The day begins before sunrise in the mist-covered hills of Kandy. As the rest of the world is still waking up, thousands of women are already moving through the emerald plantations of Giragama, a village located about 30 minutes from Sri Lanka’s Kandy city. With woven baskets tied across their foreheads, they carefully handpick leaves from one of the country’s oldest tea gardens.
Their nimble fingers know exactly what to look for. With a quick scan of the bush, a careful touch, and a practiced pluck, the perfect “two leaves and a bud” is picked and tucked away in the basket. “Tea is not just something we pick. We know the leaf. We know when it is ready, when it needs more time, when something is not right,” said 32-year-old Kannagi, one of the estate workers, describing the instinct built over years of working among the bushes.
It is not just the plucking that runs on women’s hands. Walk into most tea factories across Sri Lanka, and women power almost every stage of the process. New Giragama Tea Factory is a clear example: the moment one steps inside, women dressed in green T-shirts and caps are seen working side by side along the conveyor belts, handling everything from weighing fresh leaves and operating machinery to quality checks, factory operations, and even guiding visitors through the tea-making process.
What stands out at this tea factory is that age is no barrier. A mix of generations works side by side — young women in their twenties quickly sorting through fresh green shoots with sharp eyes and steady hands, alongside older workers in their sixties bringing decades of accumulated experience to the same conveyor belts.
From dawn in the tea gardens to dusk in the factory, the women of Giragama power one of Sri Lanka’s biggest exports, even as many continue to work long hours to make ends meet in an industry their labour has quietly sustained for generations.