For a staggering forty generations
India | Anno 2006
Pradeep looks concerned. It's not something we're accustomed to from our tour guide. Just now, he learned that Bhuj has been struck by an earthquake. The quake is said to have a magnitude of 4 on the Richter scale. He doesn't know the exact location of the epicentre, nor is it clear whether the city of Bhuj itself was affected and what the condition of our hotel is. Although we are currently in Rajasthan, specifically in the palace city of Udaipur, soon, precisely in six days, Bhuj will be our base. From there, we will explore Kutch, a remote region in the western corner of the Indian state of Gujarat, near the border with Pakistan.
The fertile water from the Himalayas, the source of all life, no longer reached Kutch
By the way, it would have to be a major earthquake for Bhuj to take notice. Like five years ago, on 26 January 2001, when the city was hit by an earthquake measuring 7.9 on the Richter scale at 8:46 am. Due to its amplitude and the enormous damage it caused, it received considerable attention in the West. In Bhuj alone, 13,572 people died at that time. Hundreds of villages in the surrounding area were levelled, a million structures were damaged or destroyed.
However, the earthquake of 1819, with a magnitude of 7.7 to 8.2 on the Richter scale, is still the one that captures the imagination the most. In two to three minutes, it shaped the landscape into the form we still know today. A part of the land was uplifted, and from east to west, a long, elongated hill appeared over a distance of 60 to 70 km, 16 km wide, two to four meters high. This was enough to completely block the Nara River, a distant branch of the Indus. The fertile water from the Himalayas, the source of all life, no longer reached Kutch. This had enormous ecological, social, and economic consequences. Trade and transport over the water became impossible, farmers saw an end to vital irrigation. The hill that appeared out of nowhere and seemed divinely created by God was called Allah Bund by the Muslim population, meaning the Dam of Allah.
In the evening, Pradeep finally has good news for us – considering that there can be good news related to an earthquake. Although the quake this morning had a magnitude of 5.3 on the Richter scale, it is reported to have occurred in an uninhabited area, far from the capital Bhuj. There are no casualties, and our journey is not affected.
* * *
What is now called the Great Rann of Kutch was in prehistoric times a shallow part of the Arabian Sea. During the Indus Valley Civilization, it may even have been a navigable archipelago. Trade ships departed from here to ports on the coasts of Africa and the Arabian Peninsula.
During the Indus Valley Civilization, it may even have been a navigable archipelago
However, tectonic plate movements changed that. For millions of years, the Indian plate has been colliding with the Eurasian plate. Year after year, it shifts 47 mm northward. For the intervening matter, there is only one way out – it is slowly but surely squeezed upward. And downward, in fact, but that's another story. The most spectacular effect of this collision is the formation of the Himalayas and the Tibetan Plateau.
Even though Kutch is about three to four hundred kilometres from the actual conflict zone, the region still bears the brunt. To the extent that the area is classified as a Zone V seismic risk zone, the fifth and highest level in India. The likelihood of an earthquake with a magnitude of 9 is very real.
When Alexander the Great appeared here in 326 BCE, the continuous uplift of the land had already reduced the area to an inland sea. Since then, several small and large earthquakes have been recorded, but it is the earthquake of 1819 that dealt the fatal blow. After all, the Indian plate had shifted about a hundred meters in the past two thousand years. That's quite substantial.
Nowadays, that inland sea has completely disappeared, leaving behind the Great Rann of Kutch, a desolate plain barely rising above sea level. Strong winds occasionally bring seawater inland during high tide and full moon, but most of the year, the Rann remains bone dry.
However, during the annual monsoon, this picture changes completely. From June to September, the persistent rains flood the area. The Rann is then inundated with brackish water up to hip height. Elevated areas here and there rise about two to three meters above the flood level. Trees and shrubs grow on these islands, providing a welcome refuge for animals during the annual floods.
During the long, dry season, that water evaporates completely, leaving the Rann dry until the next monsoon season. Marshy, snowy white salt flats are the result, forming the trademark of the Rann.
