Journal Archive

The "pahari rumal" or "chamba rumal" is the term used for embroidered coverlet in the Punjab Hills of Himalayan region (present Himachal Pradesh) in around eighteenth-nineteenth centuries. These rumals are embroidered with colourful floss silk threads on muslin or white cotton cloth (sometimes also red). Embroidered in double satin stitch these reversible rumals are the creation of women residing in this area in their leisure time. They used to produce these beautiful rumals to cover the gifts offered to God, bride and bridegroom on religious and ceremonial occasions. There are a few pahari paintings in which embroidered rumals have been depicted as coverlet. Two such excellent examples of miniature paintings are in the collection of the State Museum, Lucknow, Uttar Pradesh, and National Museum, New Delhi. In both the paintings of Pahari school, female devotees have been shown holding offering to God, which are covered with embroidered rumal. Apart from coverlet, these rumals are also used as handkerchief, as head dress6 and sometimes as patka (sash). The most fascinating aspect of these rumals is the depiction of vast subject theme, which is not usually found in any other kind of embroidered rumals. In the religious category of Pahari rumal, the famous religious themes are: Rasa, Krishna with flute, Krishna-Balarama-Subhadra," Rukmani Harana," Krishna, Holy Family, Gajantaka Shiva, Hanuman, Ganesha, Sakti, etc. Apart from religious category, wedding scene is the next important theme which often finds occurrence on embroidered pahari rumals. Some of the famous weddings depicted in rumals are: Krishna-Rukmani, Shiva-Parvati, Rama-Sita and Raja Jita Singh's (of Chamba) wedding with Rani Sarada Devi (of Jammu)." Besides these religious and wedding themes, there are rumals which illustrate hunting scene, floral and geometric pattern, etc. All these rumals are pictorially very beautiful and elegant due to which these had attracted the attention of art lovers and scholars. The rich subject theme and intricate embroidery, puts them in the category of classical style rumals. However, there is another very distinct category, which is different from the earlier ones and is known as folk style of rumals. In this group the folk element is reflected very prominently. The limited subject, bright colour, imbalanced composition and uneven long stitches are the features represented in these folk rumals. Although most of the museums have large number of folk style rumals in their collections the quality found in the classical rumals is much superior. Hence, the Pahari rumals have made a special place in the group of embroideries practised in Himachal Pradesh." Most of the scholars are of the opinion that rich tradition of painting done on paper, cloth and wall of this region might have inspired the women for embroidering the same subject on rumal. The strong line work and use of soft soothing colours are the main focus points of these rumals. When composition of rumal, is found in miniature paintings or wall paintings, it gives the impression that probably court artists of Pahari schools might have done the drawing on these rumals and even provided the supervision for colour scheme. Few such rumals like Nayaka-nayika-bheda, Krishna playing flute, holy family, Gajantaka Shiva, Rukmani-Harana and Rasa have been compared and studied by some scholars. The present paper is an attempt to look at some such rumals, housed in the collection of the National Museum, New Delhi. RAMA-SITA WORSHIPPED BY HANUMAN The impact of bhakti from 12th to 16th century and its acceptance by the masses was a factor that helped to sustain the manuscript and painting tradition of mythological subjects, through to the late 19th century."' People's great devotion to Rama influences the bhakti poets, cult leaders, epic poets and artists, who paint the theme on paper and wall. Some such subjects appearing in miniature paintings, have been beautifully embroidered on rumals also. The concept of enthroned Rama-Sita or Ramapattabhisekam is one such subject, which was popular all over India from North to South." Pahari artists have used this subject for miniature painting and wall painting, which has been copied on rumals by embroiderer. National Museum has white square muslin rumal, which is beautifully embroidered with Rama-Sita theme. Rama, incarnation of Lord Vishnu, and Sita, his wife, are sitting on throne and being worshipped by Hanuman in criss-cross narrow border frame (Pl. 19.1). The narrow border of the rumal has been worked with colourful floral pattern. The royal couple is sitting under chhatri (umbrella) and a small stool is placed near their feet. Hanuman is standing in front of them, while the chauri-bearer is standing at the back. A pair of peacocks, cyprus trees and other trees give the effect of Himalayan region. Powerful line drawing, use of metal thread and subdued colour indicate its workmanship of Chamba Kangra style of mid-eighteenth century. Similar subject, with much elaborate narration, has been embroidered on a Pahari rumal hanging which is in the collection of Chandigarh Museum. Although threads and colours of this rumal have faded at places, even then its charm has not been lost because of its superb composition, which gives the proper three-dimensional effect. It depicts Rama-Sita seated on throne and the coronation ceremony is being witnessed by a number of gods and courtesans. The heavenly gods, from boat-shaped Viman (vehicle of god) are showering flower-petals from the top while musicians and dancers are enjoying the occasion of Rama's coronation. The armed guards stand outside the palace and well dressed people around the pond give the royal ambience. The theme of Rama's coronation is often found in painting also. National Museum has a miniature painting (Kangra-Sikh style, nineteenth century) and wall painting (of Chamba Rang Mahal, eighteenth century) illustrating the same theme (Pl. 19.2). Composition in both the paintings illustrates the same subject and similar kind of treatment in which Rama-Sita are seated on a throne under umbrella. Hanuman is standing/sitting in front of Rama-Sita and the chauri-bearer is at the back and depiction of utensils is the other prominent feature of this composition. In the miniature painting, three princes, dressed in royal attire, are standing at the back and holding morchhal (fly-whisk made of peacock feather), weapon and danda (standard); probably they are the brothers of Rama. A similar depiction is found in the Chandigarh's rumal/hanging. In all the three examples, artist has not changed the main subject (Rama-Sita seated on throne). The only difference among miniature painting, wall painting and embroidered rumal is the treatment of the outer frame. In the case of wall painting, it has an arched frame; the miniature painting has oval frame, while the rumal has a criss-cross frame. Artists had followed the trend of their respective medium. The strong line work in this Pahari rumal embroidered with soft colours reminds one of the Pahari miniature of Kangra-Sikh style. LIFE SCENES OF KRISHNA The Vaishnava poetry of Jayadeva, Vidyapati, Chaitanya, Suradasa and Mirabai ranging from 12th century to 16th centuries found expression in paintings from the 17th-19th centuries in the Pahari paintings. Some of these paintings became the main inspirational source for women to embroider the same subject on cotton rumals. One such rumal is in the collection of the National Museum, which illustrates the life scenes from Krishna's life in a very interesting way. A small red rumal is divided in three rows and each row is further sub-divided in three compartments, which makes up nine divisions in all (Pl. 19.3). These divisions are uneven in size, something like a chaupar spread and each division depicts the life scenes of Krishna. Govardhandhari Krishna and baby Krishna with mother Yashoda have been embroidered in corner divisions in two rows. These two scenes have been repeated in diagonal compartments in opposite directions. In embroidery it is difficult to create three-dimensional effect, but here with the help of black outline on Govardhan Mountain, the artist has successfully been able to produce the effect of illusion. Four-armed Govardhandhari Krishna is playing on flute and is flanked by gopis on either side. Baby Krishna and gopis are standing near mother Yashoda, who is churning the butter. In between four big scenes, there are four smaller divisions; each one illustrates Krishna's different aspects. Baby Krishna with mother Yashoda represents his childhood (in repeat), while Krishna-Radha in rain represents his youth and along Krishna with Balarama depicts his divinity aspects. This rumal has some interesting features like its unique composition, depiction of several subjects in a single frame and use of red colour background cloth. Usually Pahari rumals depict a single subject, which can be viewed from one direction only, while here the artist has depicted more than one subject and that too embroidered in such a way that it could be viewed from all directions. There are few such rumals in which elephant rider, Ganesha or Vishnu has been depicted in four/two different directions. Although these rumals also illustrate the composition of figures in different directions, these are single figure themes not the thematic narration. In the National Museum's rumal, depiction of Krishna's life scenes has been done with several human figures composed in different directions. Secondly, there is use of red colour cotton fabric instead of white cloth, which is less popular. Lahore Museum (Pakistan) has eighteenth century rumal having a red background, which depicts Ganesha seated under a canopy. Dr. V.C. Ohri suggests that use of red colour fabric for Chamba rumals is the tradition of Bilaspur or Mandi school rumals. The Mandi school depicts less Bhagavata theme in comparison to Bilaspur school. The illustration of Bhagavata theme, colour scheme, and narration of mountain appears to be the work of Bilaspur style line work, so it be Pahari embroidered Rumal done in probably Bilaspur style. Other important features of this rumal are: depiction of Balarama in the Krishna-Balarama division, illustration of architecture in Yashoda's churning division and Radha's costume and umbrella in Krishna's rain depiction division. The use of zari threads, for making compartments and for depicting jewellery of necklace, bangles, and bajuband makes this rumal rich. Use of blue and yellow silk thread along with black outline for illustrating figure work and silver gota on the edges makes it attractive. Krishna lifting mountain Govardhan, mother Yasodha churing butter and Radha-Krishna in rain are the famous themes often found in Pahari miniature paintings. A wall painting in the Chamba Rang Mahal depicts Radha-Krishna in rain. On the backdrop of mountain and dark clouds Radha-Krishna stand under an umbrella within an arched frame. Good line work and colourful attire makes it attractive. Floral creeper border around the wall painting reminds one of the border frame of Pahari rumals, which is the most essential and integral part of rumal. The embroiderer has used the subject theme of miniature painting, border of wall painting to create this rumal. However, embroidery work has its own limitation; therefore, the work of embroidery is not so fine as in a miniature or wall paintings. WEDDING OF SHIVA-PARVATI Wedding scene is yet another favourite theme of Pahari women, which they have often embroidered on the Pahari rumals. These rumals illustrate the celestial wedding of god-goddess and sometimes the royal wedding. Among celestial weddings, the popular ones are Krishna-Rukamani, Rama-Sita and Shiva-Parvati and the wedding of Raja Jita Singh of Chamba with Rani Sarada Devi of Jammu is the famous royal wedding. These rumals are important as they are a visual evidence of cultural history, matrimonial alliances, traditional costumes and social customs of a particular community and region. In the collection of National Museum, there is a rumal which illustrates the wedding of Shiva-Parvati (Pl. 19.5). This celestial wedding is being witnessed by Lord Brahma, Lord Vishnu, Ganas of Shiva and several other people. The wedding scene has been embroidered within a square centre frame, which is surrounded by a broad border of floral creeper. The bride and bridegroom are sitting under mandapa, which is decorated with parrots. This type of mandapa was very popular, as it can be noticed in a number of miniature paintings of this phase. Three-headed Brahma wears white clothes and Vishnu has been depicted in a red dhoti. They are standing in the centre of the mandapa and facing the bridegroom, Shiva. The wedding rituals have been witnessed by people standing around the bridal couple as well as people watching from windows of the palace. The man standing behind the groom wears red turban, long jama and blue sash, which resemble Kangra-Sikh school with effect of Jammu style of attire. Some people standing behind the groom's side, have animal head (horse?) instead of human. Musicians are at the back and playing musical instruments. Men and women behind the bride are wearing Kangra style turban, sash, jama and peshwaz, odhani, etc. A few people are walking near the wall, dressed in similar attire. The presence of Brahma and Vishnu inside the mandapa and depiction of horse-faced female figures behind the bridegroom gives the impression that this could be the wedding of Shiva-Parvati. Apart from embroidered rumal, the National Museum also has a rumal, painted on cloth, which depicts the wedding scene (Pl. 19.6). This off-white square rumal depicts bride and bridegroom in the centre and it is surrounded by divinities, musicians, elephants, horses, dowry, palanquins, etc. The bridal couple is sitting on a stool under the mandapa, which has been decorated with lots of parrots, and they hold each other's hand. A man dressed in jama, turban, sash and paijama, standing at the back of the bride seems to be the father of bride. The couple is surrounded by several women, who hold chhatari (umbrella), banner and chauri (fly-whisk). Some of them are sitting in the corner and playing various instruments. Different types of utensils, cot and chair are placed around the mandapa, as a part of marriage function. The upper portion of rumal has been worked out in small compartments, which depict Ganesha in centre and Sun, Moon and Rahu-Ketu around. The lower portion of rumal illustrates two palanquins, open and covered, for bridegroom and bride, respectively, and elephants, horses, musicians, banner and standard holders have been depicted around. Both embroidered and painted rumals have some similarities like composition of wedding scene, mandapa decorated with parrots, depiction of architectural dwelling, utensils placed near the bridal couple. Presence of Brahma and Vishnu, in embroidered rumal signifies the marriage of Shiva, Parvati and people dressed in colourful attire, in the painted rumal appear to be wedding of some royal personality. GAJANTAKA SHIVA Shaivite Gajantaka Shiva theme has been beautifully illustrated on white handspun yarn and hand-woven cotton cloth, which has been delicately embroidered with floss silk threads. The story of Gajantaka Shiva has been mentioned in many Puranas, here this rumal unfolds the same story, which is based on Shiva Purana. Entire Gajantaka theme has been embroidered within a rectangular frame, which starts from lower frame and moves upwards (Pl. 19.7). Done in narrative style, the artist had wisely chosen the three incidents to communicate the story. The lowermost portion depicts seven Shiva Ganas holding weapons, i.e., stick, battle-axe, rod, etc. and running after Gajasura who is chasing Nandi (the vehicle of Lord Shiva) and Lord Shiva is also trying to help Nandi. In the next sequence, demon Gajasura in his ferocious mood is chasing Nandi and Lord Shiva is running towards Nandi for rescue, while Paravati and her other female attendants are also running to help Nandi. Finally in the third scene, Lord Shiva and Parvati are shown seated on lion skin under the big tree, while Gaja's skin is lying on his shoulder. The uppermost portion illustrates a few gods and goddesses in their viman (vehicle), descending from heaven and showering the flowers on Shiva-Parvati and bowing before them with respect as he had killed asura. Shiva is embroidered with white, grey and pink coloured silk threads. He is adorned with a snake and holds stage/flag and damaru (small drum) in his two hands. Parvati and her attendants wear the orange/yellow/magenta pink lahanga-choli-odhani (long skirt-blouse-head covering) and usual ornaments. Kartikeya is represented by depiction of peacock in the scene. Line work of this coverlet is of a high quality, as the charcoal line work is clearly visual at places. On the whole, with such a high quality selective subject having good composition, strong line drawing work, good quality stitch work and wonderful colour balance makes this coverlet a very good example. It appears that it could be the line work of Guler Kangra artist and made for someone special, probably on order. The best part of this embroidered rumal is that it appears to be a copy of a Guler style of miniature painting (Pl. 19.8), which also illustrates the identical subject and more importantly in almost similar composition. This Guler painting also depicts the story of Gajantaka in narrative form. Here the miniature painting artist had used only two sequences: the first sequence illustrates Gajasura chasing Nandi, and Lord Shiva is shown helping Nandi and trying to tame demon Gaja, while in the second scene Shiva-Parvati are sitting under a tree on a lion skin and have covered themselves with Gaja skin. Kartikeya and Ganesha with their respective vehicles have been shown around. The entire story line has been developed around mountains, trees and clouds in embroidered rumal and miniature painting both, which is an interesting, striking and natural feature of the Pahari work of art. Gajantaka Shiva theme on Guler painting and embroidered rumal featuring Guler/Kangra style is an unusual finding. It is rare to have similar subjects done in two different mediums. HOLY FAMILY Shiva, Parvati, Ganesha and Kartikeya form the Holy family in Hindu pantheon, which became the popular subject for eighteenth-nineteenth centuries Pahari artists, to illustrate it in various mediums. The National Museum has an embroidered Pahari rumal, miniature painting on paper and wall painting depicting the holy family theme almost in a similar fashion. The coarse cotton nineteenth century rumal has been embroidered with holy family and Bhairava in the centre surrounded by a broad border (Pl. 19.9). The colourful floral creeper border is almost at the edges. Two-armed Shiva-Parvati sit together on a spread of lion skin and Shiva holds damaru and trisula having pataka (banner) in it. Parvati is dressed in lahanga-choli-odhani and jewellery like bangles and nose-ring, while three-eyed Shiva is also adorned with ornaments such as ear-ring, bangles and snake necklace. Kartikeya has been embroidered with six heads and six arms; Ganesha carries modaka and axe and Bhairava holds arms bowl and stick/sword. All of them have been shown with their vahanas: Nandi, lion, peacock, mouse and dog for Shiva, Parvati, Kartikeya, Ganesha and Bhairava, respectively. There are some interesting features in this rumal like depiction of Bhairava, crowned Ganesha (may be embroidery artist was a great devotee of him), nose-ring of Parvati (a common feature of Pahari women), and use of colour suitable on each God. He has composed the scene of winter night as White Mountain represents snow; moon, fire and tong indicate the dark cold night scene. This rumal appears to be a late nineteenth century work done in Chamba style, which is often found in miniature and wall paintings. A wall painting of Chamba Rang Mahal depicts Shiva-Parvati sitting on lion skin under a tree, at the backdrop of a mountain (P1. 19.10). The scene has been composed under an arched top, surrounded by floral border. It a beautiful illustration of Shiva as a loving father, where Ganesha is sitting on his lap and Kartikeya is also close to him. Parvati is looking towards Shiva with admiration. Their vahanas; Nandi, lion, peacock, and rat — are also embroidered nearby. Vaishnava, Bhagavata and Shaivite religion and literature have inspired the Pahari artists to create miniature paintings, which influenced the artist to create wall paintings in this region. These paintings might have inspired the women, in respect of caste, region and class, to do the embroidery work on rumal, hangings, choli, hand-fan, pillow cover, chaupar spread, etc. Among all the embroideries, rumals that too of classical style, became very popular. The intricate embroidery, soft soothing colours and pictorial qualities of these rumals have created a special place. All these qualities give the impression that women might have taken help from court artists for line drawing work and colour scheme. Although these classical rumals illustrate flora-fauna and hunting theme also, the picturesque qualities makes them unparalleled and outstanding. NOTES AND REFERENCES 1. Dr. Subhashini Aryan has suggested the term 'Pahari rumal', in her work (Himachal Embroidery, 1976, Delhi, p. 13). These embroidered rumals (coverlets) are not confined to Chamba region only. These are made all around the Himalayan region, such as Nurpur, Bhaohli, Kangra, Bilaspur, Mandi, etc., and therefore it is better to use the term Pahari rumals like Pahari paintings. 2. Chandigarh Museum has Rama's coronation hanging, which has inscription in Devanagari. It reads that this rumal was embroidered by Champakali, a palace maid. 3. A 19th century Kangra painting illustrates five sages and princess worshipping Shiva Lingam. It depicts women holding tray, which are covered with rumal (Dr. Daljeet, Immortal Miniatures, Delhi, 2002, p.106). A hanging depicting Mahabharata is a gift by Raja Gopal of Chamba in 1883. (Margaret, Hall, The Victoria and Albert Museum's Mahabharata Hanging, South Asian Studies 12, 1996, pp. 83-96) 4. M.S. Randhawa, Kangra Paintings of Bhagavat Purana, New Delhi, 1960, pl. xii; Dr. Daljeet, ibid p. 97 5. B.N. Goswamy and E. Fisher, Pahari Masters, Delhi, 1997, p. 198, p. 199. 6. K. Zarin, Chamba rumals in the Collection of Lahore Museum, Lahore Museum Bulletin, (ed.) S.R. Dar, Vol. 1, no. 1, Jan. June 1988, p. 11. 7. B.N. Goswamy, "Threads and Pigment: Rumals and Paintings in the Pahaii. Tradition', pp. 4-6, in exhibition catalogue; Rasa: The Chamba Rumal, New Delhi, 1999. 8. Other prominent variety of embroidered rumals is: chikan work of Lucknow, Uttar Pradesh; chakla of Gujarat, colourful rumal of banjara women and rumala from Punjab. In chikan rumals white cotton cloth is embroidered with white cotton thread, which illustrates floral and creeper patterns.Chakla is made of colourful satin silk cloth, which is embroidered with silk thread and generally it illustrates rasa or floral patterns. Cotton rumals, embroidered with colourful cotton threads, are used by women on the occasions of dances. Patterns are geometric and use of cowrie shells makes it beautiful. Rumala is usually satin silk rumal, which is embroidered with silk thread and depicts Guru Nanak Dev and other Sikh Gums. 9. A. Pathak, 'Rasa in Indian Textiles', National Museum Bulletin, no. 9, New Delhi, pp. 20-29. 10. A.K. Bhattacharya, Chamba Rumal, Calcutta, 1968, p. 22. 11. Ibid., p. 34. 12. J. Jain and Aarti Agrawal, National Museum of Handicraft and Handloom, Ahmedabad, 1989, p. 152. 13. A. Pathak, 'Holy Family Embroidered on Chamba Rumal', Puratan, No. 7, Bhopal, 1989-90, pp.136-138. 14. A. Pathak, 'A Unique Chamba Rumal on the Gajantaka Theme', Marg, Vol. 55, Number 3, March 2004. 15. Bhattacharya, ibid, p. 16. 16. Ibid., p. 36-45. 17. H. Geotz, An Early Basohli Chamba Rumal: The Wedding of Raja Jita Singh of Chamba and Rani Sarada Devi of Jammu AD 1783', Bulletin of the Baroda State Museum, Vol. III, Part 1, 1945-46, pp. 35-42. 18. The major museums having Pahari rumals are — Bhuri Singh Museum, Chamba, Himachal Pradesh; Calico Museum, Ahmadabad, Gujarat; Cincinnati Museum, U.S.A.; National Handicraft and Handloom Museum, New Delhi; Himachal State Museum, Shimla; Indian Museum, Kolkata, Lahore Museum, Lahore, National Museum, New Delhi; Victoria and Albert Museum, London. 19. Apart from rumals, Pahari women used to do the embroidery work on wall hangings, costumes, fans, chaupar, chapal (slippers), etc. John Irwin, Indian Embroideries, 1973, Ahmedabad; Aryan, ibid p. 22. 20. B.N. Goswamy and Eberhard Fischer, Pahari Masters, Zurich, 1992. 21. Tanjore and Mysore painting of south India, wood carving of Tamil Nadu, kalamkari painting on cloth of Andhra Pradesh and ivory carving of Mysore are some important art works of south India, while painted patta and terracotta of Bengal, miniature painting of Rajasthan, and stone sculptural evidences are from north India. 22. B.N. Goswamy, Piety and Splendour, Sikh Heritage in Art, Delhi, 2000, p. 230. 23. S.S. Kapur, `Chamba Wall Paintings', in The Times of India, Annual, Bombay, 1966, p. 63. 24. P. Banerjee, Krishna in Indian Art, Delhi, 1978. 25. Chaupar is a board game, which has a cross shape having some blocks and played by four people with the help of sixteen gamesmen and three dies. 26. Aryan, ibid., pl. 4; 44, 46. 27. Zarina, ibid., p. 16. 28. V.C. Ohri, The Technique of Pahari Painting, Delhi, 2001, p. 122. 29. W.G. Archer, Indian Paintings from the Punjab Hills, Vol. I, Delhi, 1973, p. 86; Dr. Daljeet and Dr. P.C. Jain., Krishna (in Hindi), Delhi, 2002, p. 92. 30. Kurma Purana, A.S. Gupta, Varanasi, 1972, Vol. 31, pp. 16-18; Varaha Purana, A.S. Gupta, Varanasi, 1981, pp. 15-18 and Shiva Purana, J.L. Shastri, Varanasi, Part II, Khanda V, Ch. 57. 31. Kapur, ibid., p. 65.

PANCHATANTRA

Why choose the Panchatantra as a theme for an exhibition of art? What is contemporary about a collection of animal fables that is over 2000 years old?

Visnusarma, its author and renowned sage speaks to us over the ages to tell us why:

Whosoever learns this work by heart,

Or through the story-tellers art,

Will never face defeat

Even if his foe

The King of Heaven be.

Charged with igniting the minds of three dull-witted princes whose political education was consigned to his charge Visnusarma’s Panchatantra has not yet finished saying what it has to say. Its philosophy, both profound and practical remains relevant today, not only for aspiring princelings and political hopefuls but for the rest of us as well.

This marvelous text on political thought niti shastra and the wise conduct of life comes to us fresh and vibrant over the millennia’s, its complexities cloaked in fables. The prose punctuated with maxims, proverbs and other wisdoms, the stories framed within stories, leading us on and enfolding into other stories.

Didactically powerful the five discourses of the Panchatantra stakeout a vast territory of statecraft. Book one covers the Loss of friends and discord among allies; Book two on Securing allies, winning friends; Book three is on War and peace; Book 4: On loosing what has been gained and the final discourse in Book V is on Hasty Actions and Rash Deeds.

Though the social, economic, political and popular pressures would have been very different when first imparted over two millennia ago, Vishnusarma’s teachings continue to resonate today as he begins to educate in order that

“No one undertake a deed

Ill considered, ill conceived,

Ill examined, ill done...”

While applying pedagogy to educate and awaken a seeking mind Vishnusarma additionally provides guidelines to the foundational principles from which an educator too can learn a lesson or two

Since verbal science has no final end

Since life is short and obstacles impend

Let central facts be picked and firmly fixed

Like swans that extract milk from water mixed.

Visnusarma at the end of the six months given to him makes good his boast of awakening the minds of the three dullards making them aware not only of niti shastra but teaching them

Better with the learned dwell

Even though it be in hell

Then with vulgar spirits roam

Palaces that kings call home

Over the millennia the source text of the Panchatantra with its universal truths spread across the boundaries of the sub-continent to be told and retold in the many tongues of travelers and courts and from teller to teller. The recensions of the fables are evident from the adaptations and versions that multiplied in the telling, which not including the numerous languages and dialects of the subcontinent itself, are said to be over two hundred in number, in more than fifty languages. From a Pehlevi version (550-578 CE) to a 570 CE Syriac one and then the Arabic Kalilahwa Dimnah dated to 750 CE; traveling further to medieval Europe and the Fables of Bidpai and thence to the German Das der Buch Beyspiele (1483), the Italian La Moral Philosophia (1552) and on to its influence on Aesops Fables, the Fables of La Fontaine, the Grimm Brothers tales and others. Altered to suit audiences and differing cultural milieus, adapting to the changing centuries remaining ageless in its sheer widespread popular appeal.

This exhibition refocuses our attention on this ageless and universal core of this great text and its continuing and continuous appeal two millennia later, schooling us, as he did the princes, on how to think and not on what to think.


GURUPADA CHIRAKAR

For if there be no mind

Debating good and ill,

And if religion send

No challenge to the will,

….

How would you draw a line betwixt

Man-beast and the beast?

Tracing the Lineage

The intersection of the Panchatantra and the narration of epics, fables, stories and religious tenets through art has a long enduring antiquity. Evidence from the 3^rd Century BCE attests to this ancient telling of tales through their visual imaginings.

