent from over five lakh weavers about 10 years ago.

The tragedy is that at a time when the government is talking about skill development as a priority, these skilled artisans are becoming deskilled labour, working as vendors or chai makers.

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We travelled to Revanapally village in Pochampally, famous for its tie-and-die Ikat fabric. This had got GI or geographical indications registration about 10 years ago. Even this Intellectual Property Rights protection has not safeguarded the brand against imitation by powerlooms of the unique design on sarees, dress material, bedsheets and furnishing produced here. Ironically, all these items are meant to be produced only by weavers under the Handlooms Reservation Act.

Weavers in Revanapally told us they had not got any work for several months. In the last five to six months, a new Rajkot design innovation in the Pochampally design has found a new market. So Anjaiah and his wife Lakshmamma work upto 12 hours a day, hoping to earn upto Rs 10,000 a month. That is if they make eight sarees in six weeks.

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"About 30 years ago, we were the better off people in the village. Over the last 10 years, it has gone from bad to worse. Input costs of yarn have gone up, cost of living is steep, there is no money left in hand," they say.

The couple has spent a lifetime weaving, through thick and thin. Concerned that the tradition and skill should not be lost, Anjaiah says he taught Gen-next. But his son said earning even Rs 3000 a month outside as a class IV employee was preferable to this life of drudgery and uncertainty, despair and gloom.

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"We have persisted with working on the looms but our children won't do it. This tradition will end with us," the couple tells NDTV.

Lakshmamma points out that wages have not increased unlike living costs. In recent years they even went to work as labour under national rural employment guarantee scheme, toiling under the hot sun, because that fetched upto Rs 100 a day, whereas on the loom, virtually no work was available.

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"Whenever NREGA work is available, we go for that. But even that is erratic. Besides, we are not able to do manual labour under the hot sun, we fall ill. But because of problems of high cost of yarn, sarees not selling, nothing to eat at home, we even go for drought work also. What to do, we need to survive," says Lakshmamma.

The sentiment is echoed by every other weaver here. 82-year-old Kadambada Pochaiah tells us that from 140 looms at one time, the number of looms in the village now is less than 20.

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"The weavers have all gone away. What do they do when they can't earn a living here. They are even reduced to cleaning bathrooms to earn a living. My eight children have also left. We are just surviving. Even when two people work, they should be able to make at least Rs 2000 to 3000 a month, isn't it? Even manual labourers get paid upto Rs 250 a day. But we don't earn even that," says Kadambada.

We come across a decrepit looking house. It belonged to Kongari Bhikshapathy, who we are told first introduced silk in the Pochampally look and design in 1969. His house is now lying locked and abandoned. In fact several houses in this row, which belong to weavers are not lying locked because of migration to other places and professions.

The weavers say that at one time, the Padmashalis as the community is called, were among the better off in the village. Ramesh says even the most backward SC/ST population got land for agriculture, the weavers got no help.

"It is all over if reservation is also taken away. This is the end. There is nothing left in this. There was never money even for treatment for my daughter. It is futile to work on handloom. It will be a waste," Ramesh says.

20-year-old Lavanya is desperate to find a job, armed with her bachelor's degree in statistics. She lost sight in her right eye when very young. Doctors advised surgery when she got older. But her weaver-father could never afford. Lavanya wants to earn to get treatment for her eye and also help her father out but despite her resolve and dream, talking about her helplessness, she breaks down.

So what ails the handloom sector? Allocations all low... down from 27 per cent of total funds to textiles in 1997 to only seven per cent or some Rs 400 crore now. A big chunk of that goes to salary and other standing expenditure leaving hardly anything for the estimated 43 lakh weavers in the country. Whereas the powerlooms and textile mills are estimated to have benefitted from subsidies to the extent of Rs 2 lakh crore in the last 10 years.

The irony is that cotton production has gone up to a record 380 lakh bales yet yarn is not available easily to the weaver and yarn price went up by 50-100 per cent but wages have hardly increased. Enforcement of Handlooms Reservation Act is poor and the number of violations reported is shocking low.

D Narasimha Reddy, who is a member of Cotton Advisory Board and also a police adviser on handloom, says government policies are killing handloom. "In the market, the biggest challenge is unfair competition. Powerloom products are sold as handloom. The genuine handloom is produced with high cost, subsidised labour. Imitations which are produced cheaper move in the market. That is the cumulative challenge," he says.

Satyanarayana and his son Shekar gave up handlooms all together. They migrated to the city looking for work but returned home because conditions outside were even more difficult.

"All governments, whether Congress or BJP or TRS or TDP, makes no difference. I don't even have any hope that someone is going to do something for us," they say.

Srisailam is worried that if handlooms lose the only protection they get, in the form of items to be made exclusively by handloom weavers, it may push them into a crisis they can never come out of.

"Then even weavers, like farmers, will be pushed to commit suicide. I will not let my children come into this. I will do anything but will get them educated. Weaving in my family will end with me," Srisailam said.

Not only is the livelihood of 43 lakh skilled artisans at stake, a rich cultural tradition several thousand years old is dying a slow death. No protection would mean we are putting handlooms on euthanasia.