In 1842, for the Jadeja, the girl/boy ratio was a chilling one to eight
But there is more. Before the earthquake of 1819, the Nara River flowed through the Rann. Day in and day out, it deposited fertile sediments from the Himalayas. This consistently yielded rich harvests for local farmers. Over the centuries, a rich variety of peoples settled in Kutch – the Meghwar, Rabari, Sodha, Jath, Jadeja, and more.
However, the Allah Bund brutally put an end to this. No water flows through the Rann anymore. What remains of those original sediments is now the Banni, a dry grassland on the southern edge of Kutch covering an area of 3,847 km². Large-scale agriculture was no longer an option in the Banni.
Gradually, a massive migration to Bombay, now Mumbai, began – a migration that we would nowadays call a dramatic brain drain. Those who could afford it left the impoverished Kutch behind and moved to Bombay to build a career. The less fortunate part of the population stayed in the Banni.
Little Rann of Kutch – Salt Pans
Meanwhile, around 1800, the British had entered the scene. As in other parts of India, they sought to generate revenue by taxing economic activities. But in Kutch, that approach didn't work. The local population was simply too poor. Only salt production had significant economic importance. Soon, the British lost their mercantile interest in this remote corner of India.
It must be said, like elsewhere in India, the British in Kutch also tried to curb three major social evils – slavery, female infanticide, and sati. Kutch was no exception in this regard. Cruel practices were rampant throughout India, but the arch-conservative Kutch was the place where they persisted much longer than elsewhere.
Even the British found it challenging to tackle sati
The slave trade proved the easiest to eliminate. Female infanticide, on the other hand, was a different story. Girls were a burden on their parents in the local communities. This was mainly due to the dowry, the bride's family's obligation to the groom's family at the time of marriage. In the distant past, this was an honourable practice. After all, the girl would move to live with her in-laws after marriage. Sometimes, she would never see her family again. The dowry was seen as an advance on her inheritance.
Little Rann of Kutch – Salt Production
However, over time, families started to 'sell' their sons at increasingly higher prices. Poor farmers simply could not afford it. If the newborn was a girl, she was often killed immediately after birth. Usually, it was the mother herself who took on this task. In 1842, for the Jadeja, one of these communities, the girl/boy ratio was a chilling one to eight.
Ultimately, the British deployed inspectors who travelled to all villages every two months, noting which women were pregnant. Each time, the number of children was counted, and the accounts were checked for accuracy.
In short, Kutch is synonymous with textiles
Even the British found it challenging to tackle sati. This cruel practice involved a widow throwing herself alive onto the funeral pyre of her recently deceased husband. Eradicating this practice proved extremely difficult, especially because the perpetrator could not be punished afterward. There even emerged a kind of sati tourism, where widows from states where the ban on sati could be enforced travelled to Kutch to commit sati there.
Little Rann of Kutch – Salt Production
Today, Kutch remains a remote part of India, an isolated area that becomes a virtual island during the monsoon rains. No major trade route passes through this isolated region, and there is no local industry. The communities living in the Banni are largely self-sufficient. They make most of the necessities for daily life themselves.
They are skilled craftsmen in various disciplines – lacquer work, woodwork, pottery, leatherwork, copper engravings, silver and gold work, etc. But where they truly excel is in textile work – embroidery, patchwork, batik, ikat, block printing, soof, rogan, patola, bhandani, and more. In short, Kutch is synonymous with textiles.
* * *
As far as the eye can see, white salt pans stretch under the scorching sun. We have just passed Maliya and have now reached the Little Rann of Kutch. It distinguishes itself from the Great Rann because large-scale salt production takes place here and is economically viable. The Little Rann is a salt marsh, an area that gets submerged under seawater during high tide or storms. Rainwater that penetrates the ground during the monsoons absorbs salt. Once the surface water evaporates after the monsoons, the salty water from the underground is pumped into one of the empty salt pans. After evaporation, only a thick layer of salt crystals remains. These are scraped off and gathered in cone-shaped heaps.
