Exploring My Textile Obsession with Eri Silk of Meghalaya, Guest Post by Anna-Louise Meynell



5 generations of women and girls from a weaving family

Working with textiles, as I have done for the past fifteen years, is often a passport to genuine experiences and interactions with rural artisans. Each time I visit an artisan village on ‘work’ I leave feeling truly blessed to be able to overcome language barriers, by communicating through the language of textiles – its warp and weft – a mutual understanding of the craft of weaving.

Working with the weavers

I was trained as a weaver in Scotland, where I also grew up. I moved to Bangalore in 2005, and my relationship with Indian textiles and traditional artisans grew with each year I spent there. With such a rich textile heritage, it is easy to develop many textile obsessions, but there is one fabric that captured my attention from the moment I came across it. Eri silk. The soft handle, the rustic and slubby texture of the yarn, the matt sheen of this unusual silk, the weight and drape of the cloth and the subtle shades of natural dyes drew me in and found a place in my mind. I was fascinated by the fabric and the place where it was produced - North East India.



Family collection of traditional Khasi pieces

When people talk of textiles of North East India, it is rarely textiles of Meghalaya that will be first brought into the conversation. Bold tribal textiles of Nagaland, Eri and Muga silk with figurative motifs of tribal Assam are well established on the textile map. Some may know of the fine and compact Phanek embroidery and the Wangkhei Phee textiles of Manipur (using the same technique of jamdani from West Bengal and Bangladesh), while textiles from Meghalaya are barely given a mention. What a treat for me then, to be invited into the villages on a textile consultancy with NESFAS, a Shillong-based NGO, to assess the potential and production constraints of the Eri silk weavers, spinners and dyers and work with them to expand their markets. I found that while Meghalaya is a state more or less off the well-trodden textile trails of India it has a rich, sincere and humble textile history.

From Mustoh to the plains of Bangladesh,

As a Scottish weaver I have received a very warm welcome in Meghalaya. Each person I meet reminds me that Meghalaya was affectionately named ‘Scotland of the East’ by the British. I (try to) respond with equal enthusiasm every time as I talk of the similarities with Scotland; the rolling hills, the deep gorges, pine forests and clean fresh rivers. To talk of Meghalaya or equally of Scotland and not to mention the rain is impossible. Rain shapes a land, gives life, fertility and endless shades of the colour green. I have always found an affinity with people who come from rainy places and Meghalaya is no exception - though the rain here is on a completely different scale to my homeland. Officially known as ‘the rainiest place on the planet’ the people have come to accept and understand how to live with the rain, enjoying the dynamic seasons, never leaving the house without an umbrella. One particularly poignant moment for me was in Mustoh, a village in the hills bordering Bangladesh. Looking down on the flooding Bangladeshi plains while being pummelled with torrential rain (over several days) gave me real experience of the forces of nature that impact the lives of so many people.

Eri silk fibre and thread

But back to the weavers, and the indigenous craft culture of Meghalaya. While Eri silk is best known for its production in Assam, it also has a long history with the people of Meghalaya. The main hub of Eri silk weaving in Meghalaya is the Ri Bhoi District, an area on the border of Assam, halfway between Guwahati and Shillong. It is a lush, fertile area where literally anything will take root and flourish. The self-sufficient and naturally sustainable communities of Ri Bhoj are primarily agriculture based, their main produce being innumerable varieties of rice, ginger, turmeric, and a range of delicious seasonal vegetables such as pumpkin, spinach, radish, squash, brinjal, tree tomato, beans and many more. In most villages farming responsibilities come first, with the whole village working on planting and harvesting of rice. Traditionally weaving activities are integrated into village life in the moments when agriculture is less demanding. When women get together in the community it is not rare to see them spinning eri silk with the takli or drop spindle, as they share anecdotes from their family life. Understanding the relationship between Eri silk production and the rhythm of the agricultural seasons is the first step towards understanding the weaving communities in the Ri Bhoi District.



