In December 1989, we rescued a group of children from a carpet factory in Bhadohi, Uttar Pradesh. Among the dozen children we brought back, a boy named Idrees stood out. He had a head injury and sat quietly while others celebrated with their parents. His friends told us a heartbreaking story. The factory owners would strike him with a knife whenever he said he missed his parents. This cruelty left him unable to speak or laugh.
A Silent Boy and a Broken Family
I approached Idrees gently. I asked him if he wanted to go home like the other children. He did not respond at first. Then he asked why his father had not come to get him. I later learned his father had died after Idrees was trafficked. The boy was only five years old when taken. He spent seven long years trapped in Bhadohi.
I understood his pain. I promised to take him to his mother. We traveled overnight through difficult terrain. Thick forests and a turbulent river marked our journey. We arrived at his village in the morning. But Idrees did not recognize the place. It was Eid, and the villagers were in a festive mood. We asked around for his mother, Taslima.
A Mother's Blindness and a Son's Return
Someone led us to Taslima's hut. I called out loudly, "Look who's here." She did not respond or recognize her son. A villager explained her tragedy. "Sir, she cannot see. Her son was kidnapped many years ago. She lost her sight after years of crying from grief and despair."
My voice shook as I spoke again. "Taslima aapa, your son Idrees is here!" Hearing his name, she stood up with a jolt. Though blind, she reached out with trembling arms. Her body remembered what her eyes could not see. We watched in awe as she hugged her son. Idrees did not recognize her at first. But the moment they embraced, emotion surged between them. Years of pain melted away. The entire village gathered to celebrate his homecoming.
The Cycle of Slavery Continues
Overwhelmed, I returned to Mirzapur around 11 p.m. I waited for my midnight train to Delhi. Then I saw two men forcefully dragging children from a train compartment. I realized this was a trafficking attempt. I confronted the men immediately. They taunted me and involved a complicit police officer. The officer detained me in a filthy, cold lock-up at the railway station.
Fury filled me. I had rescued a dozen children the day before. Yet the very next night, fifty or sixty more were forced into slavery. For every Idrees we saved, countless others faced condemnation. The cycle seemed endless.
A Plan for Change
Another officer released me in the morning. I boarded the train to Delhi with a plan. I knew legal action alone was inadequate. It served as deterrence but did not solve the root cause. Since 90 percent of India's carpets went to Europe and North America, I believed consumers held the key. If they demanded ethical products, they could transform the entire industry. Millions of children could be saved.
My colleagues initially dismissed the idea as overly idealistic. Their scepticism forced a critical question. Would consumers care if a child slave made their cheap, quality product? But consumers are also parents. They were once children themselves. Why not appeal to their compassion? This belief became my slogan. "They are your children. They are our children."
Breaking Ground on German Television
On 10 May 1990, Bread for the World invited me for a live discussion on ARD, a leading German TV channel. We explained how consumers could make a difference. This was a humanitarian message, not a political one. It resonated strongly with the audience.
After my presentation, an older woman called the radio. Her voice filled with emotion. "I saved money and bought a beautiful carpet. Now I realize child slaves probably made it. I will throw it out. But will I ever find a carpet sure to be child-labour-free?"
Her heartfelt question struck me deeply. I promised her she would soon buy such a carpet. I gave an example of stickers on German bananas and apples. They indicated organic, pesticide-free produce. I announced, "You will have such a system for carpets."
The Birth of Rugmark
This led to creating the first comprehensive system to monitor, regulate, inspect, and certify carpets as child-labour-free. We named it Rugmark. It is now known as Good Weave. This initiative was groundbreaking. It marked the first consumer education campaign focused on children's rights and freedom.
Several carpet manufacturers joined. An independent group including exporters, manufacturers, NGOs, and experts monitored and certified production. Consumers trusted this system because it had no commercial motives.
Facing Criticism and Achieving Impact
Some politicians called me a Pakistani agent. Others claimed I worked for the US CIA. I remained steadfast despite these accusations. Over time, we persuaded numerous carpet manufacturers in India, Pakistan, and Nepal to come together.
This initiative of Transformative Compassion reduced child workers in South Asia's carpet industry dramatically. From around 1 million in the mid-1990s, numbers fell to about 150,000 over twenty years. The campaign also boosted consumer awareness broadly.
Beyond Carpets: A Global Shift
Demand for ethically produced goods expanded beyond carpets. It now includes chocolates, toys, sports goods, clothes, shoes, cosmetics, farm products, and minerals. Carpet export figures surged worldwide, benefiting the industry immensely.
Producers felt relief from bribing factory inspectors. The most significant impact came when adult weavers replaced 800,000 to 900,000 child labourers. Liberated children gained opportunities to attend school. This shift occurred when concepts like corporate social responsibility, sustainability, and supply chain due diligence were unfamiliar to most.
The journey from Bhadohi's factories to global change shows compassion's power. One rescue sparked a movement that freed thousands and reshaped consumer consciousness forever.
