The silent siren of Samastipur

It is evening in Bhagirathpur village, of Bihar’s Samastipur district. Naushad Alam, 53, a leader of the Rameshwar Jute Mill Mazdoor Union, sits erect on a worn-down brown plastic chair on his veranda. The birds chirp in a chorus, but his gravelly voice carries over the chirping: “About 15 to 20 years ago, around 5,000 labourers were on the payroll of the mill; now only 1,200 remain. The working shifts gradually reduced from three to two, and workers were retrenched slowly year after year.”

Rameshwar Jute Mill was temporarily closed in November 2025, bringing to an end the company’s 100-year-old legacy. Now, workers are fighting for pending arrears, a raise in salary when the mill reopens, and elections to be held for the union.

Over the past couple of decades, with the rise of plastic packaging, low jute supply, and obsolete production processes, the demand for jute bags has been sliding. As per the Annual Report 2024 of the Ministry of Agriculture, jute production has declined from 106 lakh bales in 2014 to 84 lakh bales in 2024.

Mr. Alam claims the immediate cause of the mill shutting was corruption: a mill manager who “ran away with crores worth of raw jute” and the owners, Winsome International, who defaulted on a ₹24 crore loan. Others, who have started a parallel, unregistered union, say Mr. Alam, has controlled the Rameshwar Jute Mill Mazdoor Union, has not held elections for at least 4 years, and is in cahoots with the management.

Declining employment and salaries

Mr. Alam has some visitors, and he asks them to wait on the veranda. His phone rings, and he stares at the mill’s gate no. 3, clearly visible from his verandah. “There is a case of non-payment of dues by the Bihar State Food and Civil Supplies Corporation Ltd to Winsome International pending in the Patna High Court,” he says.

About 500 metres from gate no. 3 is the shuttered gate no. 1. On it is a notice pasted by the Rameshwar Jute Mill Sangharsh Samiti, the unregistered union formed in 2003. Dated March 1, 2026, it demands immediate reopening of the mill, workers to be paid revised wages, immediate processing of Provident Fund dues, implementation of samman bhatta (honorarium allowance), and a few other demands. It is signed by chairperson Rambali Mahto.

The union members, led by Rambali Mahto (wearing red shirt), protesting outside the jute mill. Photo credit: Special arrangement

Mr. Alam and the 1,200 workers on the rolls of the jute mill, are part of the Rameshwar Jute Mill Mazdoor Union. They want the government to provide mill workers with an alternate source of employment, so skilled labour doesn’t end up in unskilled jobs, and be forced to migrate to urban centres like Delhi, Mumbai, and Hyderabad for casual work, on construction sites.

“We have been demanding a wage of ₹660 per day for 5 years now. This is also mandated by the Bihar government, but the demands went unheeded,” Mr. Alam says. In October 2025, the Bihar Government implemented the Code of Wages, Rules 2025. The new rates fix the minimum daily wage of ₹660 for highly skilled workers, ₹444 for semi-skilled, and ₹428 for unskilled workers. The jute mill labourers claim they fall under the category of highly skilled workers.

The state of jute  

Rameshwar Jute Mills was established by the Darbhanga Maharaja Rameshwar Singh, in 1926 on 84 acres of land. In 1954, the mill was taken over by Birla Gwalior Limited, which managed and operated it till 1976. Birla sold the jute mill in 1986 to Winsome International Limited, a Kolkata-based company, which owns a jute mill in Kolkata as well.

The Government of India mandates the use of jute bags for packaging under the Jute Packaging Material (JPM) Act, 1987, aiming to support domestic farmers and environment-friendly practices. As of 2024-25, up to 100% of food grains and 20% of sugar products must be packed in jute bags. The rule applies to the Food Corporation of India, State food corporations (like the BSFCSCL), and sugar mills. This supports 4 lakh jute mill workers and several lakh jute farmers of West Bengal, Odisha, Tripura, Andhra Pradesh, and Bihar, as per the government.

Rameshwar Jute mill’s daily production was 80 tonnes of gunny sacks a day till 2014, says Alam, and while its capacity remained the same, the output was only about half. It used to supply jute bags to BSFCSCL and the State food grain procurement corporations of Chhattisgarh, Haryana, and Punjab.

As per India Jute Mills Association, there are 3.7 to 4 lakh jute mill workers across 80 to 120 composite jute mills in India, with most of them concentrated in West Bengal. Composite jute mills are those which can perform all manufacturing processes of the production cycle. Bihar has 3 or 4 in the Purnea region. Bihar produced 8.5 lakh jute bales in 2024, and has a 9.62% share in India’s total production, according to the Economic Survey 2024-2025.

India is the world’s largest producer of jute, accounting for 70% of the global production; 90% of the produce is used domestically. The U.S. is the biggest destination of India’s jute products.

The mill village

Bhagirathi village, as the villagers call it informally, is clustered around the jute mill behind the Muktapur railway station, in Samastipur. It holds a population of about 10,000 and until a few years ago almost all the families here were dependent on the mill for their livelihood.

The village is situated on the banks of river Burhi Gandak, a tributary of the Ganga. A narrow mound of sand separates the village from the river. The road that reaches the mill from Muktapur station is as narrow. Three gates of the mill open on three different sides of the village. On the fringes of the village are deserted colonial-era residential quarters, which once housed mill officials. The green-and-blue arches and big airy windows are covered with moss and dust, and grass has spread from the lawn to the greyrusted balconies. The quiet lazy evening in the village carries the burden of joblessness.

