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                | Glimpses of penury: Protests and shuttered 
                  textile units |   Curiously, 
              a government headed by an eloquent Prime Minister assisted by a 
              volubly articulate deputy has failed to communicate to the people 
              at large its imperatives for moving to the value added tax regime. 
              Nor does it seem to have an idea of the havoc this move would wreak. 
              The country's labour-intensive textile business is the worst hit.  Take small and medium merchant-manufacturers 
              in textile townships across India. Beginning April 1, they have 
              to pay a 10 per cent central value added tax (CENVAT) and have to 
              maintain books of account. Most of these merchants procure raw cloth 
              and pass it on to contractors. The contractors, in turn, farm it 
              out to cutters, basic sewers, waist band belt specialists, loop 
              makers, bar tack and eye button hole tailors, and those engaged 
              in washing, dyeing, bleaching, trimming, ironing, and packing. There 
              is no assembly line manufacturing. Most of those involved do it 
              at home and are illiterate. Under the current structure, it is impossible 
              to calculate the value added at each stage, as required under the 
              CENVAT regime. "These units will have to maintain accounts 
              and pay taxes, something they are not used to," says Sachin 
              Menon, partner, Ernst & Young India.  Even though vat has been in the pipeline for 
              years and the original date for its implementation was two years 
              ago, the government seems to have failed to foresee what is happening 
              now: small units going out of business and millions of workers being 
              rendered jobless.  BT correspondents fanned out to capture the 
              situation in Punjab, Maharashtra, Gujarat, Karnataka, and Tamil 
              Nadu. Their reports paint a dismal picture whose broadest strokes 
              are starvation, penury, and ticketless travel as jobless workers 
              try to go back to where they came from: the backwaters of Bihar, 
              Uttar Pradesh and Orissa. 
  PANIPAT AND LUDHIANAAll Tears, No Succour
 
              Sales of paan-elaichi, 
            a betel-flavoured cheap country liquor popular in Punjab and Haryana, 
            have lately begun to stagnate. The colourless drink doesn't have the 
            dank smell of its country cousins and is considered a safe option 
            by regular drinkers seeking to fortify themselves against the verbal 
            volleys of their womenfolk. Sixty-six-year-old Dharampal, who used 
            to imbibe it at least three times a week with his colleague and friend 
            of eight years, Balram Singh, is now missing both his companions. 
            He is one of the 1.5 lakh workers in the handloom and woollen textile 
            hub of Panipat, Haryana, rendered jobless; mill owners downed shutters 
            on March 31 this year. 
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                | Panipat: A mere 100 km from Delhi, looms 
                  lie idle and joblessness reigns |   
                | PANIPATNUMBER OF UNITS SHUT: 35,000
 NUMBER OF JOBS LOST: 150,000
 IMPACT ON LOCAL ECONOMY: Rs 4 crore a day
  LUDHIANANUMBER OF UNITS SHUT: 40,000
 NUMBER OF JOBS LOST: 700,000
 IMPACT ON LOCAL ECONOMY: Rs 10 crore a day
 |   
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                | Ludhiana: At Vallabh Fabrics, everything 
                  has stopped |   Dharampal, who used to earn Rs 80-100 a day, 
              hasn't the money to buy even a bundle of bidis, forget the Rs 25-a-bottle 
              drink. Balram has gone back to his home near Kanpur. Dharampal has 
              already crossed his credit limit of Rs 500 a month at the neighbourhood 
              kirana shop and will likely be shooed away if seen approaching with 
              a bag. Hundred kilometres to the north of Delhi, Panipat has 45,000 
              small to mid-size powerlooms and handlooms manufacturing low-cost 
              blankets and woollen garments, a business that generates Rs 1,600 
              crore every year. Now, its main Panchranga Bazar wears a forlorn 
              look with most shops shut and jobless workers playing cards.  Two hundred kilometres further north is Ludhiana. 
              Vallabh Fabrics, the biggest knitted fabric unit here, had invested 
              Rs 10 crore in a recent acquisition of modern machinery; the new 
              machinery is caked with dust. The unit has laid off 100 unskilled 
              workers and retained the skilled ones at one-fourth the old salary. 
              Home to 50,000 units generating business over Rs 2,500 crore a year, 
              Ludhiana is much bigger than Panipat. Alas, that has merely translated 
              into a harder blow. -T.R. Vivek 
 
               
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                | Surat: Once bustling, powerloom units 
                  such as this one are dormant |   
                | BHIWANDINUMBER OF UNITS SHUT: 500,000
 NUMBER OF JOBS LOST: 700,000
 IMPACT ON LOCAL ECONOMY: Rs 10 crore a day
  SURATNUMBER OF UNITS SHUT: 640,000
 NUMBER OF JOBS LOST: 600,000
 IMPACT ON LOCAL ECONOMY: Rs 40 crore a day
 |  BHIWANDI AND SURATAll Quiet On The Western Front
 Anyone driving 
              downtown from the Surat railway station can't miss the buzz of commerce. 
              Much of this buzz is textile-related, be it the thousands of small 
              shops dotting the city's streets or the unkempt hawkers pushing 
              trolleys that display their wares.  That was then. Since April 1, the city's 40,000 
              small textile units and over six lakh powerlooms that together employ 
              four-to-five lakh workers and produce 20 million metres a day (street 
              value: Rs 40 crore) have been quiet. Its 380 processing units have 
              no raw material, grey fabric, and half of them are on the verge 
              of closure. The supply glitch has pushed up prices by 15 per cent 
              and many buyers are forced to pick up whatever they can lay their 
              hands on.  Closer Mumbai, the powerloom jungle of Bhiwandi, 
              which was teeming with 700,000 workers a month ago, resembles a 
              ghost town. Its 500,000-odd powerlooms have been shut since March 
              28. Bharat Panchal, a partner in Shivam Coning Industries, tells 
              the tale of a stampede at nearby Kalyan station where police had 
              to be deployed for two days when thousands of migrant workers descended, 
              all at once, to catch the first train home. "Most of the units 
              are opting to send their workforce home as there's nothing here 
              for them to do," says Panchal.  The tea shops, one of the more reliable indicators 
              of the local business scenario, paint a bleak picture. All mobile 
              tea stalls in front of big powerloom units have disappeared. Pradeep 
              Joshi, who runs Vaibhav Canteen in Surat's Ashoka Market, says he 
              sells only 400 cups of tea a day now, compared with 700 in better 
              days. He's praying that the fate that befell textile workers will 
              be spared him  -Abir Pal 
  COIMBATORE AND TIRUPURNo Longer Cities Without A Pause
 