Studying the Khad Ar Lyngdoh designs

Village life in the Ri Bhoi District

Eri silk in Meghalaya has always been cultivated domestically, and still is today.  The silk worms feed on the leaves of a number of plants, most commonly the castor plant, and grow fat and green in the shelter of the rearing house - generally a purpose built bamboo shed in the compound of the home. For those of you reading this blog post who do not know about Eri silk, it is also known as ‘ahimsa silk’, ‘peace silk’ or ‘non-violent silk’ due to the non-violent method of extracting the silk from the cocoon. The cocoon is spun of short fibres, making it impossible to reel the silk from the cocoon. The majority of the world’s silk is reeled, whereby the cocoon is boiled with the worm still inside to loosen the silk filament before reeling. The Eri silk worm however is either taken out by breaking open the cocoon, or the worm is allowed to eat its way out through the cocoon to emerge as a moth and continue the cycle. As Eri silk is hand-spun, it is of no matter that the cocoon has been broken open, thus saving the worm of being boiled alive. The amusing irony that I have observed with this reference for Eri silk (‘ahimsa silk’), is that once out of the cocoon the majority of the worms will be served up for dinner or turned into pickle! Ultimately the worm is not harmed in production of the silk, but being a great source of protein, it is not wasted. You can often see large bamboo trays of these worms being sold in the market, and in fact they can fetch as high a price as the silk cocoon itself.

Eri silk worm

Cocoons are washed, hand-spun and the yarn is dyed with natural dyes. Traditionally the colours used in Meghalaya were stick lac red, turmeric yellow and black from iron ore. Today, with training and support from government and NGO’s, the artisans have greatly increased their repertoire of colours, experimenting with all kinds of leaves, flowers, roots and fruits in and around the forests. Amongst many other plants, they are now experimenting with hibiscus (china rose), ananto fruit, marigold flowers, guava leaves and teak leaves. The colours they create depend on the season, the availability of these wild natural resources and even how old the plant is.

Eri silk worms

Eri silk from Meghalaya is a tangible reflection of the rural communities it is produced in. The quality of the silk depends on the quality of the leaves the worm feeds on, the texture of the thread is dictated by the hand of the spinner, the natural dyes come from the wild produce of the land, and finally the weaver working with a floor loom made of local bamboo brings her own creativity to the design and construction of the cloth.

Preparing the warp for the traditional Khasi check shawl

My current work in Meghalaya is research for my doctoral studies, through the Centre for Sustainable Fashion, University of the Arts London. I have been undertaking an ethnographic documentation of the socio-cultural context of Eri silk production in the Ri Bhoi District, and a technical analysis of the weaving process, recording their skills as new technology is introduced to their current practices. I have spent much time staying with the weavers, observing their rhythm of working, delving into their tribal history, and studying the textiles in their family collections.

Eri silk woven on the floor loom. Turmeric dyed warp and twisted turmeric and lac red weft

I am happy to say that there is a deep and meaningful history of Eri silk textiles in Meghalaya, closely linked to the social history of the communities. I have found sophisticated supplementary weft designs that were woven on simple floor looms. These textiles were once used by traditional dancers as a waistband with long sashes. With the widespread conversion to Christianity many of the traditional celebrations died out, and with it the need for dancers, or indeed their stunning waistbands! These skills are not lost however, and I have found contemporary versions in acrylic or cotton being woven in some villages. On the trail of the supplementary weft technique I have come across interesting indications of tribal assimilation reflected in the textiles. The Assamese and the Karbi textiles are woven with highly figurative motifs of flowers or mythical animals, which are also found in the Ri Bhoi district.  The Khasi Bhoi people have very clear geometric patterns, yet use the same technique of supplementary weft. Khasis elsewhere in Meghalaya do not use this technique, nor do they have the intricate ‘dancers waistband’ in their traditional dress, indicating that the close interaction between the Karbi and the Khasi people of the Ri Bhoi District may have led to exchange of ideas and techniques in textiles. When one delves into the tribal history of the area it becomes clear that this is really a rich land of many layers.

