A conflict that’s shattering India’s glass city


A bangle bazaar in Firozabad, which is famous for producing colourful glass bangles, a daily ornament many Indian women wear. — Atul Loke/The New York Times

FAR from the conflict in Iran, disruptions to oil and gas flows are rippling through Uttar Pradesh, an Indian state more populous than Brazil.

Manufacturing clusters with specialised supply chains dot its crowded countryside. Each district specialises in a trade: brass in Moradabad, leather in Kanpur, carpets in Bhadohi and glass in Firozabad.

Now in Firozabad, glass factories that rely on imported natural gas, mostly from the Persian Gulf, are exposed to shortages and high prices. At risk are the livelihoods of up to one million people who rely on glassmaking for employment.

The factories in Firozabad, just 34km from the Taj Mahal, have been barred from using coal-fired furnaces since 1996 to protect the monument’s white marble facade.

In the city, hundreds of small- and mid-sized firms produce everything from bottles and beads to chandeliers and headlights, generating more than US$1bil in a good year, including US$200mil in exports.

The stakes go beyond the city. India’s economy is now among the world’s largest, just behind Germany and Japan, yet unemployment remains stubbornly high.

Labour-intensive industries like glassmaking are critical to putting more people to work and turning the country’s vast workforce into a competitive advantage.

The challenge is growing, with roughly nine million young people entering the labour market each year.

India is the world’s third-largest importer of oil and gas, and as its economy grows, so does its import bill.

Early in the war in Ukraine, refiners turned to discounted Russian crude. But after pressure from the Trump administration to cease buying from Russia, refi­ners reverted to traditional suppliers:

Iraq, Saudi Arabia and other countries that depend on shipping through the

Strait of Hormuz.

Here, the impact is not felt at the gas pump. The Indian government keeps

diesel and gasoline prices stable, and few locals own cars.

However, shortages and soaring natural gas prices threaten factory work that has endured for centuries.

Firozabad’s glassware tradition dates to the 16th century, when Emperor Akbar had Mughal trinkets recycled in a local furnace.

Today, 1,000 trucks filled with broken glass arrive daily from across India and beyond. Since March, mountains of shards have piled up untouched, because melting them down has become too expensive.

Even before the energy crisis, the industry was struggling.

Local glassmakers were losing ground to Chinese competitors with more advan­ced factories. Most Chinese glassmakers use electric furnaces, an option largely out of reach for most businesses in Firozabad.

In addition, India’s grid is not stable enough to deliver reliable and affordable electricity to those operations. As oil prices rise, China’s cost advantage only widens.

It has been three decades since Firo­za­bad experienced a major energy crunch – when measures to protect the Taj Mahal forced a switch to gas. At that time, only a third of the glass factories survived the transition.

In Firozabad’s traditional bazaars, the scene still looks abundant.

Cycle-rickshaws loaded with blank, undyed glass nudge past towers of brightly coloured bangles as wholesalers fill the shops.

These bangles, sold for as little as two cents a piece, may be among the world’s cheapest objects of joy.

Even before the crisis, margins were thin. Now, prices have climbed about 30%.

Mukesh Bansal, a local glassmaker and vice-president of the All India Glass Manu­facturers’ Federation, has kept his workers on the payroll.

But with gas in short supply, he has been forced to nearly extinguish one of his two furnaces. By April, his factory would have normally started making Christmas ornaments for export to the United States. This year, it didn’t.

The furnaces in Firozabad, which produce about 70% of India’s glass, must burn continuously at around 1,500°C. This requires thousands of kilogrammes of gas daily.

“We’re not part of the conflict, but we’re bearing the brunt of it,” he said.

The strain is spreading to buyers.

Suraj Mehta, chief strategy officer at Hindusthan National Glass & Industries, said glass bottles had become “harder and more expensive to procure” across India in the past two months.

Glassmakers are absorbing about half the increase, passing the rest on to brewers, soft drink makers, auto repair shops and medical suppliers.

At an open-air labour market in Firoza­bad, Saddam Hussein, a 32-year-old glass cutter, waited for work. He used to support his wife and three children on wages of about US$6 a day. In the past month, he has found only four or five days of work.

“The conflict is over there, but we’re getting killed here,” he said. “When I don’t get work, my family goes hungry.”

As conditions for workers worsen, there is growing discontent.

A few months ago, thousands of electro­nics workers took to the streets in parts of Uttar Pradesh adjoining New Delhi to protest wages and working conditions.

Factory gates were overrun. Police officers fired tear gas and arrested hundreds.

Many complained that wages had been falling behind living costs even before the energy crisis drove up the price of essentials like cooking gas.

Other industries are also feeling the squeeze on energy and employment.

In Khurja, about 80km southeast of Delhi, artisans have been making cera­mics since mediaeval times.

“Fuel is the main part of our product,” said Shalabh Singhania of RK Potteries, estimating that it accounts for 30-35% of costs.

His kilns run at lower temperatures than glass furnaces, which allowed him to shut them down for the month of March without ruining them.

The business is labour-intensive.

“One mug crosses the hands of 30 labourers,” he said.

Singhania hesitates to furlough workers, because most have travelled long distan­ces for work and will rarely return if they leave.

Industries like his depend on tightly-

linked networks of cooperation among owners, workers and buyers.

“If one link breaks in this chain, the whole chain breaks,” he said. “The chain is already breaking.” — ©2026 The New York Times Company

This article originally appeared in The New York Times.


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