<p>The textile tradition of our country, dating back to the Indus Valley Civilisation, is known for its rich and assorted variety. Brinda Suri gets into the warp and weft of the textile world to offer us a glimpse of the same<br /><br /></p>.<p>There’s a delightful folktale from Arunachal’s Mishmi tribe which speaks about the origin of weaving. It’s titled Hambrumai and tells the story of a beautiful fish called Hambru. One day, Hambru gets caught in the fish trap placed by Kowonsa, a fisherman. Hambru’s radiance takes his breath away, and Kowonsa decides to hide her in a gourd. The next day, when he returns from fishing, he finds his hut overflowing with dazzling cloth embellished with a fish-scale pattern. This episode repeats itself day after day.<br /><br />Curiosity gets the better of Kowonsa and he decides to skip work and stay at home. He stealthily hides in a corner, and to his astonishment, he watches as Hambru emerges from the gourd and transforms into a charming girl with flowing tresses. She carries a loom, and on it, weaves the stunning pieces of cloth that Kowonsa had seen everyday. <br /><br />Hambru was under an evil magician’s spell which could only be broken if another person saw her as a girl. Unaware of the curse, Kowonsa comes out of hiding and holds Hambru’s hand. She is released from the spell and marries Kowonsa. She begins teaching the women of the village how to weave. One day, Kowonsa unwittingly keeps Hambru’s loom out in the courtyard, and a gust of wind blows it away, breaking it. The legend follows that wherever broken pieces of the loom had landed, the people of the region learnt how to weave. The Mishmi also believe the designs Hambru wove turned into butterflies, and her patterns can still be seen on their wings.<br /><br />Perhaps Hambru did teach the world how to weave, for the art of making cloth is as old as civilisation itself. Undoubtedly, the Indian subcontinent has a rich textile legacy. Mehrgarh, the earliest known village of the Indus Valley Civilisation, dating back to 6000 BC, shows evidence of cotton seeds as well as fibre. At Mohenjo-daro, the woven cotton cloth discovered has been dated to 4000 BC. Archaeologists agree that most of the trade which made the city grow was based on its cotton export.<br /><br />Innumerable varieties<br /><br />Handloom has always enjoyed a pride of place in the country. Every region in India boasts of a particular style of weaving on a variety of handmade looms (fly-shuttle, pit, backstrap, loin loom etc) and a subsequent dressing of textile. Incidentally, handloom has become a much misused word. Today almost everything gets tagged as a ‘handloom’ product so as to increase its craft-quotient. In reality, only fabric that is handwoven has the right to be labelled a ‘handloom’ product. Khadi, on the other hand, is a fabric that is hand-spun as well as handwoven. As an aside, just in case you thought ‘handloom’ solely meant the block-printed cotton kurta you purchased from the neighbourhood ethnic-apparel shop, you are yet to discover the weft and warp of the textile world!<br /><br />It is important to first touch upon the country’s handwoven illustrations. While Kashmir weaves the pashmina, the tribes of the north-east transform yarn into an extraordinary range of woven textiles. The villages of Orissa and Andhra have ikkat to show-off, while Gujarat has patola, mashru and tanchoi. Tamil Nadu is famous for the Madras checks, Madhya Pradesh for Chanderi, and Uttar Pradesh for brocade. In almost every state, a tremendous range of sarees and shawls (both cotton and wool) are woven.<br /><br />Indeed, the act of weaving is considered almost spiritual in India. Textile lexicon is metaphorically powerful, often being used to express a philosophical thought. For instance, sutra originating from the word sut (thread), means stringing together a guru’s teaching. Tantra is from tant (warp), and denotes that which can go beyond limits. Yantra (loom) is the creation of a form for meditation. It looks easy and effortless. It’s not. And here comes into play the skill of the Indian weaver who more often than not is unlettered, but weaves yarn into the most brilliant fabric.<br /><br />Weaving apart, there are numerous surface treatments given to textile. Rajasthan does tie-and-dye and block-printing, Kashmir has aari and sozni embroidery, Bengal is home to kantha and batik, Bihar’s quilting technique is called sujani, Punjab has phulkari stitch-art, the Kutch region of Gujarat offers incredible styles ranging from Rabari embroidery to ajrak (a form of resist printing), Madhya Pradesh’s famous export is bagh block-printing, Karnataka is known for kasuti and the lambani embroidery, while Uttar Pradesh has chikankari and zardozi. The styles mentioned here form a mere framework of the variety found in the country. It’s no wonder then that India is considered a temple of textiles.