ANWAR CHITRAKAR

The architectural reliefs in the Great Stupa of Sanchi with its inspired architraves that sculptured the story of Prince Vessantara to the 2^nd Century narrative friezes depicting the departure of the Buddha at Amravati. The fabulous murals in the rock cut cave monasteries at Ajanta (5^th Century) where the Jataka tales and narrations of the life of Buddha were realized through painting all point to this long tradition of narrative art. The art provided lessons in an age of limited literacy, educating pilgrims in the basic canons of their belief. The architectural reliefs in the Great Stupa of Sanchi with its inspired architraves that sculptured the story of Prince Vessantara to the 2^nd Century narrative friezes depicting the departure of the Buddha at Amravati. The fabulous murals in the rock cut cave monasteries at Ajanta (5^th Century) where the Jataka tales and narrations of the life of Buddha were realized through painting all point to this long tradition of narrative art. The art provided lessons in an age of limited literacy, educating pilgrims in the basic canons of their belief,

The link reinforced by literary evidence from the 4^th Century Chitrasutra of VishnudharmottaraPurana. This great treatise on painting and image-making sets out the ideals and theories of painting, it states “Even religious teachers use paintings as the most popular means of communication that could be understood by the illiterate and the child”

From ancient India to the eleventh century the trend continued, adapting over the centuries to its times with the emergence of a new more personalized format of visual narration, the illustrated manuscript. This tradition took a hold on the imagination and from the development of the narrative manuscripts in Buddhist monasteries to the Jain texts that led to the setting up of great libraries with artists commissioned to illustrate canonical literature including the Kalpasutra and Kalakacarya Katha.

In medieval India the intersection between art and narration continued to flourish in the court of the Mughal Emperor Akbar (1556-1605). The enormous outpouring of illustrated manuscripts from the artistic studios established during his rule were eclectic in nature mirroring the Emperors own interests. From classical Persian literature to the great Hindu epics; from history, poetry and fables to stories from the Kathasaritsagar to the Tutinama, and to the best known of all, the Hamzanama were all illustrated. Included too in the long list was the very subject of this exhibition –the Panchatantra.

A parallel popular tradition with an equally long antiquity fulfilled similar aims, the visual narratives integral to the process of transmitting knowledge. Itinerant picture-narrators known by various names such as Saubhikas, Yamapatakas, Mankhas, Chitrakathis, Pratimadharins, Vagjivanusing scrolls and single sheet pictures dramatized didactic stories. As early as the second and first centuries BCE epic tales and dramas were being performed by itinerants who traveled across villages, acting and reciting stories from the Hindu, Jain and Buddhist traditions, from epics and from local legends.

The ancient Jain text the Bhagvata Sutra tells of legendary sage of the Ajivaka sect Mankaliputta Goshala, a contemporary of Mahavira and the Buddha who as the son of a Mankha was trained in the profession. Mankhas are mentioned in several other Jain Prakrit texts with the canonical text Ovaiya including them in its list of public entertainers.


Venkataraman Singh	Purna Chandra


Premola Ghose	Mohan Kumar Verma

Panini, the Indian grammarian of the fourth century BCE, refers to itinerant Brahmins, the Saubhikas, who earned their living by displaying religious images and by singing of the tales. Kautilya’s treatise on statecraft, the Arthasastra (c. 350 BCE) recognized the potential of the Mankha picture-reciters as spies, moving freely as they did from place to place. Both Patanjali’s Mahabhasya(140 BCE)and the Buddhist text Mahavastu (2^nd century BCE- 4^thcentury CE)refer to Saubhikaswho used pictures for their performances. With Bana’sHarshacharita (7^th century CE) providing a vivid portrayal of the Yamapatika in a bazaar narrating from a painted picture scroll the retribution awaiting the wrong-doer in the next world

In the 12^th Century Someshvara III the renowned Sanskrit scholar and Western Chalukya king in his great classic Manasollasa covered a wide range of subjects from kingship to the arts, statesOne who narrates a story with the help of paintings is a great Chitrakathak.

This custom of combining the visual with narrative is in continuum over the millennia’s. The Bards in Rajasthan recite the legendary exploits of the folklore hero Pabuji with the unfolding of the Phad scroll, the Jadu-patua of the Santhals, the Garoda picture-reciters in Gujarat, the Nakashi in Andhra, the Patua scroll painters and poets of Bengal, the Paithan Chitrakathi and this exhibition at the IIC continue to ignite minds, speaking not only to princes but to all of us - today.

Here at the India International Centre

The Panchatantra with its root in all our childhoods is renewed here at the India International Centre in New Delhi as this exhibition - ‘Painted Fables’ brings back a quality of new beginnings, enriching us all with fresh pleasure.


Prakash Joshi	NoorjehanChitrakar

Despite their widely differing individual styles and diverse cultural geographies the artists here share a certain bond - the Panchatantra itself, its fables forming a part of their childhood universe. Therein lies the exhibitions remarkable unity and consistency. All the varied manifestations held together, inspired by this shared beginning, all contributing to the richness of the offering.

The choices of the fables selected include not only old favorites, but the lesser remembered ones. Containing within their story-lines the essence of the frame that hold the narrative threads together within the structure of the five discourses.

As in the fables the values that this collection of artworks is concerned with include the fundamentals philosophies that govern earthly power, glory, worldly pleasures, political life, duty and action. Outlining the perils residing in the trusting of an enemy and the pitfalls of depending on false friends, drawing a fine balance between virtue and vice; the time and place for shrewd strategy to counter brute force, reality and causality. Questions of existence and illusion; of impermanence and the eternal; the significance of action versus repose. The ethics of wise living and moral teachings communicated within individual frames and by the exhibition as a whole.

This exhibition full of humor and wisdom, vivid in anthropomorphism and rich in human detail is peopled with kings, queens, ascetics, merchants, princesses, Brahmins , aam-admi and of course with animals standing in for human types, pinpointing human morals. The animals as metaphors and key to understanding the abstract principles of Niti Shastra and the wise way to lead life, helping us identify the cunning of the fox, the craftiness of the crab, the lion as king, the foolishness of donkeys, the selfishness of swans, the sneak in the jackal et al.

Within each frame of this richly imagined exhibition the artists open the gateway to the wonder that is Visnusarmas Panchatantra, engaging us like the princes of yore, to ask with bated breath, what happens next?


BharatiDayal (Madhubani)	BharatiDayal (Madhubani)

Note written for the exhibition Painted Fables. India International Centre (IIC), New Delhi - February 2014.

Exhibition Conceived by Gulshan Nanda, and organized in collaboration with IIC, Delhi Crafts Council and the Craft Revival Trust

The Poetics and Politics of Indian Folk and Tribal Art

Issue #005, Summer, 2020 ISSN: 2581- 9410

Long before modern modes of storytelling were available, religious preachers and artist-storytellers in many parts of India would travel from village to village singing folk, religious and moral stories illustrated in brightly painted scrolls. In the eastern part of India, two styles of this visual and performing art developed, one in Bengal and one in Odisha. The pattachitra, as the style was called, derived its nomenclature from Sanskrit, where ‘patta’ means cloth, and ‘chitra’ means painting. In Odisha, three painting traditions developed based on mediums used -- bhitichitra (wall paintings), tala pattachitra, (paintings on palm leaf) and pattachitra, (paintings on cloth). Stylistically, the tala pattachitra and the pattachitra are similar, with palm leaf paintings being of earlier origin since palm leaf manuscripts pertaining to Hindu, Buddhist and Jaina traditions were often illustrated. Shanta Acharya, an eminent poet from Odisha speaks of the ancient roots of pattachitra in her poem Painter of Gods

“Tracing our ancestors back to the eighth century, When the painting of pattachitras as souvenirs For pilgrims turned into profession, And the craft was passed down generations, father instilled in me a hunger for perfection - A work of art being the true worship of the divine.”

Interestingly, even though these art styles had been in existence for centuries, the establishment of the Jagannath Temple at Puri in 12^th century CE brought them into prominence. These paintings evolved to serve specific ritual purposes in the temple, and some were painted as souvenirs for pilgrims and visitors. Only one community, the Chitrakaras, who believe they are the descendants of the cosmic architect, Vishwakarma can make these ritual paintings. The Chitrakaras have three groups or badas – the Jagannatha Bada, the Balabhadra Bada, and the Subhadra Bada, each associated with one of the three deities of the Puri temple triad – Jagannath (Krishna), Balabhadra (Balarama, Krishna’s elder brother), and Subhadra (their sister). The badas create paintings associated with their deity and are responsible for the requisite repainting of the images of the deities for the annual ratha yatra (chariot festival) in Puri. Pattachitra paintings usually depict themes from mythology, particularly stories about Jagannatha and Lord Vishnu including his dashavatara (ten incarnations) as well as episodes from the Indian epics, the Ramayana and the Mahabharata. Other popular themes include the story of Buddha’s life and the Jataka tales and occasionally some folk stories. Stylistically, the paintings can be recognised by the characteristic beak like noses, beautifully elongated eyes, prominent chins on figures and stylised trees. The Chitrakaras use natural colours in accordance to strictures laid down in the Shilpshastras which are taught to each practicing artist. According to these canons, blue is for Krishna, yellow for the goddesses, white for the gods, light blue or white for Sri Ramachandra and yellow for the garments of Krishna (pitambar). The artists are free to use their creativity while choosing colours for garments of secular figures and gods and goddesses. Shanta Acharya in Painter of Gods eloquently shares the process of preparing colours.

Father taught me all about colour –

conch shells for white, lamp soot for black,

yellow from the hartala stone, vermilion from cinnabar,

green a gift from the leaves of the neem tree,

blue from indigo and the khandaneela stone.

We made paintbrushes with keya root –

the finer brushes with carved wooden

handles have mouse hair. A dozen long hairs at the centre

give it a needle-point edge when dipped in paint.

The art of making the pattachitra is passed from one generation to the next, the knowledge and the skill of painting being important factors for even arranging marriage. The process of pattachitra painting begins with an arduous preparation of the cloth on which it is painted. As Shanta Acharya describes it

It takes five days for the spirit of the gods to descend,

for the readiness of the canvas –

from soaking the tamarind seeds in water,

grinding it to a thick pulp in a mortar,

stirring the paste on a gentle fire

until left with a residue,

the glue to stick two layers of cloth, cotton or tussar,

before buffing it with the fine powder of the soft clay stone from the Nilgiri mountains

that lends the piece its unique colour.

Once dried in the sun it is cut and polished

with a semi-precious stone,

then with a smooth pebble or piece of wood.

I’ve followed this ritual since my childhood.

Painting begins only when the cloth has been fully prepared. Earlier, there was a marked gendered division of labour in the making of the pattas, with women preparing the cloth while the men painted. In recent times, there are many more women artists. One factor has been the increasing use of tussar silk in place of the burnished cotton cloth since the early 1980s which has given women more time to pursue painting. The process of creating tala pattachitra or palm leaf paintings is also quite elaborate and involves great skill and dexterity. The delicate palm leaves are first carefully dried to provide a hard base for the drawings. The prepared palm leaves are then sewn together to become a foldable scroll. The artist then uses a sharp stylus to etch the paintings on the palm leaves. Colour, traditionally black, is smeared all over the leaf and gets deposited in the engraved grooves. The rest of the colour is wiped off, leaving only the etched part coloured in black. The artists have to be very skilled -- care has to be taken to exert the right amount of pressure while using the stylus– too much and the leaf will tear, too little, then the colour will adhere to the groove. Since the pattachitra traditions of Odisha developed around the cult of Jagannatha, the main artist clusters are in Puri, Raghurajpur and Bhubaneshwar. The Chitrakaras create scrolls for specific temple rituals. The anasara patti is painted on the occasion of Debasana Purnima, when it is believed that the gods and the goddess have a ritualistic bath, to beat the heat of summer. The story continues that because of the bath, the deities fall sick for a fortnight, and have to rest in a chamber called the anasara ghara, due to which the devotees are unable to worship the main idols, and are denied darshan. In place of the idols, the anasara patti, which is painted with large images of the main deities, is worshipped by the devotees. The Jagannatha temple also commissions the Krishna patti, which is worshipped on his birthday, Janmashtami. The Bamana Patti, celebrating the Vamana avatara or incarnation of Vishnu, is worshipped on his birthday, and the Kandarpa Patti, worshipping Kandarpa, the god of love, Kamadeva is worshipped. In addition to creating pattachitras for the Jagannath Puri temple, Chitrakaras also create paintings for personal use by devout Hindus. The Yama patti (the painting of Yama, the god of death), and Usha Kothi (depicting the story of the goddess, Mangala) are pattachitras, worshipped by women in Odisha. The artists also create paintings for the market such as the Jatripattis made exclusively pilgrims to the Jagannath Temple. Different types of Jatripattis are made - the anguthi paintings are circular and ring sized, the gola paintings, also circular but bigger in size depict the panchamandira (five shrines) of Puri, and the sankhanavi which depicts the Jagannath Puri temple on a conch shell. A popular ancient Indian card game, Ganjifa, consists of cards painted with Indian deities. The pattachitra artists also paint the cards for Ganjapa, as it is known in the region, for the elite to play. Life in Odisha, just like many other parts of India, revolves around religion, with Puri being one of the main centres of pilgrimage for Hindus, and Bhubaneshwar, the adjoining district and capital of the state, having more than 300 historic temples. The pattachitra is intertwined with the religious life of the people, and hence has become an inseparable part of the rituals. During weddings as well, the brides are married with the Jautuka pedi, a trousseau box adorned with pattachitra paintings. The Odisha pattachitra painting tradition has clearly been sustained by the religious narratives and rituals surrounding it. Unlike the Bengali style, the Odisha pattachitra has retained its form over the centuries and has remained free from any outside influences. Today, this indigenous style of painting continues to flourish, supported greatly by the religious tourism in Puri and government initiatives such as the establishment of heritage art village in Raghurajpur.

The need for covering the floors of the houses with cotton rather than woollen spreads popular in Persia, brought in the durree and the khes. The hangings in the colourful tents led to the invention of the floral designs on rough cloth. The textiles for use in ceremonials became even more variegated under the Mughals; the animated bright colours of Haryana fabrics are likely to spread more and more to the entire world, as the drabness of the 'technology-run-mad' syndrome demands richness for the eyes. Panipat, a historical town of India, presently known as a city of Handloom was once famous for its khes weaving. These were woven in a double-cloth weave with cotton yarn, making it thick enough to be used as a shawl or a wrap. It was more popularly used as a bedding material. With the advent of the power-loom, the handloom sector of Panipat suffered a setback. However, while the carpet and durree weaving industries survived, khes weaving died out owing to its time consuming complex weaving.

1: RESEARCH OUTLINE

1. 1. Study Area This study focuses on the Panipat district of Haryana. There are regions in nearby Uttar Pradesh where khes is still being woven, but Panipat was chosen to study the traditional Panipat khes craft, which came, along with the weavers from that region, to India from the West Pakistan region after the Partition of 1947. 1. 2. Objectives

To study the geographical background of the region.
To study the historical background of the craft and the area.
To understand the social, cultural, and economic structure of the craft pocket.
To study the production process in detail, including material, tools, equipments and techniques.
To study design and quality.
To study the marketing scenario of the craft.
To identify different issues in the craft pocket.
To critically analyse the observations and recommend alternatives in the identified problem areas.

1. 3. Methodology 1.3.1. Collection Of Data PRIMARY DATA:

Field visits: Field studies were conducted by visiting handloom factories at Panipat. Power-loom factories working for export market were also visited since most of the entrepreneurs were traditional weavers who had come from Pakistan after partition and were a vital source of information.
Interviews: First generation immigrants from Pakistan were interviewed for they had come as weavers, had prospered to become entrepreneurs and had also seen the complete growth and decline cycle of khes weaving in Panipat. Industrialists were also interviewed to understand the present scenario of the handloom industry.
Observation: Visiting the factories at Panipat revealed that the condition of the weavers had changed drastically. The demands of the export market from the handloom sector also showed possible reason behind the death of the double cloth khes while the handloom sector prospered.
Photography: The traditional khes were available only in personal collections, whereas replicas of the traditional khes were made by the Weaver's Service Centre, Panipat.
Sketching And Drawing
Collection Of Samples: Since traditional kind of double cloth Khes were not available in the local market, these were made to order for sample. Samples of the raw material were also collected.

SECONDARY DATA

Books And Journals: Various libraries were visited in Delhi to find out the route and source of introduction of the traditional khes in India. An intensive study of the pre-partition gazetteers was done to find out the various missing links in the history of khes weaving.
Official Sources: Concerned government officers and other people were also interviewed to get the details of the various policies that have been implemented in the handloom sector and their effect.
Museums

2: THE CRAFT

2.1. Evolution of The Craft The term khes has traditionally been used to describe any thick cotton cloth used as a spread or upper garment. It included a great variety of fabric worn by all classes in the Punjab. The North-western part of the country, particularly Multan Division of undivided Punjab before partition of India was known as the birthplace of khes. Noted centres of khes weaving included Dera Jat, Dera Ismail Khan, Jhang, Multan, Shahpur Kohat, Peshawar, Muzaffargarh, Lahore, Karnal, Ludhinia, and Patiala. The centres of great perfection were Multan, Shahpur Bhera, and the Khushaab in the Shahpur district and at Jhelum.

Woven by the weavers, both Hindus and Muslims, as well as by some Kabir panthis also, the khes was in equal favour with the Sikh Sardar and the Musalman Jatt. Traditionally the local people procured the khes for their requirements on barter system. The good quality of the khes of the region had remained undisputed since 1888 as T.N. Mukherjee states in his Art Manufactures of India: in the context of comparing it to a Rampur khes which had won a gold medal at the Calcutta International Exhibition, Mukherjee states that though the Rampur Khes is not surpassed by any handwork in India, it is not as good as those woven in the Punjab.

2.3. History of the Area The history of the area in which the present Panipat district lies can be traced back, historically and mythologically, to an area which, according to the Hindu epic Mahabharata was divided into a number of vanas (forests) and also had urban settlements like Kaithal, Rajaond, and Panipat. Panipat is said to have been one of the prasthas, which Yudhishthar demanded from Duryodhan as the price of peace in the conflict described in the Mahabharata. A distinctive class of pottery known as the painted grey-ware has been excavated in the region in recent years. Excavations have also revealed the presence of ceramics belonging to other, later, periods in early historic times. The history of the area became more definite and detailed with the coming of the Muslims. With Muslim invasions, the fortune of the tract became identified with those of Delhi. The area became a battleground for the empire of Delhi. Karnal and Panipat were on the high road from Sirhind and Ferozepur to Delhi; and from the time of Timur to that of Akbar, or for about 150 years, this tract witnessed important and decision making battles fought between the ruling powers of Delhi and those coming from the north-west with the intention of supplanting their authority.

Between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries, Panipat stood witness to three extremely decisive battles. The first was that of the Babar, the founder of the Mughal Empire, against Ibrahim Lodi, the Pathan King of Delhi in 1526 A.D.; the second of his grandson, the young Akbar, out to wrest his father's shaky dominion from the Hindu general, Hemchandra, 30 years later in 1556; and the third of the Marathas and Ahmad Shah Abdali in 1761. In 1803, the power of the Marathas in North India was completely broken and Karnal district, including the present Panipat district, with Daulat Rao Scindia's other possessions west of the Yamuna, passed on to the British, by the treaty of Surji Arjungaon, signed on 30 December 1803. The district which was considered then to be 'the most turbulent district in the North-West Province' did not give as much trouble as was expected during the Uprising of 1857.

2.4. Geographical Context Panipat, the headquarters of the tehsil of the same name, is 34 km south of Karnal on the Grand Trunk Road, which is the National Highway 1, between Karnal and Delhi. At the time of 1981 Census, Panipat district was a part of Karnal district, which consisted of three tehsils - viz., Karnal, Assandh, and Panipat - and eight towns. The district was created, vide Haryana Government Notification No. S.O. 147/P.A.17/1887/S.5/89, dated 16 October 1989. The said notification alters the limits of the areas of Karnal district so as to form a new district to be called Panipat comprising Panipat sub-division and Assandh tehsil of Karnal district with effect from 1 November 1989. The district is bounded by the districts of Kaithal and Karnal in the north, by the state of Uttar Pradesh in the east, by the districts of Sonipat and Rohtak in the south, and by Jind district in the west The areas of the district is 1754 sq. kms. which forms only 3.97 per cent of the total area of the state. The position of Panipat district on the eve of the 1991 Census was thus:

Name of Tehsil	No. of Villages	Name of Town
Assandh	46	Assandh
Panipat	186	Panipat Samalkha

The district is located 29º 23' 33'' North Latitude and 76º 58' 38" East Longitude.

Population according to 1991 census	= 8,33,501
Number of Males	= 4,49,504
Number of females	= 3, 83,997

The district has a sub-tropical continental monsoon climate, with hot summer, cool winter, unreliable rainfall and great variation in temperature.

2.5. Social, Economic and Cultural Contexts Panipat a small town in the state of Haryana has seen the inflow of migrants at various stages in its history: after Partition it was migrants from Pakistan; and then, once the wheel of industrialisation was set moving, migrants from various villages in India. Hindus, Muslims, and Sikhs form the major part of the population of the Panipat district. There are Christians, Jains, and also a few Buddhists. The main language spoken in the district is Hindi, followed by Punjabi. Out of the 234 villages in Panipat district, 220 are inhabited. All the villages have drinking water and power supply. The facility of approach by pucca (tarred) road is available in 99.55 per cent of villages; 95 per cent of the villages have access to education, facility of communication is available in 82.27 per cent of the villages, medical facilities in 62.27 per cent of the villages, and facility of post and telegraph in 53.64 per cent of villages. Panipat has also been the centre of agricultural revolution: out of 189,000 hectares of land available for cultivation during 1989-90, 161,000 thousand hectares were under high yielding varieties of food grains. The single-most critical factor behind this is the vastly improved and sophisticated irrigation system and its optimum utilisation. 2.6. Industrial Set up of Panipat Industrialisation is a 'sin qua non' of economic progress. Haryana is poised on the threshold of dynamic change. There were 459 registered factories, registered under the Factories Act, in the district in 1990. The fabled town of Panipat has earned the reputation of being the 'Weavers City of India', especially for its exquisite hand-tufted woollen carpets and colourful products. Panipat district is also one of the industrially advanced districts in the state.

SALIENT FEATURES OF PANIPAT'S INDUSTRIES:

Panipat is exporting about 50 per cent of the total export of the handloom products of the country.
Panipat has been awarded Gold Trophy by the Export Promotion Council for the highest export of the woollen hand tufted carpets.
The handloom industry of Panipat is meeting out 75 per cent demand of the barrack blankets of Indian Military.
Panipat town has got the distinction of having the maximum number of cotton thread or shoddy (rough yarn) spinning units at one particular place not only in the country but also in the world.
The pickle industry of the district of international fame; the Pachranga achara of Panipat is being exported to the Middle East European countries.
Samalkha, a small town of the district is nucleus place of the foundries and finds its name on the industrial map of the country.

Small-scale units, including those set up under Cottage and Village Rural Industries Scheme, account for 10,172 registered units. With the investment of Rs 640.80 crores, these units provide employment to 46,201 persons. The items manufactured by these units include handloom products,textiles (power loom and spinning), chemicals, engineering goods, electrical goods, leather and leather products, hosiery products, readymade garments, wood products, non-ferrous products, food products/agro-based products, paper and paper products, service industries, synthetic, tapestries, etc. Out of these 10,172 small-scale units, 1,400 units are under rural industries scheme. The items manufactured by them include cotton synthetic, blended fabrics, tapestry, woollen carpets and wooden furniture.

There has been a very high growth of handloom in Panipat during the last 13 years. Handloom is the most important sector of this town. At present, there are more than 24,690 handloom units operating in the district providing employment to 39,540 persons. The majority of the weavers are migrants from UP, Bihar, and West Bengal. There are some local weavers also who come from neighbouring villages to work at Panipat in handloom units. The weavers are employed on contractual wages/piece-rate system; the average earning per worker is around Rs 70 to Rs 120 per day depending upon the width and the variety of cloth. The government has reserved 11 items to be manufactured exclusively as handlooms. There is also a heavy demand of traditional handloom products in the international market, which is also helping to keep this sector alive.

2.7. Procurement of Raw Materials The raw materials required for weaving are : Cotton yarns: Warp - 2/20s & Weft - 2/6 Before Partition, about 1,872 khes was also woven in silk. Seven hundred maunds of raw silk was brought to Multan every year by the Lohanis, chiefly from Bokhara and Turkistan to be woven into khes. After Partition, the weavers started procuring the yarns from Sadar Bazar, Delhi. It was bought in bundles of 4.5 kg, costing Rs 17 for 2/20s and Rs 5 for 10s.Later, when the handloom industry flourished, the raw material became adequately available, especially as there are a number of cotton and woollen spinning mills in the district; this excludes the raw material for synthetic yarn which is supplied to the handloom sector through commission agents and distributors.Today a kilogram of 2/20s cost Rs 400 and a bundle of 10s costs Rs 300.

2.8. Pre-Loom Tools

CHARKHA
The bobbin or the pirn is fitted on the charkha s kept on the right of the swift. This is usually made of metal bicycle wheel, with a small metal or wooden handle in the centre of the wheel, to rotate it in clockwise direction. On the left hand side of the wheel, a metal spindle, having a pulley in its centre is fitted. A thick cotton cord is used to connect the large wheel to the pulley. When the wheel is rotated the spindle also revolves automatically.
SWIFT This is a rotatable mound made of wood with a horizontal central axis, linked to six non- adjustable arms on either sides. The hank or lachhi is put on this with the loose end tied to a bobbin or pirns.
WARP DRUM This is a 5-5.5feet tall wooden rotatable mound with a horizontal central axis with non adjustable arms on either sides. These are connected to each other on either side. These are connected to each other with wooden arms on which the yarn gets wound.
HECK Heck is a wooden frame with a comb-like structure, through which the yarns from the bobbins on the creel passes to be wound on the warp drum.
PIRNS Pirns are usually 2-3 inches long, made of wood or plastic, and used to wind the weft yarn on. It is then fitted inside the shuttle.
BOBBINS Bobbins are about 5 inches long, made of plastic and used to wind the warp yarn on.
CREEL The creel is a rectangular wooden frame with an arrangement of thin metal rods, to hold the bobbins, jutting out from the space between the two arms.

2.9. Pre Loom Processes

WARP YARN WINDING The hank is put on the swift with the loose ends tied to a bobbin which is put on the metal spindle of the charkha. The handle of the charkha is rotated in a clockwise motion to fill the bobbin.
WEFT YARN WINDING If the weft is required of the same colour the pirns are fitted on the metal spindle of the charkha and the yarn is supplied from the bobbin which was filled earlier. If a different colour is required the same method is followed as for the warp yarn winding.
WARPING The yarn from the bobbin is wound on the warp beam, which is similar to a large bobbin. An uninterrupted length of hundreds of warp yarn results, all lying parallel to one another. The length of the warp yarns has to be decided in advance.

