Jagga Najak is 29 years old, and smiles hesitantly during a video phone call. But behind the smile are deep signs of worry. He has been slogging for seven years, working 12-hour shifts in a power loom in Surat (Gujarat). Jagga is not sure which companies buy the fabric that he, and his colleagues, weave. But he is sure that the product is exported. His earnings gave him the confidence to get married. The marriage was in the works for a year or so. His parents, who live in a village in the Ganjam district of Odisha even found a bride.
He is not so sure anymore. Jagga is caught in a conundrum that has nothing to do with him. The origins of his anxieties, doubts and frustrations are thousands of miles away, in Washington’s White House, where an aggressive and ambitious president has decided to punish India for buying crude oil from Russia. Jagga has no idea of the geopolitical equations. His world was restricted to Surat, his village, steady and decent income, and hopes of a marriage, a wife, and a few children (maybe grandchildren) in the future.
At present, Surat is awash with rumours and speculations of export orders being cancelled, and the owners of the power looms and factories struggling with decisions on whether to scale down production or shut down. A mill owner, Rajesh Shah, jokes with a shade of bitter humour: “Who knows. Maybe Donald Trump will increase tariffs to 100 per cent. I am thinking of closing the factory, and taking my family on a six-month vacation. We can travel and discover India.” In such dire and mad times, maybe jokes and humour are the only way to retain some sanity.
Shah can afford to lose a few months of income and profits. But Jagga cannot. The power loom job, which keeps him busy from 8 am to 8 pm is a dream come true. His parents did not have the resources to send him to college. It is another matter that he too was not interested. He started working at an early age as a daily wage labourer in Odisha, and earned `8,000 a month.
Then, as is usual among families in Odisha and Bihar, and even Uttar Pradesh, Jagga’s relatives, who were working in Surat, advised and cajoled him to migrate, and find work in a power loom or a factory. Today, Jagga earns a decent and ‘princely’ monthly salary of `34,000. He saves at least `20,000 a month, and has done so for several years. Indians have a knack of paring down expenses, and saving money, especially when they migrate, either to other parts within India or outside the country.
Now Jagga’s concerns are two-folds: What happens to his livelihood if the owner decides to shut down the business, either temporarily or permanently, and how will he get married without a job?
Jagga is not alone in such dilemmas. The teeming and vibrant Surat is now home to close to one million migrants from Odisha who work in the textile industry. Their numbers are so large that you will find Oriya colonies in the city. There are eateries-cum-dhaba-style restaurants that specialise in Oriya cuisine. Most migrants have invited their families to come and stay with them. Their children go to local schools, where Oriya is taught as a language.
Of course, the migrants are fluent in Gujarati. They mix with the locals. They are grateful to Surat and Gujarat for transforming their lives. The textile mills and power looms have turned a million poverty-stricken individuals and families from Odisha to aspirational middle-class citizens. But they have retained Oriya roots.
Trump’s tariffs can demolish the peace and comfortable existence. The lives of the migrants can come down and collapse like a pack of cards. Surat does not deal much in cotton. It specialises in manmade fabrics. There are more than 40,000 small and large power looms and factories that churn out the fabric for both domestic sales and exports. Most focus on exports.
Surat accounts for 40 per cent of the fabric production in the country. Over the last decade or so, local entrepreneurs faced formidable challenges as the export-oriented textile industries in nations like Bangladesh and Vietnam outfoxed them in terms of cost competitiveness. Some of the smarter entrepreneurs relocated factories to Bangladesh to take advantage of the lower costs.
To understand the context of how the export patterns have changed, and get a perspective, digest this data point. The dollar value of readymade garment exports from Bangladesh in 2024 were double those from India. Now, the cost advantages have become even more lopsided. While the US imposed a 50 per cent punitive tariff on India, the figure on Bangladesh exports is 20 per cent. The same is the case with Vietnam, except for allegedly Chinese goods that are transhipped through the country. The duty structure may prove to be the final and most lethal blow for Surat fabric-makers. And also for the millions of hopeful and optimist migrants.
Data is agnostic and has no human feelings. But for a million migrants from Odisha who have found a measure of financial security and dignity in Surat, the worry and impending pain is stark. Jagga often fails to sleep even after a gruelling 12-hour shift. He thinks of going back to Odisha, working again as a daily-wage labourer, just to earn a measly `10,000 a month. A salary that is a third of his present one. A salary that will not allow him to save anything. A salary that implies that he is back to square one.
If this happens, nothing has changed for Jagga. His life will come full circle. Millions of dreams will be shattered. Millions of hopes down the drain. Most crucially, how will Jagga finance his marriage?