               
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                | Coimbatore: Vijayalakshmi Textiles' Chinniyan 
                  is piling up inventory |   
                | COIMBATORENUMBER OF UNITS SHUT: 111,000
 NUMBER OF JOBS LOST: 350,000
 IMPACT ON LOCAL ECONOMY: Rs 22 crore a day
  TIRUPURNUMBER OF UNITS SHUT: 500
 NUMBER OF JOBS LOST: 100,000
 IMPACT ON LOCAL ECONOMY: Rs 9 crore a day
 |   
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                | Tirupur: Work is down to a single shift 
                  now |  It is difficult 
              to find loiterers in Coimbatore. The city has a strong 'do-it-yourself' 
              culture. People hardly ever complain; they fall, they stand up, 
              dust themselves, and get on with their lives. They also believe 
              in paying taxes. The city contributes Rs 1,024 crore in various 
              levies, 90 per cent of which comes from small industries.  Not surprisingly, a vast majority in the city 
              is in favour of vat. That majority, however, is of the manufacturing 
              community, which accounts for three out of every four Coimbatore 
              businessmen. The others, the traders, are not so sure they want 
              it.   Things are different just a short distance 
              from Coimbatore, at a quaint place called Sambala Thottam, meaning 
              the garden of salaries, and at any of the other places around the 
              city that house its 500 spinning mills. Beginning the first week 
              of April, 50 per cent of the mills, each of which employs an average 
              of 100 people (daily wages: Rs 75-100), have closed shop. The rest 
              are down to a single shift, reducing their capacity by two-thirds. 
              Many have not paid electricity bills, which usually range between 
              Rs 2 lakh and Rs 8 lakh, and have sought deferment.  Ironically, small spinners have already been 
              paying central excise since they were taken off the small scale 
              list two years ago. The trouble is that powerlooms, which number 
              1.5 lakh in the Coimbatore region and constitute an overwhelming 
              75 per cent of the spinners' customers, have all shut down.  S. Vijayakumar, a sizing mill owner, is extending 
              credit to some powerlooms so that they don't starve. "We can 
              try teaching powerloom families to maintain records, but they will 
              be unable to answer any queries by from an excise inspector,'' he 
              says. "We will have to adopt cenvat as well as modernise, but 
              we need at least 18 months."  The closure of powerlooms is costing this region 
              Rs 22 crore a day and has affected 3 lakh people in the Somanur-Palladam-Avinashi 
              belt.  It's no better in Tirupur, home to a Rs 1,000 
              crore hosiery industry built around a clutch of cottage units. The 
              hosiery units stopped invoicing at the end of March. "I have 
              had at least 25 sittings with the excise commissioner and he does 
              not know the procedure himself and is not certain whether the new 
              tax is 8 per cent or 10 per cent, or the extent of the CENVAT credit," 
              says apparel manufacturer G.P. Agarwalla of Prime Textiles Limited. 
              What small units can then make of the new tax regime is anyone's 
              guess.  On my last visit to Tirupur, I could see a 
              great many bullock carts, bicycles, mopeds, and motorcycles ferrying 
              cloth at some level of processing. It was difficult to talk to people. 
              They wouldn't pause. This time, the traffic was no problem, nor 
              was talking to people.  -Nitya Varadarajan 
  BELLARYHeat And Hunger
 
 
               
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                | Bellary: Its jobless tailors have time 
                  to kill |   
                | BELLARYNUMBER 
                    OF UNITS SHUT: 225
 NUMBER OF JOBS LOST: 20,000
 IMPACT ON LOCAL ECONOMY: Rs 6 crore a day
 |  Some 350 kilometres 
              from Bangalore, Bellary has hitherto been known for recording the 
              highest temperatures in the state (48-49 degree celsius is not unusual) 
              and for a garment industry that garners Rs 100 crore a year and 
              employs around 20,000 people.  Since April 1, the city's two main garment 
              markets-52-year-old Jain Cloth Market and the decade old Mahaveer 
              Market-have come to a standstill. For the likes of Rehamat Bi, 43, 
              an illiterate widow, who ekes out a living by stitching for a contractor, 
              the cenvat regime just doesn't make sense. "I don't know anything 
              about tax. I just know that Seth is not giving us work and my machine 
              (an old Singer) has been lying idle. My stomach is empty and no 
              one is ready to lend me money," she says, making no attempt 
              to hide her tears. Another tailor, Master Jilani points out that 
              Bellary's dry land is not arable. Pointing to the sewing machine 
              in his house, he says: "When it falls silent, our stomachs 
              go empty."  -Venkatesha Babu |