A group of agariya is at work, men and women, who have made a livelihood from this arduous labour
Little Rann of Kutch – Salt Production
Working in salt production is seasonal labour. There is a group of agariya, both men and women, who have made their livelihood from this strenuous work. A truck is ready to be loaded. The salt is scooped into baskets, which are then lifted onto the head of one of the women. Carrying this heavy load, they walk to the truck and dump the substance into the loading bay – an exhausting task in the scorching plain under the blazing sun. The reflection of the sun's rays on the salt crystals intensifies the heat. This process continues uninterrupted for six to seven months. On a small hill, they have their humble hut made of natural stones with a roof of animal hides. It's not surprising that most agariya face serious health problems due to these harsh working conditions.
It's not surprising that most agariya face serious health problems due to these harsh working conditions
Agariya |
|
|
Would we like to send the photos we took, they ask. We are happy to do so. However, the address they wrote on a note turns out to be unreadable; even our tour guide Anup can't make sense of it. Fortunately, Salim, our guide in Bhuj, will manage to decipher this writing shortly.
* * *
It's almost half past one when we reach Bhuj, the capital of Kutch. By now, we have come to know Gujarat as a vegetarian and alcohol-free state. This is not only attributed to the influence of Mahatma Gandhi – he was born in this state – but also to the fact that in this barren area, it is nearly impossible to keep livestock for meat production. It surprises us, then, that the restaurant turns out to be alcohol-free but not vegetarian.
After lunch, Salim appears. He will be our guide and support in Kutch. Interestingly, he brings his father Vazil along – although we should technically say Vazilbhai, as adding bhai expresses respect for an older man. Vazilbhai gets straight to the point. For over twenty years, he has been collecting textiles from Kutch, and his collection is undoubtedly worth seeing. That's why he kindly invites us to his home tomorrow evening for dinner, so we can later get acquainted with his impressive collection. Of course, there's a commercial aspect to it, but we don't hesitate to accept his invitation with pleasure.
But first, we need to obtain some permits because in Kutch, you can't just do what you want without the necessary permits. Firstly, there's the consumption of alcohol. Gujarat is not entirely alcohol-free, as some hotels, catering to tourists, have a Liquor Division with a wide range of alcoholic beverages – more than a tourist could dream of.
If you have a Liquor Permit, you can access the Liquor Division between six and seven in the evening and purchase certain quantities of alcoholic drinks within the regulatory provisions. For example, for beer, it's ten bottles per 24 hours, as stated in the Bombay Prohibition Act of 1949.
There are forms, stamps, and carbon sheets involved, a signature here, a cross there
For our group, it's quite pleasant in this climate to relax with a cool beer in the evening and let the day's events pass by. So, I take my chance. The Liquor Permits are issued by a uniformed Prohibition Officer. The man has undoubtedly been recruited based on his stern appearance, I think to myself as I patiently play along with the bureaucratic game. There are forms, stamps, and carbon sheets involved, a signature here, a cross there.
But in the end, I seem to have passed the test with flying colours. The official stamp stating The Holder of this Passport has been granted a Liquor Permit now graces my passport. Additionally, I have Tourist’s Permit No. 007785, valid from 13 April to 22 April 2006. This form will mercilessly record all details of my alcohol consumption under the heading Details of Purchase of Foreign Liquor.
Now, I just need to check if the hotel receptionist is willing to cool our beer bottles in the hotel's fridges. He is more than happy to comply. As it turns out, all hotel staff gradually become aware of which guests have a Liquor Permit and won't hesitate to try and benefit from it themselves.
Then there's the permit to visit the border area. Skirmishes in the Rann of Kutch in April 1965 were partly responsible for the second Kashmir War between India and Pakistan. It's not surprising that even after forty years, this border area is still a bit sensitive.
Back then, Salim experienced the earthquake himself, an hallucinatory experience that lasted about three and a half minutes
Bhuj – Prag Mahal
Therefore, we head to the police station to obtain the coveted permit. The passport photos we brought for this purpose turn out to be unnecessary. One form – with the straightforward name LIB/FOR/PP/5050/2006 – along with an attached list of names is sufficient to allow us to visit even the farthest villages in the Rann, such as Dhordo, Ludiya, and Khavda, from 14 to 16 April. Somewhat disconcerting is a mention at the bottom of the form – Please note that landscape photography is prohibited. The extent of this restriction is currently a mystery to us.