2.10. Loom

PIT LOOM Traditionally a khes was woven on a pit-loom in which the weaver sits on the edge of the pit with his legs working on the treadles inside the pit. In the given diagram of a horizontal Indian loom A is the warp, B and B1 are two healds hanging over a supporting bar C. The two healds are connected with two heald horses or sticks D and D1. E and F are cloth and warp beams respectively. G and G1 are the cords which connect the healds with two treadles placed inside a pit, and H is the pit. P and P1 are two pulleys suspended from a cross bar C on the top of the loom.
In this loom the weaver throws a shuttle through the shed from one selvedge end across the width of the cloth by one hand, and catches the same at the opposite selvedge and by the other hand. This operation is repeated so long as the entire piece of fabric is woven. The yarn for the woof or weft (bana) is welted, and wound on a small hollow spools, generally straws. The shuttle is shaped like a small boat pointed at each end, and having the intermediate space open. In this space the spool of yarn is placed and revolves on a wire which runs through it lengthwise. The end of the yarn passes out through a hole in the side of the shuttle. This loom had been known to be in use in India 5,000 to 6,000 years BC and the uses of the reed, lease rods and temples were also known to the weavers by that time. But its production is considerably slow, say, 3 to 5 meters a day of 8 working hours, or in weaving finer fabrics still lower.
FLY-SHUTTLE FRAME LOOM A fly shuttle frame loom or four poster fly shuttle loom is made of heavy wooden framing having an overhung slay. This loom is fitted over the floor with fixed pegs. A and B are the two healds connected to two treadles C and D. Cords from heald A pass over two pulleys E and F to the heald B. The slay G holds two shuttle boxes at two ends and is suspended from the top of the loom by means of two slay swords H and H1. I is the warp beam, J is the backrest, K is the reed, and L is the cloth beam. M is where the weaver sits and weaves.

2.11. Advantages of Fly Shuttle Frame Loom (Over Pit Loom)

It has an increased speed as one hand of the weaver operates the picking handle, and the other hand remains free to operate the slay.
Fabrics of long width can be as conveniently woven as the narrow ones.
Large number of healds can conveniently be operated.
The structure of the loom is more compact and solid and it vibrates less. It can give more production, better quality of cloth and higher efficiency.
Let-off is done with a pawl and lever arrangement which can be operated by a weaver from his seat when the cloth is taken up on to the cloth beam at intervals.
It can be worked with dobby or jacquard attachment, which is mounted on the top of the loom frame.
It is suitable for weaving both fine and coarse fabrics.

2.12. Loom Process

DRAFTING The warp yarns are passed through the healds according to the desired design.
DENTING The warp yarns from the healds are passed through the reed.

2.13. Technique Khes weaving, a complicated compound weave with a double set of warp threads, is today a specialty of Haryana. This technique was practised all over Punjab in undivided India, the finest being from Multan (now in Pakistan). The khes was traditionally woven in double weave or double cloth, which is an unusual technique in which the front and back are actually woven as independent layers, one above the other, occasionally swapping places to inter link and create a pattern. Two sets of warps are set up one above the other and the weft is interchanged at the edge so that they are transferred from the upper layer to the lower layer of the fabric and vice versa. Both the warp and the weft can be interchanged. This results in the formation of common points of interlacing spread over the length and width of the fabric. Double cloth produced in this way have the same patterns on both sides, but with the colours interchanged, one face of the fabric is the negative of the other.

Sometimes a khes is also woven in a dense twill weave with very fine diagonal lines running all over the fabric. It is a balanced two up, two down twill with single set of warp and weft but both in a combination of colours, thus forming beautiful checks. Khes is woven as a plain fabric in a balanced two up, two down twill with a single colour yarn used both in the warp and weft. Earlier varieties of khes were woven using hand-spun yarn in warp and weft, which is equal to 2s or 3s in warp and 6s, 8s, or 10s in weft. Hank sizing was done to provide strength to the single ply warps and because two ply of single yarn was used in weft, these khes pieces were called do sutti. Generally in the regions of its origin, it was woven on smaller looms having reed space of 28 to 30 inches. Then to bring the khes to normal size of 54 x 90 inches or 60 x 90 inches, two or three width were stitched together. It was also known as Char Paira Khes as it was woven using four paddles in a loom. Slowly weavers started using mill-spun yarn in both warp and weft: common counts are 2/6s, 2/10s, 2/20s for warp, and 4s, 6s, 10s for weft, etc. Around 1950, when khes came to India with the weavers from West Pakistan and Multan it started being made on fly-shuttle frame looms. Later, the jacquard machine was introduced for making figurative designs on the khes. This type of khes woven on plain double cloth principle and sometimes with rib effect were also popular. These also came to be known as Panipat Khes.

2.14. Design Apart from the distinction based on the different colour combinations and different patterns formed through weaving, Khes can also be distinguished on the following basis. 1. Number of Peddles used

Char paira: In which 4 peddles are used in the loom for making the khes.
Aath paira: In which 8 peddles are used in the loom for making the khes.

2. Number of yarns used in warp and weft.

Ek sutti: In which single ply of untwisted yarn is used.
Do sutti: In which double ply of untwisted yarn is used.

3. Size of the Khes.

Do tahi: If by folding into two, or one across, the khes fits an ordinary sized charpai (bed)
Chau tahi: If it is so large that it requires to be folded in four to make it the size of the bed.

4. Patterns formed and colours used.

- Sada Baafi: When the pattern is all in lines or checks and runs either straight down or straight across the webs.
- Khes Baafi: Where the pattern may be either plain or check, but the thread of the weft entwined alternately with those of the warp, so that the make of the fabric appears to be diagonal or corner-wise across the fabric, instead of the threads crossing at right angles.
- Bulbul Chashm Baafi: Where the fabric is damasked with a pattern of diamond shapes produced by interweaving the threads of warp and wefts. These are worn by the more wealthy who can afford them.
- Khes Chandana: Black and white khes; pattern is of alternate diamond shapes of black and white.
- Khes Gadra: A khes in which thread of two colours are woven together in a large check like a plaid shawl.
- Khes Char Khana: Common check khes.

The Khes is also woven in silk, either check pattern squares or plain silk, with a gold border, and edged with some fancy pattern edging on either side of the gold; beautiful thick scarlet khes of the kind were made at Lahore and much sought after.

2.15. Mareketing In the undivided India Punjab particularly Multan division, in its early days people used to get khes for their household requirements on barter system. Before Partition, when Khes was a popular item of bedding and was also being used as a shawl, it included a great variety of fabric and was worn by all classes in Punjab. Depending on the various qualities and thicknesses khes cost anything from Re 1 to Rs 12. Later when the weavers got displaced after Partition, and khes was introduced in the Panipat region which was the centre of woollen industry, khes in its original double cloth form lost its market. The weavers used to take khes in gaanths (40 khes) to the places where maximum labour class had settled, like the Assam tea gardens and the Dhanbad mines, where it sold for Rs.5 a pair. In the mid 1970s, with the sudden influx of the power looms the handloom sector suffered a major blow. The double cloth weave khes, which was very time consuming died out completely in competition to the woollen blanket and the twill weave khes weaving which was less time consuming and also less expensive. The Government of India, on 26 July 1996 published a notice by which 11 items were reserved for manufacturing exclusively on handlooms. This apart from a great demand of handloom products in the international market has helped in the survival of the sector. But the market for the double weave khes could not be revived because the twill weave khes which was the immediate alternate for the double weave khes costs almost half the price in the market even today: a 60' x 90' pair of double weave khes costs between Rs 200 to Rs 400 whereas a pair of twill weave khes costs between Rs 100 to Rs 250, depending on the quality and the design of the khes.

Other than losing its market, Khes has also lost its identity. Since the very beginning the Khes was popularly used as a bedding material. It was used as one of the layers along with chindi dari and bed sheets. Later with time when the original khes was replaced by other kind of fabrics, these also, because of the similar usage were called khes. So, a figurative double cloth fabric woven on a jacquard loom is also called a khes, whereas in the early mentions of khes there is no description of a figurative khes, the only patterns that were made traditionally and the only designs possible on a handloom were a combination of checks and stripes.

2.16. Problem Areas And Issues The main reason for the traditional Panipat khes dying out from the market was that it was not cost effective. Specially in a competitive market when there were cheaper alternatives available than the khes, there was no way in which the cost of the production could have been brought down.

SOME SUGGESTIONS TO REVIVE THE DEAD CRAFT:

Change the target market Khes used to be sold in the local market for household consumption and it did not had the grandeur of a craft product because of its use. Khes should be aimed at the high end niche market, which has a better purchasing power.
Alter the look of the khes Traditionally colours of the khes were of great significance. Khes with blue stripes in the border was preferred by Muslims and that with red stripes was preferred by Hindus. The names of some of the khes like Khes Chandana (black and white khes) were based on the colours of the yarns used to weave it. The colours should be based on the demand of the market it is aimed at.
Improve the finish of the khes Since khes was woven and sold in pairs of two, the warps between the pairs was left uncut, and the loose ends unfinished. To add to the value of the khes the warps between the pairs should be cut and loose ends should be knotted.
Diversify the raw material being used Since khes was mainly meant for the household purpose it was made in cotton, then the cheapest and the most easily available yarn. But early descriptions reveal that khes was also woven in silk with gold borders for the zamidaars, the high-end market of yesteryears. There is a need to revive the rich look of the khes. Also, the product range should be different for varied market segments.

3: Conclusion, Bibliography and Glossary 3.1. In Retrospect The historical town of Panipat had once been synonymous with khes weaving. But the invasion of power looms in the mid-1970s has led to the extinction of the craft. And with the passage of time there are only a few weavers left who can set the warp for the intricate double cloth woven khes. But these weavers who know the craft are also not weaving the Panipat khes because there is no market for the traditional khes. Therefore the need is not only to revive the old craft of khes weaving but also to alter it slightly to meet the requirements of the present market. The government policies reserving manufacturing of certain fabrics on the handlooms should be more seriously looked into since the hand-woven products cannot withstand the competition from the mill-made cost effective products. Efforts need to be taken to revive the warmth of the hand-woven traditional Khes and to preserve it for the times to come. 3.2. Bibliographical References Anand, Mulk Raj, 'The Warp and the Woof', Marg, Vol. XXIX, No.1. Askari, Nasreen & Liz Arthur, Uncut Cloth Banerjee, N. N., Weaving Mechanism Bhatt, S C., District Gazetters of India, 1997 Dhamija, Jasleen & Jyotindra Jain, Hand-Woven Fabrics of India. Dheer V.P. (State Editor), Sudarshan Kumar and B Raj Bajaj (Editor), The Gazetteer of India Karnal District Gazeetter, 1976 District and State Gazetteer of Undivided Punjab, Vol. IV, Karnal District, 1918 Gillow, John & Bryan Sentanz, World Textiles Mukherjee, T. N., Art Manufacturers of India Nisbet, H., Grammar of Textile Designs Panipat District Action Plan, 1997-2003 (District Industrial Centre). Powell, Baden, Punjab Manufacturers Saraswati, S.K., Indian Textiles Sundrayial, Khemraj, Panipat Khes Watson, J. Forbes, The Textile Manufacturers and the Costume of the People Watt, George, Indian Art at Delhi 3.3. Libraries Development Commission (Handicrafts), New Delhi National Archives, New Delhi National Museum, New Delhi Crafts Museum, New Delhi IGNCA, New Delhi JNU, New Delhi

3.4. GLOSSARY

aath - eight
achar - pickle
baafi - name of a khes
bazaar - market
bulbul - nightingale
char/chau - four
chandana - moonlight
charkha - spinning Wheel
chashm - eye
chindi - fragment, small piece
do - two
durree - carpet, floor covering
ek - one
gadra - name of a Khes
gaanth - bundle, sack
Hindi - Indian language
jaat - caste
Kabir panthis - followers of Kabir
khana - partition, compartment
khes - wrap, shawl
lachhi - hank
Mahabharata - Great epic war between the Pandavas and Kurus, described in epic tale of the same name
Marathas - warrior cast from Maharashtra, India
Musalman - Mohammedan, Muslim
Sikh - followers of Sikhism
pachranga - five-coloured
paira - from pair (leg), foot
prasthas - a journey, setting out
pucca - Bitumen road
Punjabi - People belonging to Punjab, India
sada - plain, simple
sutti - from sut (cotton yarn), strands
tahi - folded
tehsil - revenue office
zamidaar - landholder

Research and Writing by Meghna Jain

PANIYAN TRIBE OF NILGIRIS, TAMIL NADU

Any inquiry into Indian culture is definitely incomplete without a study of the country’s tribal communities. India boasts of the largest concentration of tribal population in the world, with tribal communities constituting 8.2% of India’s population. Tribal groups in India are characterized by a distinctive culture, exhibit primitive traits and usually live in geographical isolation in the hilly and forested areas. Their unique way of life is revealed in various ways – their appearance, language, attire, ornaments, habitat, food habits and belief systems. Tribal communities across India are at different stages of economic and social development. While some have adopted mainstream ways of living, others are still in transition and some others are yet to step away from their time-honored lifestyle. The Ministry of Tribal Affairs recognizes 75 tribal groups as Particularly Vulnerable Tribal Groups (PTGs), due to their pre-agricultural level of technology, stagnant population, low level of literacy and subsistence level of economy. The Paniyan tribes, identified as PTG in Tamil Nadu, are a small population of 5541 individuals. They are distributed mainly in Gudalur and Pandalur districts of the state.

Appearance & Language The Paniyans resemble African Negroes in their features – short, dark-skinned, broad noses, wavy or curly hair and thick lips. There are many speculations regarding the lineage of the tribe. Popular legend traces their ancestry to survivors wrecked on the ‘Malabar Coast’. However, their origin is still debatable.The men’s dress typically consists of a waist-cloth (‘mundu’). The women also usually wear single-cloth attire, thrown over their shoulder and knotted across the breast. Women wear ear rings, nose rings and colored beads around their neck. Their ornaments are usually made of base metal. Their ear ornaments are rolled palm leaves, fitted in their dilated ear lobes. This unique ear adornment is made at home by the women and is a skill passed on between generations.The Paniyans speak a dialect of Malayalam, with a mixture of Tamil, Kannada and Tulu words. They are socially isolated and usually shy to talk to strangers.

Habitat Paniyan settlements are usually built at an elevation of 3000 to 4500 ft., and located amidst tea plantations or close to the fields where they work. Their huts are made of bamboo wattle, plastered with mud and thatched with grass. Dwelling in hilly areas, Paniyans run the risk of their settlements being destroyed by wild animals. Attacks by groups of wild elephants are common, and Paniyans need to be prepared for such exigencies.Recently, most Paniyans have moved to government-built modern houses. These houses are single-roomed. Cooking is typically done outside the home.

Economy & Social Organization The word ‘Paniyan’ originated from the Malayalam word ‘Panikkar’ (meaning labourer), and agricultural labor was the original occupation of this tribe. Paniyans earned their livelihood by working in fields and on estates of the Chetti landowners. The Paniyans were earlier famous for hunting tigers and panthers. They usually do not have landed assets. Older studies on the tribes of the Malabar describe Paniyans as “agrestic slaves, bought and sold with the land, to which they were attached as slave labourers.”They are now freed from bonded labor. However, they do not have permanent employment and engage in seasonal casual labor. This added to their economic backwardness, and forced them to look for secondary sources of income. This has also led to women participating in economic activity. Apart from agricultural labor, Paniyans engage in the collection and sale of fuel wood to coal depots and self-cultivation of spices (chiefly pepper).Paniyans follow community-level endogamy i.e. a Paniyan marries within one’s own community. To regulate this system, they have matrilineal descent groups called ‘illam’. However, Paniyans today do not remember their illam. Monogamy is the most common form of marriage found among the Paniyans.

Food Habits Rice is the staple diet of the Paniyans. Paniyans are non-vegetarians and relish fish, crab and prawns in their meal. They smoke cigarettes and chew tobacco regularly.

Belief System Paniyans believe in ancestral and supernatural beings, and identify them with the physical environment. The Paniyan temple consists of layers of stones at the foot of the sacred tree. These stones represent images of the spirits.‘Kuliyan’ or ‘Kulikan’, the soul of a Paniyan legendary hero is worshipped for prosperity in their agricultural work. ‘Velliyam’, the female soul is revered for fertility and welfare of the children.Paniyans also worship ‘Kattu Bagavathy’, the goddess of the woods. Due to close proximity to Hindu societies, and also to suit their landlords, Paniyans believe themselves to be Hindu. Today, Paniyans worship various forms of Hindu deities like Mariamman and Kaliamman.

References Census of India, 2001. Annual Report 2009-2010, Ministry of Tribal Affairs, Government of India. http/www.tribal.gov.in, Ministry of Tribal Affairs website. Paniyans of Nilgiri District Tamil Nadu – A Tribal Cultural Documentation (2003): Tribal Research Centre: Hill Area Development Programme: Government of Tamil Nadu.

Panja weaving forms part of India's glorious weaving tradition. This craft is mostly used for making durries, light woven rugs used as floor covering. The craft gets its name from a metallic claw-like tool called panja in the local dialect, used to beat and set the threads in the warp. CARPET PRODUCTION IN INDIA Today carpets are produced in:

Jammu and Kashmir (Persian designs),
Ladakh (Tibetan designs)
Delhi (carpets as well as durries)
Rajasthan: Jaipur, Jaisalmer, Ajmer and Barmer
Madhya Pradesh: Gwalior
Uttar Pradesh: Mirzapur and Bhadohi (where 90 per cent of all carpets of country are produced)
North-eastern states: Arunachal Pradesh, Sikkim and Manipur (Tibetan designs)
Andhra Pradesh: Warangal and Elluru
Tamil Nadu, Karnataka

Regions specially known for Durrie making in India are:

Haryana and Punjab, particularly Panipat in Haryana is famous for panja durries
Tamil Nadu: Salem durries in Bhavani
Karnataka: Jamkhan durries in Navalgund
Andhra Pradesh: Bandha or ikat durries in Warangal
Rajasthan: Jaisalmer and Barmer for woollen durries

PRODUCER COMMUNITIES

Among the panja weavers, the relationship of the craft with caste is negligible. Though there are few individuals from the bunker caste for whom weaving is the traditional source of livelihood, caste-wise weavers are a heterogeneous group. Many weavers are from the same region: Sultanpur, Pratapgarh and Faizabad districts of Awadh, Uttar Pradesh (UP). This is largely due to their proximity to Mirzapur and Bhadohi where most carpet production units are clustered.

RAW MATERIALS Both cotton and wool are used in the making of panja durries.Cotton The warp is invariably made of the cotton. There are different kinds of cotton thread required for the warp and the weft. Mostly both of these are procured from dealers and not produced by the weavers. The specifications for these threads are:

For weft (or baana): 6 single cotton thread (from Rajasthan). This remains same for the two qualities of the durrie produced, regular and stone-washed.
For warp (or taana): In this the quality of the thread used varies between the regular product and the stone-washed variety. For regular quality, the thread used is 6/6 (from Rajasthan), while for the stone-washed one, it is 12/20 (from Delhi).

Wool Wool as weft is extensively used in making expensive durries. There are two types of wool:

Handspun: This is pure wool procured from the markets of Bikaner and Jodhpur in Rajasthan. This type of wool is used for durries that are colored using vegetable dyes. This wool is not of uniform gauge as it is handspun.
Mill-spun: This, too, is pure wool, procured from Panipat and Bikaner. In durries made with this kind of wool, normally chemical dyes are used. This is cheaper than handwoven wool and is of uniform gauge.

TOOLS USED
	The taana machine is made of two basic parts: a big octagonal horizontal cylinder that rotates on its axis; and a vertical frame on which a number of thread rolls can be attached.

Loom Frame Unlike the complex looms used in weaving, this one has a vertical frame made of two beams (of wood or steel) that are horizontal. The first beam is about 2 feet above the ground and the other is at about 6 feet from the ground. The upper beam is movable and the two beams are tightened by a screw-and-chain mechanism. The length of these beams varies depending on the dimensions of the durrie to be woven. The taana or the warp tightened on these beams has two layers that pass through a horizontal metallic frame called the reed. The reed keeps the threads straight and equidistant from each other. Of the two layers of the taana, one remains on the outer side and the other on the inner side. However, this position can be changed using a mechanism called the kamana (a v-shaped wooden frame where the ends are bound with a tight piece of rope) and ruchh (two bamboo pieces on which the kamana in attached with the beam, just above the reed).

Panja
	Panja is a metallic, claw-like fork used for beating the weft threads in the warp so as to adjust it there. These fingers move between the warp threads similar to a comb in hair. The beating is directly proportional to the stability of the durrie.

Charkha A charkha is used for making rolls or bundles of yarn for the weft.Scissors A pair of scissors is used to provide the finishing touch to the durrie by cutting protruding knots, weft threads, etc.

THE PROCESS OF PANJA WEAVING Designing The designs are either provided by the agencies placing the order with the weavers, or are supplied by the weavers themselves based on traditional designs found in the region. They may also be inspired by designs published in various books or magazines, or from an existing product.

Raw Material Procurement
	Raw material for the process (cotton for the warp, and cotton and wool for weft) is readily available with local dealers. It has to be processed further in order to make it suitable for using in the process of weaving. These processes are discussed in detail later.

Dyeing Dyeing is an important part of the process of durrie making. It may be done both on a smaller scale (where the artisans dye the yarn in their small tubs) or in dyeing factories (where the process is more or less automated). Two types of dyes are used in this process: vegetable dyes (which use indigo, harad, mangeetha, pomegranate peel, etc.) and chemical dyes (normally fast dyes are used). Yarn dyed with these two types may be differentiated by the uniformity of color. While a yarn bundle dyed with chemical dye is uniformly colored, a bundle dyed with the vegetable dye has varying shades.

Yarn Opening for Weft
	After the dyeing process, the yarn is normally received by the weavers either in the form of bundles or rolls (the latter in case of dyeing factories). In case of bundles, the thread needs to be freed from tangles and stretched in order to make them tighter. For this, it is taken through a process of reeling using a charkha. This process is mainly done by women.

Warping The master weaver carries out the process of warp making depending upon the requirement of the design and color combination. He uses the taana (warp) machine for this. The thread rolls are put on the vertical frame in the desired color combination. This is a movable frame. The ends of the thread are taken from the rolls, passed through another, smaller, grid-like frame that guides the thread, and are wound on the octagonal cylinder in a combination that the master weaver decides for making the taana roll. This process starts from one end of the cylinder and goes on till the entire cylinder is covered with thread. Once this is achieved, the log upon which the taana is wound is fitted into the blocks between the cylinder and the frame. The tightly wound thread on this log is then provided to the weaver who uses it on the loom frame.

Weaving For weaving, the warp is bound on the two beams of the loom (the warp roll forms the upper beam and it is wound on the lower beam).The warp has two layers, which pass through a flat metallic reed that guides the threads by keeping them equidistant from each other. On the bench provided just in front of the loom, facing the warp, one or two weavers sit, depending upon the width of the durrie. If the width of the durrie is more then five feet, it will occupy the whole beam and in this case only one weaver can work on the loom. If its width is less than three feet then in that case two weavers can work at the same time on two different carpets of less width (three feet each) on the same beam and same loom frame. The weavers keep the design in front of them (either in the form of a graph or a sample) while weaving the first few articles of that design. They pull a fixed number of warp threads, depending on the design, towards themselves and take the small bundle of weft across the warp threads to fill the gap longitudinally. To facilitate the design, the warp is marked at regular intervals to guide the weaver about the location of a particular feature (like a flower) in the design. Once one row of weft is completed, the weavers beat it to settle it tightly into the warp by using the panja. Once the weft threads are tightly beaten between the warp with a panja, the weaver exchanges the upper and the lower layers of the warp by using the kamana and rucch. This locks the weft between the two layers of warp, providing more strength and durability to the durrie. The weavers keep tightening the warp by adjusting the two beams with tightening screws. This makes the durrie crisp and strong and its designs symmetrical. They go up the warp as they fill the lower part of the warp

Finishing Once the durrie is completed, the weaver takes it off from the loom and hands it over to the master weaver for proper finishing. In case of a stone-washed durrie, the master weaver sends it to the washerman who washes it using water, detergents and potassium permanganate.

The master weaver then knots the loose ends of the durrie and also rectifies any problems that it might have developed during the weaving. For example, the durrie may develop differential width at the fringes due to shrinkage. If so, it is set it tightly on a frame and kept there for a day or two so that it is stretched properly. The master weaver then sends it to the clipper, who clips off all protruding threads and knots using a pair of scissors, giving the durrie a smooth look.

The durrie is now finished and is ready for sale.

