Every morning in Tamil Nadu’s Kakapalayam, near Salem, 84-year-old Chinnusami sits down at his loom. The wooden frame is old, and so is his body. His hands tremble now, and the threads do not always move the way they once did.

Family members often ask him to rest. They remind him that he has worked enough, and that at his age, he should slow down. But he refuses. For over 60 years, weaving has shaped his days, and even now, he cannot imagine walking away from it.

“As long as our limbs are functional and our mind is working, we should be at work,” he says. “We should rest, yes. But we should not give up on what we love. Age is just a number.”

For decades, this quiet determination remained unseen outside his village. 

Today, however, sarees woven in his modest home are reaching customers across India and abroad, thanks to his 23-year-old grandson, Praveen, a final-year BSc Chemistry student, who decided that his grandfather’s skill deserved far more recognition than it had ever received.

A father’s losses, and the craft that kept him going 

Before weaving became central to his life, Chinnusami was an agriculturalist. He owned land and believed education would secure a better future for his children.

So he sold everything he had to ensure his three sons could study. But life unfolded differently than he had imagined. Two of his sons went missing when they were still young — one in his early twenties and the other a teenager. The family searched for years, filed police complaints, and waited. They never returned.

Through all of this, weaving became his constant. On days filled with worry, waiting, and unanswered questions, he would return to the loom. The work did not take away the pain, but it gave him something to hold on to. 

Nearly 50% of Thatha’s Clothing’s orders now come from international customers, including buyers in Canada, Australia, and Sri Lanka.

Praveen grew up hearing these stories. Although he did not spend much of his childhood with his grandfather, the stories stayed with him — the sacrifices he made, the hardships he endured, and the quiet dignity with which he carried himself.

Over time, Praveen began to feel that a man who had spent his entire life giving to others should not fade into obscurity.

‘I’m not educated, but I have this skill’

Chinnusami learned weaving as a young boy from a local artisan, someone whose name he no longer remembers. What began as a way to survive gradually became his identity.

“I am not educated,” he says simply. “But I have this skill.”

Like many weavers across Salem, however, skill did not always translate into fair earnings. Even after spending days on one saree, artisans were often paid only a fraction of what the products eventually sold for in stores.

Kavesh, another weaver from Kakapalayam, says the problem has existed for years. “I used to weave pure silk Kanchipuram sarees in my workshop. Everything was made by hand, and I was one of the few in Salem doing it with good quality. But bigger brands would buy my sarees for just Rs 1,500.”

He adds, “Each saree would take me a week. I could only make three or four in that time. Later, I realised those same sarees were being sold for Rs 15,000. That’s when I stopped. I shifted to making simple cotton sarees instead.”

Weaver Muthu says the platform has finally let him quote his own price, something middlemen never allowed before.

When Praveen began understanding these realities, he realised his grandfather’s story was part of a much larger problem affecting weavers across the region.

The Instagram page that opened a new door 

In January 2026, Praveen decided to act.

He cleared out a room in his grandfather’s house, painted it, and created a small workspace. With no large investment and only a phone in hand, he started ‘Thatha’s Clothing’ on Instagram.

Initially, the idea was simple: help his grandfather sell sarees directly to customers. But almost immediately, the page began receiving attention. People were drawn to the products and deeply moved by the relationship between the grandfather and grandson. 

As orders started trickling in, Praveen noticed something that kept bothering him. His grandfather wasn’t the only one facing this problem. Across Salem and nearby villages, there were weavers creating beautiful sarees every day, but most of them had no direct way to reach customers. Their work was good, sometimes exceptional, but they were still stuck depending on middlemen and getting paid far less than what their sarees were actually worth. 

Today, around 30 weavers from Salem and surrounding areas are part of the platform. Some are handloom weavers, while others use small weaving machines, but all of them set the prices of their sarees themselves.

Praveen, who inherited a network of around 30 weavers through his grandfather’s legacy in the region, coordinates orders in two ways.

For customised sarees — which take anywhere between four to ten days to make — orders are placed with weavers once customers confirm with a partial advance payment.

Chinnusami and Praveen pack saree orders together by hand in the evenings, a routine that has become a cherished part of their bond.

“This is to protect the interests of the weavers. In case customers refuse to pay after shipping, we pay the weaver the entire advance amount.”

