Sheikh Anarul, from Kolkata, came to the city to see the place. And it wasn't Kerala's tourism promotion campaign that brought him here. This is the first time the 42-year-old has travelled outside Kolkata. But, he says, it is good that he decided to come. “ Yahan pe ‘setting' ho gaya hai. Hum khush hai, ” (I'm happy here) he says in heavily accented Hindi. ‘Setting', for Sheikh means the whole package inclusive of job and monetary satisfaction.
Skilled labourer
Sheikh is not your average tourist. He is a master cutter with a designer label in the city. He belongs to that burgeoning category of skilled labourers who have made the city their workplace. It turns out that many designers and boutiques depend on people such as Sheikh.
As you step into designers Reshma Binu and Anu Tinu's design unit it is like stepping into another geographical zone. Bengali music blares out of a strategically placed mobile phone. And a few non-Malayalis hunched over sewing machines work intently. In another part of the building embroiderers sit by wooden frames sewing tiny sequins and beads on fabric drawn taut by the frame.
Embroiderers and tailors from West Bengal are not new to the city's garment business. They have been around for 15 or so years. Of late, there is an increase in the influx of cutters, tailors and embroiderers, from West Bengal. It was on a relative's invitation that Sheikh and his three colleagues came to the city last year. Anarul says they are glad they took the chance and came.
Life is good, except for the ‘language problem', says Firoz Mullah, a tailor who came with Sheikh. “But I am learning. ‘ Udalkarang ', I know,” he says, making a brave attempt at pronouncing ‘ urulakizhangu ' (potato).
His colleague Abu, smiles at Firoz's attempt, but goes on sewing. Turns out he knows Malayalam. He was brought up in the city. His father Mohammed Sayid is, probably, among one of the initial craftspeople from West Bengal to have been brought to the city via Bangalore. The master embroiderer has been in the business here for the last 15 years. He used to contract work for certain garment outlets and boutiques in the city. What brought him here? A city-based boutique brought him here and he later branched out into his own business. Unlike his peers, he brought his family here with him.
Mohammed Sayid's nephew, Mujham, is a freelance master embroiderer. He works with a crew of six other embroiderers who he has brought from Bagnal, 40 kms from Howrah. He runs his own operation and takes on work on a contract basis. He is his own master, he says. His workshop is a tiny two-room set in Karukapally, near Kaloor. There are other independent embroidery units run by freelance embroiders such as Mujham in the area.
Kolkata is famous for its garment industry and the business it does in terms of volumes, so then what is it that gets this category of skilled labour to Kochi in droves?
Sitting at his embroidery frame with his son, brother-in-law and neighbour, Nuruzzamad Lashkar, a master embroiderer at Shalini James' design unit, explains using the theory of supply and demand. “Computerisation has cost most of us our livelihoods,” he says. He hails from a village called Amtuali on the outskirts on Kolkata, which is surrounded by villages which depend on the garment industry for livelihood. He used to run a business there, which incurred a loss and he had to look elsewhere for a livelihood.
Remuneration
“When a computer can do something for Rs. 50, why would anybody pay Rs. 500 to a craftsperson? This happened in Kolkata. As a result many people in our industry were left jobless, and they left for far off places like Delhi, Ahmedabad, Kerala etc.” Labour was in excess and little work for people like Nur and Sheikh. They left because, “we had to feed our families.”
Mujham says, “Why ask about how much we earn? We are here, which means we are making better money than we would make back home.”
For Azad, master cutter and Nur's colleague, who hails from 24 North Paraganas, Kochi has been good. He, briefly, moved to Delhi in the hope of a better life only to find disappointment. Isn't Delhi the place to be for people like him? “I didn't like the work. Anyway I made more money back home,” Azad says. Here, he says, the money and working conditions are good.
Some of the workers, attached to designers and boutiques, get accommodation. Some give them food allowance too. All, or most, of the money is saved and sent home. The workers are generally paid on a daily basis. The facilities provided, according to Sheikh, are better than what they got ‘back home'. “Even the weather!” he says echoing Nur.
Wasn't Shakeel Ahmed, all of 21, apprehensive about leaving the comfort of familiar surroundings for an unknown place? “No, what is there to be afraid of? I have a better life here!”
For Nur, however, the grass is still greener home. “Here everything is expensive. Potatoes, tomatoes, rice, mangoes…” His son, Hadijaman Lashkar, shyly disagrees with his father, “Kochi is much better than Kolkata…there is more space.”