Suresh Paswan, 80, a retired mill worker, sells samosa-jalebi in his roadside shop, established every day on a chowki (bed). He puts his snacks on a red tarpaulin, while a green tarpaulin supported by bamboo sticks provides shade. Wearing a thin maroon banyan and a blue-silver lungi, he is squatting on the chowki listening intently to his customers, his silver and maroon HMT watch on his wrist.

“I used to work two shifts in a day when the mill was fully functioning. I was the line mistri (mechanic) for the weaving machine,” says Paswan, looking hurriedly towards two customers who are waiting. “I retired 15 years ago. I used to receive a monthly pension of ₹7,000, which was enough for a good life for my family in the village. From 2017 to 2019, the mill was closed for two years. I stopped receiving the pension. The mill owes me more than ₹5 lakh. Now this shop is my only source of income.”

Suresh Paswan, an ex-mill worker, selling snacks in his roadside shop.
| Photo Credit:
The Hindu

Mr. Alam says over 500 workers have filed a complaint regarding non-payment of their pensions in the provident fund commissioner’s office, in Muzaffarpur, about 50 kilometres away. “He has assured us that our dues will be cleared once the mill reopens. We have filed a case with the District Labour Commissioner, in Darbhanga as well.” Neither government official responded to The Hindu’s queries.

Pushed into other employment

Within 300 metres of Mr. Alam’s home, Gopal Das, 55, chats with two friends on the platform of the local mandir. “I used to work regularly in the mill till 2017. Our main contention with the mill management was the wage. They gave us ₹400 a day, while we were demanding ₹660, which was the standard rate in the jute mills of West Bengal,” he says, adding that he went to Kolkata to find a permanent job in a mill, but work was irregular.

“I worked as a plumber in Kolkata for a few years to support my family, but I had to come back during the COVID-19 lockdown.” Since then, he says he has taken up casual work under the government’s Mahatma Gandhi National Rural Employment Guarantee Scheme. “Sometimes we have food on our plate; sometimes we don’t.” He adds that the mill owes him over ₹2 lakh in pension, gratuity, and unpaid wages.

Mr. Alam says some jute mill workers have retrained themselves as painters and plumbers to equip themselves for urban jobs. “A few have got work in jute mills in West Bengal, but the mills are closing there also, so there is a reverse migration from the urban centers to the villages,” Mr. Alam says. Most of the villagers migrated from areas around when the mill opened, so they don’t own much agricultural land.

He takes a sip of tea and continues, “We approached the local MLA Maheshwar Hazari, from the JD(U) with our complaints and problems. He raised the issue of wages and closure of the Rameshwar Jute mill on February 22, 2026, in the Bihar Vidhan Sabha. We also approached the Samastipur MP from the LJP, Shambhavi Choudhary, but she paid no heed to us.”

The tussle of representation and welfare

Dinesh, in his 50s, was Mr. Das’s former co-worker, and is with him, in the temple. Pulling out a green tobacco pouch from his pants, he laments, “We were tired of the apathy of the mill owner and management. The building from inside is in a dilapidated condition and the equipment has gone rickety. I was working once on the line and a big cement slab fell right in front of me. There was once a night guard who died due to a slab falling on his head.”

He remembers mill manager “Prithviraj ji, who was appointed in the 1990s”, and got the management to “implement dearness allowance” for labourers. “He got us new stitched blue uniforms and provided better working conditions. He was shot on the platform of this mandir.”

He worked as a beamer in the mill, placing hundreds of jute threads into a massive roll called a beam, which was then placed on the loom for weaving. He explains the mill’s wage system. “There are three wages on which labour was hired till November 2025, when the mill was closed: ₹410, ₹423, and ₹430. The tenure and experience determined which wage would be paid to labour.”

He says on March 1, 2026, labour leader Rambali Mahto convened a meeting of labourers to discuss the low wages. “We agreed that till the mill pays us the minimum wage ₹66, we shall not resume work.”

Sound of silence

Mahto is a farmer, a local producer of cement slabs used to cover pits, and a labour leader. He founded the Rameshwar Jute Mill Sangharsh Samiti with the support of more than 1,500 ex-workers of the mill.

He stands in a grocery shop outside his home, and various people crossing by greet him. As the sun quietly sets in the background, flies buzz around his red gamcha (cotton cloth). Mahto says,“My father was a jute mill worker. One day he was humiliated on the floor of the mill for his caste, by a mill official. Then I decided to work for the labourers of the mill. Re se aap tak ke ladai tha, re se aap tak le aaye hain,” (They now respect us and call us aap instead of re).  “We will fight till they agree to the wage of ₹660.” Mr. Mahto says the quality of jute has also worsened over the years, so even the regular 8-hour shift is extra tiring for labour.

Mr. Mahto’s neighbour, Sunita Devi, 45, is pushing green fodder through a manual chaff cutter, while two children play around her, and two cows await their dinner. “Life was better when my husband worked for the mill,” she says. “He made around ₹20,000 in a month. This pucca house was made from his earnings. But when the mill closed in 2017, he left the job. The mill still has not paid his wages and PF.” She says he is away in Kolkata, looking for work. “The children miss him. If he gets work in the mill he will start living with us again.” The siren that rang out three times a day to indicate a shift change has gone silent. The only sound that reverberates through the village is the temple bell.