Natural dyes

Mist and rain in Mustoh

In some villages there is a noticeable shift in the approach to weaving. In Umden, the ‘model village’ of eri silk production, weaving has become a thriving commercial business. Weavers work full time and some do not work in the field at all. Many are structuring their workshops to be able to accommodate larger orders. The frame loom, and fly shuttle loom is now widely used, millspun yarn is available which they use in the warp, and you can see far more experimentation in design moving away from the traditional textiles. 

Traditional dress of the Khad Ar Lyngdoh communities,
Khasi Bhoi ethnic group

None of this research is possible without building relationships with the weavers over several cups of tea, followed by endless chewing of kwai  (a large chunk of beetlenut, beetle leaf and lime) to give you that special village high! On occasions going into certain villages, my Khasi assistant and I have been warned not to drink any tea or eat food, if offered, due to the practice of black magic in the village. It is said the excrement of the silkworm, when crushed and sprinkled on food as black magic would bring bad luck, ill health and possibly lead to the death of the person who consumed it. Today they do not use the powder, though black magic powers are still respected or feared. One family we visited in Umkon, (the Ri Bhoi District) did not offer us any tea at all, which is very unusual in Meghalaya. Knowing that they have a reputation of practicing black magic, they do not offer guests tea to avoid an awkward situation. This was followed by a visit to another family in the same village, who told us tales of their grandfather transforming into a tiger, while we drank tea and ate pomelo fruit mixed with salt and black sesame and carambola from their garden. Our hosts’ grandfather was one of the few villagers who did not convert to Christianity in colonial times, a fierce defender of the indigenous Khasi religion. The tiger often appears in Khasi folklore and such stories are common even today. Though I cannot understand Khasi, watching her narrate the stories of her grandfather with such animation I could almost sense the tiger in her. Kong Kumari who had accompanied us to the village insisted we consume a tangy tasting powder as soon as we left, as a precautionary antidote to black magic. We took it on her insistence but as Vianney, my assistant, rightly said: “the food was given with such love, straight from the heart, it can only be received with warmth and gratitude.”



Floor loom weaving

My own interest in textiles has led me into deep discussions on tribal culture, the matrilineal system of the Khasis and role of women in Meghalaya, community systems of authority, the relationship with colonial settlers, the mass conversions to Christianity, the list goes on. What began as a search for indigenous textiles has opened-up doors to explore a rich cultural tapestry, building lasting friendships with people from such different backgrounds.

120 year old dancers waistband from the Khasi Bhoi communities,
Eri silk, exquisite supplementary weft designs

Anna-Louise Meynell is a designer of woven textiles from Scotland who has been living and working in Asia for 12 years. Her consultancy work in handwoven textiles takes her to inspiring communities in India, Laos, Cambodia and Myanmar. With so much travel and textiles in her life she describes herself as a ‘nomadic weaver’!

Anna-Louise has been working in Meghalaya since 2014, and is currently based in Shillong, doing research on the traditional Eri silk textiles of Meghalaya. The North East of India has captured Anna-Louise’s heart, mind and textile imagination and she may well be there some time longer!

www.annaloom.com

https://www.instagram.com/annaloom/

Textile Traditions of Kutch - [Part I]I . Guest Post by Archana Shah, Founder-owner of Bandhej

The art of block-printing on cotton cloth has been practised for over 5,000 years. Excavations at the Indus Valley sites (Kutch has over 26 Harappan sites, Dholavira being one) provide evidence that block-printing on cotton cloth in geometric patterns was practised during that period. 

The Ashmolean Museum, Oxford, has more than a thousand pieces of resist-printed and mordant-dyed fabrics, dyed in madder and indigo from the 11th century. These were found at Al Fustat near Cairo. The designs have a basic geometric pattern similar to the prints from Kutch. 