Our city tour can now begin. It was a certain Rao Hamir who founded a city called Bhuj in the then prosperous Kutch in 1510. Rao belonged to the Jadeja, a Muslim people. For four centuries, they would rule over Kutch. They had migrated from Pakistani Sindh to Kutch and had converted to Hinduism. In 1548, the prosperous Bhuj was already promoted to the capital of the region.
The palace they built is a remarkable structure. It looks more like a church – complete with a bell tower – than a royal palace
Prag Mahal |
|
|
However, you cannot escape the fact that the consequences of the 2001 earthquake must have been terrible, and it is still evident when you walk through the streets. Salim experienced the earthquake himself at the time, an experience that lasted about three and a half minutes and he describes as hallucinatory. Yet, like everyone else, he acknowledges that the earthquake also had positive consequences. Money flowed in easily, allowing for new construction and renovations. The new vegetable market is an example of this. Moreover, thanks to the catastrophe, Bhuj gained a place on the world map, attracting tourists.
One of the city's tourist attractions is the Prag Mahal, the remarkable palace built by Rao Pragmalji II at the end of the 19th century. It is peculiar because the style of the building is difficult to describe. It looks more like a church – complete with a bell tower – than a royal palace. Some refer to it as Italian Gothic, perhaps because many Italian craftsmen were involved in the construction. Others point out the clear Indian and Moorish elements. All in all, it remains an eclectic ensemble.
Beautiful jalis, the refined filigree stonework, can be seen in front of the windows of the bay windows
Prag Mahal |
|
Bay windows with jalis |
Prag Mahal – Bay windows with jalis
The exterior walls of the queen's chambers are richly decorated. In front of the windows of the bay windows, you can see beautiful jalis, the refined filigree stonework that allows light and air to pass through but shields from sun and rain, characteristic of Indian architecture. However, they suffered greatly from the earthquake. In any case, the building is now uninhabitable. Only doves and crows manage to enter, along with thieves. In a few months [September 2006], burglars will break into the building, causing significant damage and making off with some valuables.
Bhuj – Saraf Bazaar
We continue to climb towards the Sharad Baug Palace, the original palace from 1752 that was used by the kings as their residence. The last king to rule over Bhuj was Maharajadhiraj Mirza Maharao Sri Madansinhji Vijayaraji Sawai Bahadur – simply known as Madansinhji Vijayaraji, as the rest are purely honorary titles. Despite his impressive name, he ruled for only a few months, from 26 February to 1 June 1948, when the princely state of Kutch merged into independent India.
On 1 June 1948, the princely state of Kutch became a part of independent India
Saraf Bazaar |
|
|
Saraf Bazaar |
|
|
The earthquake quickly dealt with the upper floor of the palace, but surprisingly, the ground floor fared well in the catastrophe. The adjacent dining room also survived the disaster. It has now been transformed into a museum. A meter-long embroidery depicts the annual procession that used to go to the Bhujangdev Temple, the Snake Temple located about 4 km away from here.
Bhuj – Meghwal woman |
|
Kutch is synonymous with textiles |
Aina Mahal, the Mirror Palace for which Bhuj is so renowned, appears to be surprisingly intact. Delft porcelain covers the floor, embroidery adorns the walls up to hip height, mirrors reach up to the ceiling, wooden doors and pillars are intricately carved, while glassware and chandeliers descend from the ceiling. In the centre of Aina Mahal is the bedroom of Lakhpatji, the first king.
|
|
|
Salim concludes the city walk with a visit to the old city. Strolling along the Saraf Bazaar and the new vegetable market, we willingly immerse ourselves in the pleasant hustle and bustle. Almost all women are adorned with the traditional ornaments of their tribe.
The golden nose rings of the Dhanetah Jath women are so heavy that a strand of their long black hair must provide additional support
Bhuj – Dhanetah Jath-women |
|
|
Meghwal woman
For now, we only recognize the Meghwal women with their heavy, metal neck rings and numerous bracelets on their lower and upper arms. But it is especially the Dhanetah Jath women who steal the show. Their impressive golden nose rings are so heavy that a long, black strand of hair over their forehead must provide additional support.
