Before sunrise, the rhythmic khata-khat of handlooms echoes through Madanapalle’s Neeruguttu Palle colony—a sound that has defined this Andhra Pradesh town for generations. But today, that rhythm is fading, drowned out by the hum of machinery and the quiet desperation of weavers who can no longer sustain their craft.

Key facts

  • Nearly 7,500 active handloom units and over 8,000 weavers operate in Madanapalle
  • A handloom saree takes 5 days to weave but earns the weaver only ₹1,000–1,500
  • Around 200 power loom units now compete with traditional handlooms
  • More than 50,000 people depend on the local silk industry for livelihoods

A Craft Under Siege

For weavers like 58-year-old Subramanyam, a 14-hour day crouched in a pit-loom yields barely ₹200–250—less than what unskilled workers earn loading tomatoes at the local market. Meanwhile, sarees they painstakingly craft over a week sell for ₹15,000–25,000 in urban boutiques, with weavers seeing just a fraction of that value.

The squeeze comes from all sides: master weavers and middlemen control yarn supplies and wages, monsoon humidity snaps delicate threads, and rising raw material costs further depress earnings. Many weavers, like Kavitha, find themselves trapped in debt cycles.

“I took ₹25,000 for a hospital emergency, and suddenly I was tied to that trader’s order book for three years,” she says. “Our old debt acts like handcuffs.”

The Body Pays the Price

The physical toll is brutal. Eight in ten pit-loom weavers suffer severe back, neck, and joint ailments from hours of crouching. Respiratory issues from inhaling silk dust are common, and eye strain from threading under dim bulbs leads to premature vision loss. Some turn to alcohol or smoking to numb the pain, deepening financial and family struggles.

Power looms offer no respite. Workers like Rajasekhar face hazardous noise levels that dull hearing over time. “My ears ring for hours after my shift ends,” he says. “Now, I find it hard to hear my family at home.”

A Generation Turning Away

Young people are voting with their feet. Mahesh, 21, a computer student, respects his family’s craft but sees no future in it. “I might consider the power loom sector someday, but not handlooms,” he admits. This exodus threatens not just an industry but a community—a 150-year-old social fabric built around shared tasks, festivals, and local support systems.

Officials like R. Pawan Kumar Reddy, Assistant Director of Handlooms & Textiles, acknowledge the challenge. “There is a severe shortage of young weavers,” he says, noting that some families resort to loan apps, damaging their credit and cutting them off from government schemes.

Hope in Practical Solutions

Trade activists call for direct intervention: wage subsidies, healthcare for occupational hazards, free reading glasses, and stricter enforcement against power loom piracy. Chandrasekhar, 60, emphasizes, “A steady, affordable supply of yarn and direct access to urban markets are essential to free weavers from exploitative intermediaries.”

For now, the looms still move. But with each silent pit, a heritage inches closer to silence.