Kutch is known for the resist printed Ajrakh prints, worn only by men, the Maldhari communities of Banni and Pachcham. The unique feature of Ajrakh is that the fabric piece is block-printed on both sides, with the block impression matching exactly, making it a reversible cloth. This requires exceptional skill. The fabric goes through some 16 stages and it can take three to four weeks to complete the process of creating an Ajrakh. 

Maldhari wearing Ajrakh

This multipurpose cloth, greatly cherished by the pastoral Maldharis of Kutch and Sindh, is wrapped around the head as a safa, worn around the waist as a lungi, or used as a shoulder cloth. When it gets old and worn out, it is commonly used as backing for patchwork quilts. Apart from the Ajrakh, the block-printers of this region printed and dyed fabrics for the women of various communities living in Kutch.

In 1977, I had an opportunity of working with an Ajrakh artisan, Khatri Mohammad Siddik. NID was offered a design project by the Gujarat State Handloom and Handicraft Corporation, which had started a chain of retail stores called Gurjari.

The brief was to design a collection of printed surfaces using the traditional printing techniques from Dhamadka, a village known for its ancient art of Ajrakh printing. I was sent to Dhamadka with Sulekha to learn from this experience. We were to stay for a fortnight with Mohammad Siddik and his family to study their printing technique, work with them and design the collection.    

Sulekha and I were the first outsiders to have ever come to this village to produce a collection of textile products for an urban market. No one from Dhamadka had ever visited an urban centre or interacted much with people from the city. Having two young unescorted city women in their midst was a source of great curiosity. The people of the village were initially apprehensive about our living with a Muslim family. Luckily, Mohammad bhai, a well-respected man, was able to pacify the local people.

At that time, the village had no electricity, so the day started at sunrise and ended at sunset. Mohammad bhai’s workshop was across the road from his home. Early morning, he would go there to start preparing the colours for the day’s production. Through the day we worked at the workshop, gaining practical knowledge about the printing process and after dinner, Mohammad bhai would tell us stories about their history, his work and life in the village. Through these storytelling sessions, we also gathered a wealth of information about the process of block-printing, the preparation of vegetable and natural dyes, and their traditional designs.

Mohemedbhai's-Sons,-Jabbar,-Ismail-and-right-Razak

Living with Mohammad bhai’s family at Dhamadka was a great learning experience and it became the foundation for a lot of my future work, an association that continues even today.

Over the years, Mohammad bhai was invited by many museums to demonstrate his craft and received my honours. His three sons, Abdul Razak, Ismail and Jabbar, continue the tradition. They have mastered the art of natural dyeing and have taken the craft to new heights of excellence.

It is very hearting and a great honour that Mohammad bhai's son Ismail, who is not educated in the conventional sense, was awarded an honorary degree of Doctor of Arts by the De Montfort University, UK, for deep understanding and knowledge of his traditional craft of dyeing and printing.  

Bandhini

Three years later, the same university honoured Amitabh Bachan.

Bandhani, or Bandhej, derived from the Sanskrit word bandh, to tie, is a resist-dyeing process of creating a dot pattern. The tie-dye method is a simple technique, which ensures that the dye is prevented from reaching certain portions of the fabric which is tied, stitched or crumpled. This is one of the most basic of all textile arts and, for centuries, different forms of tie-dyeing have been practised in many parts of the world, including India, Japan, China, Southeast Asia and the various African countries.

The processes involved in tie-dyeing in India are basically the same today as those that have been practised since ancient times, with the exception of chemical dyes and bleaching, introduced in the late 19th century. 

Tying the Fabric - creating the dots

The most widely used element in bandhani fabrics is the simple dot or ring. Complex dot patterns are created by pinching and tying the fabric following a prescribed pattern before dyeing. Bandhanis are considered auspicious and worn by both Muslim and Hindu brides. An intricately patterned saree can take over eight to ten months to tie before dyeing, requiring great patience and skill.

