Jaya Jaitley, a 71-year-old “Malayali Delhiite” and a protégé of cultural ambassador Pupul Jayakar, is largely responsible for putting Delhi on an arts and crafts enthusiast’s map. She created Dilli Haat at INA Market in 1994, which is now a well-known forum for rural and folk art and handicrafts in an urban setting.
She recalls: “That space was a huge nallah that was lying unused. It took me six years to persuade the Delhi Government that a haat on the space would work as one of Delhi’s most visited landmarks. I was able to influence the decision as I was already organising small bazaars to promote and market arts and crafts. I am proud that I didn’t have to be in Parliament to create Dilli Haat. It has, luckily, paved the way for younger generations to come close to crafts.”
“Creating maps of every State and exhibiting them at Dilli Haat itself was another step that brought craft documentation to the fore. A combination of all this made people interested in the cultural and economic aspects of craftsmanship, and the immense possibility of adopting it in their lives,” she adds.
Her East Nizamuddin home is a testament to her love for the arts and crafts. Colourful ceramic pottery from across India and Italy, durries weaved by Bhadohi weavers, bamboo lamps, hand-woven bedcovers, wind chimes and a self-portrait of famous Mexican painter Frida Kahlo — almost everything at her home has a touch of authenticity and warm local flavour.
As usual, Jaya is dressed in a handloom saree, a large bindi over her kohl-rimmed eyes, hair tied in a loose bun and hand-crafted danglers winking in her ears as we sit in her living-cum-office space along with the lovely Soofi, her dog.
The daughter of K.K. Chettur, an ICS officer and India’s Ambassador to Japan and Belgium, Jaya recalls how Delhi was the place one felt protected and no one felt ‘poor’.
“When my father, the then Indian Ambassador to Belgium, passed away suddenly after a heart attack, our life changed. From the huge Embassy mansion we moved back to India, into a one-and-a-half room barrack extension of Kota House on Shahjahan Road from 1956 to 1960. We had no house of our own and hardly any savings. There was no kitchen and my mother couldn’t cook, so we would order a tray from the main dining room and share it! I was happy with my school [Convent of Jesus & Mary], my dog, and cycling to Khan Market with friends for ice-cream.”
Sipping from a piping hot cup of Assam tea and caressing Soofi, she says: “Life was much simpler and people valued simple and genuine things. For instance, I was chosen Miss Miranda House during a ‘ragging’ session. We were supposed to walk up to our seniors, who were sitting in a row, and answer their questions, twirl a bit, say namaste and go back. I wore no so-called modern ‘dress’ but a sari and a pair of chappals worth Rs.2.50 from Janpath. I did the needful and won the title. This was in 1958,” she laughs.
“We only required Rs.100 for our total expenses! I would share an auto for Rs.3.50, watch a movie for Rs.2.50, buy snacks for Rs.10, pay the college fee, the hostel fee and the washerman’s charges. From the Rs.100 my mom would give me, I would manage to save Rs.10 each month. And I never felt poor or neglected.”
Occasionally caught in controversies, Jaya has been “through a lot at an emotional level”, but her nearly 40-year romance with arts and crafts has kept her going. She is responsible for bringing artisans from Pakistan, Vietnam, Africa, Asia and India together, and creating Dastkari Haat Samiti to promote India’s rural and indigenous arts and crafts across the globe. Even the government has taken her support as an instrument in diplomacy to bring together craft practitioners from across the globe to share their skills and assist in capacity building.
Khan Market is a constant in Jaya’s life. Just a month back, she opened ‘The Saree Shop’ there, once again to promote local karigars . It has handmade sarees from West Bengal, Gujarat, Andhra Pradesh, and Tamil Nadu.
“Sarees are sold from Rs.1,700 to Rs.18,000. I don’t take a penny from the sales. The money goes directly to the weavers. I don’t take even Rs.10 as product fee from my karigars ...,” she says with a tinge of pride, adding, “I dislike girls who say they can’t wear a saree. We jumped into DTC buses and even travelled across the globe in sarees. We didn’t need a ‘dress’ to show our culture. Today, London’s Bond Street prides itself on its indigenous suits, but we have so much to feel proud of — our skilled crafts persons.”
The author of several books on arts and crafts, Jaya has just finished writing another one — a coffee table book on “Weavers of Varanasi”. Soon to be launched, the book once again attempts to revive the dying art of weaving and impoverished weavers.
Of the Delhi gone by, she claims, it was less pompous. “It used to adjust to its timings and position. Political leaders were accessible to the masses. There was no thick layer of intimidating security personnel around them. As time changed, the ring of security around VVIPs grew thicker. It reeks of security agencies’ vested interest in sanitising people. They create a wall around them and isolate them. It is not required. Earlier, even leaders like Jawaharlal Nehru and Mahatma Gandhi were accessible to the common people.”
She adds: “We used to go for Gandhiji’s prayer meetings on January Marg every day. In fact, I had gone to attend a prayer meeting just a few hours before his assassination. I was very small; those who were bigger than me kept pushing me closer to Gandhiji. He saw that. He stroked my head gently and made me sit with him. We left the meeting but had barely reached the outer gate when we heard about his assassination. It was unbelievable.”