THEMATIC REPRESENTATION OF THE PANJA WEAVING PROCESS

INTRODUCTION I’ve become my own version of an optimist. If I can’t make it through one door, I’ll make it through another door - or I’ll make my own door. Something wonderful will happen, no matter how dark things look at present. Rabindranath Tagore. (From collection of quotes by Tagore, the Bard of Bengal, to celebrate his 150^th birth anniversary in 2011) There was a time when a sheet of paper had individual characteristics. It had a spine and a memory consisting of the enmeshed macromolecules and hydrogen bonds that formed while the sheet was hanging to dry. But paper lost its memory, and its individuality was sacrificed to the endless uniformity of mass production. Paper has become invisible, so invisible that the literature of art rarely contains descriptions of paper. Indeed, the paper substrate of graphic works is hardly ever mentioned, and when it is, the information is often inaccurate. And yet, paper plays a critical aesthetic role in the images with which it collaborates. More information, awareness, and insight are required to change the indifferent attitude that paper is often met with, and to show respect for the material that has documented and continues to document our world. It is artists who, starting in the 1960s, rescued the over two-thousand-year-old hand papermaking tradition, transforming it from a utilitarian practice into an art form that reflects humanity’s collaboration with nature and an ever-growing ecological consciousness. Twenty-one years ago, the exhibition Paper Revisioned was displayed at KunstCentret Silkeborg Bad. At the time, eleven artists from the United States, Europe, and Japan showed works exploring the specific artistic methods and expressions that apply to art, made with paper, suggesting the existence of an independent art form which I termed Paperism. This time the title of the exhibition is Paper – a Cross-Cultural Voice, inviting viewers to experience cross-cultural encounters engendered by the artists’ deep interest, curiosity, and respect for handmade paper as a means of artistic expression. The idea for the exhibition emerged out of a two- year- research project that I conducted in India. I have lived part-time in India for over twenty years, studying the Indian art scene while also attempting to locate remnants of the historic paper traditions within that ancient civilization. While visiting the Kochi-Muziris Biennale and the India Art Fair in Delhi in 2018-19, I observed for the first time a growing interest in handmade paper, wherein the paper was not merely the physical surface supporting a creative gesture but also formed its compositional space, its secret laboratory of expression. To gain further insight into the development of this tendency in India, I sent a questionnaire to eight Indian artists: Anupam Chakraborty, Sudipta Das, Ravikumar Kashi, Shantamani Muddaiah, Kulu Ojha, Radha Pandey, Jenny Pintu, and Neeta Premchand. Their responses harmonized with earlier research projects in which I examined handmade paper’s journey through various cultures, showing how paper always reflects a country’s cultural and historical developments. Furthermore, the project confirmed a tendency visible throughout the art world at large, namely that hand papermaking is moving eastward in tandem with an ever-increasing interest in traditional hand-crafts and “the making.” Seven out of the eight Indian artists’ works were exhibited at KunstCentret Silkeborg Bad ( Oct. 1, 2022 – Jan.8, 2023 ) in the historic paper manufacturing city of Silkeborg and then at the Kasturbhai Lalbhai Museum ( Feb. 18, 2023 – Mar.18, 2023 ) in Ahmedabad, alongside the works of five Western artists who have played a significant role in catalyzing the renaissance of handmade paper: Susan Gosin, Jacki Parry, Victoria Rabal, Gangolf Ulbricht, Anne Vilsbøll, and one artist, Emilie Lundstrøm, whose work draws us into a universe where paper’s country of origin, China, is in dialogue with India’s production of silk. A closer consideration of each of the artists’ works follows in this catalogue, along with an abridged version of the above-mentioned research project. The impetus to exhibit Indian and Western artists’ works side by side stems from a desire to comment upon handmade paper’s renaissance and its journey around the world. Over the past twenty years Indian society has undergone a complex transformation, with new political, economic, and cultural realities and increasingly fluid borders. The majority of the featured Indian artists both learned of paper’s possibilities and sought inspiration in other cultures, through exchange programs at foreign art academies, residencies abroad, or visits to paper mills, after which they developed their own artistic voices within the medium. This is a common path for those working with handmade paper professionally. Indian artists, curators, and art historians are often educated in the West and carry its influence back to their own culture, just as artists from the West bring influences from residencies in the East back to their countries of origin. There is no single place where one can learn everything there is to know about handmade paper as a means of artistic expression, as evidenced by the careers of all of the exhibiting artists. And yet, one perceives the presence of an international network held together by teaching, research, conferences, paper art biennials, papermaking journals, and papermaking organizations, a network that has continued to grow year after year, to such an extent that one may now speak of a global paper family that communicates with a cross-cultural voice. Paper has one story, but two principal traditions: an Eastern one and a Western one. Geography and biology, availability of fibers, and the varying demands of different cultures have influenced both traditions. Whereas the East had (and still has) a diversity of strong bast fibers that can be employed for three-dimensional purposes, the West used only linen, hemp, and cotton to make two-dimensional sheets. The quality of the paper that was produced in Europe from the 14^th-17^th centuries (the Renaissance was handmade paper’s golden age) had a huge influence on the drawings that artists of the time were able to create, as the coarse fiber texture and the resistance of the paper grain gave red and black chalk a vibrating quality. Artists had easy access to handmade paper of cotton, linen and hemp, which was cheaper than the parchment that had been in use before the advent of paper. The durability of that era’s handmade paper has, among other things, made it possible for the drawings of Leonardo da Vinci to survive the ravages of time. With the rise of industrialization and its demand for great quantities of paper for printing and writing, the Hollander beater was invented in 1680 to cut paper fibers and in 1799 came the Fourdrinier machine, the construction principles of which prefigured the machines of modern paper production: a movable woven net enabling the creation of continuous role of paper. Since 1840, industrially produced paper has been produced mostly out of wood pulp with chemical additives, and consequently paper lost its individuality. This could have brought about the disappearance of a beautiful craft, had artists and other enthusiasts not found new approaches in which the goal wasn’t necessarily to create a perfect sheet in the manner of the papermakers of the European Renaissance, but rather to explore ways in which the material, composed of plant cellulose, can accommodate most of the requirements artists may place on a material. Since 200 years before the common era paper’s historic voice has contained an abundance of legends: about the Chinese eunuch Cai Lun, to whom the honor of paper’s invention is attributed, about Korean prisoners of war, Buddhist monks, wars between the Chinese and the Arabs, the Hindus and the Muslims, and trade routes over land and sea. Paper’s journey to Europe took 1000 years. And it took just as long for the invention to reach India by way of immigrants from Central Asia. In the mid-20^th century, many of the old paper mills disappeared. American artists started traveling to China and France to make art at the surviving mills. Subsequently, handmade paper had a renaissance as a means of artistic expression in the U.S.A. in the 1960’s, 270 years after America’s first paper mill was established in 1690. The new shift from paper as a utilitarian object to a means of artistic expression traveled to Europe in the 70’s and 80’s, from where it ventured eastward again. Paper has undertaken a circular global journey, from East to West and from West back to the East. The world we live in could never have come about without paper. It has held our stories, our great ideas and images, and the minute details of our lives. Above all, it has connected us with each other across geographical and temporal distances. Paper - a Cross-Cultural Voice shows how, despite the almost unfathomable rapid pace of technological development that we are experiencing, paper continues to connect us, inspire us, and help us to make sense of our world. Paper in the Future In the mid-90’s it was predicted that we were headed for a paperless society, a claim that has proved to be quite an exaggeration. New technologies have not eliminated the use of paper, but rather have reshaped the ways in which we use paper. We distribute and print; we send and receive cardboard boxes like never before. The “image” of paper is growing and it continues to determine the ways in which we read and write. Paper’s long history helps us to understand our present. Awareness of how our ancestors learned from nature will bring new insights to us. In the 21^st century, society is focused on biodiversity, sustainability, recycling, and climate friendly behaviors like never before, which has brought ever more awareness to paper and the pulp from which it is made. We find ourselves in a “tree-and-plant material” era, in which we produce, for example, climate friendly packaging alternatives made of corn starch, mushroom mycelium, seaweed, and rice husks. We produce new materials for 3D printing out of cellulose and chitin, as well as sustainably produced, large-scale 3D objects such as turbine wings. Inspired by the centuries-old Japanese art of origami, NASA produces shape shifting solar panels and and self – folding robots. Lessons learned from the old Japanese tradition of folding two-dimensional paper into three-dimensional objects is inspiring scientific revolutions in our time. The paper industry should investigate alternatives to using wood pulp for paper production. These alternatives include sustainable crops such as straw, hemp, esparto grass, kenaf, and many others. Artists and designers who work with paper are already using these sustainable crops. They are leading the way toward a climate friendly world through paper’s cross-cultural voice, in a circular system that has plants and paper at its heart. Indian Artists and their Views on Handmade Paper as a Form of Artistic Expression Excerpts from Research Conducted between 2018 – 2020. Answers from eight Indian artists (Anupam Chakraborty, Sudipta Das, Ravikumar Kashi, Shantamani Muddaiah, Kulu Ojha, Radha Pandey, Jenny Pintu and Neeta Premchand) to questions posed by Anne Vilsbøll.

Where did you learn to make paper, and who taught you?

The majority of the artists interviewed learned papermaking abroad. Three of them were taught by the Australian-born artist Jacki Parry, a founding member of the Glasgow Print and Paper Workshop. Two were taught by Chang Son and Seong Woo in Korea, with additional education at the Puli Paper Mill in Taiwan. One learned from Hamada San at the Paper Institute in Kochi, Japan, one from Catherine Nash and Timothy Barrett in the USA, and another was an apprentice with Helen Hiebert in the USA, and took a workshop at Kumarappa National Handmade Paper Institute in Sanganer, Jaipur.

Why did you choose to work with paper? What is it about paper that interests you?

Sudipta Das answers: My encounter with the contextualised use of paper as a medium for my work started as a solution to the technical difficulties that I faced during my education in Santiniketan. When I started working with memory, personal history, and the layered presence of history in our identities, I was collecting historical evidence and other documents which have carried history through photography. It was from a desire to use those photographic images that I started working with paper. I soon found that paper is one of the best mediums for my expression, as its fragility and its ability to absorb tints of colours can be contextualised with the histories of fragmentation and the layers of memory with which I work. Owing to this special quality, paper became an important way for me to express and contextualise my personal histories of migration and the anxieties of being an immigrant. Anupam Chakraborty, who has situated paper at the center of his artistic practice for the past twenty years, cannot imagine a medium as fascinating as paper. As he puts it: Only those who have made paper themselves can grasp the many possibilities within papermaking. Ravikumar Kashi refers to paper’s tactile quality, malleability, and organic nature, along with its long and venerable history, associated with books and knowledge. He adds that handmade paper is stigmatized as a handicraft, and he finds it challenging to elevate it out of this category. All of the interviewees identify the following characteristics in pulp and paper: tactility, texture, versatility, fragility, capabilities in both two and three dimensions, and history.

Do you consider yourself to be a hand papermaker or a paper artist, and do you feel that there is a difference?

There is a broad consensus among the interviewees that there is a difference between a hand papermaker and a paper artist. None of them consider themselves to be hand papermakers. According to Radha: Hand papermakers work with the qualities of a sheet of paper to make it well suited for particular works. Jenny considers herself to be a paper artist, and suggests that the distinction is found in vision, interpretation, and output. It is important to understand the material. Ravikumar considers himself to be a paper artist, but he doesn’t want to be categorized as one, as he also uses other materials. He explains that a hand papermaker makes paper only for paper’s sake. Anupam considers himself to be a paper artist, which, according to him, refers to a creative individual who uses handmade paper as a mode of artistic expression. Kulu says that, while he could technically be considered to be a paper artist, his processes are solutions to a number of environmental issues. Shantamani, a painter, sculptor, and installation artist, explores the uses of fibers and pulp for architectural and sculptural forms, and, like Kulu, she says that her processes are solutions to a number of environmental issues. Sudipta would rather simply call herself a visual artist, but has nothing against being called a paper artist, as she works primarily with paper. She writes: to categorize on the basis of medium is superficial and confining, and it lacks an understanding of the way in which paper or papermaking becomes an expressive medium. Jenny is correct to assert that the better one knows one’s material, the more possibilities one has with regards to one’s artistic practice, which grows richer through experience. She writes: It means a great deal to commit to working with paper professionally, and if you fully embrace this medium then it will become deeply absorbing as you discover that it encompasses everything and can be everything. As Kulu puts it: The language of paper surpasses the language of humanity. Concerning categorizations: they are in themselves neutral, and cannot be avoided. They explain to us what to expect and how to respond. It is when categorizations evolve into stereotypes and stigmatizations that they have negative consequences. The important thing is for the artist to be proud of their professional choice. I detect a bit of hesitation among the interviewees regarding being categorized as papermakers. Perhaps this can be attributed to the ingrained perception in India that craft cannot be equated with art. Neeta remarks that during her study of paper, attitudes on this subject varied between cultures. In Japan, papermaking is looked upon as an art form. There is respect for both the craft and the artisan. She feels that this respect is lacking in India. Categorizations are culturally specific. As more and more traditional crafts disappear, they are simultaneously accorded a cultural value. In the art world, there is at present a growing interest in “the making.”

Do you teach papermaking to others?

All of the interviewees have held some form of papermaking workshop except for Kulu, who encourages others to use paper as their primary artistic medium. Jenny only teaches design apprentices and has held bookbinding workshops. Shantamani has led a sustainability project for women with a focus on paper products, and she has held workshops. Sudipta teaches children now and then, as well as organizations upon request. Radha teaches and lectures in India and abroad, and Neeta has held workshops in England, Switzerland, and India. Ravikumar has held workshops in his atelier and at art schools, architecture schools, and art museums. In 2005, Anupam founded the Nirupama Academy of Paper in Kolkata, and since then he has offered practical training and workshops to individuals, groups, students at academic institutions, and employees of public and private organizations, both at his academy and elsewhere. He reports that he has taught over one thousand people. Anupam has done a great deal to raise public awareness of hand papermaking in India.

Have you studied the history of paper in India or abroad? If you have visited paper mills or paper artists in other countries, what was your impression?

Radha reports: I have studied Japanese papermaking formally, first with Catherine Nash at Haystack Mountain School of Craft in Maine, USA, for three weeks (2005). Four years after this I went to the Philippines to study with Asao Shimura for 2-3 weeks. I learned how to make western style papers, but using a su-geta (Japanese mould for papermaking) with banana fibres, Kozo, as well as pineapple fibres. I also learned how to make shifu (Japanese paper thread), and learned about growing and using konnyaku (a substance used to waterproof paper). It was a huge learning experience to see artists in their own studios and spaces and to witness how their work space was made to fit their needs. Asao got a lot done with very simple set ups and very simple machines. My next paper-related international travel was to the Friends of Dard Hunter conference in 2010, where I met Timothy Barrett, Peter Thomas, David Reina, Jim Croft and Catherine Nash again, among others. While there, I decided to apply to the University of Iowa Center for the Book graduate program, and I started there in 2011.The following year, I visited the historic mill in Capellades, Spain. It was amazing to see all of the history we had been learning about in school come to life. The year after that I went to the IAPMA (The International Association of Hand Papermakers and Paper Artists) conference in Fabriano, Italy, and it was another eye-opening experience to see historical examples of watermarking technology and tools, as well as to meet others in the field and hear about their work with paper. As for the books I read along the way before I went to Iowa, they include: A Papermakers Companion, by Helen Heibert, The Complete Book of Papermaking by Josep Asunción, Off the Deckle Edge by Neeta Premchand. Radha’s “journey” provides a familiar portrait of an artist pursuing their passion for handmade paper. In one of his answers, Ravikumar says: Many people find it (papermaking) interesting, but few continue to research it deeply. After Anupam’s apprenticeship with Jacki Parry of the Glasgow School of Art in Scotland, where he gained insight into both Western and Eastern papermaking techniques, most of his research has been through books and articles. He has visited Dieu Donné Paper and Carriage House Paper in New York, two well-known American paper studios with excellent equipment. Jenny has apprenticed with Helen Hiebert in Portland, Oregon, and has met many American paper artists. She has visited Dieu Donné in NYC and one IAPMA exhibition, and has attended a number of bookbinding workshops in the USA. Furthermore, she has visited paper mills in Pune, India, and Kagzis (papermakers) in Sanganer and Pondicherry. Jenny writes that she was impressed by the works of many of the artists she encountered in the West, and that she thinks Indian artists should be made more aware of the material’s capabilities. Kulu has never formally studied handmade paper, and Ravikumar and Sudipta have sought information on hand papermaking mainly in India and the East. Sudipta has received a Greenshields Fellowship and has documented various papermaking centers, including the Jungshi handmade paper mill in Thimpu, Indian manufacturers in Assam, and Lokta manufacturers in Kathmandu. Shantamani learned from Jacki Parry and has visited Khadi Gramodyoga in South India, but she still relies on paper produced in Europe. Ravikumar also learned papermaking from Jacki Parry, and he has met other artists working with paper through a Hanji exhibition in Chennai (Hanji: Korean handmade paper). He has visited papermaking places in the Indian cities of Bangalore, Pondicherry, Ahmedabad, Sikkim, Jaipur, and Santiniketan, as well as in Mexico, South Korea, Glasgow, and Nepal. He finds the Jang Ji Bang Studio in Seoul, South Korea, to be very professional and thorough in their methodology. Neeta has conducted comprehensive research into paper’s history on trips abroad, including along the Silk Road, in Xian and Samarkand, as well as within India. In the 1990’s she became interested in investigating paper that was used for old manuscripts, and she discovered that, over the course of the 1980’s and 90s, most of the papermaking centers she had previously seen, documented, and photographed had been destroyed. The last paper mill that she visited in the 1990’s was Daulatabad in Maharashtra, which was famous in the 17^th century for its thin paper. When she went to the mill it was closed down, and she bought it spontaneously. She resurrected it and opened The Bombay Paperie, located in Mumbai.

Are the plants/fibers that you use for your paper production primarily from local sources, or are they imported from abroad?

Anupam only uses plants that grow in West Bengal and other regions of India. Shantamani recycles 100% cotton cloths from the Tirupur textile industry, and she reports that banana fibers and jute fibers are readily available in southern India. Sudipta has made paper from banana fibers and waste materials, and she has also bought Hanji paper from South Korea. The type of paper she uses varies depending on the requirements of the work she is making. Jenny and Ravikumar only use fibers from India. Radha imports fibers and also seeks out high quality hemp within India. Kulu uses pre-fabricated cardboard for his art. Neeta uses her own paper from Daulatabad and old Indian paper. I sense an absence of a wider investigation into the possibilities of India’s plant life and its bio-based capabilities. India has a lot of potential in this area – there is much to be done!

What do you know about India’s Kagzi papermaking tradition, and has it influenced your own papermaking practice?

Most of the artists responded that the Kagzi tradition has not influenced their paper practice. Anupam, Neeta, and Radha have studied the history of paper within India and have conducted independent research. Radha has written articles about it and has a research project underway which will lead to a book on the topic. She also teaches workshops on the topic. Neeta has written a book about her paper-related travels in India: Off the Deckle Edge: A Papermaking Journey Through India. Sudipta says: For me, the Kagzi tradition in India speaks not only to traditional papermaking practice but also to the country’s multi-culturalism and Indo-Islamic history. Furthermore, she believes that the Kagzi tradition can show us how to create paper in a more ecologically friendly way. I agree. Various texts about India’s paper history are available today, and there is inspiration to be found there. Regarding the UN’s 17 Sustainable Development Goals, research around paper and its history can open doors and show a way forward.

How is the production of handmade paper viewed in India today?

The interviewees seem to agree that there is a growing interest in handmade paper, but that it is building very slowly. Handmade paper is perceived to be environmentally friendly, but there is a lack of awareness, visibility, and creative initiatives. Additionally, there is no coherent marketing strategy. According to Anupam, India’s handmade paper industry doesn’t carry out systematic marketing to promote itself to the broader public. Handmade paper isn’t visible on the market, and is hard to find even at art schools. Shantamani writes that there are very few projects to adopt handmade paper within the fields of publishing and design. Jenny calls it a niche market due to lack of awareness and demand. Sudipta writes that more attention is being paid to handmade paper thanks to the many contemporary artists who use it in their practices. My conclusion: handmade paper has the potential to regain its status, but it will take time. Research and experiments are being carried at universities around the world, and cellulose is gaining ground. This ought to be taken up within Indian educational institutions as well.

Why do you think that India’s papermaking and writing have had less success in traveling beyond their roots than the textile tradition?

Sudipta writes that in previous eras we did not understand or pay attention to the amazing traditional skills present around us, which led the practices to stagnate. Today, through research, artistic approaches, scientific experiments, and heightened global awareness, we will make the old practices dynamic again. Jenny says that the textile arts are much more widespread in India, as weaving is done in every region in the country. Paper, on the other hand, was from its beginning only available in specific areas. Shantamani is in agreement with Jenny regarding textiles, and she says that there are very few hand papermaking mills that produce good paper. India is a developing country and its economic success lies in tapping into the global market rather than looking inward with the aim of developing a sustainable product. A surprising number of indigenous systems of knowledge are still alive in India, and there are many possibilities to develop them further. Anupam says: The reasons for the insignificant growth of handmade paper production compared to the textile traditions are: a) a lack of professional skills among implementing agencies, b) poor quality control measures, c) inadequate research and development programs, d) absence of a proactive marketing strategy, and e) the fact that artists and designers are not involved in research and development projects or production teams. Ravikumar suspects that politics has played a role in the disparity, and he mentions the Weavers Service Center and Pupul Jaykar, who played an essential role in the revival of traditional textiles. A similar effort has not been made on behalf of paper and papermakers. Radha claims that bad decisions were made around the time of India’s independence, and that KVIC (Khadi and Village Industries Commission) was wrong to introduce auto -vats and to train nonprofessional workers to make paper. This was the nail in the coffin of the Kagzi tradition. She also mentions the lack of public support and interest. Neeta believes that, despite the intentions of the Khadi Commission, they have done no favors for handmade paper, as they have shown a total lack of interest in quality and have never made a serious effort to sell the paper that was produced, or to pay the papermakers a proper salary. She also mentions that the cotton available in India is of low quality. The majority of the waste from genetically modified cotton is either loose or knotted when it is used to make paper pulp. This low-quality material yields sheets of paper with holes in them. All in all, there is a lack of support from people in influential positions, which is what would be required to revive the old papermaking tradition. My hope is that Indian artists and designers will generate interest in the craft through their art, which has been the tendency in the West since the 1960s, and that KVIC and others will then grasp the many possibilities encompassed by quality, bio-based paper.

Do you think that the Khadi Village Industries Commission (KVIC) will shift its approach as the market for exported paper grows ?

Shantamani writes that KVIC ought to be oriented towards innovation as opposed to basic training in industrial skills, which is the extent of its current activity. Ravikumar has made a proposal to the Khadi Commission to create an intervention project but he received no response. He says that the paper produced by the Khadi Commission’s mills is uninspiring. Jenny feels that KVIC does not understand what would be required to further develop handmade paper. Sudipta writes that KVIC should change their approach as a response to the growing market for exported paper: not only should they promote the traditional papermaking practice, they should also inspire the creation of a viable alternative to chemically treated paper through collaboration with artists and researchers. This could be India’s contribution to solving the problems inherent in the production of chemically treated paper.

Do you think that they (KVIC) could lead a revival of traditional paper production for the use of artists and art conservators?

The artists’ responses to this question do not reflect high expectations, but rather a faint hope. Anupam writes: It’s possible, if they are able to transform their weaknesses into strengths. And Shantamani says: Raised awareness and expanded markets would make a big difference. Sudipta claims that artists have already started the revival of handmade paper, which is being used more and more as they produce it themselves or seek out higher quality paper in India and abroad. Additionally, she says that curators, galleries, and researchers are showing a growing interest in traditional techniques. It's a slow process, but my hope is that, by acknowledging the wealth that can stem from the production of quality paper and through the involvement of highly qualified and motivated people, India will ultimately experience a full-fledged revival of hand papermaking within the next 20 to 30 years.

How do you envision the development of handmade paper and paper art in India’s future?

Shantamani: It would be very possible to develop handmade paper into a sustainable system in India. We have an example of providing 20 women a decent salary in a rural area to sustain their families. If this project could be attached to a microfinance support system, then it would revolutionize women’s economic independence. In 2004, there were no handmade paper studios in Bangalore. But today we have three artists working with the basic amenities. Things will surely change in the years to come. Sudipta thinks that handmade paper will emerge as an alternative to environmentally unfriendly, chemically treated paper. But in order for this to occur, handmade paper must be recognized and valued by India’s bureaucratic machinery. Jenny and Anupam write that paper should be introduced into academic programs in both public and private schools, as well as in art and design schools. Ravikumar says that influences from abroad have slowly made their way to India through, for example, those who have studied with Jacki Parry (Anupam, Ravikumar, and Shantamani). Radha says that she hopes that Indians will become proud of their cultural inheritance. Worldwide goals: In 2015, world leaders agreed upon 17 goals to create a better world by 2030. These goals have the power to reduce poverty, fight inequality, and address the pressing challenges of climate change. With these goals as our guide, it is now up to all of us (governments, businesses, civil society, and the wider public) to work together to build a better future. With this in mind, KVIC should orient its paper production initiatives toward opportunities for the development of handmade paper production: sustainability through the establishment of collaborative workshops with artists and designers across all of India. Anupam mentions the Indian-Bengali sculptor and graphic artist Somnath Hore (1921-2006), who was one of the first Indian artists to use handmade paper as a means of artistic expression. Hore is considered to be a pioneer of modern art in India. His experiments with various printing techniques and materials culminated with his abstract paper series “Wounds,” produced in 1970. Another Indian artist who I would’ve liked to have included in this project is Priya Ravish Mehra (1961-2018), who studied weaving and design in Santiniketan. Priya possessed what one may refer to as a holistic view of textiles: the plant becomes a thread and is woven into fabric, and the cloth can in turn be transformed into paper pulp and have yet another life. In her later works, she combined paper pulp and fabric, which she viewed as a healing process. Another artist worth mentioning in this context is Zarina (Hashmi), (1937-2020). Paper was her passion and it was central to her practice, both as a surface on which to print and as a material with its own historical legacy associated with the literary tradition. In the 1980’s, she brought this interest into being by casting three-dimensional objects made of paper pulp, with which she created forms that were turned into bronze sculptures. Also of note is the young artist Anindita Bhattachary, who carries on India’s tradition of miniature painting with her hand-carved jalis (perforated, ornamental surfaces), which are made in wasli paper and painted with gouache and natural dyes of her own creation. (Wasli is a type of Indian paper made by gluing several layers of handmade paper together with archival glue. The paper’s surface is then smoothed out with a stone to prepare it for the miniature painting.) Anupam says: More artists, designers, papermakers and creative entrepreneurs must take initiative to set up professional papermaking studios in different parts of the country. Additionally, a body of dedicated paper artists must introduce interactive sessions through hands-on training, slide presentation, seminars, and exhibitions throughout the year in order to make this medium a viable one. As a dedicated papermaking center, the Nirupama Academy of Handmade Paper conducts papermaking workshops, provides papermaking kits to academic institutions and individuals, and is also involved in doing collaborative projects with artists, designers, and governmental and non-governmental organisations throughout the year. Papers produced at the Nirupama Academy have been used by many artists, designers and private organisations in India and abroad. Our client list includes K.G. Subramanyan, Linda Benglis, Amar Kanwar, Priya Ravish Mehra, Mithu Sen, Yardena Kurulkar, Natalie Vassil, Marinos Vlessas & Maria Malakou, Thinley Rhodes, Maku Textiles Pvt. Ltd., Philip Qian, Jeannie McArthur Koga, Hoang Tien Quyet, Anne Vilsbøll and many others. As demand for our paper is increasing among artists, designers and in corporate houses, I am quite optimistic that quality handmade paper and paper art will play a formidable role in India’s future.

Are you in touch with any other papermakers or paper artists in India or abroad?

Following her studies at Iowa University with Timothy Barrett, Radha is still in touch with papermakers and paper artists in the West. She has also participated in workshops, paper conferences, and has held lectures herself. Shantamani knows several other artists in southern India, Ravikumar is in touch with Asian artists he has met at biennials and triennials, Jenny knows very few others, and Sudipta knows Anupam and Ravikumar. Anupam is in touch with Western artists and a few Indian artists. Neeta runs Bombay Paperie, and I encourage all artists in search of high-quality paper to visit her shop in Mumbai, where she sells handmade paper. Neeta says: Unfortunately, a lot of paper on the market is labelled “handmade” even when it is not. It might be useful for Indian artists working with paper to meet and perhaps create an organization that could spread accurate information to Indian’s art and design schools, KVIC, and elsewhere. This organization could hold yearly conferences, exhibitions, and publish newsletters. In the West, there are two large groups of this kind: Friends of Dard Hunter, founded in 1981 (now called North American Hand Papermakers) and IAPMA -The International Association of Hand Papermakers and Paper Artists, founded in 1986. A fellowship of the likeminded is always stronger than individuals working in isolation. My hope is that India will also develop its own “paper cultural voice” throughout the vast subcontinent.

The passion and enthusiasm for kite fighting, as against kite flying, is what singles out India, from other kite flying nations. The skies are open and any kite in sight is fair game! Consisting of a light bamboo frame covered with smooth tissue paper, kites in India are flown from rooftops and open grounds mostly as a sport, but also at festivals, on national occasions, to mark seasonal changes, and to invoke benign weather and rich harvest(s). In India, flat fighter kites of a single or double colour are most commonly used. They are highly manoeuvrable, stable and fly in the direction they are pointing in. The fighter is basically a flat kite, but when the wind puts pressure on the face, the bow flexes in a curve. This makes the kite stable and allows it to fly easily.