<br />Though agriculture is the backbone of our village economy, the handloom has ably assisted farm income. The hum of the loom is heard across the country; along with providing cloth for domestic use, these looms produce cloth for the market as well. At present, about 12 crore from among a population of 121 crore are engaged in the textile sector, making it the largest employer after agriculture in rural India. This cottage industry, however, has continuously faced hard times. Out-of-step government policies and the twin advantages of the powerloom — rapid production, lower cost — has dealt a double blow. Despite the sway towards ethnic apparel in both prêt and haute couture segments, the handloom industry is gasping for breath.<br /><br />Malkha magic<br /><br />In a scenario such as this, it is small handloom initiatives that are leaving a mark. Enterprising and dedicated individuals are leading the way, and it’s ventures like theirs that need constant encouragement to grow into bigger movements.<br /><br />Malkha is one such commendable effort. The brain behind the project is Uzramma, who founded the Decentralised Cotton Yarn Trust in 2005 and the Malkha Marketing Trust in 2008 with an aim to promote, “village-based cotton textile production from field to fabric, linking cotton farming to handloom weaving and reviving village spinning.”<br /><br />History tells us of India’s flourishing cotton industry. It’s a known fact that its reasons for decay lay in the East India Company’s centralisation policy for cotton growers and weavers. Apart from forcing mechanisation on them, they demanded farmers grow a particular type of cotton for yarn which was suitable for their spinning jennies. This cotton was alien to Indian growing conditions and wiped out thriving indigenous varieties. The cotton processing techniques introduced by the Company killed Indian cotton’s inherent lustre and suppleness. Unfortunately, years after Independence, this policy of cotton centralisation and the growing of non-indigenous variety of cotton is still being followed. It has contributed much towards destroying rural India’s original cotton culture.</p>
<p>The textile tradition of our country, dating back to the Indus Valley Civilisation, is known for its rich and assorted variety. Brinda Suri gets into the warp and weft of the textile world to offer us a glimpse of the same<br /><br /></p>.<p>There’s a delightful folktale from Arunachal’s Mishmi tribe which speaks about the origin of weaving. It’s titled Hambrumai and tells the story of a beautiful fish called Hambru. One day, Hambru gets caught in the fish trap placed by Kowonsa, a fisherman. Hambru’s radiance takes his breath away, and Kowonsa decides to hide her in a gourd. The next day, when he returns from fishing, he finds his hut overflowing with dazzling cloth embellished with a fish-scale pattern. This episode repeats itself day after day.<br /><br />Curiosity gets the better of Kowonsa and he decides to skip work and stay at home. He stealthily hides in a corner, and to his astonishment, he watches as Hambru emerges from the gourd and transforms into a charming girl with flowing tresses. She carries a loom, and on it, weaves the stunning pieces of cloth that Kowonsa had seen everyday. <br /><br />Hambru was under an evil magician’s spell which could only be broken if another person saw her as a girl. Unaware of the curse, Kowonsa comes out of hiding and holds Hambru’s hand. She is released from the spell and marries Kowonsa. She begins teaching the women of the village how to weave. One day, Kowonsa unwittingly keeps Hambru’s loom out in the courtyard, and a gust of wind blows it away, breaking it. The legend follows that wherever broken pieces of the loom had landed, the people of the region learnt how to weave. The Mishmi also believe the designs Hambru wove turned into butterflies, and her patterns can still be seen on their wings.<br /><br />Perhaps Hambru did teach the world how to weave, for the art of making cloth is as old as civilisation itself. Undoubtedly, the Indian subcontinent has a rich textile legacy. Mehrgarh, the earliest known village of the Indus Valley Civilisation, dating back to 6000 BC, shows evidence of cotton seeds as well as fibre. At Mohenjo-daro, the woven cotton cloth discovered has been dated to 4000 BC. Archaeologists agree that most of the trade which made the city grow was based on its cotton export.