The humble Kolhapuri chappal is having its ‘Prada’ moment, and I am, to put it mildly, ecstatic.
From the hands of some 10,000, more or less, artisans, hunched over buffalo / cow / goat leather, cutting, polishing, pasting, stitching, braiding hands — of man, woman and child, the name, at least, has shot up the luxury stakes from nada to Prada!
My college days in the late 80s to early 90s—the Kolhapuri was my go-to, along with the just-discovered khadi kurtas with pockets, and leather (sometimes faux too) or cloth bags — if I could get some ‘stylish’ piece or the “pure” leather bags from Kolkata’s New New Market. Just a handful remain scattered now, just like the kurta, the canvas, jute, or leather bag.
Why are we so poor in protecting our own?
How many remember the furore over the Basmati rice or the healing powers of turmeric / haldi when US-based enterprises tried to appropriate them with patents? Or, has ever there been a murmur with the Madras checks, chintz and other art forms from India, and other countries too, that have served as “inspiration” or simply taken over during the unending colonial regimes.
Why are we so tightfisted in acknowledging our own?
Once worn by kings, freedom fighters, and farmers alike, the Kolhapuri chappal was never just footwear—it was a statement. Rugged yet refined, handcrafted with skill passed down generations, and built to last through dust, rain, and time. Today, though, this heritage product is on its last leg. And the reasons are as layered as the leather it’s stitched from.
The sole, I remember distinctly, felt slippery at the various railway stations as I hopped from one train to the other—my daily suburban commute for a couple of years. I remember getting them ‘re-soled’ not just to check the polished bottom but also to ensure they lasted longer.
Stitch by Stitch, the Craft Is Unravelling
Did I know then that it was a single family that produced dozens of pairs a week? Not really! Today production has slowed to a trickle. Artisans earn just ₹100–150 per chappal, even as the same pair sells in metros or abroad for 10x the amount. The disconnect between creator and consumer has never been wider.
What was once a robust cottage industry in the Maharashtrian towns of Kolhapur, Ichalkaranji, and Sangli is now a dwindling network of struggling artisans. Skilled chappal-makers, many from the Chamar community, are moving on, or have already moved on—disillusioned, unpaid, and forgotten.
In an age obsessed with speed and scalability, the Kolhapuri chappal—a craft of patience, precision, and pride—is quietly being kicked to the curb. Once a robust symbol of identity in Maharashtra and beyond, the Kolhapuri’s handmade elegance is today under siege—from fake clones, policy apathy, market indifference—and of course the avariciousness of the big and powerful who want to claim it as their own!
The danger isn't just that we're losing a product. We're watching the unravelling of a self-sustaining ecosystem—of skilled artisans, of natural materials, of inherited knowledge. In Kolhapur, Athani, Sangli and Solapur, clusters that once echoed with the hum of hammer and thread now sit eerily silent. The children of master craftsmen now swipe screens, not leather.
The reasons are many—and damning.
- Copycats & Cost Cuts: Enter the killer: cheap lookalikes. Machine-made knock-offs flood the markets, especially in metros and tourist hotspots, masquerading as authentic Kolhapuris. They're mass-produced in cities like Agra or even imported from Bangladesh and China. For the average buyer, the difference is hard to spot—but for artisans, it's economic sabotage. These fakes use synthetic leather, glue instead of thread, and finish in hours what takes a true craftsman days. And they sell for half the price, leaving traditional makers completely edged out of their own market.
- Raw Material Crisis: The soul of a Kolhapuri lies in its leather—vegetable-tanned, sun-dried, and hand-treated. But sourcing this leather has become a nightmare. With growing restrictions on cattle slaughter and tannery regulations, artisans struggle to find consistent, quality hides. And even when available, the price is often unaffordable for small producers. Add to this the loss of local tanneries, many of which have shut down due to environmental laws or lack of funds, and the entire supply chain is breaking down.
- Design Fatigue & Market Disconnect: Fashion moves fast. The Kolhapuri hasn’t. Today’s consumer wants comfort, colour, and variety. Kolhapuris are beautiful, yes—but they’re not always ergonomic. Many models lack cushioning, are difficult to pair with modern wear, and have remained design-static for decades. Attempts at innovation exist, but without funding, training, or branding muscle, artisans can’t keep up with market trends.
Meanwhile, middlemen dominate the trade, taking home the lion’s share while artisans remain in the shadows.
