Workers trade off their health and welfare for a precarious living.
Inside a dim recycling unit in Panipat, Haryana, 100-odd km north of New Delhi, 26-year-old Rekha Devi cuts through heaps of discarded clothes from Europe and America. The room vibrates with the sound of rag-pulling machines. Fibers swirl in the air before settling on her skin and hair like fine dust.
Rekha has been working in the factory for four years, part of a clothing industry that employs as many as 45 million people, contributes 2.3 percent to the country's GDP, and accounts for 12 percent of all exports. While there is no precise figure, as many as 4 million of those are in the recycling industry. That generates 7.8 million tonnes of textile waste annually, according to the United Nations Environmental Program. Panipat recycles about one million tonnes of that and is known as the world's largest hub for recycled yarn.
It is also an environmental and health disaster. Discarded clothing arrives through ports in Gujarat, are sorted by hand, shredded, bleached, and spun into yarn for rugs and blankets sold in international markets. Around 300,000 people are employed across 20,000 small and medium-sized units, most of them migrants from poorer districts of Uttar Pradesh and Bihar.
Women make up a significant part of the workforce, often assigned to sorting, cleaning, and cutting. Their exposure to dust, lint, and microfibers is constant. In many factories, ventilation is poor, and protective gear is minimal. Rekha says she was given a mask once but stopped using it because it made it harder to breathe in the heat. "It gets wet with sweat. You can't work with it on," she says.
Array of Illnesses
Doctors in Panipat's government hospital say they see many cases diagnosed with asthma, bronchitis, or chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD). A doctor overseeing tuberculosis control in the district says most of his patients have a history of working in textile units.
"They inhale fibers for years, said the physician, who doesn't wish to be named as he is not authorized to speak to the media. "It causes scarring in the lungs. When they fall sick, they come too late."
International research supports these anecdotal findings. Studies show that prolonged exposure to microfibers, particularly nylon and polyester, damages airway cells and can trigger irreversible lung conditions. Yet, in Panipat, awareness of occupational hazards remains low. Few factories conduct health check-ups, and even fewer provide safety training.
Rekha's husband, Ramesh Kumar, works in the same factory, operating the carding machine that pulls fibers apart. The room he works in has no exhaust fans. "When you switch on the machine, it's like a storm. The air turns white," he said.
Ramesh knows what this work does to the body. His father, who worked in the same mill two decades ago, can no longer walk without gasping for breath. But for Ramesh and Rekha, leaving the job is not an option. Their combined monthly income of about Rp10,000 (US$114) covers rent, food, and their children's school fees.
Most workers in the area face similar trade-offs. "We know it's bad for us," said Anita Devi, a worker in a bleaching unit. "But there is no other work that pays regularly." She spends her day dipping shredded fabric into large vats of chemical solution used to lighten the fibers before dyeing. The smell burns her nose and eyes. She handles the mixture with bare hands. "Sometimes the skin on my fingers peels," she says.
A senior official in Haryana's labor department admits that conditions inside many factories are "inhuman" but says inspections are limited by staff shortages. "There are thousands of small units in narrow lanes. We don't have enough officers to visit them regularly," he says.
Invisible hazards
The pollution generated by the industry extends beyond factory walls. The city has more than 400 registered dyeing units and another 200 operating illegally. According to the Haryana State Pollution Control Board, 80 percent of wastewater from these units is discharged untreated into the environment.
Laboratory tests earlier this year showed pollutant levels in Panipat's main industrial drain several times above permissible limits. The drain flows into the Yamuna River, carrying heavy metals such as lead, nickel, and cadmium downstream.
For communities living near the drain, the consequences are visible. Rajni, 29, who lives in a nearby village, stopped using groundwater after her daughter developed persistent rashes. "The borewell water smells of chemicals," she says. "When we use it for washing clothes, our hands itch."
Many women in these areas manage both household water chores and work in factories. Their exposure to contaminated water and air makes them particularly vulnerable. A 2022 survey in Panipat's textile belt found that 93 percent of households reported at least one member suffering from a chronic health issue, including skin diseases, high blood pressure, or respiratory problems.
The silence of the system
Factory owners often deny that the environment inside their units causes serious illness. Naresh Mittal, who owns a mid-sized recycling unit, insists that "a little dust" cannot harm anyone. "We give masks. Workers don't wear them," he says. "We are providing jobs to thousands. It's not fair to blame us for their health problems."
Health experts disagree. "What you see in Panipat is slow poisoning," says a public health researcher who has studied occupational diseases in India's industrial sectors. "There is no visible injury, but over years, the damage builds up. Women in particular are more at risk because they are often involved in the early stages of sorting and cutting, where dust exposure is highest."
In bleaching and dyeing units, the situation is worse. Workers, mostly women, handle sulphuric acid, dyes, and other chemicals without gloves. Many develop skin infections and respiratory irritation. There are no medical facilities on-site, and visits to local clinics cost a day's wages.
Government data show that while the pollution board has fined several units for violations, penalties are rarely enforced. Of ₹5 billion (US$56.89 million) in assessed fines, only about ₹3.7 billion has been recovered. Factories closed for illegal discharge often reopen under new names.
The global link
The recycled yarn produced in Panipat travels far. It becomes rugs and blankets sold by international retailers as part of their sustainability campaigns. In March, Prime Minister Narendra Modi praised Panipat as a "global hub of textile recycling." But for workers like Rekha, the promise of a green economy feels distant.
Rekha's health has worsened over the past year. She takes medicine from a local clinic when the coughing gets severe. The doctor tells her to stop working at the factory, but she laughs when asked if that's possible. "Who will feed us then?" she says.
Despite the risks, the flow of migrants to Panipat continues. Word of steady work draws new families every month. Women come because factory owners prefer them for sorting and cutting jobs. They are paid less and are less likely to protest. "We only want our children to study and get out of this work," Rekha says quietly.
This story was reprinted with permission from Asia Sentinel in a cross-publishing agreement.