Fast-fashion recycling: how ‘the castoff capital of the world’ is making Indian factory workers sick

The air inside Panipat’s recycling factories is heavy with lint that glints in the light before settling over every surface like a film of dirty snow. At her work station, 27-year-old Neerma Devi cuts through collars and seams, tugging sleeves apart and feeding scraps of used clothes into a roaring machine. Each cut unleashes another cloud of lint into the room. Her dupatta is wound tightly across her face to stop her breathing in the fibres, but she says it does little. By the end of her shift, her chest is tight and her skin itches, and some nights she is left choking for breath. This suffocating world is the backbone of a global trade. Panipat, in north India, is known as the “castoff capital of the world”. Shipments of discarded clothing from Europe, North America and east Asia are shredded here by thousands of workers, spun back into yarn and woven into rugs, throws, sheets and cushions destined for international retailers. Nearly six years ago, Devi left Hardoi, a town 300 miles away, and came to Panipat with her husband, lured by the promise of steady mill work. Today, she works six days a week, often with her young sons by her side due to the lack of on-site childcare facilities. But the clothes she recycles each day are making her sick. The coughing lingers long after she leaves the factory, and visits to the doctor have become routine. “The doctor tells me it’s because of all this dust I breathe every day,” she says. “He gives me medicine, but it only works while I take it. Once I stop, the coughing comes back. He says I should leave this work. But I can’t afford to.” Panipat recycles approximately 1 million tonnes of textile waste annually through its 20,000 industrial units and a workforce of at least 300,000, diverting large volumes of discarded textiles that might otherwise end up in landfill worldwide. Shipments arriving through ports in Gujarat are transported here, where the clothes are first sorted: garments that are wearable are diverted to markets, while the bulk are shredded and spun back into yarn. The fibres are then bleached, dyed and woven, mostly into home furnishings, and exported across the world. “All grades of material – from polyester track pants to cotton shirts – are shredded together into what is called ‘shoddy yarn’,” says Ina Bharguna, programme manager at the Estonia-based Reverse Resources, which has been monitoring textile waste in the city. “It is never free of microplastics.” International studies have shown that long-term exposure to microfibres – especially nylon – impairs the repair and growth of airway epithelial cells, posing serious risks to lung tissue. A study by the University of Technology Sydney found that inhaled nano- and microplastics can penetrate deep into the respiratory tract, potentially contributing to diseases such as asthma, fibrosis and chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD). Devi’s father-in-law, the first in the family to move to Panipat nearly two decades ago, spent years working in one of the city’s mills and now lives with advanced COPD. His lung damage is so severe that even swallowing food triggers choking or pain as he struggles to breathe. Doctors at the local government hospital have told the family the damage is irreversible. Devi’s husband, Kailash Kumar, still works in the same mill where his father worked – fully aware of the damage it can cause. Kumar describes the factory as an enclosed chamber with barely any ventilation. “There are no masks, no covers,” he says. Doctors have warned him that years of breathing this air could leave him with the same condition his father suffers from. A government doctor overseeing tuberculosis control in the city, who requested anonymity, says lung disease and COPD are alarmingly common. “Most of the patients we see have spent years in the textile factories,” he says. “They breathe in dust, fibres and chemicals every day. Microfibres settle in their lungs with continuous exposure, and many are never properly diagnosed. That makes them far more vulnerable – not just to infections like tuberculosis, but also to long-term chronic lung diseases.” Ramesh Chawdhary, a senior official in Haryana’s labour department, agrees that conditions inside many factories are dire. “The working environment is insufferable,” he says. “We routinely come across cases of breathing issues, migraine, skin infections, even cancer. Prolonged exposure in such conditions takes its toll, regardless of the minimal labour protections in place. Most factory owners do not prioritise worker safety. The risks are even higher in bleaching and dyeing units, where labourers handle toxic chemicals such as sulphuric acid with their bare hands.” But the factory owner where Devi works dismisses concerns about the environment. “We don’t use any chemicals here – it is just dust and lint. How can that cause anything serious? A little cough and cold is common,” he says. He adds that while the factory does provide masks, most workers avoid them, complaining that they feel suffocated when wearing them. The damage to human health is also not limited to those working within the factories. On the outskirts of Panipat, scores of bleaching units cater for growing demand to bleach textile scraps before they are shredded and made into yarn. The city has about 400 registered dyeing units and at least 200 more that operate illegally. An estimated 80% of wastewater from these units is released directly into the environment, contaminating surface and groundwater. Official records note more than 80 discharge points around the city empty directly into Drain No 2 – a major industrial channel that feeds into the Yamuna River – adding significantly to its toxic load as it flows downstream through Delhi. In April, Laboratory tests by the Haryana State Pollution Control Board found pollutant levels far above the Central Pollution Control Board’s limits. For instance, water samples from the drain contained nearly four times the permissible level of dissolved solids, along with critically low oxygen levels – less than half the standard required – making the stretch uninhabitable for aquatic life. In some areas, factories simply dig pits and let the poisonous water seep into the ground. A 2022 government report noted that groundwater in the city was polluted with manganese, lead, nitrate and fluoride in some parts and with heavy metals including cadmium, nickel, zinc and copper, at many places. Nitin Arora, president of the Dyers Association in Panipat, disputes claims that units cause pollution. “The state pollution control board exists with such strict regulations, how can anyone operate units without compliance? Maybe it was bad before, but not now.” *** Hartej Singh, who lives in a village on the edge of Panipat’s urban sprawl, shut down his borewell after discovering the groundwater was unsafe to drink. “Here, water has become our biggest curse. Every borewell near this drain only brings suffering – people fall sick, and disease spreads,” he says. Villagers in the area report widespread skin ailments, and in some cases even cancer, which residents believe is linked to the contaminated water. In a 2022 household survey conducted near Panipat’s textile clusters, nearly 93% of families reported serious health problems in the past five years with a surge in noncommunicable diseases. High blood pressure, diabetes and cardiovascular complications are now widespread. Skin conditions such as rashes and eczema are more commonly reported, particularly among children and women who handle laundry or fetch water. Environmentalist Varun Gulati, who has been petitioning authorities to act on Panipat’s industrial pollution, says water treatment before disposal is almost nonexistent. “Effluent treatment plants are a rarity,” he says. Haryana’s pollution control board and central pollution control board have both raised concerns about illegal industrial units in Panipat found to be discharging untreated waste directly into the city’s water system. In a court order, India’s National Green Tribunal – a specialised environmental court – took up the case on its own motion and found that 31 of the 32 bleaching and dyeing units were operating illegally and contributing directly to water pollution. In August, the tribunal ordered their closure. But according to Gulati, such orders are ineffective. “In the past five years, around 150 illegal bleaching houses have been shut down,” he says. But the bans are temporary, enforcement is inconsistent, and officials are too few to keep up. “Units shut down under one name [only to] reappear under another.” Out of a total of 5bn rupees (£42m) in penalties calculated by the pollution board, only about 3.7bn rupees has ever been recovered. “Even when fines are levied, they are either reduced, left uncollected, or never enforced,” says Gulati. In March, the prime minister, Narendra Modi, called Panipat “a global hub of textile recycling”. But the cost of this solution to fast fashion is etched into the bodies of workers and locals. “It scares us to think we could end up like my father-in-law. But for now, this is the only way to survive,” says Devi.