* * *
While Bhuj may have much to offer, it is primarily the Banni that interests us, the arid grassland south of the Great Rann of Kutch where numerous tribes have maintained themselves for centuries. This has led to a rich diversity of communities with varied traditions and costumes.
The communities of the Banni often struggle to make ends meet in this harsh area
Sumrasar is our first destination because it was there that the Kala Raksha Trust was established in 1993. The foundation aims to preserve centuries-old textile skills. Prakash explains to us how this works on-site. Preservation and support of traditional techniques and motifs are the foundation's focus. But not only the past is important; the future matters too. Artists must learn to strike a delicate balance between ancient traditions and the expectations of the contemporary market. The modest museum maintained by the foundation provides the artists with the necessary inspiration for this. Various traditional works are displayed there.
Sumrasar – Meghwal women |
|
|
The main technique taught to the embroiderers here is the soof. The foundation started with 20 students, and today it oversees 600 skilled professionals spread across six communities. Soof is a technique where the embroidery is done on the backside of the fabric. The embroiderer doesn't pre-draw her motifs on the fabric; she works from memory, counting the number of warp and weft threads. This results in geometric patterns, often triangular mosaic forms. A bit of aptitude for mathematics and geometry is almost a necessity for these embroiderers.
In its research centre, the foundation manages six hundred original pieces. Neatly inventoried on A4 sheets – code, description, techniques used, photo, etc. – they are stored in filing cabinets. Over time, the entire catalogue has even been digitized. With a few clicks, you can access information about all possible textile traditions.
The sumptuous adornment of the Meghwal women seems familiar to us, while the Rabari women, with their dark outfits, appear to lean towards simplicity
|
|
Rabari women |
There's a workshop in progress with about ten women embroidering. We not only notice the beautiful embroidery they create but also their colourful traditional attire and rich jewellery. The sumptuous adornment of the Meghwal women seems familiar to us, while the Rabari women, with their dark outfits, appear to lean towards simplicity.
These exquisite embroidered pieces don't fetch much. You only pay a modest 690 rupees – just over 13 euros – for an embroidery that a Rabari woman has worked on for twenty days. However, elevating these prices to a higher level could disrupt the local economy.
During his visit to the White House, Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi will present President Obama with a rogan painting
Nirona – Rogan
On our way to Nirona, we encounter a lone walker. Coincidence or not, Salim recognizes him immediately. It's Arab Khatri, the man whose studio we are heading towards. Along with his 22-year-old nephew Sumal Khatri, he practices the very rare technique of rogan to create drawings on fabric. And they do it at a very high level. Arab has won a state award from Gujarat, and Sumal once received a national award of 50,000 rupees from the President of India. The photos hanging on the wall confirm these achievements. In 2014, during his visit to the White House, Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi will present President Obama with a rogan painting from the Khatri family.
For seven generations, the Khatri family has been practicing the art of rogan
Rogan |
|
|
For seven generations, the Khatri family has been practicing the art of rogan. Outside the Khatri family, there is no one else in India who still masters this technique. It is a very laborious process. Castor oil is boiled and mixed with a crushed mineral, creating a rubbery, sticky paste with typically intense colours. Left-handed Sumal starts working with a small amount of yellow paste on the palm of his right hand, while uncle Arab proudly watches. Using a metal needle, Sumal stirs the paste, threads an elastic thread from it, and strokes it onto the black fabric – cotton or silk – where the paste adheres in graceful lines and forms a figure. There are no patterns; Sumal has everything in his head.
Outside the Khatri family, there is no one else in India who still masters this technique
Rogan
Some magnificent handmade pieces are placed on the table. They are seventy to a hundred years old, making them practically priceless. However, the prices of what they create themselves are clearly higher than what we saw earlier at Kala Raksha. With four diplomas on the wall, Sumal can ask for a bit more. The prices for the pieces he shows us range from 2,000 to 30,000 rupees, or 40 to 600 euros.
