Reviving the threads of heritage

The handlooms of Gadag’s Gajendragad have been echoing for over ten years now. With every beat of the loom beams, textile expert Hemalatha Jain is spotlighting the diversity of Karnataka’s textile traditions, many of which have been lost to time.

. Through extensive research, innovation, marketing and production, she has been able to revive more than 43 weaving traditions. Today, her clients take delight in donning historic textiles like the patteda anchu, gomi teni, sudha kadi, and aane hejje sarees. Her organisation, Punarjeevana Trust, employs more than 60 weavers in Gadag, providing new opportunities to showcase generational knowledge and heritage weaves.

Handmade textile had always called to Hemalatha. “Every material has some importance. I remember the pallu of my mother’s saree, it had such an important place in my life. It fulfilled many purposes. My mother used it to wipe sweat off of her face. I would hold it when crossing roads,” she says.

The ability of textiles to retain connections to experiences and emotions drew her to research and document heritage sarees. “When people point to the defects in handloom fabric, I say that is the humanity of the material,” she says.

Thoughts about tracing the origin of heritage weaves came frequently while Hemalatha was at Kansas State University, researching natural dyes. Upon her return, in 2014, she decided to travel extensively through Karnataka and parts of Maharashtra. “India has so many handmade textiles, and some research was happening in this area. However, efforts to document and revive these traditions were not common among Indians. I was very keen to do something about this,” she says.

Her tryst with reviving the sarees of Karnataka began with patteda anchu , a saree dating back to the 10th century. The weave was commonly found in the villages of Gajendragad, Belagavi, Raichur, Kodal, Bidar, Ballari, Kalaburagi and Dharwad. “I could find no written records of these textile traditions. Most information is stored in memory, and people only describe what the saree looked like,” says the textile revivalist.

The body of the saree was typically red and chequered, and in contrast, was a heavy mustard-yellow border. Friends and associates in urban settings would often speak of the sarees, and how elders in their families prized them. Through several hundred interviews, Hemalatha could gather that the saree held cultural significance in weddings, as an object of blessing.

Parents of a newlywed daughter would offer the patteda anchu saree to the deity to be blessed at the Renuka Yellamma temple in Saundatti, and then give it to their child. “I thought, this is a cotton saree, how special could it be to have this much emotional significance?” says Hemalatha, who went on to earn a PhD for her research on the patteda anchu saree.

. Intrigue led her to the Saundatti temple in Belagavi, where she happened to meet a teacher with a connection to the saree. “She took me to meet her mother, an 85-year-old Devadasi, who miraculously had a patteda anchu saree. I took a thread from the piece because the owner was so attached to it that she was not willing to part with it,” she says.

The thread was then subjected to fibre tests to evaluate the age of the fabric. The discovery that the saree was around 200 years old energised her. Soon, rigorous research bore fruit and Hemalatha was able to find contemporary and historical documentation, and gather about 40 samples.

Eager to recreate this historic textile, she contacted several weavers in Karnataka and Andhra Pradesh. All these roads led her to Gajendragad, where she hoped to get a few prototypes woven.

Senior weaver Rasulsabh Argidi recalls just how tough things were, prior to this. “Though there was some weaving work, many handlooms had already been retired,” he says. There were only a handful of weavers left in the village as “many, like me, had gone on to other businesses, ” he says.

Rasulsabh himself has a storied past with textiles, having been exposed to handlooms when he was in Class 4. “Even though my heart was in weaving, there was no money in it. I had five children to support, so I decided to take up selling coconut oil,” he says. At this juncture, Hemalatha approached him through the Banashankari Weaving Association at Gajendragad.

“I was hesitant to weave the patteda anchu saree. I had never even seen it until then. I was also hesitant to spend my time weaving again,” he says.

His interactions with Hemalatha underscored her persistence and the strength of her motivation, he says. “She said she would haunt me for the rest of my life if I did not get started on weaving. Her determination convinced me,” laughs Rasulsabh.

Thorough academic research has not only helped recreate authentic handloom practices but has also paved the way for innovations. Hemalatha employs a unique yarn twist which minimises fabric creasing. The production process was further modernised by blending coarser and finer yarns in the warp and weft. Additionally, the incorporation of a thicker, heavier border meant that her sarees did not need a fall or beading. The sarees manufactured are also offered in a variety of colours, with some more suited to modern tastes.