<br /><br />Innumerable varieties<br /><br />Handloom has always enjoyed a pride of place in the country. Every region in India boasts of a particular style of weaving on a variety of handmade looms (fly-shuttle, pit, backstrap, loin loom etc) and a subsequent dressing of textile. Incidentally, handloom has become a much misused word. Today almost everything gets tagged as a ‘handloom’ product so as to increase its craft-quotient. In reality, only fabric that is handwoven has the right to be labelled a ‘handloom’ product. Khadi, on the other hand, is a fabric that is hand-spun as well as handwoven. As an aside, just in case you thought ‘handloom’ solely meant the block-printed cotton kurta you purchased from the neighbourhood ethnic-apparel shop, you are yet to discover the weft and warp of the textile world!<br /><br />It is important to first touch upon the country’s handwoven illustrations. While Kashmir weaves the pashmina, the tribes of the north-east transform yarn into an extraordinary range of woven textiles. The villages of Orissa and Andhra have ikkat to show-off, while Gujarat has patola, mashru and tanchoi. Tamil Nadu is famous for the Madras checks, Madhya Pradesh for Chanderi, and Uttar Pradesh for brocade. In almost every state, a tremendous range of sarees and shawls (both cotton and wool) are woven.<br /><br />Indeed, the act of weaving is considered almost spiritual in India. Textile lexicon is metaphorically powerful, often being used to express a philosophical thought. For instance, sutra originating from the word sut (thread), means stringing together a guru’s teaching. Tantra is from tant (warp), and denotes that which can go beyond limits. Yantra (loom) is the creation of a form for meditation. It looks easy and effortless. It’s not. And here comes into play the skill of the Indian weaver who more often than not is unlettered, but weaves yarn into the most brilliant fabric.<br /><br />Weaving apart, there are numerous surface treatments given to textile. Rajasthan does tie-and-dye and block-printing, Kashmir has aari and sozni embroidery, Bengal is home to kantha and batik, Bihar’s quilting technique is called sujani, Punjab has phulkari stitch-art, the Kutch region of Gujarat offers incredible styles ranging from Rabari embroidery to ajrak (a form of resist printing), Madhya Pradesh’s famous export is bagh block-printing, Karnataka is known for kasuti and the lambani embroidery, while Uttar Pradesh has chikankari and zardozi. The styles mentioned here form a mere framework of the variety found in the country. It’s no wonder then that India is considered a temple of textiles.<br />Though agriculture is the backbone of our village economy, the handloom has ably assisted farm income. The hum of the loom is heard across the country; along with providing cloth for domestic use, these looms produce cloth for the market as well. At present, about 12 crore from among a population of 121 crore are engaged in the textile sector, making it the largest employer after agriculture in rural India. This cottage industry, however, has continuously faced hard times. Out-of-step government policies and the twin advantages of the powerloom — rapid production, lower cost — has dealt a double blow. Despite the sway towards ethnic apparel in both prêt and haute couture segments, the handloom industry is gasping for breath.<br /><br />Malkha magic<br /><br />In a scenario such as this, it is small handloom initiatives that are leaving a mark. Enterprising and dedicated individuals are leading the way, and it’s ventures like theirs that need constant encouragement to grow into bigger movements.<br /><br />Malkha is one such commendable effort. The brain behind the project is Uzramma, who founded the Decentralised Cotton Yarn Trust in 2005 and the Malkha Marketing Trust in 2008 with an aim to promote, “village-based cotton textile production from field to fabric, linking cotton farming to handloom weaving and reviving village spinning.”<br /><br />History tells us of India’s flourishing cotton industry. It’s a known fact that its reasons for decay lay in the East India Company’s centralisation policy for cotton growers and weavers. Apart from forcing mechanisation on them, they demanded farmers grow a particular type of cotton for yarn which was suitable for their spinning jennies. This cotton was alien to Indian growing conditions and wiped out thriving indigenous varieties. The cotton processing techniques introduced by the Company killed Indian cotton’s inherent lustre and suppleness. Unfortunately, years after Independence, this policy of cotton centralisation and the growing of non-indigenous variety of cotton is still being followed. It has contributed much towards destroying rural India’s original cotton culture.</p>