Tradition Although the origins of kites are lost in legend there are references in Hindu mythology to gods and goddesses taking part in kite-flying contests. Kite flying and kite fighting continues to be a popular sport in modern India and draws large crowds, regularly, for massive contests.Colourful handmade kites or patangs rule the Indian skies round the year. But, it is with Makar Sankranti, celebrated on 14 January (one of the few festivals of India based on the solar calendar - the period when the sun moves into the Northern hemisphere, causing changes in the air pressure, and hence creating gusts of wind) that the kite season begins. In cities like Jaipur and Jodhpur in Rajasthan and Ahmedabad in Gujarat, the sky is awash with thousands of kites at this time of the year.

PROCESS, TECHNIQUE AND TOOLS For the patang-saaz or kite-maker, the fashioning of a kite is a skill. The size, shape, frame, weight, joints and tail all determine the balance and stability of a kite and therefore how high a kite will fly and how responsive or stable it will be to a tug of the wrist or a gust of wind.With forests in India having virtually disappeared, bamboo for making the frame of the kite comes from Assam. The saw or aari is used for cutting the bamboo into long narrow strips. A smaller sharp-bladed knife is used to cut the bamboo strips into a fine bow and arrow, which span the length and breadth of the kite (kamaan and thida).The paper is cut into the size of the kite, using a pair of scissors or a paper cutter. If there are two colours then two kites will be made simultaneously, in reverse colours - for nothing is wasted. Technically, there will be as many kites made together as the colours used. Kite paper is tougher than ordinary guddi paper (which crumples easily) as it has more tensile strength.

The cut paper is then attached to a thin bamboo frame - first the arrow and then the bow, using paper and gum. The bow maintains a curve that keeps the paper stretched and gives the kite flexibility while flying. The tail is an important part of the kite, and is further strengthened using small bamboo pieces to lend weight and for stability. It is the only part of the kite that has double paper, with the bamboo pieces between the two sheets. The edge of the tissue paper is strengthened using a very fine cotton thread; the paper is then folded over and glued to form an edge. This ensures that the kite does not tear. (Cotton thread is used as glue does not stick on nylon thread.) The gum used is home-made, using flour/maida, water and neela tota, a mild poison. This home-made gum is lighter than Fevicol and is thus preferred. Often now, bright, shiny polyester paper is also being used - this is tougher and more expensive and is generally not used for sporting purposes. The kite-maker uses only rudimentary tools that include a knife, a pair of scissors, a board, a pestle and mortar, a 'dulla', a round earthen vessel to hold water, and a big shell with which to polish the paper. The manja or the thread that flies the kite is no ordinary thread. It is specially treated with fine ground glass, chemicals and rice powder paste to give the cutting edge. The sharper the manja the better the kite fights. There are no quality standards and the sharp manja has been known to cause deaths.

'Rampur, famous for its chakku (penknife) is also known for its kites. The kites are known for the tensile strength of their frames and hence last longer. Customers are willing to pay a little extra to fly a Rampuri kite. To the daman of the Rampuri kite is tied the choli of the Bareilly manja or thread which flies the kite', says Asif Mian a master craftsman and National Award winner, also in the business. Bhai Mian, another national awardee, is a jeweller by tradition but his passion for kites is stronger. He makes decorative kites and is confident that he can fly each one. He has won contests at festivals and has made a kite of 300 feet in the shape of a serpent and flown it. Not just this, Bhai Mian has flown 150 kites together, tied on a single string at a distance of 2 yards each.

Products Kites, today, come in all colours, shapes and sizes. They are made of polyester or of tissue coloured paper. Square kites have given way to more interesting shapes: such as fish and birds shapes and are more decorative. The final test of a kite, however, continues to be whether or not it can fly and how easily. A fish shaped kite made by Asif Mian, a national awardee, when tied to a pole is reputed to have flown for two hours by itself before finally coming down. A kite could fetch anything from Rs 5 to Rs 80 though some highly decorative kites could cost up to Rs 3,000 and more.

Issue #006, Autumn, 2020 ISSN: 2581- 9410 Preface Handicrafts in India date back to the Indus Valley civilisation (3300 B.C.E. - 1700 B.C.E.) and form an important economic and cultural asset. Until the 17th century crafts enjoyed patronage from princely states, but colonial rule and subsequent industrialization marked a steady decline in the craft market[1]. Many scholars consider craft as high skill-based, outcome-oriented, but the connection that the craftsperson has to material and environment expands craft’s dimension from product to people, not just as objects but also having social values and meaning. Creative thinking has been an intrinsic part of craft and as M. Littrell expresses it, ‘the creation of a craftsperson having inherent inconsistencies of being handmade, high excellence of craftsmanship, uniqueness and local materials, gives authenticity to the craft product.[2]’ So, for craft to hold its value, a high level of excellence becomes its core component and identity. According to Bruce Montgomery (2012), craft becomes new luxury with its labour-intensive craftsmanship. He does not undermine the relationship craft has with the artisan who made it, as that gives it uniqueness, something that manufactured goods can never achieve. Luxury brands across the globe have accepted craft as an important component of their product line. Innumerable crafts and artisans of India are being seen as a big resource globally. But sourcing still has to mature to a new dimension of acknowledging the contribution of the artisan or valuing the relationship with him. Recognition of the relationship between craft and artisan by sharing creative processes through structured design education has been undertaken for more than a decade in India. Kala Raksha Vidhyalaya and other successful education initiatives including Somaiya Kala Vidya, The Handloom School, CDI- Srinagar, BCDI- Agartala have made positive impacts on artisans. Through these engagements artisans have developed confidence in craft, unique product identity and market appreciation. Evolution of knowledge sharing at Kalhath Institute Sangraha Craft Course was initiated by the author as part of his doctoral research in 2014 based on the principle of valuing craft, the traditional knowledge of artisans and the relations artisans establish with craft identity. This lead to the creation of a prototype of a design education programme for Chikankari embroiderers of Lucknow grounded in empathy with artisans. The question faced during the prototyping of a craft-based service was: Do artisans need to be trained? Rahnema emphasised this as a question, “Who are we - who am I - to intervene in other peoples’ lives when we know so little about any life, including our own?”[3] The answer could be creating an ambience of studio-based learning to generate knowledge through co-working. Post knowledge creation and sharing, artisans should be able to own the product. Rahnema very well said this quoting from a Chinese poem, “Go to the people. Live with them. Learn from them. Love them. Start with what you know. Build on what they have. But of the best leaders when their task is done, the people will remark: We have done it ourselves.”[4] Making the artisan a protagonist of craft revival is the premise on which Kalhath Institute (promoted by Maximilano Modesti) was founded in 2017. The results of research on a designer being a promotor in co-working with artisans and sharing creative processes were given permanency through the Institute. Engaging with craft at the level of people rather than mere product, Kalhath redefined innovation not just at the product level but as a means to solve issues in social living. The Institute envisages social innovation described by Robinson (2004): changes to improve the complex relationships between individuals, nature and society. Its multidisciplinary and integrated mode of delivery of the curriculum exposes artisans to various challenges, giving them the opportunity to find new possibilities. Contextualising the outcomes to experiences of artisans enables students to rethink and revisit the challenges, opportunities and concerns in social living. It expands their perspective toward work and gives them the choice to meaningfully continue craft practice or abandon it. Recognition and Innovation around Challenges faced by artisans The initial outcome of research based on principles of Human Centered Design led to creation of guidelines and long term aims. These guidelines later translated into a curriculum, activities, projects, and programme delivery. The guidelines created through initial research were as follows:

Multidisciplinary and broad approach
Collaborative actions
Sustainable working system for continuous innovation

The initial research also defined long term aims

Addressing basic human needs for food, education and health
Recognition for workmanship
Improvement in behaviours and perceptions
Social inclusion in work and domestic front
Improved social relationships among craftswomen
Improved quality of life of craftswomen
Ever growing economic gain

The guidelines supported activities of the institute while future visions were developed through findings on long term goals. Over the first year, through various brainstorming sessions components of a value system were identified and these have later became the guiding force for the functioning of the Institute. The values that Kalhath Institute envisions for artisans are:

Grounded in vernacular tradition
Recognises Self
Innovates in all situations
Ethical in work and towards people
Personifies excellence
Proud and dignified in craft practice
Collaborative
Compassionate towards fellow craftsperson
Risk taking

These are mapped at every stage for individual artisan students, when they are admitted, during the residency, and on completion of the programme. The mapping against values is done by various panels and peers. Kinesthetic Learning and Co-creating Knowledge with a Holistic Approach The team at Kalhath has developed a one-year intensive programme based on a day scholar mode but mimicking the experience of a long-duration artisan residency. The curriculum was intended for embroidery artisans, but learning was not limited to a single craft. It was designed to have a multidisciplinary approach through project briefs. Taking health and lifestyle as an intrinsic part of good living, ergonomics, food, health, and exercise became an axillary part of the programmes. As artisans have various phases of intense craft practice and then lean periods and each artisan has individual needs, the Kalhath Academic Thinking Group created flexible part time and full time programmes with a minimum number of choice-based and compulsory credit hours to be earned through selection of modules. The programme has 4 units comprising modules spread over a year. The building blocks of this project-based, research-oriented curriculum are activities which could be of a single session or multiple sessions. The heart of the teaching/learning system is at the process level, where the learning related activity produces or does not produce the desired outcomes. As Shuell puts it: If students are to learn desired outcomes in a reasonably effective manner, then the teacher's fundamental task is to get students to engage in learning activities that are likely to result in their achieving those outcomes. It is important to remember that what the student does is more important than what the teacher does.[5] Kinesthetic activities involving embroidery as a medium build toward a larger project brief that addresses the learning outcomes of a module. In this mode a learning outcome could be revisited in multiple projects each time with a fresh approach. Addressing learning outcomes repetitively could lead to monotony for student so a learning facilitator has to use his experience to decide how many projects address similar learning. The keywords remain consistent: Meaning Making, Analysing, Integration and Multidisciplinary, Interpretation. The core aspects of the programme are detailed in the following sections: Recognizing Self Self is an important facet when craft engagement starts at the artisan level. Self includes health, wellbeing and association with people and life. The programme starts with various activities to encourage the student to look back at his or her own memories and interpret them in embroidery. Recognition of self-further leads into cultural studies; self then becomes a part of a crafts community and finally the artisan seeks to discover self-identity and community in a global market. As the programmes progress the boundaries of self-expand and self becomes global or global comes within self.

Interpretation of memory by Sippu, an artisan-student of cohort of 2018 who revisited the time when his ‘Ustaad’ (master) used to take him to the Ghats of Gomti River to learn swimming during hours free from learning embroidery. The personal connect of the artisan is evident in the finesse of each stroke that gives a life-like feel to the water. Photo Credit: Jaspal Kalra Vernacular Art and Culture Larry Shiner (2012) proposes that the word ‘fine art’ was coined in the 18th century. In the traditional Western system, an artist or artisan was a skilled maker or a practitioner, a work of art was a functional product of high workmanship, and the appreciation and expression of art was an integral part of living and working. The Kalhath programme attempts to deep-dive into artisans’ interpretation of art. Appreciation of art is grounded in vernacular cultural context, as artist and artisan become custodians of cultural traditions with the art they create. The boundaries of art and culture at Kalhath keep expanding from local, mohalla (street) to regional and national. Heritage walks dive into the cultural association of motifs through interviews of master craftspeople, review and analysis of design elements and semantics existing in regional architecture. Visits to art galleries and regular sharing with peers become a mode to learn. Learning from peers and experts go hand in hand. Projects in small groups, with individual or collective outcomes, let every artisan have an expression while understanding the meaning-making of his/ her peers.

Rumi Darwaza- Lucknow. Artisan students examined Rumi Darwaza in Lucknow and learned how the architect was inspired by the gates of Constantinople. The front façade has a single arch while the rear façade has 3 arches, but it is difficult to imagine the decoration and form of the opposite side from either side. This was later connected to Cubism and its blending perspectives. Each artisan created an artwork inspired from architecture blending perspectives. Sketch by Mohd. Nadeem depicting the activity. Photo Credit: Jaspal Kalra The integration of various learning activities into a project outcome and creating a context for projects keep the artisan students of Kalhath aligned to Research-based learning. Each artisan is a trainer, a learner, an agent of knowledge creation and exchange. The project briefs introduced during delivery of modules focus on values that form the foundation of the Institute.

The cohort of 2019 worked with a theatre scriptwriter to create embroidered frames of a stop motion fictitious narrative with a historical context. Each individual artisan worked on a section of the storyline keeping in mind a fine thread of sameness yet retaining individual identity. Sample depicting Teelewali Masjid by Fariya Bano. Photo Credit: Jaspal Kalra Personal Association with Material Some scholars relate craftsmanship to craft as a practice centred on the manipulation of physical material by skilled knowing hands.[6] A craftsperson’s work is believed to be material-specific, whereas artists are free to explore media and commission people of different skills in their work.[7] Further, as material takes precedence in describing craft, to expand the horizon as well as possibilities of craft, developing dimensions of material becomes imperative. At Kalhath, the goal is for students to develop an understanding of traditional material in craft and then to finally redefine use of innovative material in embroidery. Because material is an essential part of art or craft, to strengthen this aspect material sourcing, understanding and manipulation are an important part of the curriculum. Innovation in material starts with understanding it well, its touch, feel, sound, behaviour and making. A multidisciplinary approach is brought in through activities with analogous crafts, for example, a basket weaving workshop to understand textile weaves, a brick layout to understand strength and weaves in conjugation. This also lets the artisan break away from material into a creation of art with skills of embroidery and novel material approach. With this approach artisans have become comfortable with materials like corrugated sheets, wood, or wire mesh as base for embroidery. Material innovation is not done in isolation but as an expression of experiences from social living for the inspiration of embroidery and material manipulation.

Material manipulation by Danish Siddiqui. This embroidery and material manipulation is inspired from the revolt of 1857 locally called ‘Gadar.’ The artisans had to imagine and express the state of affairs and mental state of people during that time: an integration of cultural history with material manipulation. Photo Credit: Jaspal Kalra Innovation in Space “Craftsmanship isn't like water in an earthen pot, to be taken out by the dipperful until it's empty. No, the more drawn out the more remains.” - Lloyd Alexander Interpreting craftsmanship in a space where thinking directs hands is the first major project the artisan students undertake. The project involves creating multimedia installations to express social issues around craft, using embroidery as the main medium. The art installation pushes artisans to explore concepts, create storylines, and connect various incidents with a common thread to create a tangible experience for the viewer. They relate their stories to expressions in 3D art by various artists to give a final shape to their narrative. After undertaking this project, Mahtab, an artisan student, felt her trust in her skill had increased. She felt delighted that her commitment to grow with her craft would honour her late father.

The cohort of 2019 worked on creating a 3D installation 45’long, 20’ wide and 15’ high to express a collective narrative of their learning process in craft. It integrated the cultural heritage of Lucknow with each façade inspired from a historical monument of the city. Light, sound, embroidery and bamboo structure came together to create an experience for anyone who walked through the installation. Photo Credit: Jaspal Kalra Creative Semantic Process Craft has the spirit and soul of an artisan as an inherent part of it, which is seldom discussed by research scholars. Aurobindo believed that practicing craft elevates a man to God, and is like meditation; the craftsperson reaches refinement when making succeeds in bringing body, heart and mind in communion with spirit. According to him, art expresses eternal truth, and is not just limited to the expression of form and appearance.[8] In the Indian context, a craftsperson is often discussed in association with the divine skill of Visvakarma (Hindu God of creation).[9] For an Indian craftsperson, craft is not just a skill acquired from his/her ancestors but an association with creation and its revelation. Design in the context of craft cannot be divorced the from semantics that have existed traditionally and new meaning that an artisan finds himself. At Kalhath artisans start creative expression in craft as a journey to create designs which have semantic association with their life experiences.

Interpreting semantics by Lucky Khan. A Venus flytrap represents his yearning to grab opportunity, a camel signifies endurance and hard work, chameleon eyes signify being observant and birds represent moving against the tide: a portrayal of self as a motif. Photo Credit: Jaspal Kalra Research on Market Needs Davis (2004) feels that artisans create products for functional use; aesthetics are secondary to them, and this makes craft less worthy. According to him, a consumer buys craft because of its utility, not for its aesthetic value. Danto (1964) disregarded craft because the intention of craftwork is "making objects" while that of art is "making messages through objects." In India, according to scholar Stella Kramrisch (1958), crafts inherently had narratives of spirituality and holiness, expressed by the craftsperson. The last section of knowledge sharing moves further from semantics to market needs, manipulating as per demand and understanding analogous brands through case studies. The focus of projects shifts from activity-based learning to role play. Peer learning takes a new dimension as successful artisan entrepreneurs are invited to share their experiences. The semantics of an artisan is retained but here he moulds it to make it the right fit for a usable product which has market demand. Deep Learning through Challenges and New Possibilities The resident journey of artisans at Kalhath is a means of posing them with opportunities and challenges so that they may interpret new meaning with craft. The Institute has evolved a system to create an opportunity for students as well as alumni artisans to come into collaboration with artists during and post completion of a year-long program. It supports co-working, and exploration of tradition through transformative art in embroidery. For example, in 2018 and 2019 artisans co-created a series of artworks with T. Venkanna and Priyanka Chowdhary, Curators from NGMA and other art galleries. Challenge and opportunity are the core of the artist residency. The project aims to bridge the existing gap between art, design and craft while acknowledging the strengths of each practitioner. The programme and artist residency not only create opportunities for co-working and co-learning but also create newer possibilities by narrowing the divide between art and craft.

Artwork of T. Venkanna executed in embroidery during artist residency. Venkanna’s works are satires on society and very expressive in use of the human body. The artwork uses various embroidery techniques to evoke a circle of pleasures. These artworks made artisans look at commissioned works beyond cultural bias and enabled creative expression. Photo Credit: Jaspal Kalra As a part of the advanced research projects, artisan students undertake craft interpretation. This becomes an opportunity to use self-expression in a chosen specialization. As Johannes says, “Without craftsmanship, inspiration is a mere reed shaken in the wind.” Inspiration is important but interpretation for a niche market requires excellence as a holistic approach.

Kathak Maestro performing in a costume designed as part of craft interpretation by the Cohort of 2019. A group of 5 artisans from the cohort of 2019 conceptualised and created costumes for the classical dance form Kathak. The process involved understanding the dance, its moves, expressions and requirements, through various research tools. The outcome was a malleable costume that could be moulded as per expression (Rasa) of the dance. Photo Credit: Jaspal Kalra The year long association with the institute and professionals, artists, and designers with whom artisans interact and share their life experiences initiates a process of relooking at social living as an extension of their craft. Discovering meaning, interpreting and finding opportunities for continuity of craft or using skills in another context is what the residency provides them. Artisans and those who interact with them or their products leave with a thought to redefine how craft and artisans are perceived and acknowledged. REFERENCES Anand, M. R., 1989. Sri Aurobindo The Critic of Art. Journal of South Asian Literature, 24(1), pp. 104-113. Bhandari, V., 2015. Jewelled Textiles: Gold and Silver Embellished Cloth of India. New Delhi: Om Books International. Coomaraswamy, A. K., 1989. The Indian Crafts-Man. 1 ed. London: Probsthain & Co. Danto, A., 1964. The Artworld. The Journal of Philosophy, 61(19), pp. 571-584. Davies, D., 2004. Art as Performance. Oxford: Blackwell. Kramrisch, S., 1958. Traditions of the Indian Craftsman. The Journal of American Folklore, 71(281), pp. 224-230. Littrell, M. A., Anderson, L. F. & Brown, P. J., 1993. What makes a craft souvenir authentic?. Annals of Tourism Research, 20(1), pp. 197-215. Montomery, B., 2012. Craft the new Luxury. Craft & Design Magazine, April, Volume 214. Petry, M., 2011. The Art of Not Making: The New Artist/Artisan Relationship. London: Thames and Hudson. Rahnema, M., 1997. The Post Development Reader. London: Zed Books Robinson, J., 2004. Squaring the circle? Some thoughts on the idea of sustainable development.. Ecological Economics, Volume 48, pp. 369-384 Sennett, R., 2008. The Craftsman. New Haven: Yale University Press. Shiner, L., 2012. “Blurred Boundaries”? Rethinking the Concept of Craft and its Relation to Art and Design. Philosophy Compass, 7(4), pp. 230-244. Shuell, T.J. (1986). Cognitive conceptions of learning. Review of Educational Research, 56, 411-436.

ENDNOTES

Bhandari, 2015
Littrell, M. A., et al., 1993
Rahnema, 1997, p. 395
IBID, p. 275
Shuell 1986: 429
Sennett, 2008
Petry, 2011; Shiner, 2012
Anand, 1989
Coomaraswamy, 1989, p. 47

Some say that the Three Wise Men who came bearing gifts for the infant Jesus to welcome his birth, were in fact Zoroastrian priests. Gifts form an integral part of the Parsi Zoroastrian tradition. These support a craft tradition descending from Bronze Age Iran which gathered momentum along the Silk Route, adapting Chinese, Indian and European influences to create distinctively Zoroastrian crafts. Zoroastrian men were also skilled weavers. Xenophon describes Cyrus the Great coming into battle “wearing a purple tunic shot with white…trousers of scarlet dye about his legs”, while tablets from Susa at the time of Emperor Darius mention not only flourishing weaving industries but also clothes of coloured embroidery. Marco Polo reports that “a thriving silk industry and Safavaid weaves of twill, satin, lampas, brocade and velvet were well known”.

When women, who constitute all the weavers of the Kusti, could not weave a sacred material during their periods of ritual “uncleanliness”, they used the same loom to fashion a beautiful decorative toran. Tiny glass beads are painstakingly designed in traditional patterns – the rooster for protection, the fish for plenty, flowers of blessing, Swastik and fire symbols. A few young girls still learn this craft from their grandmothers and weave torans. Unfortunately, customers in urban centres where they are sold do not always realize the skill involved and the cost of the beads, of which the finest quality come from EasternThe Zoroastrian craft tradition, begun in Iran, predates the foundation of the religion. Zoroaster, it is said, asked for only a woven girdle as a gift from his father when he left his home to seek enlightenment in the high mountains. This girdle persists today seen as the Kusti, the sacred girdle worn by all Zoroastrians. Woven with 72 woolen threads, it is a hollow tube completely inverted with great skill. Weaving is one of humankind’s most ancient skills and in the Vads of Navsari and other Parsi settlements, this skill continues, linking Bronze Age Central Asia and 21st century India.

As the Silk Route developed, the Iranian linkages with China grew. Several centuries later Parsi weavers from Surat and Chinese traders began a cross-cultural dialogue. There are many versions of the creation of the weave which we today call Surti ghat and the gajji, a fabric light enough to be draped as a six-yard sari and yet strong enough to bear the weight of several kilos of heavy embroidery. This technique is a lost art today. With the help of textile and silk researchers, Parzor hopes to be able to revive it. A revival would be of great benefit not only to Zoroastrian crafts but to the entire fashion industry of India. Weaving techniques are difficult, and simpler crafts were used to enhance daily life. The Parsi craft of chalk decoration is one

practiced even today. Outside most Parsi homes there are little designs printed on the ground. Now made out of chalk powder, they originated in Iran where lime was used outside homes to keep away insects. In India, this mingled with the rangoli decorations of Gujarat, developing a decorative design vocabulary which distinguishes Parsi homes. The weaving of tanchoi, is another Parsi craft. The name originates in the three (tan) Parsi men (choi) who lived in China. These three brothers travelled to China and learnt the art of Jacquard weaving, which they brought home to Surat. Later, this craft shifted its base to Benares, where unfortunately its origins have been forgotten.

Another craft descended from an ancient past is working in silver. Silver symbolizes purity in the Zoroastrian tradition and is used on sacred occasions throughout life; after death, silver muktad vases permanently commemorate the soul. It is interesting to note that silver bowls found in archaeological digs of the Achaemenian period bear stylistic links with Parsi silver found today. The embossed decoration, floral motifs and central rosettes are common features across two millennia. The silver ses is a most visible feature of the Navjote and wedding rituals, while the silver muktad vases are often works of art. The muktad is the annual period of remembering the dead. It is still the most important time in a family when, it is believed, those who have passed away return to their homes to be with their family. During this period they are remembered with fresh flowers and fruit each day during special prayers. The flowers are placed in special vases, only used at this time each year. Each muktad vase bears the name of an individual and the dates of birth and death engraved on it. Consecrated during prayers, it will stand testimony for that soul in perpetuity.

One of the few surviving silversmiths of the Parsis in Mumbai today is Mr Dossabhai Minocher Shroff. He explains that silver is a part of the Zoroastrian life cycle from birth to death, being used at birth, through childhood, the Navjote, wedding and for the last rites. It is also used for all ceremonial purposes, both in the Fire Temple and at home. There were once three major Parsi shops for silver in Mumbai. Today only his, established in 1894, has continued the tradition. According to him, China used to supply the articles used in the ses. Every woman carries a silver ses, gifted by her father to her married home. This round silver plate, filled with ritual objects, symbolizes family strength and unity. The ses also invokes upon the household the blessings of all aspects of creation as can be seen in the silver fish, betel leaf, coconut and other little objects in it. Later, as pure silver became expensive, a plated alloy known as German silver became a popular substitute.

Just as in the case of the ritual ses, silver rattles, whistles and enamelled silver toys are traditional gifts for children at their birth, while silver frames, dressing table sets and vases are gifted at the Navjote to both boys and girls.

Gifts of jewelry form an important part in the life rituals, especially for women. Gold and pearls were traditionally used in Zoroastrian jewelry, a tradition kept alive by the famed Parsi jewel houses of Bombay. Catering mainly to Parsi clientele, it is time that their skills were appreciated by a wider audience. Intricate and delicate loops and wires of filigree continue patterns found first in Achaemenian Pasargadae. The Parsi vala is a traditional bangle, popular still at marriages and child birth, while the trellis and flower design, the rope chains or cheda, fish pendants and little horse shoes seen in Parsi jewelry reflect its intercultural links.

The use of the kerba or amber is also traditional. A baby is given small kerba bangles for protection, prayer beads were often made of amber and amber jewelry is popular. Parsis believe that the kerba has healing properties. A jaundice patient is made to wear a kerba, as it is believed to draw out toxins and cleanse the entire system. Specialist shops in Mumbai supplied amber to jewelers, the translucent red being the most valuable. The jerba, often mistaken for amber lends itself more to jewelry design today. It is more cost effective and suits modern taste for chunky beads and chains.

Several other crafts of the Parsis lend themselves to a craft revival. The wood carving of the Zoroastrians is again a multicultural tradition drawing together ancient Iranian design, Indian sandalwood carving, Chinese motifs and the Portuguese love for elaborately carved details in furniture. The Pettigara Petis or caskets intricately carved with animals, especially the lion, royal foliage and scenes from the myths of the Shahnameh, are still prized possessions. The Pettigara family started this carving in Surat and lent their name to a craft treasured across India. This deep carving in sandalwood used border frames of ivory or bone to create velvet lined jewel caskets and boxes in which to store precious documents and rare prayer books. The boxes are so skillfully made that they remain airtight even 200 years after their creation. The scent of sandalwood wafts out of them when are opened.

