<p>My first recollection of a Bhopali batua is my grandma’s amber-coloured one: a small, almost half-moon shaped, embellished velvet drawstring purse.<br /><br /></p>.<p> I would be fascinated how one set of strings with beaded tassels would fasten it to make it round and another would unfasten it into a half-sphere. It was much more alluring and oozing with character as compared to my mother’s leather click-open ones. My grandma used it to keep small currency, and that’s what I thought a purse was always meant for. <br /><br />That’s until my trip to Bhopal, the home of the batua, where I discovered this string purse was no ordinary accessory.<br /><br />In style<br /><br />There was a particular ada (style) and nafasat (sophistication) about it. Moreover, how could I have demeaned it by visualising that it was meant for petty change! That was so now! So, like me, you’ll have to step back a few centuries and take in the whiff of the times — the era of elegance — to imagine what it could hold.<br /><br />Did you say asharfi (gold, silver coins)? Yes, that’s one of the answers. However, what it was originally meant for was, well, to carry a set of breath-fresheners. Such batuas were specially designed for the purpose and called char-khana, ones with four compartments. And what went into the sections were these: the famous Bhopali gutkha, laung (clove), elaichi (cardamon) and supari (areca nut).<br /><br />Woman power was to the fore in Bhopal with the nawab begums having ruled it for almost 150 years, beginning in 1819 AD with Qudsia Begum. These royal women have been credited with having brought refinement to everyday living. Thus the embellished batua, with its contents, which was always an accompaniment to the paan-daan (engraved silver box that held betel leaves and other ingredients that go into the making of a paan), became a favourite among Bhopalis.<br /><br />No wonder then, this oft-heard phrase: Char cheez ast taufa-e-Bhopal, gutkha, batua, chuneti aur rumal. It describes the four items Bhopal was famous for. While the first two have been spoken of, chuneti means a small box to keep chuna (lime that goes into paan), and rumal, a fancy kerchief, much-needed after a paan-chewing session.<br /><br />And, in case you’re thinking: what about a pouch for currency? That was there too, except it was larger in size, having had to accommodate the weight and the size of coins, and had three compartments, thus called teen-khana.<br /><br />The typical Bhopali batua is made in vibrant shades of velvet and embellished with salma (springy silver or gold wires), sitara (tiny silver stars), and moti (pearls). It’s all imitation raw material that’s used now, but once upon a time, it was the real stuff and was worth its bullion weight. The embroidery uses lighter nuances of zardozi, and many a skilled hand goes into making a single batua.<br /><br />The first step involves the batuas being cut to the required shape and the pattern being traced onto them. A whole lot of them are sewn onto a stiff cloth. This base fabric is tightly attached to a wooden frame, after which embroiderers get down to work, deftly creating embossed designs.<br /><br />Training centre<br /><br />During my trip to Bhopal, I visited the Zari Centre, one of the oldest zardozi training places in the atmospheric old city. Situated near the iconic Moti Masjid, it was located inside the lovely Sheesh Mahal, constructed during the reign of Nawab Sikandar Begum (1860-68 AD). (It is now fighting a losing battle against demolition squads, which have scant respect for its heritage value). A place buzzing with activity, it was a true feast for the eyes to see the riot of designs being produced by keepers and learners of the age-old tradition of zardozi. As I walked the passages between wooden frames, I saw needles run at quick speed, picking up a sitara now and a moti then, and combining them with salma to a stunning effect.<br /><br />Besides batuas, a lot of frames had sarees and dupattas being worked at.<br />It’s said the art of zardozi made its way to Bhopal after the annexation of Awadh during the uprising of 1857. Nawab Wajid Ali Shah was a patron of the arts, and after he was banished to Calcutta, artisans were left to fend for themselves. During the same time, the begums of Bhopal had shown their political strength, and the empire’s stability led to the encouragement of art and craft.<br /><br />“Before zardozi was introduced in the kingdom, the batuas were not embellished and were simply made of kimkhab, a variety of heavy brocade,” Sunil J Parekh of Parekh Brother’s, Chintaman Chowk, told me. He should know the history; he is the 15th generation of his family in the trading of zardozi. “My ancestors were merchants from Kutch, Gujarat. They arrived in Bhopal almost 350 years back and became involved with supplying brocade to the royal family. Our designs and products were greatly appreciated, and the nawab granted us the status of biradar (‘brother’ in Persian). This meant that ladies did not have to observe parda in our shop as we were like brothers to them. That tradition continues to date,” he said in a typical Gujarati accent.<br /><br />Hasty imitation<br /><br />According to Parekh, the Bhopali batua faces a stiff competition from cheaper purses available in the market, and the craft is on the decline. “People should realise this is handmade. A craftsperson is like a musician; he needs a conducive atmosphere to display his best. Just as a singer creates a tarana (composition) within a raga, an artisan sometimes doesn’t stick to the design, but does something his/her heart desires. This gets rejected by buyers. We suffer, the artisan suffers. We urgently need government schemes to help artisans, else this craft will perish,” he said dejectedly.<br /><br />Along with the batua, the beadwork tea cosy is an item that is exclusive to Bhopal. They are usually picked up as souvenirs, but as the elderly owner at Iram Zari Centre, Peer Gate said, “We would like our people to use our products, not just stack them away in showcases. A handicraft survives and evolves only when it is utilitarian.” <br /><br />I did buy a Bhopali batua. I use it, well, for keeping change, just the way my grandma did. Do pick one up the next time an exhibition comes to your town. You will do your bit for the survival of a legacy.</p>
