When you take a right turn from the famous Mohammad Ali tower of Siddhpur in Gujarat, you come across a long stretch of tiny cubicles. Each cubicle, an aging world in itself. Tailors, the ancient warriors of the town, sit on their designated roundabout seats, with heaps of cloth strewn about them, attending to their last few customers, before the world of readymades takes over the town.

It is their battleground, and they have their needles and their ancient creaking machines at their disposal. Each shop is colored a varying aesthetic- there are some blues, some pinks, and some greys. Old men sit propped up, waiting all day long for their customers to approach them.

Like the other cities of India and probably most of the world, the readymade garment industry has hit the small town of Siddhpur as well. Whilst walking across the market, where once there were big queues of women armed with their own measuring tapes, sarees, and kameez’s, now stands just plain old silence and the harrowing atmosphere of a large eagle eating away at the carcasses of the once bustling business.
There are many reasons why things don’t seem to be working anymore in favor of the old soldier. The world has changed, causing a drastic change in the needs of the people. And in this little sleepy town, the change is now inevitable. Mr. Badruddin, a hereditary tailor, complains about this in a local Gujarati-Urdu dialect. He says, ‘When I was growing up, my father would sit day and night here, stitching so many kameez’s a week. Now I don’t have many orders.’ I wondered aloud how he managed his expenses then. To which he said, ‘I am a roadside vendor on festivals, I gather equipment and sell.’ And is that easy to do, I ask. ‘No, often the police here harass me, asking for this license and that license.’ Later, he adds, ‘My daughter works for a readymade clothes shop to substitute our income.’

I have many questions ready, rolling off my tongue, but the tailors seem to be in a rush. It is time for afternoon prayer. Later, the same day, I visited a few other cubicles in the line, asking the same questions and hearing almost the same stories. They say to me that because the orders are limited, they have to look elsewhere, so they head to big mills in Ahmedabad and purchase their bulk wastage at a minimized price and cater to other readymade shops across Siddhpur and its neighboring towns. One tailor in particular, dressed in a peacock-colored shirt and black trousers, sitting straight up, with a steady hand on his old singer machine, tells me the different garments he once used to sell. As a third-generation tailor, he hardly makes anything of his profession. He says he makes only enough money to afford one meal a day, let alone anything else. ‘Now I alter clothes as well. My other tailor friends have found other means to supplement their income. Each has some business or another. I do not even make that much to start something anew.’

When you visit them and their tiny cubicles, that we call khumcha in Gujarati, with only enough space for one to sit and sew on their heavy-duty machines, you wonder at their impossible situation. Big sharks take over everywhere, leaving them stranded, with no other choice but to accept what fate has in store for them. This dilemma is very much visible on Yaseen’s face, another roadside tailor in the Yusufpura mohalla of Siddhpur. Yet again accompanied by my companion, I find Yaseen sitting on his throne, lost to the new world and its manic order. He is busy sewing undergarments, cotton vests for men, and nightgowns for women. A board is up on the blue metal door of his khumcha, where he advertises all the garments he sells. Upon asking him, he says, ‘I have more orders now. I sell to all ready garment shops and earn enough to sustain for the month.’ I ask him where do you acquire your material. He is reluctant to answer at first, but the reply soon slips his tongue, ‘I obtain from big companies. They sell cotton wastage to me and I pay them little for it. It is a good deal…’There is more to the story, but his hesitancy stops my questions.

This shift to factory made clothing isn’t unique to one or two towns in India, but has spread like a rabid disease across the subcontinent, starting of course at the capital cities with a larger urban dwelling. With trends in a certain dressing style changing over time, top brands have begun investing in even the remotest parts of India. People prefer the whole shopkeeping experience, better than the longer experience of first procuring material and then handing it over to a tailor, where wait periods can be far longer than a week. Today’s urban crowds have grown up on a steady appetite of online shopping, where everything is just a click away. Today’s people lack the patience.

Beyond the economic aspect, there is also a heavy environmental impact. Factory produced clothes generate textile waste at an alarming rate. Unlike tailor-made garments, which are created with precision and minimal fabric wastage, readymade clothing contributes to landfills at a disturbing rate. Most of the cheap garments sold take years to decompose, adding to the already increased pollution levels and further to global warming and climate change. There is also the added element of overconsumption. Clothes that are priced far less often wear out in no time, leading to frequenting markets and excessive purchasing. It is all a vicious cycle.

In Siddhpur’s scenario, all the discarded clothing amounting to heavy wastage ends up in open dumps or are burnt, releasing harmful toxins in the region. The tailors here, once a part of a sustainable ecosystem of slow fashion, now watch as their craft is replaced by an industry that champions speed and quantity or quality and longevity.