Painting on glass developed in Europe in the Middle Ages. It came to the Parsis through the Chinese and is seen particularly in the depiction of epic heroes. Its centres in India from the end of the 18th century till the end of the 19th century were Satara and Poona in Maharashtra. Later in the 19th century, stained glass portraits created a tradition which is still being followed by Parsi craftspersons, a famous stained glass artist is Ketayun Saklat of Calcutta. Thus we see that Parsi Crafts permeate all Parsi life. From the craft of chalk patterns which decorate homes each morning to ones that adorn elaborate lifestyles, they constitute a unique multicultural heritage of humanity

This article was first published in UNESCO Power of Creativity Magazine; Vol. 2, August 2008

Parsi Zoroastrian embroidery has become an inseparable part of traditional Indian textiles. This ancient art, which traces its origins to Bronze Age Iran, has also assimilated cultural influences from Persia, China, India and Europe. The Parsi reverence for nature is evident in the flowers - lily, lotus, chrysanthemum, and peony, trees - weeping willow, cherry, pine, bamboo and divine fungus, and birds - cranes, peacocks, swans and pheasants that adorn the embroidery. Pagodas, boats, Chinese architectural structures, human figures and scenes typical of Chinese society and daily life are also commonly depicted. Each motif carries deep meaning: for example, the divine fungus, a symbol of longevity and immortality is believed to give protection especially to children when embroidered on their jhablas/jackets. Among other motifs, trees and vegetation represent seasons, and chrysanthemums symbolize joy and represent spring. The strikingly beautiful Parsi garas sari, jhablas and ijars/pantaloons in bright reds, maroons, pinks, purples and blacks, offset by delicate embroidery in pale white and pastel shades, are works of exquisite craftsmanship that combine elegance and aesthetics.

History Community accounts of elderly Parsis from Bharuch to Kolkata confirm the role of Chinese pherias in familiarizing Parsi women with Chinese embroidery. Pherias were craftsmen from China who came with big bundles or chests full of embroidered pieces for the Parsis. They travelled across cities and met their Parsi clientele to deliver pre-ordered garas and kors/borders. They also taught some of the women their craft.As Parsis travelled and settled in other parts of India, especially the Deccan, they acquired local skills like Zardozi embroidery and incorporated these in their repertoire. With European influence came European stitches, designs and new shades of color. There was a large crossover of vocabulary as Parsis imbibed the best from East and West to create their own particular form.

The Sassanian “Circlet of Pearls” motif travelled from Zoroastrian Persia to China during the Tang Dynasty and then found its way back to the Parsi embroidered garas. The historical trade in silk between Surat and China and the incorporation of European designs, and even the Gujarati Mochi stitch, all went to create a fabric, which was unique. The kors and garas worn by Parsi women were distinctive, and came to be known popularly as the Parsi sari in all parts of the country. An amalgamation of various cultural traditions, Parsi embroidery is a unique blend of the East and the West in terms of motif and technique.

Chinese symbols and elements of mythology: China-Chini/Chinese man and woman), bat motif, The Divine Fungus, The Phoenix, flowers such as the chrysanthemum and peony; cranes and Taoist symbols
Persian symbols: Chakla Chakli motif or Contradicting Birds, flowers such as the lily and jasmine. The paisley, which is based on the symbol of Cypress tree swaying in the wind and signifies life and eternity.
British imperial influence: Flowers, baskets and bow motifs
Indian influence: Peacock, lotus, ambi or Indian paisley motifs
Zoroastrian Culture that presents a respect and reverence for nature - Rooster motif, plant life, fish, the Simurgh or bird of Paradise and the 30 flowers representing the 30 angels who watch over each day of the month.
A variety of stitches are used: Satin stitch is largely used in Parsi embroidery. Variations of Satin stitch are extended, bound, voided, and embossed. Other stitches include French knots and forbidden stitch/khakha – a very difficult stitch whose complexity can make a person go blind. However, it is the voided satin stitch, which is largely used, giving a realistic impression of nature.

Rescuing a Craft in Crisis Sadly, the great legacy of Parsi embroidery is slowing fading, unable to escape the crisis facing most traditional crafts in India, due to the competition arising from cheaper industrial machine made materials, a limited pool of skilled craftspeople; the decrease in the demand of traditional crafts has been inevitable. And it is suffering additionally because of the added crisis of the dwindling Parsi community. The population is declining so rapidly that it is 10% smaller with each decennial census. While the loss of cultural traditions is a growing phenomenon worldwide, the sharp demographic decline poses a danger that Parsi Zoroastrian culture will be completely extinct. Recognizing these challenges, the Parzor Foundation, UNESCO and the Indian Government have come together to rekindle interest in the craft of Parsi embroidery and prevent it from being wiped out.The Parzor Foundation has been working since 1999 with the support of UNESCO to revive the heritage and culture of the Parsi Zoroastrians of India. It conducted the first serious research into the origin, history, development and technique of Parsi textiles and embroidery, with experts travelling across India and beyond to trace its roots from Tehran, Yazd and Kerman in Iran to Hong Kong and Shanghai in China.

The Foundation grasped the need to commercialize this craft in order for it to survive and become a means of livelihood for its practitioners. In fact, the possibilities for commercial expansion are significant. As Parzor’s Dr Shernaz Cama, Director of the Parzor Foundation points out, while the West may be losing interest in doing laborious hand embroidery, there is yet a large potential market for fine handwork in the domestic as well as other international markets. A series of workshops for the revival and contemporization of Parsi embroidery were conducted in Ahmedabad, Navsari, Mumbai and New Delhi in 2005 and 2006. The aim was to help the craft become competitive in the contemporary market, while ensuring that products remain sensitive to the original forms and carry the hallmark of Parsi tradition.

The workshops imparted a whole range of livelihood skills, from the technical knowledge of embroidery stitches to design skills and basic business management know-how, such as packaging of products and interaction with prospective buyers. Design motifs were sketched out on computer to help standardize and explain them. At the workshop in New Delhi, participants not only recreated Parsi gara embroidery but took advice from professional designers on creating commercial products with wide appeal and the potential to sell fast, such as, cushions, spectacle cases, mobile phone covers, bags and scarves. Ashdeen Lilaowala, a designer and Textile Consultant at the Parzor Foundation, offered feedback on the standards of craftsmanship needed to ensure marketability, using a Parsi phrase to explain what could not be allowed to happen: agal hira, pachal kira, “In front are diamonds and at the back are worms!” The embroidery in front is as beautiful as diamonds but the back is like worms.

It’s hoped that the workshops may be developed into a long-term training programme, which will fully revive Parsi embroidery by creating a guild of craftspeople, entrepreneurs and designers. In the meantime, the Parzor Foundation has become an international centre for information on Parsi textiles and embroidery, attracting textile researchers, academicians and designers. Parzor also hopes to bring out a book on the embroidery that will document its important linkages to Central Asia, China and India.

Dr Cama is quite optimistic about the future of Parsi embroidery. She shows me a splendid Parsi gara passed down to her by her grandmother. This exquisite jamuni/purple coloured kanda-papeta no garo with its delicate embroidery is indeed a treasure to cherish. She remarks, “As the younger generation realizes the elegance of the embroidered gara, kors and jhablas and begins to understand the symbolism behind them, our fears about the disappearance of Parsi embroidery can be dispelled”. The revival of this tradition is nurturing the skills of the craftspeople, encouraging prospective entrepreneurs and catching the eye of patrons. Thanks to the work of the Parzor Foundation and the UNESCO partnership, Parsi Zoroastrian embroidery will be here for a long time to come.

A close up of the Parsi gara/sari with white silk floss embroidery on purple Sali gaaj silk filled with the forbidden khaka stitch, in rich colors and extraordinarily delicate embroidery.

This article was first published in UNESCO Power of Creativity Magazine; Vol. 2, August 2008

“The beautiful groups of textiles and handicrafts are a welcome reminder that the first meaning of the word art is ‘skill’. It is skill in making things, and in making them beautifully that is the foundation of all art. For without the craftsman's skill, the profound spiritual ideals of Indian civilization could never have been expressed in art. This is a lesson India has taught the world and through this magnificent gift can bring home to the people of Malaya.”– Michael Sullivan¹

As the words of then curator of the University of Malaya Museum Michael Sullivan insist, Indian textiles and imaginations of India have always had a nebulous but intimate relationship. Textiles – along with religious iconographies and architecture – have not only performed the role of plenipotentiaries of ‘Indian culture’ within the socio-geographical boundaries of what is today recognized as India but also beyond into what Sullivan refers to as ‘Malaya’. In many ways the study of textiles has been a preoccupation of the Art History discipline. Ananda K. Coomaraswamy’s History of Indian and Indonesian Art, first published in 1927, not only identifies periods and locations in which varying importation and adaptations of Indian art may be acknowledged within 'Indonesia’ (a category which referred to Southeast Asia in general but also emphasizes the ‘vigor and originality’ of local cultures in recontextualizing and making eclectic cultural icons. ² Sullivan's notion of 'Malaya’s debt’ then needs to be approached with caution and relooked as the launch point for a number of debates on not just Indian textiles, but also about those who produce and consumes them. The NUS Museum acquired its first textiles in 1959 as part of a gift of 55 artworks from the Government of India. The donation contained five fabrics of which the most significant is an 18th Century Kashmiri shawl or kaniker. Its twill tapestry of the traditional design of guldasta or vases of flowers along the borders and the one woven pashmina dyed in red reveals the technical virtuosity in patterning and dyeing that has made Indian textiles so highly sought after since the 2nd Century. Unfortunately, the Museum's collection was divided in 1965 after the separation of Singapore from the Malaysian Federation, with only three of the five textiles remaining in Singapore.³ Apart from this, the Museum under the guidance of William Wiliets continued to acquire textiles over the next decade or so. The collection now consists of 366 items which are mainly from India and Southeast Asia and range in date from the 18th to the mid 20th Centuries. The Indonesian cloths are from Java, Sumatra and Bali and make up the bulk of the collection. There are also some fabrics from Cambodia, Thailand, Myanmar and Malaysia. The Museum records are sketchy at best, and much of the information for this exhibition has been gathered from the few existing written documents such as catalogues written by Willets and oral interviews conducted with Michael Sullivan.Most pertinently, the NUS Museum’s textiles remain a relatively understudied area of the collection. In 2002, at the inaugural exhibition of the NUS Museum titled Past, Present, Beyond: Re-nascence of an Art Collection which was curated by T.K. Sabapathy, textile historian Constance Sheares contributed a catalogue essay which sought to understand the major patterning techniques evident in the NUS Museum’s textile collection⁴. Sheares classified the collection into three main types: loom weaving, embroidery and resist-dyeing which included tying and dyeing as well as printing and painting processes. These techniques were then further classified country wise namely India, Indonesia, Malaysia and Cambodia where applicable. In the essay, Sheares draws attention to the intensive exchange of motifs and techniques that took place between regions. Since 2002, no substantive research has been conducted on the NUS Museum textile collection. Suffice to say, most of the textiles on display for the current exhibition have not been displayed since the William Willets exhibition in 1964. However, before introducing the 1964 episode, let me digress by briefly recounting the modem history of textile production in postcolonial India, a period which remains crucial in contextualizing this exhibition.India’s textile tradition is the largest single source of employment after agriculture, a craft skill providing clothing and furnishings to people all over the world. So while textile may occasionally become art in the era of postcolonial exploration, the larger story of this medium continues to be one where objects of utility are produced by anonymous creators. The textile history of independent India is dominated by the influence of two Gandhis: the Mahatma and Indira. At a moment when industrialization had been considered imperative for Indian survival, the Mahatma’s equation of patriotism and independence with wearing homespun khadi preserved the handloom weaving traditions. Emerging in the 70s, Indira Gandhi, temperamentally quite opposite to the Mahatma, nevertheless performed the same role by consistently wearing the best handspun textiles. While the Sirimavo Bandarnaikes wore chiffon and nylon and the young Benazir Bhuttos adorned crimplene pantsuits with padded shoulders, Indira unnervingly appeared in Kalamakari and handloom silk shawls and cotton. Other female trendsetters, fellow politicians, film stars, socialists, fundamentalists, economists, entrepreneurs and rural activists followed suit.In their wake came resurgence and revival of classic weaving which extended beyond the shores of independent India and provoked interest in as far as Singapore. Regional skills and products, restricted to specific villages or communities began to appear in unexpected urban settings as part of an pan-Indian, be-Indian, buy-Indian campaign promoted by government agencies set up in the 50s and 60s to promote indigenous textile producers. It was Gandhian philosophy implemented by the most modern 20th Century marketing and management strategies. In many ways, Nehruvian modernity coupled with Gandhian philosophy matched the national mood of progress and reassertion in the Indian textile sector for the first three decades after independence. This national mood exploded at the New York, Montreal and Osaka World Fairs, at the chic and newly designed hotels, embassies and Indian Cultural Centers across most cosmopolitan centers. Indian embroideries were a repackaged national flag, the soft power of Nehruvian third-worldism.The Khadi and Village Industries Corporation had 15,000 outlets – the world’s largest retail chain. Sadly, bureaucracy brought along its own red tape and stagnation bloomed. Government controls and monopolies on the sale and price of textile products made it more profitable to sell raw cotton than convert it into a marketable product. However, in the 70s and 80s there was resurgent interest and cam a revival of the textile tradition. Interior designers such as Ritu Kumar became aware of the attraction of Indian textile techniques. Shops like Anokhi and Fab-India, selling handloom textiles and textile-based garments, became globally recognized retail chains. The series of International Festival of India in the USA and Europe used the warp and weft on Indian textiles and their accompanying skills of ornamentation such as embroidery and bandhani to highlight India’s continued relevance to specific global cultural strengths. Contemporarily, the scenario is slightly different. The liberalization of the Indian economy has upped the stakes in the Indian marketplace with a whole range of brands, products and consumption regimes taking hold. Markets for Indian textiles have undoubtedly expanded with benefits trickling down through the socioeconomic pyramid. However, with raw material prices intensely connected with global aggregates, it seems-the rural weavers can no longer afford to wear their own products.In 1985, when Vijaya Ramaswamy published her study Textiles and Weavers in Medieval South India, it was considered pioneering. Based on fieldwork conducted over a decade in the Sengunthar, Saliya and Devanga community, the study attempted to integrate multiple perspectives and diverse methodologies to provide an intense perspective on the socio-economic world of weaving communities. Drawing heavily on oral and ‘folk’ narratives as imperative sources in the study of textile production and trade in Peninsular India, Ramaswamy eloquently argued against the sole reliance upon problematic and perhaps even ‘uninformed’ colonial records as historical sources. Much of Ramaswamy’s study relied upon the large gap in traditional modes of textile history writing which ‘touch only peripherally, if at all on the lives of the weavers. ⁵Past-Present: Craft Communities in Contemporary India is an experimental project that shares Ramaswamy's concern and attempts at partially bridging the epistemological silences represent by traditionalist discourses by engaging with the weavers’ narratives and their stupefying socioeconomic contexts. The exhibition seeks to generate numerous points of departure into the study of the artistic processes involved in the production of textiles, but also present a study of the livelihoods that are created and sustained as a result. As such in attempting to make sense of contemporary textile making in India, this exhibition adapts a mode of thinking (which one scholar has provocatively claimed as the ‘remembering of the past in the present’) by juxtaposing the field content of two study trips undertaken to India from Singapore in 1964 and 2008 respectively. ⁶ The first ‘remembering' is of the reputed art historian and then Director of the Museum William Willets whose Indian tour of textile making began from the Southern Indian city of Madras and ended in what is today the state of Rajasthan after a brief sojourn in Orissa. Upon his return Willets curated an exhibition titled ‘Indian Textiles’. Apart from the few textiles which were secured by donations and loans, most were collected by Willets in the course of his tour. The journalistic details of the trip remain sketchy due to the lack of verifiable sources except for the catalogue which was authored by Willets and published in conjunction with the exhibition – a document which I will return to later.The second event is of a 2008 study trip undertaken by NUS University Scholars Programme students titled ‘Urban North India: Craft Communities, Livelihoods and Habitats’ which sought to study crafts and craft communities in Northern India to understand social issues, livelihoods, NGO activities and the difficulties in preserving ‘heritage’. The trip examined the late-modem socio-cultural structures of craft communities, and as Dr Medha Kudaisya intended, the continuing relevance of caste in terms of occupation in contemporary India and the problems crafts communities face such as the lack of capital, dependency on moneylenders and lack of information and access to urban markets The field trip involved working with both governmental and nongovernmental organizations (NGOs). At one level the students sought to understand the critical role organizations such as the Craft Revival Trust, Central Cottage Industries of India, Delhi Haat and the Anokhi Museum of Hand-printing perform, but also extended this understanding further by directly interacting with the craft communities. Much of the contemporary materials on display were collected as part of the field trip which covered crafts persons and organizations operating in urban Rajasthan and Delhi. Students wrote and reflected on the craft spaces they visited and studied seeking to dynamically contextualize them in the present. Curatorially, the project has been challenging, juxtapositions of the contested pasts against contemporary modes of production and reception is neither neutral nor unambiguous. In the midst of forging the reparative continuity between cultural identity and the historical past, this project has had to contend with two major caveats. The museum space itself which accentuates some of the inherent difficulties in reconciling the ever shifting terrain between Museums and their source communities but more discerningly, the challenge of pushing beyond the discipline of ‘art history' and into a multidisciplinary method in appreciating art and material cultures. Therefore, the postulation of the two above ‘events' is crucial for the illustration of the unsustainable discrepancy between the finitude of the thinking rational body of literature and the infinite variety of the world – which always remains in excess of what the modern episteme can or does represent. Therefore, the title of the exhibition – 'Past-Present’ – suggests that to attempt telling or revealing the histories of others is to be pressed against the margins of one’s own.

A significant theoretical hurdle has been the dilemmas generated by the movement of objects invested with the plenipotentiaries of 'craft' into the museum context. The textiles from Willets' 1964 expedition juxtaposed to the 2008 student collection of crafts are not neutral articulations, but represent varied modes of artistic construction and representation on the Indian subcontinent, from the preponderant 19th Century debates in British India about what exactly should be promoted as ‘art’ in a colonized setting to the association of 'craft’ labels to specific artisanal products vis-a-vis the inheritances of the many 'European Schools of Art'. Although the focus of this paper is not to present a sustained critique of the 'art’ versus 'craft’ labels in the Indian context, it remains an acknowledged caveat (or what Gayathri Spivak pronounces as ‘strategic essentialism') in the curatorial method. In other words, the implications of such an acknowledgement are multiple – theoretically – but also crucial in highlighting to the audience the artificiality and constantly negotiated “ nature of the exhibition space which is mediated by the artisanal productions, the physical monumentality of the museum, the student collections and the audience .

In his 1964 catalogue, Willets, intensely and with fine detail, lays down the production methods adopted by the artisans; all thematically organized according to motives and with specific attention paid to regional variations and complexities The author even draws linkages to textile motifs and methods being adopted in the textile making centers of Indonesia and different parts of Southeast Asia Although it is pertinent to note that Willets never uses the category ‘Southeast’ Asia, perhaps because the region of Southeast Asia itself was a postcolonial construct, citing the textile historian Pupul Jayakar, the author notes, ‘It is likely that skilled dyers and weavers from Masulipatnam coast carried the famous patola process to Java and Sumatra where it came to be known as ikat⁷. This contention may need to be approached with caution, but can also be strategically understood as indicative of the intense exchanges of bodies and knowledge between the regions of South and Southeast Asia. This is a crucial link that is relatively understudied in general, but has been an intensely debated realm in the discipline of textile and art history⁸. Ikat or the technique of resisting yarn for fabrics is one such technique which represents a large group of Indian textiles which are patterned by means of resist techniques. These dyeing methods serve to decorate textiles in colour by partially reserving or resisting the fabric before dyeing and removing these resists afterwards. What distinguishes these patterning methods from others is that the ornamented motifs are produced neither by painting or embroidery, but are left undyed on coloured ground. The process itself can be repeated to produce multiple variations In this regard, the Lunghi or men’s hip wrap (S1964-0004-004-0) dated circa early 1960s is from Sambalpur, Orissa which has historically been a center for the ikat technique of weaving. Patronized by different populations, both local and overseas, the industry in Sambalpur has thrived mainly due to the community of weavers such as the Mehers. In the contemporary landscape, however, the weaving communities are poised on the crossroads of change very much like many other textile production centers in India, stretching from the states of Rajastan to Kashmir to Tamil Nadu, division of labour and specialization in tie and dye techniques have become increasingly attractive, with different villages in the vicinity specializing in different stages of the production process. In terms of design and motifs, what had previously been a constantly evolving but relatively confined realm to one weaving group or another has now become a much more fluid process of borrowing and redesigning enabled further by the various technologies of late modernity. Very much in line with the above discussion on the contemporary state of weavers in Orissa is the story of the Telia Rumal or the tie-and-dye double ikat square kerchiefs which have been traditionally woven in Pochampali, Andhra Pradesh for local users and export especially to the Middle East, Burma, Japan, Bangladesh and Southeast Asia⁹. The textile historian John Guy in his book ‘Woven Cargoes’ documents a fragment of an 18" Century Indian sarasa from the collection at the daimyo of Hikone province, Japan. As Guy contends, ‘this is one of a number of fragments recorded only in Japan that incorporate elements of a regionally specific style of ikat dyeing associated with the Telia Rumal cloths of Andhra Pradesh¹⁰. In many ways, the presence of these samples suggests that actual Telia Rumals may have once formed a significant, yet largely unrecorded, part of the trade networks of the Coromandel Coast¹¹. Forming part of the trip undertaken by Willets in 1964 were two Telia Rumals (S1964-0004-002-0 and S1964-0010-002-0) which are indicative of the elaborate processes involved in determining the geometric designs. In terms of motifs, the squares, stars, crosses and dots appear commonly across both Rumals. At times the diaper is produced by a white serrated line which forms irregular diamonds, in which airplane and other motifs are included. Aestheticizing them further, the edges of the tie-dyed designs are never harsh but rather the colours flow one into another producing an effect of great softness. The most discerning aspect of William Willets 1964 essay (at least in the context of the current exhibition) is contained in its own margins when the author reflects upon the challenges facing the hand weavers and their communities. In fact, the 'plight’ of the weaving communities has been a preoccupation at much discourse on the textile history and handlooms of India especially in the post-Partition era. In relation to the single ikat running cloths (S1964-0004-005-0; S1964-0003-002-0; S1964-0002-003-0) from Orissa and Andhra Pradesh, Willets notes, ‘the amount of time and industry involved in weaving these fabrics, quite apart from the technical expertise, is of course enormous, and since the industry cannot compete economically with the mill made fabrics now filtering into the villages (often crudely imitating the local weaves), it is faced with the prospect of total extinction. Appreciation of its intrinsic qualities on the part of foreign buyers, and a steady demand and sale on foreign markets, alone might rescue it¹². Contemporarily, Dana McCown in her study titled 'An Endangered Species: Telia Rumals, Double Ikat textiles of South India’ focused on a particular family of weavers from Puttapaka, Andra Pradesh who specialize in the production of telia Rumals using the traditional dye methods which are now being steadily replaced by chemical dyes. Although McCown’s study attempts at raising caution about the impending ‘loss’ of an authentic technique, it also needs to be noted that the weaving communities have also made conscious decisions in shifting to 'moderated-mechanization’ in lieu of emerging export demand¹³. Pochampalli and its surrounding villages continued to weave ikat but have diversified to other styles and products, changing to chemical dyes, developing new techniques and markets as India integrates further into the global cultural economy. What then constitutes ‘authentic’ ikat is a moot point and should be approached with relative caution. The hope is to move beyond assumptions of and attempts at preserving the ‘authentic’ and into a critical mode which accounts for the constantly negotiated agencies and lived realities of the weaving communities, different stakeholders and the ever-shifting socio-historicaI contexts which acknowledge newer techniques of production. In this spirit, we turn to the story of Kalamkari or the method of painting natural dyes onto cotton or silk fabric with a bamboo pen or kalam. The name kalamkari translates as pen (kalam) work (kari) in Hindi/ Urdu, and was most likely derived from trade relationships between Persian and Indian merchants as early as the 10th Century¹⁴. Although there have been multiple centers of Kalamkari production on the subcontinent, two centers have been historically noted as significant, namely Sri Kalahasti and Masulipatnam. Although craftsmen in both centers use very similar techniques, the distinctive motifs set them apart. The finest depictions on Sri Kalahasti Kalamkari textiles are from the epics, Mahabharata and Ramayana. Other popular themes were Sivalila, the divine play of Siva, the Bhagavatam or the story of Krishna and the Bhagavad Gita, the depiction of Lord Krishna’s counsel to Arjuna. The mid 20th Century Kalamakari textile on display (S1964-0001-002-0) is from Sri Kalahasti and depicts a popular theme among weaving circles, namely the coronation of Lord Rama, who alongside Sita distributes gifts to all those who assisted him in his battle with Ravana. Turning towards Hanuman, who sits at his feet in submission, it is noted, ‘There is nothing I can give you that would match the service you have rendered to me. All I can do is to give you my own self.’ The second Kalamkari (S1964-0001-001-0) is a mordanted but unbleached and undyed textile which was, according to Willets, produced at ‘the Kalamkari Training and Production Center at Kalahasti in the Chittor District of Andhra Pradesh’¹⁵. It is divided into compartments separated by decorated pillars. The feature is the depiction of women in this painting who are wearing the traditional saris with decorated blouses, adorning heavy bracelets and chains. The men are also figured in the traditional dhoti with angavastra or an upper throw garment of silk. Reverting to Willets’ observations about Kalamakari, ‘the five trainees working under one master-painter at the [Kalamkari Training and Production] centre are virtually all that remain of the great chintz tradition of Golconda and Coromandel Coast…. To complete a Kalahasti Kalamkari the size of a single bedspread requires part of the time of five men and an instructor over a period of one month. Such a cloth cannot be sold under existing conditions at more than about 100/- (say M$50). If the industry is to survive, a new demand for its products must come from outside India’¹⁶. In many ways, this observation made by Willets in 1964 emerged from the postcolonial politics of intervention on the part of the Indian government which had, in 1957, through the intervention of art activist Kamaladevi Chattopadyaya established the government-run Kalamkari Training and Development Center at Sri Kalahasti that focused on teaching an emerging generation of artists the techniques and stylistic vocabulary of painted and printed mordant resist-dyed cloths Contemporarily, the ebb and flow of kalamkari popularity continues to plague the artistic community at Sri Kalahasti. However with an upsurge in interest in contemporary art forms from India, NGOs, Cooperatives and entrepreneurs seeking to develop domestic and export markets for Indian textiles have rejuvenated and led to a sustained interest in the livelihoods of the artists. Whereas the painted Kalamkari textiles may be regarded as belonging to the ‘mosaic and inlay tradition’, the village prints of ajarakh (S1964-0010-001-0, S1964-0053-003-0, S1964-0053-004-0, S1964-0053-005-0; S1964-0053-002-0; S1964-0004-005-0; S1964-0003-002-0) are of the ‘earth’ tradition. Mainly from Gujarat and Rajasthan in the west and Andhra Pradesh especially from the township of Masulipatnam, they have repeat patterns, hand-painted by means of wood block dipped in resist pastes, made of substances such as clay, lime, gum, resin and palm sugar in various combinations depending on the constantly evolving generational techniques of the different families and weaving communities involved in the production process.

