Eagle-eyed textile and fashion enthusiasts might have noticed that Tamil Nadu was represented at the Dior show in Mumbai in March this year. A model walked the runway wearing a dress featuring the famous Madras checks, a design that most of us would have seen and probably own either as a handkerchief or clothes.
Each pattern and weave that originated in Tamil Nadu has a long and interesting history, often intersecting with stories of trade and colonialism. Commercialisation of these textiles has widened the gap between weaver and consumer and a glossing over of the State’s vibrant textile history.
Tamil Nadu, in the 1900s, produced painted cotton, muslins, embroidered cloths and rich saris and while most of us own these products today, we are unaware of their origin. “The State’s textile traditions are at risk of becoming museum additions and the focus should be on organising the industry and reviving and continuing the traditions,” said Sreemathy Mohan, a textile enthusiast and researcher.
A ship with gifts
As consumers today, we have very little idea of the context of these textiles and their backgrounds. The Triplicane Palasarakku Ela Paatu is an announcement of the arrival of a ship laden with gifts and offerings dedicated to Vedavalli Thayar, the deity of Triplicane. The Paatu serves as a catalogue of items aboard the ship and includes a prayer for the ship’s safe arrival. Interestingly, it even thanks the colonial authorities of the time, thereby painting a rich scene of colonialism, trade and culture.
Deftly woven: Korvai connects the contrast and colours between the body and border of a sari. At bottom, the Cheddibutti design is a plant-like motif with colourful flowers against a lighter shade. | Photo Credit: Special Arrangement
Arguably, the most popular and sought-after weave in Tamil Nadu is from Kancheepuram. According to a weaver from Kancheepuram who has been into weaving since he was 10 years old, a Kanjeevaram sari can last 100 years if taken care of properly. Kanjeevaram saris stand out for the korvai, a technique that connects the contrast and colours between the body and border of a sari. “Traditionally, executing the korvai requires two people at either end of a loom passing the shuttle deftly to each other,” he said as he demonstrated the technique on a smaller loom requiring only one person. Saris with this design cost more than plain silk saris and could either consist of a stark contrast or a ‘gopuram’ design.
“There are duplicate Kanjeevarams in the market now that come from other parts of the State; but to an experienced eye, there is a clear difference in quality,” said the weaver.
The Madras Checks that the Dior model wore has a history dating to the 16th Century. Sreemathy, a textile enthusiast and researcher, shed light on the story behind the Real Madras Handkerchief at a talk hosted by the Indian National Trust for Arts and Cultural Heritage. “It is a checked fabric that was exported from India to Africa beginning in the 16th Century, particularly to Benin and Nigeria, and was used by the Kalabari tribes in all their important rituals,” she said. Today, it is known as ‘Bleeding Madras’ as the colours fade into each other on washing. Colonial merchants added the word, ‘real’, to the name to distinguish the handwoven cloth from imitations made in Europe.
Fibre and pigment
Kumbakonam said Sreemathy, was famous for dyeing the silk procured from Calcutta, Bombay and Mysore and weavers there become experts in using mordants to create an affinity between the fibre and the pigment. Borders to the fabric had pictures of animals and florals and the town became famous for a design called pitambaram, which was imported from Benaras.
A weaver from Tirunelveli who maintains a stall at the Co-optex National Handloom Expo this year proudly displayed the saris in his collection with the cheddibutti design, a plant-like motif with colourful flowers against a lighter shade. Four people work together for two days to make one sari and it is entirely made by hand. Making the butta alone needs two people, he said. “It is a hereditary skill and something my father taught me; for most of my life, this is what I have done,” he said.
Sreemathy is a tome of trivia facts like the case of a jail carpet that ended up in Sotheby’s auction house in London. It was commissioned in the Vellore jail in 1914 and the purchase documents for it were traced to Major-General William Burney Bannerman, a highly decorated surgeon-general in the Indian Medical Service. The 17-foot carpet draws inspiration from classical Persian hunting carpets with animals and exotic birds.
This is just one of the many nuggets of history that our textiles convey.
According to weavers, the problem today lies in the lack of profit in the business and current generations preferring to work in a job that pays well and regularly. Paneerselvam, a member of the Arignar Anna Silk Co-operative Society which has 2,000 members, says he followed in his father’s footsteps, but his son chose to pursue engineering. Most weavers feel that their work is just looked upon as labour and not for the value they bring to the weave. “We are paid a fraction of the total cost a sari sells for us and that is probably why our numbers are dwindling,” one weaver said.