. Today, Punarjeevana is certified by Craft Mark — an internationally recognised organisation that authenticates handcrafted processes in India. Of note, according to Meenu Chopra, a project manager at the organisation, is how process-oriented Hemalatha is. “She knows almost everything there is to know about these traditions and the methodologies she is trying to uphold,” says Meenu.

Hemalatha’s persistence also stands out, says M Vasantha, a professor at the National Institute of Fashion Technology (NIFT), and the researcher’s PhD mentor. “She travelled extensively, encountered various obstacles — gaining weavers’ trust, setting up a commercial enterprise and travelling across the country for exhibitions, all while pursuing her research and working as an assistant professor,” she says.

Through her career as a textile revivalist and entrepreneur, Hemalatha continued her work as an adjunct faculty at NIFT. She previously worked as an assistant professor at the Symbiosis School of Design in Pune, besides working as a freelance educator, conducting workshops on dyeing and weaving.

The birth of the aptly-named Punarjeevana Trust was partly put into motion by the first few orders she received from Jaya Jaitly, an eminent expert in the traditional arts and crafts of India, and founder of the Dastkari Haat Samiti.

Interest poured in and Hemalatha was relieved that there was a market for the textiles. Orders doubled and gradually, so did her workforce. Now, Punarjeevana Trust employs over 55 weavers full-time. The organisation receives no external support or financial backing. “All the profits generated are funnelled back into Punarjeevana,” says Hemalatha.

. The most admirable impact that Punarjeevana has had has been on the stability of income and livelihood it has brought to weavers in Gajendragad. Based on the amount of work a weave requires, workers are paid Rs 200 to 250 per saree. “In other societies, weavers are paid Rs 100 to Rs 150 per saree,” says Bhavani, another weaver in the cluster, who has been working at Punarjeevana for over seven years. Hemalatha has also vowed to work only with this cluster, ensuring their job security.

Having received an award from the Crafts Council of India for her work in weaving and training people in the village, Bhavani says her life has changed since she started working here. “I get work regularly and feel proud that from what I am able to do, I have received recognition for my work here,” she says.

The participatory approach that Punarjeevana employs in the design process has also received much appreciation from weavers. For instance, one loom at Punarjeevana’s facility, is set aside to test colour combinations. Weavers are encouraged to try out different combinations in one-inch blocks. “Our ideas are encouraged. When I see the output of our work and choice, I feel a lot of joy,” says Thayira Begum, a 31-year-old weaver.

Another initiative, designed as part of an annual bonus, has also turned into a creative outlet. “Every Diwali, I encourage them to weave a saree for themselves. The colour combinations that came out of that were so interesting that they inspired some of the sarees we produced later,” Hemalatha says.

. An annual workshop or training programme provides opportunities to upskill in dyeing, spinning and weaving.

The discovery that there was a market for heritage weaves has meant that many, within Gajendragad and outside, have been making replicas. Hemalatha sees this as a net positive though. “When I came, there were only four handloom weavers in the village. Now, there are 140,” she says.

Her continued research on weaves and efforts to keep sales offline have meant that Punarjeevana has carved out a niche for itself. The organisation has focused on various weaves since then, including dhotra (a sari which repels dust, which is favoured by farmers), gomi teni (with motifs inspired by jowar seeds) and aane hejje (from Anekal). The speciality in the aane hejje saree is in its border– one segment resembles an elephant's head and its footprints. The saree was commonly worn in Anekal.

Jaya Jaitly, an eminent craft revivalist herself, contextualises the importance of the work that Hemalatha is doing. “We have the most diverse and talented number of craftspeople in this country. I do not think that there are more techniques, motifs, designs or yarn counts anywhere than in India,” she says.

“This vast treasure is our heritage, part of our civilisation and skills. To lose it would be a great tragedy, for which all of us would be responsible. So many people could be employed, and their livelihoods could be secured, if we patronise handmade textiles,” she says. Anyone working in the field must be saluted and Hemalatha is one such dedicated individual, Jaitly adds.

Reviving the threads of heritage

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