With reference to tie-dyeing, on display are also 'odhnis’ (shawls) from the Saurashtra region probably made for the wedding of a Gujarati aristocratic woman. Two works represent the ‘laharia’ tradition (S1964-0005-001-0; S1964-0007-001-0) while two represent the ‘odhani’ pattern (S1964-0007-002-0, S1964-0007-003-0). Technically, a bandhani design is stenciled on a piece of cloth and given for tying to a specialist, who will then tie waxed thread around each of the dots in the pattern using a prong attached to a finger to raise the cloth. The thread used for tying is never cut or broken but simply extended to next area needing attention As a result, when the cloth is dyed, often in several different colours, the thread used to resist the penetration of the dyes are pulled out as continous threads. Today, the finest bandhani work comes from Bikaner, Jaipur, Jodhpur, Barmer, Pali, Udaipur, Nathdwara and Sikar, with region specific variations. With regards to the tie-dye textiles, Willets notes, ‘If the ikat or yarn tie-dye industry of India is today mainly confined to Orissa and Andhra, the bandhana flourishes especially (though not exclusively) in western India – in Gujarat, and above all in Rajasthan. The colours scintillate, blazing into life as a woman crosses a patch of sunshine in a twilt street, and clearly symbolizes a natural psychological rebellion against the drabness and aridity of the desert landscape; and also, may be, a protest against the poverty and hardship of life itself ¹⁷. Once again, Willets's observations are interesting, suggesting on the one hand the ‘plight’ of the weavers and their sociohistorical circumstances, but on the other a productive landscape of textile production which has so vividly captured the external imagination from within and outside of the monumentality that is ‘India’. This is a theoretical challenge that this exhibition has had to contend with at numerous points. The doubleness of the contemporary viz-a-vis the legacy of modernity, all of it constantly pushed against the perceived 'traditional’, has created a complex positioning for the different artifacts presented within the gallery space. In many ways, the heritage of the NUS Museum which includes Willets' 1964 trip, presented alongside the contemporary collection of the students who undertook their own trip to craft production centers in 2008, exposes the in-between dialogical spaces and rekindles important debates that pervade the lives of textile producers and their audiences or consumers.

Conclusions They are mainly village cloths, and are for the most part obtainable in small commercial quantities; but the nature of the weaving and dyeing techniques applied in their manufacture precludes a rigid standardization of design and finish, and renders each individual fabric – whether running-cloth, square, sari length, choli piece, turban-cloth, stole, scarf, etc. – a unique and in a strict sense unrepeatable product. It is hoped you will be able to get some idea of the enormous wealth of traditional textile beauty that still survives in India, the original home of some of the most celebrated cotton-patterning processes of South Asia¹⁸.The relevance of William Willets’ 1964 expedition still remains an important extension to the study of subcontinental craft communities and the challenges they face on an everyday basis. As this preamble has sought to highlight, the complexity of the context does not allow for singular, linear interpretations and the questions are bursting at the seams. Although information and scholarship are not as scarce as before, it seems imperative to use innovative explorations such as those from the students of the University Scholars Programme, NUS – however tentative – as points of departure into the interrogation of discursive social systems. This exhibition is then its inheritance, a humble attempt at projecting those complexities. Who knows where it may lead, and what might emerge.End Notes

Quoted from Michael Sullivan, The Art of India. Commemorative catalogue of an exhibition of Indian art and handicrafts presented to the University of Malaya by the Government of India on March 31st 1959, Singapore: University of Malaya Art Museum. 1959, p.3.
Ananda Kentish Coomaraswamy, History of Indian and Indonesian Art, 1877-1947, New York: E. Weyhe, 1927, p. 4.
For details on the division of the University of Singapore Art Museum collection see T.K. Sabapathy ‘Past-Present: A History of the University Art Museum' in T.K. Sabapathy (ed.) Past, Present, Beyond: Re-nascence of an Art Collection, Singapore: NUS Museum, 2002, pp. 10-21 and Shabbir Hussain Mustafa, Fragments, Histories, Contexts: The NUS Museum South Asian Collection, Singapore: NUS Museum, 2007.
Constance Sheares. ‘Threads of Tradition: Dyed and Woven’ in T.K. Sabapathy (ed.) Past, Present, Beyond: Re-nascence of an Art Collection, Singapore NUS Museum, 2002, pp. 36-47.
Vijaya Ramaswamy, Textiles and Weavers in South India, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1985, p. xi
Homi K. Bhabha, The Location of Culture, London Routledge, 1994, p. 63.
As cited in William Willets, Indian Textiles. Catalogue of an Exhibition of Indian Traditional Village Textiles in the University of Singapore Art Museum, Singapore: University of Singapore Art Museum, 1964, p. 11
Mary Kuhlenberg, 'Who Influenced Whom? The Indian Textile Trade to Sumatra and Java’ in Rosemary Crill (ed.) Textiles from India: The Global Trade. Papers Presented at a conference on the Indian textile trade, Kolkata, 12-14 October 2003, New York: Seagull, 2006, pp. 135-151.
See Alfred Buhler 'Indian Resist-Dyed Fabrics’ in Jasleen Dhamija and Jyotindra Jain (eds.) Handwoven Fabrics of India, Ahmedabad: Mapin Publishing, 1989, pp. 84-95 and John Gillow, Traditional Indian Textiles, London: Thames and Hudson, 1991, pp.36-54.
John Guy, Woven Cargoes: Indian Textiles in the East, London: Thames and Hudson, 1998, p. 172
For an interesting study see Alfred Buhler and Eberhard Fischer, The Patola of Gujarat: Double Ikat in India, Basel: Krebs Verlag, 1979.
Willets, op. cit. p. 12.
My use of the term ‘moderated-mechanization' suggests that many of the difficulties facing the weaving communities is due to of the lack of support structures and adequate monitoring and auditing of the different agencies and cooperatives. As such moderated-mechanization is crucial in ensuring adequate supplies of yarn of the requisite quality; providing sufficient facilities for quality dyeing and training in improving dyeing practices; creation of proper channels and market networks and establishment of relatively streamlined procedures for securing working capital. For a longer discussion see Ramaswamy, op. cit. p. 181
For the most recent debates see Rosemary Grill (ed.) Textiles from India: The Global Trade. Papers Presented at a conference on the Indian textile trade, Kolkata, 12-14 October 2003, New York: Seagull, 2006.
To extend the story of Kalamkari, it is also intensely interwoven with the movement of knowledge and bodies across the Indian Ocean and beyond from as early as the 7th Century CE, specifically to what is geographically understood today as Indonesia. Begining around the time, Indian textile designs and aesthetics came to Indonesia via trade and religious networks from India. Over the following millenium, they were adapted to local religious beliefs, aesthetics and the area’s weaving and dyeing techniques.
Willets, op. cit. p. 7-8.
Italics mine. Willets, op. cit. p. 12.
Willets, op. cit. p. 3.

Through time the visual language of textiles have offered up vital clues to the prevailing social contexts, to ideas of what was desirable and fashionable, to the economy and the body politic that was significant at their time of production and use. Examples abound from the late 16^th cwoven VrindavanVastra with its images inspired from the Hindu holy text of the BhagavatPuranand on to today’s graphic t-shirts this widespread means of communication continues to endure. The late 19^thcentury pictorial Baluchariweave can be viewed through this prism of history and context with its enduring continuumechoing its past. Named Baluchar after the place where they originated the silks were also produced in and around Murshidabad, then the capital of Bengal. Woven on the complex structurednaqsha/draw-loom using natural-dyed high twist silk for the warp combined with untwisted silk-floss the patterning was a combination of butis/small florals, geometric motifs and differently sized intricately patterned kalka/paisleys. But what made the saris unique was the patterning developments that took place during the cosmopolitan cultural efflorescence presided over by the ruler MurshidQuli Khan. The soil from which the Baluchari emerged in Bengal had its roots in the social, politicaland commercial transformations being wrought in its environs. The Bengal of this time was a space of bustling mercantile activity with advances in surface transport that included the introduction of passenger trains that moved goods, people and ideas. This ecumenical blend of culturally diverse influences was cross-pollinated across the intellectual traditions of Bengal and found reflection acrossdiverse creative fields. The ideas penetrating cultural milieus that cut through economic and social cross-sections of societyto create anaestheticthat branched out from the confines of the mythological and religious to build creative practices that reflected these inspiring times The scroll-paintings of the itinerant Patuas that were unfurled before their rural audiences to the accompaniment of a story-song, portrayed not just religious narratives but contemporary themes, current mores of Bengal society alongside the colloquially termed Angrezor Sahib pat that depicted the goings-on of their English colonial masters. In parallel the early years of the 19^thc. witnessed the development of the Kalighatpats sold to pilgrims visiting religious sites. While wood-cuts and metal-engraved prints led to mass-produced reproductions that were circulated widely, their images reflecting the same engagement with society and the polity.The quilted embroideries of the NakshiKanthas of the 19^thto the mid-20^th c. juxtaposed traditional motifs with images from the world around are just some such examples. This imagery was akin in nature of the imaginings on the Baluchari weavesthat were interpreted on the draw-loom by the great master Dubraj Das and his fellow weavers. The Baluchari saris Dubraj Das designed were certainly curiosities. The pattern vocabulary was an eclectic mix that finely fused images from two disconnected worlds - that of cloistered women and the ferment in the world outside. The paisleys and floral motifs were mingled with a vocabulary of images from trains, European officers on horse-back, women puffing the huqqa/smoking pipes, the double-decker steam boats peopled with passengers and crew, processions, court scenes, the royal hunt, amorous couples tozamindars in repose and Europeans – men and women in horse-drawn coaches.Further Dubraj’s signature, woven into the pallu/end-piece of the sari, was itself a rare, if not unique conceit – something that we rarely see even today. This mark of creativity and virtuoso craftsmanship has continued to distinguish and identify his creations for times to come. These remarkable images were woven on to textiles that were meant to be draped by women as a personal statement of style. However this hybridized nature of the Baluchari patterning perhaps made it more difficult to appreciate. The fickle nature of fashion was apparent even in the late 19^th c when arbiters of taste in this period of time critiqued the patterning and in N. G.Mukerji’s writings on the silk fabrics of Bengal he stated “The figured saris etc. of Baluchar were at one time very fashionable, but now they are rather despised as being ugly and unsuitablee for personal wear….” More than a century after DubrajDas’s passing his influence, directly or otherwise, and the power of his iconic textiles continues its hold on current textile aesthetics. In Bengal the patterning of the Baluchari continues to respond to contemporary narratives while paradoxically having moved further afield, both literally and figuratively from its historic forbearers. Working now on the jacquard unlike the draw-looms of the past, the weavers themselves are now located mainly in Bishnupur and no longer in the Murshidabad district where the Baluchari was woven in the past. The Balucharis of today have been renewed and re-invented to whatever is considered current and desirable. The wide variety available now includes those woven with tant/cotton, resham/silk and polyester. On offer are the two-shaded Minakari, the kaleidoscopic-hued varieties and the Swarnachariliterally the golden Baluchari that is suffused with gold and silver metallic zari yarn. Unlike the mulberry silk weaves of the past that had no element of zari, the Swarnachari is giving stiff competition to the brocaded Banarasi sari as a must have in the trousseau of a Bengali bride. This use of zari seems to be an almost intuitively response by the weavers as N. G. Mukerji’s 1903 analysis of the reasons for the declining sales graph of Baluchari sari where he stated “…at one time very highly prized by the upper middle class people of Bengal. Now the ladies of that class go for the more costly fabrics of Banaras” elaborating “…the competition with the Benaras gold embroidered saris, shawls etc. is too strong even for Dubraj’s goods”. Other changes include the wide and vivid colour palette with catchy shade names like Victorian wisp, truffle talk, toffee tease, tinker-bell, Swiss coffee, scarlet whisper, ginger pop and more, all appealing to current consumption patterns. Though increasingly characterized by a capricious contemporary theissues and influences of our age are expressed in myriad ways from simple figuration to the composite and complex with borrowings from both popular and contemporary art, the folk and tribal to those from digital media. The vitality of expressionsin the Baluchari continues to respond and thrive to be taken forward from its historical versions as the influence of its visual language continuing to endure. First published in Sunday Herald. [gallery ids="167733,167734,167735,167736,167737,167732,167738,167739"]

The nadas (delicate rope which is threaded into the skirt and holds it in place) of ghaghras, the colorful parandis (rope like hair adornment pleated into the plait which ends in a colorful tassel), the pirona (tie) of necklaces, the "payals", the rakhis and hundreds of thread decorations of their beloved camel. Patwas of Rajasthan used to go village to village selling all of the above, repairing old jewelry when a thousand beads fell apart, threading them together again. Those delicate kardhinis or belts for children, for women to highlight their waistline, for men to tie on their dhoti as a fashion accessory. Mela (fair) to mela, mandir to mazaar, small or big, they went in groups setting up small stalls, laying out a small store of decorative treasures.

Later as machine made threads took over, cars took over camels, saris over ghaghras, they shifted to being the five rupee supermarket in the Jaipur district and probably all over Rajasthan (our experience is directly in Jaipur district). Patwas travel to Delhi in droves early morning, collecting at Sadar Bazaar where every morning a huge wholesale market takes place on the street- buying plastic toys, latest color of cheap nailpolish, tacky costume jewelry and kids clothes from Gandhi Market at Trans-Yamuna and by evening catch trucks on the Delhi Ahmedabad route to be back home by night. An animation designer visiting us in the village while we worked with printers discovered a Patwa using a "charkhi", an ingenious tool to wrap thread around a central spine with great speed, made of a stick with a wood thread spool cut in the middle stuck at the end to provide balance. This Patwa called Kailash had learnt well the old skills from his father. Our designer friend sat down and created friendship bands with him using an interesting colour palette. We took over where our friend left and developed with Kailash a range of anklets using ghungroos, to bring the tinkling of tiny bells back to mainstream urban markets. We used beads and lockets from Moradabad, Ferozabad, Bastar, Benares, Odisha Dhokra, even Thailand! Anything to reinvent this skill of thread work, to create a new language in contemporary colors of costume jewelry. From fashion accessory specialists our dream was to create an entrepreneur of costume jewelry, not dependent on traditional jewelers or clothing. This was 1994. It took us many years to convince Kailash to come for a mela in Delhi. We promised to buy his entire unsold stock if this experiment did not work. A whole range of necklaces, earrings, bracelets, anklets, parandis was created, Kailash himself finding many white metal and glass beads, collectibles in the old markets of Jaipur and Sadar. I t was a Dastkar Nature Bazaar. He was a runaway success. He sourced beads from other craft groups in the Nature Bazaar. Kailash Patwa being a traditional Rajasthani male would not touch a strange woman's hair in public. We got him to do hair braiding for a female friend at home and took a photo, and threatened to tell his wife if he did not do it commercially! He experimented with it in a Dastkar mela on one of the assistants from Dastkar and from then on it was a roaring business. He got his father and mother to do the hair braiding. There were long queues of college girls, Punjabi madams and little kids. Slowly other artisan women from Delhi also learnt and braiding of lower quality became a trend outside Dilli Haat for some time. Also many of his designs began to be copied in the very Sadar Bazaar he was once dependant on. He realized the ruthlessness of copying and that he had to innovate all the time. Kailash and his eldest daughter Meena attended design workshops by Dastkar and Craft Councils. He went on melas all over India fine tuning city specific demands. He began to get old pieces of jewelry to recreate again. Satya Paul also visiting his village created a range of jewelry for ramp shows including a thread bangle, which has become a hot selling item in melas. Shades of India created belts with him. Once an artisan is visible as skilled and innovative the market designs products with his skills and his range keeps expanding. Kailash shifted from one room in his paternal home to a ten room haveli he bought from the banias. His eldest daughter manages the work, gives orders and trains many women in the village. She is also doing graduation in commerce. The whole family is involved in the craft and sees a great future in it. We have always felt that besides skill, a desire to be continuously on the learning curve, to experiment, to innovate attracts people to an artisan. The next step is to teach entrepreneurial and management skills, how to train a new workforce as demands expand. Now brands of thread jewelry from Karnataka and other parts of Rajasthan are also selling in stores. We feel that intervention in craft is not a one off activity, it's a continuous process and there need to be institutions like CII, FICCI for artisans too.The same rules of design, packaging, presentation and marketing hold for artisans as they do for other sectors.

The Rathwa Bhils in tribal Gujarat install a ritual wall painting in the house as an offering to their God, Pithora, in order to ask for blessings and peace before auspicious occasions. The lakharas (painters) are guided by the badwa (head priest) to compose paintings centered on the wedding of Pithora and Pithori. Animals, people, the sun, moon and stars are just some of the guests depicted. Horses, a dominant element, represent family ancestors and visions of God. Pithora is accompanied by music, singing and food.

1. Context In some contexts, this tribal art is seen as primitive and child-like. However, increasingly this art is being recognised in its own right as a system of expression, depiction and articulation that is parallel rather than inferior to the system of the spoken and written word. Tribal paintings represent layers of historical, sociological and cultural documentation - a collective memory of area and peoples scantily documented in historical literature. This art, quite apart from its intentional ritualistic and decorative purposes, also serves as a collective memory of tradition, change and evolution in various aspects of the lives of the tribals. This view is rendered accurate by the fact that the subject matter of this art is intimately linked with the visual, emotional and cultural lives of its

artists.Tribal or adivasi paintings are graphic pictorial representations of rituals, events and stories. They derive their subject matter from a range of sources: history, tradition, myths and legends, prosaic everyday activities, esoteric or unique ceremonies and rituals... the list is expanded by the imagination and imaginativeness of each artist. Irrespective of the subject matter and/or its source, the images and details are transcribed through the visual imagery of the natural world and the realities that comprise the everyday life and surroundings of the people to whom this art belongs. However, the pictorial depiction is usually stylised: objects and images are adapted from and adapted into myths, legends and stories; they are then merged with the artist's imagination; and, finally, they are transcribed into depictions that contain a creative blend of memory, imagination and reality. The paintings are more than merely decorative; besides being integral to marking and celebrating rituals and occasions, they are supposed to create an auspicious and harmonious atmosphere in the house, to ward off evil, and to seek divine protection (decorations on outer walls are often to seek the blessings and protection of the Goddess). The decorative images are generally painted by the women; ritualistic paintings are done by men and sometimes women, depending on form and tradition.

Perhaps the most critical aspect of this artistic tradition is its definition, in the minds and lives of its practitioners, as an aspect of their everyday lives - in its original form, tribal painting is seen neither as a craft activity or as a profession/ livelihood. This is indicated in the essential homeliness and simplicity which mark all aspects of this art: the materials used to paint with, the spaces and areas that are painted on, the occasions on which these paintings are created, and the ideas, myths and reality that are creatively transcribed into the series of symbols that conjoin to produce a painting... as well as an art form.

2. Traditional Forms and Diversity Within The Canvas, the Subject Matter and the Medium(s) The paintings are traditionally drawn in and around dwelling places. Inner and outer walls of mud and/or line plastered houses, floors and courtyards (a quintessential open space at the centre of a traditional Indian house, surrounded on all four sides by covered areas and rooms) are decorated. The decoration is done both in bas relief and as paintings. The bas relief decorations are created during construction, when the walls are wet. Dowels and pinches of clay are used to create the desired shapes. Unlike the paintings on walls and floors, which are re-done on special occasions as well as every time the walls are re-plastered or re-made, the bas relief decoration is permanent. However, to prevent the clay on the relief detailing from cracking, a fresh coat of

wet clay is applied to the bas relief occasionally.

The materials used to paint with are derived from grains, herbs and spices that are almost always found in a traditional Indian kitchen, or else from natural elements, including plants and leaves commonly found in the area. White is derived from lime, rice paste or white flour, green from the extract of the sagaun leaf, red from vermilion powder, black from lamp black, yellow from turmeric, and ochre from turmeric and vermilion mixed together. The motifs in the paintings are derived from traditional and divine myths and from events and rituals, and vary in detailing from tribe to tribe. However, geometric patterns, foliate forms, animals figures of elephants and horses, and birds are common, though the stylisation varies among and within the folk and tribal communities.

Local Variations in Decorations & in Transcribing Traditions & Cultural Memories Each tribal group and every area have their particular forms of decoration, and specific colours and mediums which they are partial to and which they use in abundance. Equally, each area, and each tribe has its own variant of rituals, myths and stories which they transcribe into painted images.In the Sarguja region, the RAJWAR paint on mud walls with thick chalk (lime) solutions in a process known as lipna. They daub the chalk solution on mud-plastered walls, and then swiftly and skilfully draw lines and shapes with their fingers, thus creating 'a tapestry of white lines on a dull mud surface'. The Rajwar women also create beautiful lattice work in clay on the interior walls of their houses, surrounding the outer courtyard.

The PENDRAPANDS of Raigarh decorate their houses with geru (red-ochre) borders, embellished with three-petalled flowers made of white flour. The PANDO tribe of Bilaspur also make simple geru borders. Others like the KHARAGVANSHIS and AGARIAS in the region have elaborate paintings and relief work that include creating broad lines of red, yellow and ochre on the walls, with the inside spaces filled in with different geometrical shapes created by linking vertical, horizontal and diagonal lines, in these same colours. Geometrical shapes are very visible in decorative painting; however, humans, birds, animals, trees, flowers, and the like are also drawn, depending on the aesthetics of the painting and the creative urge of the painter(s). Decorative painting merges with the worlds of legend, culture and religion in the depiction of the Nag-mandala. This ritualistic drawing is made on the floor on the occasion of Nag-panchami (usually in the month of August) and is intended to venerate the Nag-devta (Roughly, 'nag' can be translated as snake and 'devta' as god/deity.) Lime and coal-black are used to draw on a mud-plastered floor. The process of drawing nags or snakes displays some of the skill that tribal paintings are marked by: snakes with eight to 16 coils are made without lifting the paint brush off the ground even once. Snake-charmers and scorpions are also drawn . The snake's eyes are drawn last, by way of consecrating the figures, and the puja (worship) is performed after this. The drawing, as well as the ceremonies and rituals pertaining to it, offer details about the worship of natural forces in these areas. Simplistic though the correlation may seem, yet in the thickly forested interiors of tribal Madhya Pradesh snakes, especially poisonous ones, are a real and constant threat; in this context, the notion of a ritual to propitiate the snake god seems far from bizarre, especially for people whose lives - spatially, economically and culturally - were linked inextricably with natural forces, and who has limited access, if at all, to modern medicine(s).

The NAGESIA and KANWAR tribals, deeply influenced by Hindu culture, paint on walls during Diwali (the Hindu celebratory festival of lights, marking the victory of good over evil and the return of the Hindu god-king Rama from 14 years of exile). The paintings are known as jhoothi, and are usually comprised of geometrical figures that fit together to create a visual, a symbolic depiction or a story. The paintings are done with a thick solution of chalk. The link with Hinduism depicted in Nagesia and Kanwar paintings thus records a particular historical interface between traditional tribal (non-Hindu) socio-cultural and religious streams and Brahmanical Hinduism: it indicates some form of interaction through which features that were at the core of Hinduism were incorporated - naturally in a modified variant - in tribal culture. The votive paintings of the MANDLA tribals celebrate different stages in the life of the of the Hindu deity Krishna, thus exemplifying again an historically and culturally relevant juncture between peoples and traditions. While the Nagesia and Kanwar tribals use powdered rice to paint, the Mandla tribals mix karia mitti or black soil, ramraj and ochre substances to paint.

In the context of age-old myths and legends that tribal painting has helped survive (despite time and poor documentation), Pithora paintings - depicting a creation myth - are extremely important. The Pithora paintings of the BHILS and BHILALAS of west Madhya Pradesh and eastern Gujarat share common creation myths, especially the wedding of Pithora and Pithori, attended by gods and others. The main figures are depicted as silhouettes and are painted in white. This primitive style of drawing is 'similar to the early cave paintings at Bhimbetka', thus indicating early origins (Shampa Shah, Tribal Arts & Crafts of Madhya Pradesh, 1996, Ahmedabad). There is the visible absence of any depiction of elaborate ornamentation, of ostentation and royal processions. These Pithora paintings are different from the bulk of tribal paintings in that they are created by special artists, and are not done simply by the women (or men) in the household. The artists who execute Pithora paintings are known as lakhindras. (Literally lakhindra means 'one who writes', with 'lekh' being the Hindi noun for a piece of writing, and 'likhna' being the verb describing the action of writing.) The lakhindras are commissioned to paint by those who wish to offer thanks and prayers to the divine to celebrate the fulfilment of a wish or a prayer. The creation of a Pithora painting is governed by meticulous conventions. The lakhindra has to begin the work at dawn and has to complete the painting by dusk. Four colours are traditionally used in a Pithora painting: White (derived from lime); green (from the sagaun leaf extract); red (from vermilion powder); and black (from lamp black). Each of these colours is kept in a bowl made of the khakhra leaf (Butea monasporma). The brush is made with the stem of the khakhra.

Pithora paintings have some images integral to them - the sacred enclosure, Baba Ganesh smoking a hukka (pipe), a black horse with a rider, four white horses of Pithora facing each other, the bowri or step-well, and women carrying pitchers of water. A Pithora painting is considered incomplete if any of the required details are missing. At dusk, after the painting is completed, it is consecrated and the myth of creation is re-told as part of the ritual(s).

3. Modern Formats Tribal groups in the interiors of Chattisgarh continue to create bas relief decorations and paintings on the walls and floors, celebrating, among other occasions, births, deaths, marriages, harvests and festivals; however, increasingly, the motifs and symbols that predominate tribal painting - and are arranged into forms and sequences delineating narratives - are being painted on backgrounds accessible outside of tribal areas. Canvas, paper and cloth are common among the surfaces that are now being painted on; and synthetic oil and water based colours are being used. As Narmada Prasad Tekam, among the best-known tribal artists, states: 'I can paint on any surface, on whatever you want me to paint on. You give me the surface you want painted, and I will paint on it.' The use of synthetic paints means that the colour palette available has become much larger than that derived from the natural materials used in traditional tribal paintings.

Narmada Prasad Tekam (from village Patangarh in Chattisgarh is an extremely skilled artist, and his talent, obvious even to an untrained eye, has been recognised nationally. His tribal paintings, on cloth and paper, are displayed at museums as well as at the offices of several institutions like the Bharat Bhavan in Bhopal, the Adivasi Lok Kala Parishad in Bhopal and the Tribal Research Centre. He has also, in an experiment that recreates the more tradition art form, painted on a wall in the office of the Reserve Bank of India in Bhopal. Even though the nature of the canvas, and of the colour mediums are changing, there is remarkable continuity in the subject(s) being depicted in these paintings. Adivasi symbols, images, folk tales and legends dominate the canvas, and in Narmada Prasad's display, the legend of Karmadeva finds detailed exposition. The fact that these artists are restricted by the size of the paper (usually poster sizes) means that often it takes more than one poster to narrate a particular story. These posters are then arranged in the logical sequence by the artist(s).