For regular stock, he and Thatha purchase four to five sarees from ten different weavers each month, based on the collections they present. These ten weavers rotate monthly so that each weaver’s work gets featured on the website.

“We pick the best sarees chosen by the weavers, as they know what sells better,” says Praveen. Once selected, weavers quote their prices. “If their prices don’t match the range we offer customers, we pick other sarees within that range so that we can all meet at a middle ground,” he adds.

Praveen then manually lists each saree on the website, after which the weaver is notified and can track its sale until it shows “sold out.” Weavers are paid monthly, once their entire stock clears. Most sarees are priced between Rs 6,000 and Rs 8,000, with Praveen keeping a 2-5% margin to sustain operations.

‘For the 1st time, we get to decide our own prices’

For many weavers associated with Thatha’s Clothing, the biggest change has been dignity.

Earlier, they say, prices were fixed by middlemen and large brands, leaving artisans with little say despite spending days weaving each saree. Now, many feel they finally have some control over the value of their work.

“Earlier, whatever the middleman said became the final price. We had no choice but to accept it. Now, for the first time, I am able to quote my own price based on the work I put in,” says Muthu, a 45-year-old weaver from Salem.

For weavers like Muthu, being able to set a fair price matters because of the time and physical effort that goes into every saree. A single saree can take up to four days to complete. During that time, the artisan cannot take up other work. Long hours seated at the loom strain the back, shoulders, and wrists, while repetitive movements gradually wear down the body. 

“People only see the finished saree. They do not see the pain behind it. We sit for hours in one position, and by the end of the day, our backs, shoulders, and hands are completely strained,” says Muthu.

Some weavers say the platform has also helped them continue practising a craft they were close to giving up.

Praveen hopes to expand the network to 100 weavers and eventually build his grandfather a proper home.

Kavesh, another weaver, says the difference lies in transparency. “Earlier, we had no idea where our sarees were going or how much they were finally being sold for. Now customers know who made the saree, and everything is on the website so it becomes a transparent process as well.”

For many families, this extra income has made a real difference. It helps cover everyday expenses, brings in some financial stability, and allows them to keep doing the weaving work that has been passed down through generations. 

Reels, orders, and an 84-year-old’s curiosity 

For Chinnusami, the digital world was entirely unfamiliar, a universe he had never imagined being part of. 

He had never heard of Instagram and could not understand how people across countries were suddenly looking at sarees woven back in his village.

“He would ask me very innocent questions,” Praveen recalls with a laugh. “Like, who is sending this to everyone? Is there someone sitting somewhere and sharing our sarees?”

Slowly, Praveen introduced him to social media, videos, and online orders. What began as confusion eventually turned into curiosity.

Today, Chinnusami appears in reels, sometimes camera-shy, sometimes smiling quietly into the lens. He has even begun recording voiceovers for some videos, thanking customers and speaking about weaving in his own words.

In the evenings, the two sit together packing orders by hand. They carefully fold each saree, stop for tea or coffee, and spend time talking and joking while they work.

When their first order came in, they could hardly believe it. “We kept checking again and again,” Praveen says. “It felt unreal.”

A growing impact rooted in dignity, care, and hope

In just five months, nearly 50 percent of Thatha’s Clothing’s orders have begun coming from international customers, including those in Canada, Australia, North America, Sri Lanka, and Malaysia.

Customers say they are drawn not just to the sarees, but also to the story behind them.

One customer, Bindu M from Chennai, says, “Finally, weavers are getting value for their work. It feels good to buy from a place where we know the money is going into the right hands.”

Another customer, Sweety Praveen from Madurai, says, “The craftsmanship is beautiful, and you can tell each saree is handmade. But it was the bond between the grandson and grandfather that made me purchase.”

For Anna from Tirunelveli, the story sparked reflection about her own family. “Watching their videos made me think about my grandparents,” she says. “It reminded me not to take that relationship for granted.”

For Praveen, this is only the beginning. He plans to expand the network to 100 weavers and eventually work on the initiative full-time after graduation. He also hopes to build a proper house for his grandfather, whose belongings still fit into a single trunk.

Back in Kakapalayam, the loom still moves every morning. The hands may tremble now, but the rhythm remains.

And through one grandson’s determination, an ageing weaver who spent a lifetime watching others profit from his labour is finally being seen. His story is no longer just about survival, but about reclaiming value, dignity, and a future for the weavers who are still fighting not to be forgotten.