A stone's throw away, we are greeted by an artisan bell maker. In the blink of an eye, he hammers and cuts a melodious bell together before our eyes. The selection in his studio is overwhelming, bells with the most diverse shapes and sizes come into view. But these works of art are not particularly sought after. Our affinity for a cowbell is rather low-key.
Vadha – Lacquer work
For lacquer work, the Vadha are renowned. An artist shows us how lacquer, mixed with a dye, is applied to a stick. By rotating the stick, the lacquer spreads evenly, creating colourful geometric patterns. While lacquer work is found in many cultures, this method is unique because nowhere else are such vibrant colours produced.
Bhirandiyara
We now head north, with the desolate Rann stretching endlessly on our left. If this were the monsoon season, the brackish water would be lapping against the elevated road. Then Bhirandiyara comes into view. Only Meghwals live in Bhirandiyara. In fact, it's a Muslim community around one grandfather. The community is by no means prosperous. Furthermore, marrying exclusively within their small sub-caste imposes a heavy burden on their future.
The round huts with conical roofs prove to be much more earthquake-resistant than contemporary rectangular buildings
Bhirandiyara – Bhungas
The small community consists of about twenty huts, or rather, bhungas. These round huts with conical roofs prove to be much more earthquake-resistant than contemporary rectangular buildings. During an earthquake, the cylindrical walls respond with the flexibility of an arch. Moreover, round structures are barely affected by tornadoes – the wind simply glides past them.
|
|
Patanwadi sheep |
The walls of these bhungas are made of branches or bamboo sticks, buried about sixty centimetres deep in the ground and held together with grass ropes. Mud and cow dung are then applied over them. This creates perfect insulation – protecting against the heat in summer and the cold in winter. The roofs, made of grass or thatch, rest on a framework of branches or bamboo sticks. The inside of the conical ceiling is colourfully painted. A prominent place in the homes is still reserved for the trunk that once contained the dowry, demonstrating that the tradition was respected in the past.
Ramatbhai goes out of her way to make her visitors feel comfortable
Ramatbhai extends an invitation |
|
|
A bit further, Ramatbhai insists that we visit her traditional house. It's remarkably cool inside. She goes out of her way to make her visitors feel comfortable – she even waves some cool air towards us while we're standing there, panting.
Ramatbhai apologizes for not being able to offer us food and drinks – she herself has hardly anything to eat
It hasn't rained in the area for two years, and it's tough times for this community of shepherds. With a bit of luck, Ramatbhai can have one meal a day. Yet, she apologizes for letting us leave without sharing food and drinks with us. She doesn't accept gifts either; however, she might be willing to sell some items.
Meghwal woman |
|
|
|
|
Meghwal girl |
Numerous rectangular pits along the elevated asphalt road catch our attention. Apparently, they result from manual labour. The excavated soil was used to raise the road, Salim explains. The workers were paid based on the volume of earth they provided. Hence, the rectangular shape – it makes it easier to calculate the delivered volume. Salim estimates the outside temperature to be around 42 to 43 °C (108 to 109 °F).
Bhirandiyara – Bhunga with charpai (bed)
Bhunga with dowry trunk
An extremely bumpy ride takes us to Hodka, a community mainly consisting of Muslims, alongside a minority of ten percent Meghwals. They have converted to Hinduism and now belong to the dalits, the casteless who were formerly called untouchables – a term that has been legally prohibited since the mid-20th century. Naturally, the democratically elected village head is a Muslim. However, Salim assures us that there are no tensions between the communities.
Hodka – Contemporary bhungas |
|
|
Red is the dominant colour of their ghagra chola, the combination of a blouse and a long skirt that exposes the midriff
The Meghwal are likely the most easily recognizable ethnic group in Kutch, thanks solely to the flamboyant clothing of their women. Red is the dominant colour of their ghagra chola, the combination of a blouse and a long skirt that exposes the midriff. This also applies to their dupatta, the shawl draped over their head and shoulders.