During my trip to Mandavi in 1976, while walking through the old market area, I first discovered the fascinating bandhani technique. It was at a narrow, crowded lane, full of shoppers from various local communities, each wearing a different bandhani odhana, a head covering. As we made our way along the road, we chanced upon an elderly man tying knots on a white fabric as he sat waiting for customers outside his shop. 

  

This seemed rather unusual and we paused to see what he was doing. Khatri Alimamad Hasan Nironawala welcomed us to his small shop and showed us many odhanis and chundadis used by the local communities.   

As we were curious, he explained the process of making bandhani fabric and added that, though the women of all communities wore chundadis in the same combination of red and black, the designs and the colour distribution was unique to each community.

Meghwal

From the odhani worn by a woman, one could identify her community, while the colour and style of her clothing revealed much more, such as her marital status and age. Noticing our keen interest, Alimamad bhai invited us to visit his house where his son, Ismail, demonstrated the process of creating bandhanis. 

We were amazed to see how very basic tools were used to produce the most precious bandhani fabrics. The tying of the knots is done using a pointed thimble and the tip is used to push the fabric, which is pinched and tied. The cotton thread is passed through a fine glass tube, in order to prevent the thread from getting entangled.

In the Khatri community, a young girl contributes to the family income from the time she is nine or ten by tying the bandhani dots. In most cases, the family does not use her earnings, but puts it aside for her wedding expenses. The birth of a girl or boy child is equally celebrated by the Khatri community. It was heartening to hear a Khatri, Haroon bhai, say, ‘Amari chhokri koi divas bhare na pade.’ (Our daughters are never a burden.)

More than 25,000 people in Kutch today earn from bandhani. Seeing the potential for earning a livelihood while working within the comfort of one’s home, women of other communities have also started learning these skills.

With the traders demanding cheaper and cheaper goods, the quality of bandhani production has, unfortunately, deteriorated. There are a few hundred artisans who continue doing very fine work. With an urban patron willing to pay high prices for exceptional quality, there is hope that the craft will survive.

Meghwal-girls,-work-given-by-NGO

I was so inspired by all that I saw in Kutch and particularly the bandhani technique, that in the early 1980s, when I started my company to design and manufacture handcrafted clothing, I named it Bandhej – which celebrates my ties and bonds with this region. I incorporated some of the clothing styles that I had seen in Kutch into my designs, which continue to be popular.

Collaborating with craftspeople has been one of the most fruitful experiences of my life and I have learnt as much about human relationships as about craft processes and techniques. It has become the base for my design vocabulary and has had an immense impact on my visual language and design practice.

Meghwal-woman with godadi

 

 

Over the years I have strove hard to work with artisans towards improving their crafts, building upon their skills and knowledge by suggesting contemporary design directions and providing a market for their produce. In the process, Bandhej has played a modest role in rejuvenating many dying traditional crafts. I personally take it as a challenge to innovate and find new design directions for the same craft, season after season, year after year and we continue to work with artisans we once start interacting with, an association that in many cased has continued for over 30 years. Our efforts have had a rolling effect. Seeing the economic viability, many young artisans are encouraged to continue working with their tradition skills.

Apart from the beauty, craft offers a sustainable livelihood to many, next only to agriculture. A little intervention, support and exposure can revive crafts while offering a meaningful and dignified livelihood to many million. Over the years when great craftsmanship prospered, there was a patronage to support such production. Local communities used the artefacts produced by local artisans. The royalty and wealthy clients commissioned the production of high quality textiles. There was an appreciation and a market to support craftsmanship. With the disappearance of these traditional patrons, for the crafts to flourish today, the artisan needs new consumers.

Bhujodi - weaving

In the past, the artisan was in close contact with the users and understood their needs and requirements. The fashion conscious urban market regularly needs something new, a concept alien to the traditional craftsman. There is an abundance of skill but applications have changed and the artisan is at a loss as what to produce. In this situation, it is heartening to know that a few craftsmen continue their old tradition. Participating in exhibitions at urban centres has given the young artisans an exposure to new urban markets. Many continue to work within the parameter of their traditional skill, developing new products without diluting their inherent technique and identity.

