It was an extraordinary feeling, receiving a maroon sari straight off the loom from the weaver in a village called Negamam near Coimbatore. As good a feeling as walking away with oven-fresh bread in my hands, still warm. That was many years ago, but the maroon checked sari is still one of my favourites.
I wish I had asked the name of the weaver who took the sari off his loom and gave it to me. How wonderful it would be if all sari-selling people provided such information with their saris. I know that Ethicus, a brand based in Pollachi, does that. It attaches a tag to each sari with the photograph, name and age of the weaver and how long it took him to weave it. How difficult can that be? Vijayalakshmi Nachiyar of Ethicus says it inculcates pride in the craftsmen. “There is no recognition for the weavers who remain obscure and invisible for most part. Artists leave their signatures on their canvas. How is a woven sari anything less than a piece of art?”
I feel taller when I wear some of my saris. For example, the sari I bought from Rema Kumar. It is woven by a woman in a place called Ukhimath near Kedarnath in Uttrakhand. I do not know her name, but Rema tells me, “She is one of the women who weave woollen stoles and shawls for me. She and others like her wanted more work and when I asked them if they would weave saris for me they jumped at the idea. Usually weavers are reluctant to try something new and feel the ‘designer lot’ are out of their head and make bizarre demands on them. But these pahadi women got down to it and after a long journey of trial and error, innovations and experiments we hit upon a workable solution.” Thanks to Rema, the sari weavers work throughout the year now and not just when there is need for the shawls.
Sometimes it could be just that one person who can make a difference. A person like Sally Holkar who pulled the Maheshwari wears back from the brink of extinction. I treasure my Maheshwaris even more now since Sally spoke of the thousands and thousands of ‘shadow women’ who weave them quietly in the background.
Women like Rema, Vijayalakshmi and Sally Holkar are crusaders for the handloom. And, we can be like them too. All we need to do is pledge to wear more handlooms and talk about the saris we wear. More so to the younger women. When I interviewed Sabyasachi Mukherjee he told me how irritated he got when pretty young 20-somethings simpered up to him and said they did not know how to wear a sari! “It is nothing to be proud of,” he snapped. I couldn’t afford a Sabya sari, but I did plenty of sari-talk with him.
Hundreds of women are uploading photographs on the facebook thanks to the100 Saree pact started by Ally Mathan and Anju Maudgal Kadam. And so many stories and anecdotes besides fantastic bits and pieces of our handloom history are tumbling out with every post.