Even a toddler is adorned with a wealth of jewellery
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
All that textile is adorned with elaborate embroidery. Not a square centimetre is left untouched. Small mirrors or aabhla are often sewn into the fabric. They wear dozens of rings around their wrists and forearms, usually silver coloured or white. In addition, there are ankle rings, nose and ear jewellery, and a heavy torus of metal rings around the neck. Even a toddler is adorned with a wealth of jewellery.
As if that weren't enough, we meet a woman who has just returned from a wedding. Her outfit is possibly even more lavish than that of the other women. While sitting with the other women, she continuously holds her dupatta as a screen for the left side of her face. The intention is that her father-in-law cannot see her face, Salim explains. It's a way to show her respect for her father-in-law.
She shields her face from her father-in-law. This is a way of showing her respect for him
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The village appears quite prosperous. The round huts are built in bhunga style, but with modern materials, including roofing with tiles. The ground between the huts is paved and slightly elevated compared to the surroundings, preventing it from turning into a muddy mess during the monsoon rains. The village head warmly welcomes us and takes us to the village well, where women are busy coming and going with water jugs.
Ludiya – Traditional bhungas
Meanwhile, it has become quite late, too late to visit the distant Dhordo. So, we head to Ludiya, a village that was severely affected by the earthquake in 2001 but has since been completely rebuilt in its original style.
Ludiya – Traditional bhungas |
|
|
Apparently, Ludiya is better prepared for tourists than the other villages. While in Bhirandiyara, the residents stood bewildered in the doorways of their huts staring at us, here they immediately unroll their embroidery as soon as they see the white silhouette of our bus approaching in the distance. The chief, in particular, has his affairs in order. His hut is in pole position. If you want to visit the village, you first enter his courtyard, where only his family members are allowed to display their merchandise. If you still have enough money and interest afterward, you can visit the other villagers.
They ask for 15,000 rupees, approximately 290 euros, for a beautiful piece of embroidery measuring about 90 cm by 140 cm. This seems very little to us, considering that three years of work went into creating it. However, Salim estimates the real value to be only 4,000 to 5,000 rupees, about 80 to 95 euros.
Ludiya – Traditional bhungas
Some bhungas are adorned with beautiful geometric motifs on the outer walls. But it is the interior of the chief's bhunga that holds the real surprise for us. For the first time, we encounter lippan kaam. It's a unique art form where the interior walls of the bhungas are covered with a mud mixture in which small mirrors are embedded. The result is a wonderful geometric relief painting that not only keeps the interior of the hut cool but also brings light and beauty into the hard lives of its inhabitants.
The interior walls of the bhungas are covered with a mud mixture in which small mirrors are embedded
Ludiya – Lippan kaam
Traditionally, the mixture is kneaded from a blend of animal dung and mud or clay from the lakes of Kutch. The wall is then moistened to ensure the mixture adheres well. A large mirror is shattered into random small pieces, and these fragments are arranged in a decorative pattern on the wall. Subsequently, the mixture is spread over the wall, fixing the aabhla, or small mirrors. Once the artwork has dried sufficiently after a few days, a protective layer of white sand from the Rann is applied over the mixture.
Lippan kaam not only keeps the interior of the hut cool but also brings light and beauty into the challenging lives of its inhabitants
Lippan kaam
So much for tradition. Nowadays, the art form still endures, but the mixture is typically kneaded from a blend of lime powder, sawdust, mud, and glue. The aabhla are no longer random shards but are delivered pre-shaped – triangular, round, diamond-shaped. As a support, the artist often uses MDF, a fibreboard. This allows the creation of portable artworks, making it especially conducive for selling. Lippan kaam artworks easily find their way into modern homes.
Lippan kaam
Ludiya excels not only in lippan kaam but also in woodworking. However, the wooden carvings they offer for sale leave us somewhat disappointed. These engravings can hardly be described as refined.
|
|
|
Reluctantly tearing ourselves away from this fascinating environment, we head back south. As the scorching sun slowly descends on the western horizon, we leave the Great Rann of Kutch behind. About an hour later, in the alcohol-free state of Gujarat, we enjoy our cool beers.