The European Union has a new slogan: The future is handmade. To make this a reality, and for craft skills to survive and blossom, apart from a massive commitment from the  government to support such initiatives, it would require innovative and sustained design and marketing intervention by professionals who understand the needs of this new, ever-changing market while respecting the skills and labour of the artisans. India has a wealth of rich craft skills but it needs a new direction, a new application and a new patron.

Bhujodi - weaving

Archana Shah is a graduate of NID. Inspired by all that she saw in Kutch and particularly the bandhani technique, in the early 1980s, when she started her company to design and manufacture handcrafted clothing, she named it Bandhej – thus celebrating her ties and bonds with the Kutch region. 

She has also written a visually sumptuous book on Kutch titled ‘Shifting Sands’ published by Bandhej. To buy the book at a special discount, contact: archana.bandhej@gmail.com

Textile traditions of Kutch [Part I] - Guest Post by Archana Shah, Founder-owner of Bandhej

Rabaris

The first image of Kutch that I remember seeing was the face of Puphli on the cover of a calendar, shot by Dashrath Patel. As students of design studying at the NID, we had heard many stories about this exotic land, but it was this picture that had captivated my imagination and roused desire to visit Kutch. Encouraged by our teacher, Helena Perhentupa at the NID, in the summer of 1976, I visited Kutch for the first time, with two dear friends, David Abraham and Sue Mace - little knowing that this would be the start of a life-long affair with this mysterious land and amazing people. 

During that trip, we were mesmerised by all we saw and experienced - the landscapes, mud architecture, the vast variety of embroideries and their very fascinating costumes. But what amazed us most was how people had spontaneously opened their hearts and homes to us, to complete strangers from the city, whose ways were totally alien to them. 

Bhungas/mud architecture

The people of Kutch have produced an incredible wealth of knowledge and skills to survive in the midst of sustained scarcities and natural disasters. They evolved a way of living that had great respect and concern for the land and its scarce natural resources, harnessing them with ingenuity and using them wisely.

The word Kutch comes from kachchha, meaning a turtle that has come out of the sea.  It is believed that, in the last 30,000 years, the land of Kutch had twice dipped into the sea and probably stayed under water for a few thousand years before it resurfaced. People continue to believe that Kutch is a temporary landmass and will, one day, return to the sea.

It is difficult to study Kutch in isolation. It needs to be understood in the context of a broader, composite culture of the Thar Desert, including Sindh in Pakistan and the Barmer region in Rajasthan. Despite the political boundaries that divide it, the region's cultural identity prevails because of a shared history, common physical environment and similarities between the various communities in their physical features, their dwellings, clothes, food, embroideries, crafts and music. The Kolis and the Bhils are the oldest inhabitants of Kutch. Over the last 600 years, many migrant communities from Central Asia, Baluchistan, Afghanistan, Sindh and Marwar have settled in Kutch adding cultural richness to this region. 

Bandhini

The Great Rann of Kutch, which includes Sindh, has had a reputation for producing some of the finest embroideries in the world. Embroidery, as a means of ornamentation, has existed for thousands of years. Traditional cultures all over the world have used elaborate embroideries to decorate their own clothing as well as their living spaces    

Kutch has also produced some of the finest resist dyed textiles

Ajrakh

such  as the block printed Ajrakh and tie-dyed bandhanis - and a variety of textile crafts such as woven textiles such as  the mashru-brocade and extra weft blankets, wax printing, rogan painting, camel belt braiding, namda felt rugs and many others.

During that first visit, we had stayed with Gulbeg Miya Hussain, known as the king of Banni. In the few days we stayed with his family, he introduced us to the various communities living in Banni, the traditional grass lands, home to the many pastoral, Maldhari communities.

Maldhari wearing Ajrakh

Unlike the farming communities, women of the pastoral communities such as the Rabaris, Ahirs, Bharwads, Meghwals and the Muslim Maldharis of Banni and Pachcham had a lot of leisure time. After completing their daily chores like collecting water and firewood, cooking, cleaning and feeding the children, the women would sit together and create embroideries for themselves, their men and children and for their homes and cattle.

