JENIFER FERNANDES
joseph@herald-goa.com
NACHINOLA: Gurudas Thakur is a traditional tailor from Moira who has spent over four decades perfecting his craft - his tailoring journey began when he was just eight years old. Driven by poverty and the need to support his family, Thakur enrolled at the Saligao Training Centre and learned the trade over several years.
“I studied only up to the 8th standard,” he recalls. “We didn’t have enough to survive, so I decided to learn tailoring. It offered a way to earn a living, and there was good demand for tailors at the time.”
After gaining five to six years of experience, he struck out on his own and established a tailoring business. Over the years, he has stitched pants, shirts, suits, school uniforms, and more—always with a focus on precision and fit. “With years of experience, I can often estimate measurements just by looking at someone,” he says. “I take shoulder measurements first, and from there, I
can determine the rest
accurately.”
Tailoring wasn’t a family trade. “There was no tradition of tailoring in my family,” Thakur says. “I took it up so we could survive. I remember walking into the training centre, expressing my desire to learn. Back then, there was no stipend. We stayed with our trainers, who would provide us food.”
Thakur began working for just Rs. 60 a month. His earnings gradually rose to Rs. 150. With time and skill, he applied for a government subsidy, which allowed him to acquire three sewing machines and start his own workshop. He even employed a few tailors under him, but the rise of readymade garments drastically reduced demand. As the cost of labour increased and work dwindled, his assistants moved on, leaving him to manage alone.
“Tailoring, once a respectable and in-demand profession, started declining,” he says. “People prefer ready-to-wear clothes—there’s no waiting, and they’re easily available. Traditional tailors like me were pushed behind.”
Even today, he keeps his stitching charges low, though the cost of everything—from fabric to electricity—has increased. “Earlier, a shirt cost Rs. 100 to stitch and pants Rs. 140. Today, prices have gone up, but I don’t charge too much. Still, it’s not enough to sustain tailoring.”
He notes that some
renowned tailors charge high rates because of their reputation, but believes the quality of their stitching is no better. “The name matters more than the work now,” he remarks.
Thakur still sources good cloth and offers fully customised garments to his clients. “Readymade garments often don’t fit properly—especially around the waist or shoulders. But when someone brings cloth to me, they know it’ll be stitched to their size, with care.”
Despite the satisfaction that comes from his work, the physical strain has taken a toll. “Tailoring requires long hours of sitting, and now my back hurts,” he says. “I’ve slowed down with age, but as long as my health permits, I’ll continue stitching. I make it a point to do basic exercises to stay fit.”
Thakur opens his small shop in Nachinola at 8:30 am and works until around 8 pm, depending on the workload. His process is simple but methodical: inspect the cloth, take measurements, cut the fabric, and stitch. Customers are given a date for collection. The job is solitary, physically taxing, and demands long hours. “Tailors don’t have fixed working hours or holidays. Sometimes we work more than 10 hours a day. Our income depends entirely on customer flow,” he explains.
He feels traditional tailors like himself have been neglected. “I’ve worked hard and served the community through my craft, but our contributions have gone unrecognised. The government has never really supported people like us.”
While tailoring helped him raise a family, he now finds it hard to make ends meet. “A daily wage labourer earns around Rs. 800 per day—more than a tailor can hope for,” he says.
Thakur believes that unless the government steps in to actively promote the trade—through training centres, financial support, and awareness—young people will continue to turn away from
it.