Along with the remarkable detailing and intricacy apparent in these painting, one also notices the bold and innovative juxtaposition of colours in the pieces displayed. The detailing involves creating images within images, leading the eye to discover layers of images, hidden within larger visual frameworks. The pictures unravel very much like a story. Concentric circles and parallel lines are used abundantly in Narmada Prasad' paintings. Beautiful and skillfully detailed as they are on their own, a touch of the synthetic seems to have permeated the contemporary form of traditional tribal paintings: they seem just a little bit abandoned. Away from the contexts, colours and people whose lives they are part of, they seem unable to convey either the combination of spontaneity, joy and unfettered skill that catches they eye in traditional tribal decorative paintings or the controlled and skilful ritualism of traditional paintings that converge symbolism, tradition, memory and myth into a series of images.

This observation, however, is relative and not intended to discourage the introduction of modern formats in tribal paintings. It is aimed rather at indicating the need for increasingly thoughtful and thought-out interpretations, innovations and expression in these modern formats, in order to maintain the inherent integrity of the tradition tribal painting. In concept and in practice, the modern formats have helped tribal art - as well as the world represented by this art - to become visible on a scale that is greatly beyond what the art draws its basic inspiration from. If indeed tribal art is seen as collective memory, then the modern formats help this memory to enter a public sphere. More prosaically, the sale of paintings and cards created by tribal artists leads to additional income, extremely important for these communities whose economic life is dominated by subsistence agriculture and small-scale cottage industries. Both men and women (and even children) can create paintings on paper, cloth, cards, book covers, ornamental display items and the like and earn some much-needed extra income by practising a craft that is intertwined in almost every aspect of their everyday lives.

Soon after Independence in 1947, India incorporated handicraft and handloom production as important elements in ts new development objectives. The Industrial Resolution of 1948 recognized the need to protect cottage and small-scale production against competition from mass manufacture. The First Five-Year Plan reserved certain spheres of production exclusively for hand industries. A network of support organizations for the sector was created in the 1950s, each offering numerous schemes of assistance. The network included the Khadi and Village Industries Commission (KVIC), the All India Handlooms and Handicrafts Board (AIHHB), the Offices of the Development Commissioners for Handlooms and Handicrafts, the Central Silk Board, and the Coir Board. At a time when rapid industrialization was the overwhelming preoccupation, these measures reflected a commitment to hand production that had motivated the movement toward Independence, drawing its inspiration from the Indian renaissance. The khadi revolution, innovated as resistance against colonial rule, became one of the great chapters of the freedom struggle. Mahatma Gandhi’s emphasis on self-sufficient village communities, symbolized by the spinning wheel and khadi production, inspired a central position for crafts in free India, as part of its search for identity and confidence within change and transition. Definition: Half Full or Half Empty? Fifty years of planned development has seen an enormous resurgence in craft awareness, a booming craft trade (estimated at Rs60,000 crores annually), craft retail chains in the public and private sectors, a multitude of craft-related activities in the voluntary sector, a pivotal role for craft expression in India’s overseas diplomacy, and systems of recognition for craft excellence. Yet none of this achievement has succeeded in rescuing India’s artisans from crisis. Once the backbone of the economy, today they are threatened by shifting tastes and lifestyles, by the end of protective systems in a new era of free trade, by the absence of organized marketing systems, and by all the implications of so-called structural adjustment as state-led planning gives way to market forces. The impact of these national and global trends can be devastating. Self-employed artisans have no independent capability of responding to competition, either from mass production or from imported substitutes. In the retreat from centralized planning and in the rush toward globalization (defined primarily by western norms), the mood among artisan communities in one of anxiety. Issues of craft identity and economics are perhaps now more difficult to resolve than they have ever been, and solutions will depend on a generation little influenced by the freedom saga or by the ethic which once made hand production central to an Indian ethos. To meet this challenge, a first task might be to define the sector with some accuracy. The very terms ‘craft’, ‘craftsman’, and ‘artisan’ are difficult to define and use in an Indian context. These imports have little correspondence to local history or experience. A working definition was attempted in a remarkable report by a Task Force on Handicrafts established for the Eighth Five Year Plan: “Handicrafts are items made by hand, often with the use of simple tools and generally artistic and/or traditional in nature. They include objects of utility and objects of decoration.” A parallel definition, much less embracing, comes through established government systems. This is the list of skill and product categories brought under the Office of the Development Commissioner for Handicrafts, from an original intention of export promotion. The list excludes vast areas of hand production and therefore huge numbers of artisans. The lack of clarity in the way terms are understood and used is reflected in a database inadequate for rational planning. There is no clear notion of the size of the sector. The number of artisans has been estimated at anywhere between 4, 6, 36 and 200 million! There are no estimates on the value of thousands of handmade products made in villages and towns from natural and recycled materials: utensils, dwellings, implements, locks, toys, sailing boats, or even the ubiquitous mud pot made in every village and town, and celebrated as the ultimate icon of India’s heritage. No estimate includes the women of the seven northeastern states, almost everyone of whom is a weaver or basket-maker. Perhaps no other nation has such a huge invisible work force, contributing so much to the nation’s economy and welfare, about whom so little is known, and without whom the India we know would cease to exist. The finest investigation in this regard has been the SRUTI study based on census information from the 1980s. The Report underlined the greyness of its data and called for a more accurate assessment of the scale and range of artisnal production. A study by NCAER in 1995-96 estimated that over 4 million artisans produced handmade products worth about Rs30,000 crores at cost, of which about half was accounted by textiles. The current output is estimated at Rs45,000 crores, with a market value of Rs60,000 crores. Exports are believed to account for about Rs8,000 crores of this figure. If the economics of handicrafts is a major concern, it is the only one of several key factors. There is the challenging reality that crafts also represent the search for deeper meaning in a materialistic society. Products made by hand have come to suggest the ideal balance between nature and man. They have commanded respect as a powerful means of learning and expression, and as indispensable to a sense of personal, societal and national identity. This ethic continues to challenge interventions in the sector, and Five-Year Plans can seem of little consequence to issues of contemplation and spiritual worth. Perhaps India can profit from an observation by Dr David Baradas, an authority from The Philippines. He suggests the need for activists in Asia to put aside wasteful debates on the supposed conflict between craft culture and craft commerce, and to concentrate instead on segmenting two clear areas for intervention. One of these is craft as cultural symbol, with an emphasis on value systems, and on the preservation of context and identity. The other is craft as product and commodity, with its need to accommodate contemporary taste, technology, design, material and above all to understand the consumer as well as the scales of production essential to successful marketing. Craft interventions should reflect careful choices made from these options, and the sensitivity essential for achieving a balance between them. Looking Back Sector professionals and volunteers recognize heightened awareness and interest in crafts as the major achievement of 50 years of planning. They point to other achievements such as the recognition accorded to individual masters, the revival of several threatened crafts, and growing markets. Yet they also despair that high quality is often drowned in a sea of handmade trash. While the upper end of the trade flourishes, a loss of craft quality and of craft presence is felt in the day-to-day lives of ordinary citizens. These reflections were echoed at a major gathering to mark the birth centenary of Kamaladevi Chattopadhyaya, the pioneering spirit behind many craft institutions familiar today. It was a unique opportunity for analysis from the perspective of master artisans and their pupils. The key spokespersons were the gurus, honored as repositories of excellence and as the keepers of tradition. Their sishyas were present to represent the aspirations of tomorrow’s masters. The overwhelming message from the elders was that planning had made no meaningful change to their status. That remained low and was one of anxiety and uncertainty. Poverty, ill health, disrespect, harassment and exploitation were the dominant realities. Their quality of life had changed little despite government awards or Festivals of India, and even despite the acknowledged expansion of their markets. The gain, according to the gurus, was reaped by others: authorities, traders, designers, scholars, and of course by consumers. The latest fear was the loss of Government patronage through changed policies. Unable to understand or control market forces, the masters felt hopelessly vulnerable to threat, both old and new. Capacities were missing which could help them take advantage of new markets, technologies or networks. In stark contrast to the eagerness of organized industry to see the last of government regulation, artisans had little capacity or preparation for self-reliance. Their search was for saviors, and for good old days, based as much on myth as on reality. The seniors had other concerns as well: market ignorance of what constitutes quality or why one should pay for it, scarcity of raw materials (such as essential woods) through environmental degradation, the contempt of the ‘system’ for their own learning and scholarship, and recognition systems that honored those who were not “authentic”. The younger generation were decidedly less pessimistic, eager to acquire new skills in marketing, finance, and technology (including access to computers and cell phones!). A Government spokesman suggested that master crafts persons should themselves catalyze new systems and new partnerships between artisan communities and potential allies in the private sector, as well as in specialized institutions of design and technology, and in government and non-government agencies. Critical to such progress would be their ability to organize for collective bargaining. It was made clear that Government’s role would now be that of facilitator, not patron or implementer. Capacities for self-reliance would therefore need to be acquired through stronger alliances with non-government partners. It was suggested that systems of cooperation, particularly within the next generation of masters, would be indispensable for the advocacy and action necessary for real change. Craft unions and revival of guilds were among strategies recommended. (Few dared to suggest cooperatives, a word despised for its association with corruption and inefficiency). An offer from Government was that the gurus should help set up and run common facility centers and business service centers, with official assistance. The response was eager but tentative. If enterpreneurship is the most basic skill required for survival in a globalized world, it is a capacity that will clearly need to be developed anew among India’s artisans. Craft Marketing and Entrepreneurship The low level of marketing know-how within most sector stakeholders is possibly the greatest failure of past decades. Of the estimated Rs10,000 crore turnover of crafts listed under the purview of the Office of the Development Commissioner of Handicrafts, only one percent is executed through government channels. The private sector (much maligned for its exploitation as ‘middlemen’) handles the rest, with some help from NGO and other channels. Despite this dominance by the trade, there is little dialogue or cooperation between the private sector and other craft channels. Indeed, many in the NGO sector have yet to come to terms with the market, which they often regard as antithetical to issues of identity, culture, emotion and spiritual significance. The reality remains hidden that stomachs must be full before any of these social factors can be achieved. While crafts in urban India are closely associated with government emporia, there is still not a single professional marketing agency for crafts in the public sector. Most authorities (as well as NGOs) mistake selling for marketing, and for them the process of identifying needs and satisfying such needs at a profit is unknown. The pathetic condition today of many handicraft cooperatives and government emporia is evidence of this lacuna. What India can do through marketing professionalism has been demonstrated primarily in the private sector. Its leaders continue to set current standards of quality, the examples of fine Government-run emporia having moved into oblivion.Marketing requires design, and ignorance of marketing is reflected in low comprehension of the design process. This is most often regarded as an add-on, as a relationship of exploitation and extraction rather than as an indispensable partnership. The design skills of craftsperson themselves is thus underplayed and seldom linked to the market. This inhibits their ability to access new technologies and new disciplines critical to value addition through productivity, the use of contemporary materials and finishes, and through the reduction of drudgery and waste. All this should make clear that there can be no greater contribution to artisans than strengthening their own ability to acquire control over markets and marketing processes. With enterpreneurship and the private sector kept at arms length all these years, the business capability essential for craft prosperity has remained dormant. Critical investments have been neglected, such as market research, without which survival (leave alone expansion) is impossible either at home or overseas. If building enterpreneurship is the urgent need, the private sector is the obvious partner. Yet this capacity is also essential within craft communities and among NGO activists. Perhaps the latter must be the first to acquire and demonstrate professional marketing within the communities they seek to empower. The opportunity recently offered by Government to mastercraftsperson and the young masters (to develop business institutions under their control) could make enormous demands on artisans and their partners. Yet it could be an experiment of great promise, as is another recent proposal for a national marketing mechanism established through existing NGO craft networks. Such models are needed to help build a foundation for sustainable growth. They are equally essential to help set fair trade standards that establish buying and retailing practices in which artisan interests come first (such as those pioneered by the late visionary John Bissell through his own enterprise). A helpful sign is in the recent innovation of urban haats that welcome artisans for direct and sustained contract with consumers, including the hugely successful one in New Delhi. Wellbeing as Sustainability: The Craft Opportunity All this concerns the economics of crafts, but what of its ethics and its deeper cultural and spiritual meaning? In a society so intent on mimicking western consumption practices, these values can be easily dismissed or taken for granted, such as the latest campaign to denigrate the sari. For many other traditions, it may already be too late. Yet without a craft ethic, nothing can protect its integrity. The market for craft excellence will wither without the ability to articulate and understand issues of quality and of identity essential to self-respect in a changing world. Awareness of this kind requires education, and craft education can mean several things. Fostering public awareness is one of them. It can also mean protecting the parent-to-child parampara, encouraging opportunities for young talent from outside to enter craft traditions, creating opportunities for young craftspersons to learn and to innovate, as well as promoting crafts to train the eyes and hands of youth. Despite a realization that craft can be and should be an essential element in Indian education, artisans have had little impact on formal systems of education. There is virtually no contact between the village or urban artisan and the local school. Indeed formal education in India offers no status to the wisdom and knowledge of artisans as qualifications appropriate for entry into its system. Yet it is in the schoolroom that crafts can be a powerful tool for transforming the rote learning that still colonizes India’s children, and it is upon their discerning minds that the nation’s craft future will ultimately depend. There is no simple route to such consciousness and taste. Their achievement is essential if a market ethic can be linked with a spiritual one, helping each generation to achieve its own balance between commerce and identity. Museums and collections are critical to this challenge. Collections can educate the public with benchmarks of quality as well as provide a resource of artifact and history from which craftspersons can draw inspiration. Great collections of the last century such as those in Calcutta, Pune and Ahmedabad have helped set standards of craft scholarship. New Delhi’s Crafts Museum will probably be Government’s most enduring contribution to the sector. The power of this demonstration is evident in the regional and local collections which it has inspired, such as those now established or underway in Chennai, Bhuj and Shillong. The scale of these challenges to India’s craft sector can often seem overwhelming. If after 50 years of development, the sector remains in crisis, what realistic hope is possible for its future? Competition intensifies everyday. Lifestyles are being churned by social and market forces. In contrast to political and cultural values inherited in 1947, brand equity and ‘fashion statements’ often appear as the only issues of identity that command attention in today’s demand-driven market. Yet it has been suggested that by 2004 (when the global WTO regime takes full force) India’s unique sales advantage will be its handskills, and the ability to use these skills as a prime competitive advantage. There is another opportunity of equal significance. A fresh concept of development is emerging on the economic and political landscape, one that moves away from systems of national accounts toward indicators of “human development”. These indicators measure not only the state of economic systems but their environmental and social costs as well, and their contribution to human wellbeing. It is here that crafts take urgent importance, with their respect for balancing human and ecological values and with their commitment to a sense of harmony and pleasure. The Human Development Indices innovated within the UN system of international accounting are thus an enormous new opportunity for craft development. To respond effectively, the sector must quickly develop an ability to analyse its own contribution in economic as well as in social terms, and in language that communicates decisively to politicians and decision-makers. Development as wellbeing corresponds closely to the quality of life and of living envisioned through India’s renaissance and its struggle for freedom. Gandhi’s passion for craft industry was thus prescient. He saw it as a means for achieving freedom and self-respect for an India enslaved by colonial rule. Fifty years after Freedom, craft can remain a strategy for prosperity and dignity that responds to the most critical challenges of its time. February, 2003

No art is more popular in India than calendar art, and calendar art, here is dominated by the colorful reproduction of the many Gods and Goddesses in the Hindu pantheon and scenes from religious myths and legends. Today the art- form has developed in several different styles, but in all of these the influence of one man can be found, and he is the renowned painter, Raja Ravi Varma of Travancore, a prince of a Kerala Royal family. It was Raja Ravi Varma who first gave the Hindu Goddesses faces and forms of unsurpassed beauty and grace. Indian art will always be indebted to the painter who though born a prince, carved a niche for himself as a prince of painters. But though Raja Ravi Varma is remembered today for his immortal paintings of Hindu Religious themes, few know that he pioneered the process, the western art of oil painting in India.

Raja Ravi Varma (1848-1906) was born in Kilimanoor Palace, 40 kms. From Trivandrum and was the son of Umamber Thamurathi and Neelkandan Bhattathiripad. As a boy of five or six, Ravi Varma filled the walls of his home with the pictures of animals and vignettes from everyday life. His uncle, the artist, Raja Raja Varma, discovered in him the signs of a genius in the making. He was taught Malayalam and Sanskrit at home and to these were added drawing. At the time he was 14, he had secured the patronage of the Maharaja of Travancore. The Maharaja himself an avid art lover, got Ravi Varma to move to Trivandrum; set up a studio for him and supplied him with European art books. It was during the year 1866 that Ravi Varma married Poororuttathinal Thampratti, from the Mavelikkara Royal Family. There was only one person who knew the technique of oil painting - Ramaswamy Naicker of Madurai. Ravi Varma once approached him to illustrate certain aspects of oil painting, but Naicker, recognizing a potential rival in him, refused to help.

This rejection strengthened Ravi Varma's resolve to become an oil painter of greater repute. Before the oil paints were brought for him from Madras, Ravi Varma had been painting with the indigenous paints that his uncle Raja Raja Varma prepared from leaves, flowers, bark and soil. In 1868, Theodore Jenson, a portrait painter form abroad, visited the King Ayilyam Thirunal. It was a practice, in those days with the European painters to come down and paint the portraits of Indian Rulers, for which they were paid handsomely. Soon Ravi Varma painted the portrait of the Governor of Madras. The day the portrait was unveiled, European painters were also present. They were taken by surprise at the beauty and excellence of the painting. Governor had said, "I have had to sit before a famous European painter 18 times for my portrait. Yet he was not able to capture me at least half as well as young Ravi Varma has done; that, painting a portrait can be as done as this, is also a fact I realize after Ravi Varma has painted my portrait". Between 1879 and 1880, Ravi Varma was busy painting portraits. Letters with requests for paintings arrived from everywhere. This small town of Kilimanoor was compelled to open a post office. One biographer had said, while European artists could only transcribe the likeness of Indians, Ravi Varma could reveal their character. Delighted by the young man's skill, the Maharaja awarded him the Vira Srunghala (Bangle of Valor), Travancore's highest decoration, the first time a painter had been honored with. The ruling royal family was torn under with dissention between Aiilyam Thirunal and his brother and heir apparent, Visakham Thirunal. Ravi Varma never interfered in any of the administrative matters. Ayilyam Thirunal, for unknown reasons, turned cold to him. Sensing this Ravi Varma moved to his wife's house in Mavelikkara, and stayed there till Ayilyam Thirunal realized his mistake and called him back. Ayilyam Thirunal, died on May 1880, and Visakham Thirunal ascended the throne. Soon after he shifted Ravi Varma's studio to Moodath Madam. He had never been a well wisher to Ravi Varma. His paintings were ordered to be dumped in the house and were left to disintegrate in the cobweb-ridden corridors. Ravi Varma's carrier now took off. For the next three decades, he was in great demand, with everyone from Businessmen to Maharajas, vying to commission him. For a bunch of 14 paintings purchased by Maharaja of Baroda in 1888, these paintings fetched Ravi Varma Rs.50, 000.00, an astronomical sum for the time. The way Ravi Varma worked was very interesting. While he was busy painting, anyone was free to enter the studio and converse with him. He would be chewing pan, inhaling a pinch of snuff and wiping his nose with the tip of his dhoti, before taking up his brush. He also used to accept the suggestions of some art lovers if he found the same worth implementing. Raja Ravi Varma was orthodox in the sense, he wore Yajnopavita, the sacred thread, the purvasikha, the tuff of hair over the fore-head and earrings, had his daily ritualistic bath after which he smeared his forehead with sandal paste and sacred ash, observed all the rites of his religion and shunned meat and liquor, but he never did indulge in the malpractices of his times, like untouchability. He was a very moral person, upright in his conduct, compassionate and generous to a fault, and absolutely incorruptible. On his return from the tour of the country, Ravi Varma, fresh from his travels, plunged into painting. "Sahantanu and Matsyagandha", "Nala Damayanti", "Arjuna and Subhadra", "Draupadi Vastraharan", "Harishchandra and Taramati", "Vishwamitra and Menaka", "Sitaswavayamvaram", "Keechaka and Sairanthri" were some of the many paintings done during this period. Ravi Varma desired these paintings to be displayed at the Thiruvananthapuram Museum for the people of Kerala to see them, before these were sent to Baroda. In his paintings, Raja Ravi Varma idealized women, often making his subjects more graceful than they actually were. Though he painted women of many communities and classes, Ravi Varma had a special fondness for depicting the sari-clad Maharashtrian women of Bombay where he lived for many years. He found the sari - then not worn in Kerala and many other parts of India - with its striking colors and graceful folds especially appealing. It is said that the popularity of Ravi Varma's paintings helped make the sari the national dress for all Indian women. From 1897 onwards, he painted two pictures a year for Travancore State, when ‘Damayanti’, ‘Shakuntala and Draupadi' took new life and a fresh beauty. The last major commission was to design the picture gallery for Mysore's Jagmohan Palace and paint a series of Puranic pictures for the palace which was then being built. But the years were beginning to run out. He began to paint less and experiment more. Ravi Varma returned to Kilimanoor to undergo Ayurvedic treatment, and was advised not to go on long tours. During 1902, Ravi Varma remained in Travancore for eight months. In October he visited Raja Ravi Varma Lithographic press for the last time. The Madras Art Exhibition of 1904 was the last of the shows for which Ravi Varma sent pictures directly. His health was deteriorating. On returning home from Madras, he received news of his brother Goda Varma having passed away. Raja Raja Varma, his uncle, fell seriously ill with an advanced stage of intestinal ulcer and died soon after. This came as a shock to Ravi Varma. He was so shattered that he stopped accepting commissions and only completed his pending work. Now a despondent Raja Ravi Varma turned to experimentation. A visit to the famed Mysore Khedda operation where elephant herds were trapped, led to an experiment in impressionism. But Mysore Khedda, perhaps his last painting hangs unfinished in the Trivandrum Gallery. He too was ailing and at the age of 58, on October 2, 1906, Raja Ravi Varma breathed his last. Long queues of people were at his house wanting to see the last darshan of Ravi Varma, the artist. At the time of his death, Ravi Varma was indisputably India's best known and most honored artist. But long years after his death, when many more in India caught up with Western Art and its standards, critical opinion turned against him. His European style was condemned, his work described as mediocre or second-rate as compared to that of Europe's artists. His Gods and Goddesses derided for their earthiness. His popularity, however never waned and in recent years, some critics also have begun to reassess him. And it cannot be denied that he brought art into the mainstream of Indian life; he earned respectability again for the artist and he revived India's ancient traditions. No artist could ask for greater recognition, no artist could have achieved as much. Having written this much on Raja Ravi Varma, his life and his works/paintings, I would like to state here that till now, many articles on Raja Ravi Varma, his life, his paintings have appeared from time to time in papers, various well known magazines, along with nice colour pictures of his paintings etc, and many exhibitions of Paintings of Raja Ravi Varma have been held on various occasions in New Delhi, Mumbai, Baroda, Trivandrum etc., but after so many years, majority in India have not heard nor seen the Raja Ravi Varma Playing Cards on mythological, and historical themes, even though these playing cards were printed in Raja Ravi Varma's Printing press in Lonavala!! This could be perhaps because the playing cards manufactured at the above press were printed after the death of Raja Ravi Varma in 1906. It is said that Raja Ravi Varma sold his press to his German technician in 1901 for a paltry sum of Rs.25, 000.00 which also included the rights for 89 of his paintings. I have made a mention about this in my articles in a couple of magazines and papers, along with some pictures of some of the Court cards of these packs. No one exactly knows how many different Playing Card Packs with Raja Ravi Varma Trade Mark have been printed and in how many print runs.

The majority of cards seem to have been printed between 1910 and 1915, and a few also have been printed a few years before 1935. My contacts at Lonavala, Karli and with some known persons have been futile. There are Playing Cards with standard faces on the Court Cards that I have with me and also one in the Collection of Cary Collection, Yale University Library, USA. But the few interesting colorful Playing Cards that I would like to share with the readers are historical as also mythological Playing Cards, the artwork of which must have been done by some colleague of Raja Ravi Varma. Here are some interesting details of the two packs, pictured here. The Mythological Playing Cards:- This pack of Gods, Goddesses, Kings and Queens show the following figures and Characters, suit wise: - on K (Kings), Q (Queens) and J (Jacks):

DIAMONDS Suit shows: Nala Raja, Damayanti Rani, and Raj Hans

SPADES Suit shows : Shri Ranmachandra, Shri Sitadevi and the Monkey God Hanuman;

HEARTS Suit shows : Harishchandra Raja, Taramati Rani and the Sage Vishwamitra;

CLUBS Suit shows: Raja Dushyant, Rani Shakuntala and Sutradhar.

The wordings – legend written underneath on all the court cards of this pack are in Hindi. The Court cards here are single-headed. The Historical Playing Cards:- This pack has Historical figures/characters reflecting the Mogul period on the Court cards. These are, suit wise: Tamarlene (1336 - 1405) and Noor-Jehan Begum:

On Diamonds -- King and Queen;

Akhbarshah (1542 - 1605) and Motee Begum:

On Spades -- King and Queen;

Shah Jehan (1582 - 1666) and Taj Mahal Begum:

On HEARTS -- King and Queen;

Aurangzeb (1618 --1707) and Zenat Mahal Begum:

On CLUBS -- King and Queen.

Jacks of all these four suits show respective Sainik with armours and without any names written underneath. The Court cards here are double-headed - with reversible figures. The wordings - legends written underneath the Court cards are in English. The Printing of both the above packs seem to have been done by chromolithography - 8 to 10 colour printing. All the above non-standard Packs of Cards have on their Aces of Spades, Trade Mark as RRV (Raja Ravi Varma); yet at the bottom of each Ace of Spades it is mentioned Ravi Varma Press; On one Ace: Karli, Bombay and on the other Ace: Karla, Lonavla. The first two packs - Mythological and historical RRV Playing Cards are with a French Historian and Playing Cards collector from Paris, France. He sent me the colour pictures as also colour slides and photos of court cards of these packs. He wanted to know from me the meaning and details about each of the pictured character on Playing Cards. This was around 1992-1993. Later he wrote an article on these playing Cards in French for a French Bulletin and I wrote here for an English paper. There might be one or more such playing cards, still, somewhere in India or abroad with some private collectors. But why there is no knowledge about this among Indians here, although the packs were printed in Bombay? These playing cards printed in India during the early part of the Twentieth Century are not to be seen or found in India, even at some curio shops and Museums, but are found with some private Collections and in a few Museums abroad! It is also very likely that some packs must be somewhere with some people here in India. Are there any readers who have one or some of these or any other Raja Ravi Varma Playing Cards, and who know something more than what is written here?