Meghwal Woman

 

Costumes and embroideries of each community were distinctly different and it was easy to identify communities from the clothes they wore. The women used a lot of embroideries...... often, seeing them in their finery, I would think they were dressed for a special occasion only to discover that this is how they dress in their daily lives. Most of their savings were invested in jewellery, worn by their women at all times. 

The embroidery pattern was sketched by hand or marked with a needle or stick dipped in mud or they counted the warp and weft threads to embroider their designs. The women embroidering the piece would improvise the design as they went along, using a number of small mirrors, to highlight their bright, colourful creations. Their patterns were also reproduced on the walls of their circular bhungas, in mud relief work, in-layed with small mirrors. With no electricity, a single oil lamp would brighten the interior of their homes. 

                                                                                                                                

Cholo - bandahni kapda, zardozi embroidery

The distribution of motifs created different patterns. The person embroidering the piece added her own personal touches and interpretation with the choice of colours, making small variations as she went along. Each piece had a distinct character and no two embroidered pieces ever looked the same.  Depending on the pattern, it could take months to embroider a blouse. The embroidered backless blouse - the kanjari or cholo - is worn only after marriage. Young girls wear a long multi-panel tunic with no embroidery.

For these women, embroidery was not only an expression of creativity but also an occasion for social interaction and emotional bonding, as they sat together and chatted with one another while doing their embroidery. This, in many ways, became an important repository of their traditions. The nuances of the craft were passed on from mother to daughter, and thus an age old tradition continued within families. 

Tying Badhani dots before dyeing

 

Since embroideries were part of the dowry of a girl, she, with the help of her mother would start creating embroideries from the time she was seven or eight years old. By observing their mothers and the other women in the family, the young girls learned about the distribution of colour and creating traditional patterns.

 An Ahir woman once explained to me,  “Our embroidery has 

Ahir Woman

remained unchanged because, through the ages, there were women who guarded the rules, enabling the tradition to be passed on, safe and secure, from one generation to the next.” She continued, “What I like most about tradition is its promise of constancy. There is a sense of order and rhythm that can be depended upon. I like the fact that certain customs that we follow today were practised by my grandmother and great grandmother and will continue to be followed by my granddaughter and great granddaughter. I draw strength and comfort from the timeless nature of tradition.”  

 

The embroidery done by the Ahir women is one of the most striking features of the community. Distinctive embroideries and appliqué embellishments are extensively used on all their clothing especially for the young, and to decorate their homes. As the woman grows older her clothing becomes more subdued with sparser embroidery. The old women wear no embroidery and prefer to use deep tones of red and maroon.

 

Rabaris

The Rabaris are also very fond of embroideries. Their work is very dense and time-consuming, and the motifs and patterns reflect aspects of their culture and environment. They have a repertoire (repetwaar) of motifs that include the camel, peacock, parrot and scorpion, and trees like the baval and amba. Each woman arranges these motifs in a style of her own, creating a unique design that reflects her personality, talent and creativity.Apart from their elaborate embroideries, the young Rabari girls wear a lot of bead decorations.  For their men, they embroider kediyas  and bukanis, and decorate the seams of their woollen blankets. 

Rabari Girl

The Rabari women in Kutch dress in black wool which insulates and helps maintain the body temperature, keeping them cool in summer and warm in winter.

It is believed that, a few hundred years ago, the Rabaris migrated from Jaisalmer in Rajasthan to Kutch. At that time, Jaisalmer had a Muslim ruler. Once, passing along the road, he saw a marriage celebration in full swing. The ruler heard the music and decided to visit the wedding mandap (tent). He was so completely captivated by the young bride that he expressed his desire to marry her. This was not acceptable to the Rabaris, as they never marry outside their own community. But they found it difficult to refuse the king’s request. After much thought, the elders informed the king that he should come the next day to claim the young bride, as that was the auspicious day for the wedding.