<p>My first recollection of a Bhopali batua is my grandma’s amber-coloured one: a small, almost half-moon shaped, embellished velvet drawstring purse.<br /><br /></p>.<p> I would be fascinated how one set of strings with beaded tassels would fasten it to make it round and another would unfasten it into a half-sphere. It was much more alluring and oozing with character as compared to my mother’s leather click-open ones. My grandma used it to keep small currency, and that’s what I thought a purse was always meant for. <br /><br />That’s until my trip to Bhopal, the home of the batua, where I discovered this string purse was no ordinary accessory.<br /><br />In style<br /><br />There was a particular ada (style) and nafasat (sophistication) about it. Moreover, how could I have demeaned it by visualising that it was meant for petty change! That was so now! So, like me, you’ll have to step back a few centuries and take in the whiff of the times — the era of elegance — to imagine what it could hold.<br /><br />Did you say asharfi (gold, silver coins)? Yes, that’s one of the answers. However, what it was originally meant for was, well, to carry a set of breath-fresheners. Such batuas were specially designed for the purpose and called char-khana, ones with four compartments. And what went into the sections were these: the famous Bhopali gutkha, laung (clove), elaichi (cardamon) and supari (areca nut).<br /><br />Woman power was to the fore in Bhopal with the nawab begums having ruled it for almost 150 years, beginning in 1819 AD with Qudsia Begum. These royal women have been credited with having brought refinement to everyday living. Thus the embellished batua, with its contents, which was always an accompaniment to the paan-daan (engraved silver box that held betel leaves and other ingredients that go into the making of a paan), became a favourite among Bhopalis.<br /><br />No wonder then, this oft-heard phrase: Char cheez ast taufa-e-Bhopal, gutkha, batua, chuneti aur rumal. It describes the four items Bhopal was famous for. While the first two have been spoken of, chuneti means a small box to keep chuna (lime that goes into paan), and rumal, a fancy kerchief, much-needed after a paan-chewing session.<br /><br />And, in case you’re thinking: what about a pouch for currency? That was there too, except it was larger in size, having had to accommodate the weight and the size of coins, and had three compartments, thus called teen-khana.<br /><br />The typical Bhopali batua is made in vibrant shades of velvet and embellished with salma (springy silver or gold wires), sitara (tiny silver stars), and moti (pearls). It’s all imitation raw material that’s used now, but once upon a time, it was the real stuff and was worth its bullion weight. The embroidery uses lighter nuances of zardozi, and many a skilled hand goes into making a single batua.<br /><br />The first step involves the batuas being cut to the required shape and the pattern being traced onto them. A whole lot of them are sewn onto a stiff cloth. This base fabric is tightly attached to a wooden frame, after which embroiderers get down to work, deftly creating embossed designs.<br /><br />Training centre<br /><br />During my trip to Bhopal, I visited the Zari Centre, one of the oldest zardozi training places in the atmospheric old city. Situated near the iconic Moti Masjid, it was located inside the lovely Sheesh Mahal, constructed during the reign of Nawab Sikandar Begum (1860-68 AD). (It is now fighting a losing battle against demolition squads, which have scant respect for its heritage value). A place buzzing with activity, it was a true feast for the eyes to see the riot of designs being produced by keepers and learners of the age-old tradition of zardozi. As I walked the passages between wooden frames, I saw needles run at quick speed, picking up a sitara now and a moti then, and combining them with salma to a stunning effect.<br /><br />Besides batuas, a lot of frames had sarees and dupattas being worked at.<br />It’s said the art of zardozi made its way to Bhopal after the annexation of Awadh during the uprising of 1857. Nawab Wajid Ali Shah was a patron of the arts, and after he was banished to Calcutta, artisans were left to fend for themselves. During the same time, the begums of Bhopal had shown their political strength, and the empire’s stability led to the encouragement of art and craft.<br /><br />“Before zardozi was introduced in the kingdom, the batuas were not embellished and were simply made of kimkhab, a variety of heavy brocade,” Sunil J Parekh of Parekh Brother’s, Chintaman Chowk, told me. He should know the history; he is the 15th generation of his family in the trading of zardozi. “My ancestors were merchants from Kutch, Gujarat. They arrived in Bhopal almost 350 years back and became involved with supplying brocade to the royal family. Our designs and products were greatly appreciated, and the nawab granted us the status of biradar (‘brother’ in Persian). This meant that ladies did not have to observe parda in our shop as we were like brothers to them. That tradition continues to date,” he said in a typical Gujarati accent.<br /><br />Hasty imitation<br /><br />According to Parekh, the Bhopali batua faces a stiff competition from cheaper purses available in the market, and the craft is on the decline. “People should realise this is handmade. A craftsperson is like a musician; he needs a conducive atmosphere to display his best. Just as a singer creates a tarana (composition) within a raga, an artisan sometimes doesn’t stick to the design, but does something his/her heart desires. This gets rejected by buyers. We suffer, the artisan suffers. We urgently need government schemes to help artisans, else this craft will perish,” he said dejectedly.<br /><br />Along with the batua, the beadwork tea cosy is an item that is exclusive to Bhopal. They are usually picked up as souvenirs, but as the elderly owner at Iram Zari Centre, Peer Gate said, “We would like our people to use our products, not just stack them away in showcases. A handicraft survives and evolves only when it is utilitarian.” <br /><br />I did buy a Bhopali batua. I use it, well, for keeping change, just the way my grandma did. Do pick one up the next time an exhibition comes to your town. You will do your bit for the survival of a legacy.</p>
