Nestled in 'gara' needlework...

Amitav Ghosh’s book River of Smoke, from the Ibis Trilogy, is centred on the opium trade with China. I had read the book without realising the significance of this in the evolution of Parsi gara embroidery, not until I spent an hour with Ava Khullar of the Parzor Foundation. Her passionate narration of the Qessa-ye Sanjan — how Zoroastrians fleeing Iran arrived in India, and their economic advancement through the opium trade, lent insight into how the exquisite, embroidered garas became “a tool for a new identity of the rich and prosperous community.” A recent exposition in New Delhi featuring Parsi life and culture added to the idea that the Parsi gara was not just an ornately embroidered saree. A unique narrative about the history and culture of this community unfolded through them.

Satin stitches
The gara is an intricately embroidered saree worn by the Parsi community. It is embellished primarily with the satin stitch,  and was made in China until early to mid-20th century. Woven on narrow Chinese looms, the saree width was achieved by stitching two separate pieces together — referred to as dor-pat, do-patti or two-strip gara sarees. An important factor in the evolution of the gara is a condition laid down by the ruler of Sanjan for the Zoroastrians seeking refuge. In Iran, the women wore tunics called izar, but in India, they began wearing sarees because one of Jadi Rana’s (a figure from Qessa-ye Sanjan) five stipulated conditions was that the women must adopt the Gujarati dress.

In the 18th century, the stitches used by Chinese embroiderers were a combination of satin stitch with its variations. These embroidered silks came via Parsi trading vessels returning to Indian shores, to become the gara saree. The fine hand-embroidery which makes a gara a gara is so perfectly executed, it is difficult to distinguish which is the right side.

Girls educated in convent schools in India are usually taught to embroider with satin stitch, where the back and the front of the motif are identically filled. It requires skill, where pulling the thread through the fabric either too loose or too tight causes undesirable ripples in the motif. It wasn’t a stitch that I learned well enough. But, when I was learning it, I assumed it had always been part of the Indian ethos. Little did I know that not only was satin stitch integral to the Parsi gara, but that it had come to India from China.

Life in Canton
It is evident from Ghosh’s narrative that Parsis made a life in Canton that was beyond trade when Bahram reveals “that this place had been an essential part of his life, and not just for reasons of business: it was here, in Canton, that he had always felt most alive — it was here that he had learnt to live... it was Canton that had given him wealth, friends, social standing...”

That refugees from Iran, living in India, went to live in China, becoming profiteers of the opium trade, is another key feature in unravelling the Parsi gara story. Europeans had a penchant for Chinese luxury goods, including tea. However, a lesser demand for European goods in China created a trade imbalance. In 1780, Britain began exporting  the opium grown in India, creating a steady supply for Chinese addicts. This resolved the trade imbalance and altered the fortunes of a near-bankrupt Empire. Many Indian business communities tried their hand, but it was the Parsis, functioning as traders and intermediaries for the British, who flourished.

With this fascinating historical backdrop, the embroidered motifs of lily, lotus, chrysanthemum, peony, weeping willow, cherry, pine, bamboo, divine fungus, cranes, peacocks, swans and pheasants that adorn the garas are no longer just flowers, trees and birds. Nor is the satin stitch just an embroidery-embellishment variant. Unfolding with stories of intrigue, they also establish a Chinese-inspired, Irani-Parsi lexicon of embroidery.

Traditional Chinese motifs had many meanings. The plum, peony, lotus and chrysanthemum, depicted together, signified different seasons. Symbols were also used to illustrate Chinese legends and myths. The gara designs are a complex amalgam of ideas from Iran, China and India, with European influences.

Canton, with its proximity to foreign trading posts, was popular for embroidered textiles where Chinese motifs were re-contextualised to appeal to European tastes — more Chinoiserie than Chinese. A later move toward authentic embroideries was puzzling for locals, because scenes of ordinary life and labour were embroidered instead of more ‘auspicious ideals’. The pagodas, boats, China-Chini, and scenes of Chinese daily life are depicted on Parsi embroideries too.

Symbolism & design
As nature worshippers, the embroidered gara motifs of flowers, trees, fish, rivers and birds are also imbued with meaning. The rock-like divine fungus provides protection, symbolising longevity and immortality. Trees and vegetation represent seasons, and the chrysanthemum connotes joy. The Rooster, from Bundahishn, the Zoroastrian ‘Book of Creations’, is considered auspicious for it heralds the dawn, bringing light to dispel darkness.

From 19th century onwards, Chinese craftsmen travelled to India. As pheriyas, or door-to-door vendors, they carried bundles of silk on their bicycles. They would bring huge bundles from China and leave them in the homes of the Parsis, taking only a few items to sell. In the afternoons, they would return to sit on the verandahs and ply their craft. Parsi women watched and learnt the art. Seeing the popularity of the Parsi gara, craftsmen of Surat began emulating this embroidery, integrating native skills and motifs with Chinese designs, to produce a Surati gara saree that included  lace (or net-work) and French knots.

In early to mid-20th century, decline in the fashion for garas saw old sarees cut up and used as housecoats. “They are breaking up a ship to make a stool,” remarked a Parsi grandmother. However, the loss was not irreparable as interest soon revived. Among others, fashion designer Ashdeen Lilaowala designs sarees and garments using Parsi motifs and variations thereof.

 He works with craftsmen, primarily from Bengal, employing the traditional satin stitch using a needle and also a quasi-satin, filled-in effect, created with the awl or ari, where the thread is pulled over the fabric surface by the hook to create a long chain stitch as a filler, as opposed to tiny chain stitches that outline and fill-in motifs in traditional ari-work.

According to Khullar, in Iran, Zoroastrians were known for their weaving skills as ‘people of the loom’ and were carpenters who built ships, but they did not do embroidery. Although Parsi women did try their hand, it was never taken up as a traditional craft where skills and stories were handed down from generation to generation.

Most Parsis don’t do much embroidery today. For the few who do, they take up to six months to complete a gara, losing sleep if they don’t get it right — where the stitches are close and shading so seamless, it’s a veritable painting done with the needle.