The king was pleased but the families of the bride and groom were distressed by the turn of events. It was decided that a few young men along with the couple should escape, while the dancing and music continued. The next day when the king arrived with his wedding procession to take back his beautiful bride, he discovered that the young girl had disappeared. He was so furious that he ordered the entire Rabari clan to be tortured and put to death. Since that day, Rabari women wear black in mourning.

The Rabaris marry on Janmashtami, the birthday of their deity, Lord Krishna. The boy goes to the bride’s house for the marriage to bring back his bride. 

Kediya [Ahir]

The Rabari bridegroom is elaborately dressed in an embroidered kediya and chorani, and is decked with gold, silver and bead-work ornaments.

In 1983, my friend Hiroko and I attended Rabari celebrations at Mindiyara village where 52 weddings took place in a single night. As we stood at the village square, every few minutes a wedding procession passed us on the way to the bride’s house.

Even today though child marriages have been prohibited by law, they do take place in Kutch.  The two fathers carry their children, and walk around the fire to take the wedding vows. At one such wedding, the bridegroom wore a peacock feather with a bulb that flickered on and off as the fathers walked around the fire with the bride and groom fast asleep in their arms.

The embroideries, which were once created for personal use, are today made to earn a living. Far from reflecting their own creative sensibilities, the embroideries feed the demands of the urban traders who provide patterns printed on fabric pieces along with the thread required for the embroidery.

Exquisite embroidered textiles were also commissioned by the royalty, religious institutions and rich patrons. Influenced by Mughal karkhanas, in the early 18th century, Ramsinh Malam, under the patronage of Maharao Lakhpatji, set up many workshops in Bhuj and Mandvi to produce textiles and artefacts.

Highly skilled craftsmen were employed to create intricate embroideries and woven textiles, paintings, lacquer-work, enamel-work, jewellery, silverware and other artefacts. Under the royal patronage, vast quantities of superbly crafted pieces of art, architecture and textiles were created, which provided regular livelihood to a large number of artisans.

Hindu Mochis were employed to create the finest silk embroideries, while the Muslim artisans created grand, embossed gold thread embroideries. Mochis, the cobbler community artisans employed by the royal karkhanas, created intricate chain-stitch embroidery. They used a long awl to embroider on fabric. The embroideries were done mostly on satin silk, with threads of silk floss imported from China, which came in through the port at Mandvi.

A ghaghara piece in yellow satin silk, embroidered in chain stitch by a Mochi artisan was first exhibited at the Great Exhibition, in London, in 1851, and drew international attention to the richness of Kutchi embroidery. This was the first in a series of World Trade Fair exhibitions on culture and industry, the largest trade show the world had ever seen. Several varieties of Indian textile techniques were shown at the fair and Indian artisans were brought to Europe to demonstrate their skills.

From Kutch, embroidery, leather-work, silverware and jewellery were showcased at this exhibition. Owen Jones, one of the collectors for the exhibition, commented: ‘The Indian and Tunisian articles were the most perfect in design compared to any other that appeared in the exhibition. The Indian work, in particular, showed all the principles, all the unity, all the truth, for which we had looked elsewhere in vain.’  In this he echoed a broader admiration for Indian arts, crafts and textiles.

 
Personally, collaborating with craftspeople has been one of the most fruitful experiences of my life and I have learned as much about human relationships as about craft processes and techniques. It has become the base for my design vocabulary and has had an immense impact on my visual language and design practice.

 

Archana Shah is a graduate of NID. Inspired by all that she saw in Kutch and particularly the bandhani technique,  in the early 1980s, when she started her company to design and manufacture handcrafted clothing, she named it BANDHEJ – thus celebrating her ties and bonds with the Kutch region.

 

She has also written a visually sumptuous book on Kutch entitled ‘Shifting Sands’ published by Bandhej.

To buy the book at a special discount

contact: archana.bandhej@gmail.com