It becomes an authentic meal, akin to everyday Indian food, featuring local ingredients
|
|
|
We haven't forgotten the invitation from Vazilbhai, Salim's father. Armed with sweets to break the ice, we find ourselves at his doorstep around nine o'clock. It turns out to be an authentic meal, akin to everyday Indian food, featuring local ingredients. Curious, we settle down with a cloth on the floor serving as a table. The meal prepared by Vazilbhai's wife surpasses by far that of the hotel. Afterwards, Vazilbhai showcases some highlights from his collection. He has hundreds of them, some over a hundred years old, and some even originate from Bengal.
Ludiya – Dusk
* * *
We have a few promising villages to the east of Bhuj on our wish list for our last day in Kutch. Firstly, there's Ajrakhpur, where Ismail Mohammed Khan is waiting for us. Block printing on textiles is his specialty, and he exclusively works with natural colours derived from plants and minerals. He has about fifteen of these colours displayed in small jars as examples. Indigo, henna, turmeric, pomegranate, rhubarb, and mud are some of the most commonly used colours.
It's hard to fathom that the seemingly insignificant indigo plant was once one of the major driving forces behind the colonization of India
In a stone tub partially buried in the garden, there's a murky liquid, the chemical version of indigo, according to Ismail. He dismisses it, saying that decent work can't be done with it. He points to an indigo plant in his garden, the source of natural indigo, a much more sustainable dye. In our opinion, this plant looks quite pitiful. Ismail agrees, mentioning that indigo plants cannot be grown in this region. To cultivate them, you have to go to the southeast, to Andhra Pradesh or Tamil Nadu. That's where he orders his indigo. It's hard to fathom nowadays that the seemingly insignificant indigo plant was once one of the major driving forces behind the colonization of India by Western powers.
Ajrakhpur – Block printing on textiles
If you soak the flowers of an indigo plant in water overnight, they release crystals. From these crystals, you can create a paste that serves as a dye. To illustrate, Ismail dips a piece of fabric into a vat of natural indigo. It comes out a beautiful... green. To our surprise, as it dries, it gradually takes on its characteristic blue colour.
The style of block printing that Ismail applies in his workshop has Islamic origins, explaining the geometric patterns
Block printing on textiles |
|
Drying of block printing |
In a workshop at the back of the courtyard, three bearded men are diligently practicing block printing. They work with great precision, although speed seems to be more important than accuracy. This craft is at least three thousand years old, requiring a total of sixteen steps to complete a piece. However, once finished, you can be sure that the fabric won't fade, and the colours won't run when washed. The style of block printing that Ismail applies in his workshop has Islamic origins, hence the geometric patterns inspired by Islamic architecture.
Natural dyes and textiles are also topics of expertise for Daramshi Maheshwari. He is sometimes referred to as the ikat expert of Gujarat, with his workshop located in Ningal. We find an artist sitting cross-legged, focused on his work. With meticulous care, he ties each of the 144 delicate white silk threads at specific points with a white string. The pattern he follows exists nowhere but in his mind. The combination of white strings on white silk is entirely unfathomable to us. Once the tying is complete, the threads are immersed in a dye and then dried. Where the silk threads were exposed, they take on colour. Where they were shielded by the white strings, they remain white. The artist must repeat this laborious process for all the colours present in the pattern.
In a bundle of 144 extremely fine white silk threads, he meticulously ties each thread at specific locations with a white string
Ningal – Ikat – Tying of the threads
Only after dyeing, the threads are woven, and this is no straightforward task. The dyed threads serve as the weft and must be woven with great precision into the warp; otherwise, the pattern will be distorted. In the workshop, a man and a woman operate the loom together, slowly but meticulously. They produce approximately one meter of sari each day. Taking the preparatory work into account, it takes about 20 to 25 days to complete the production of a sari. These saris are beautiful, featuring pure, vibrant colours. Prices range from 3,500 rupees to 8,000 rupees, or 70 to 150 euros.
They produce approximately one meter of sari each day
When both the warp and the weft carry a pattern of colours, it is referred to as double ikat or patola. It requires little imagination to suspect that double ikat entails twice as much work and thus costs twice as much as single ikat. Few are willing to pay such a high price.
However, it's a fact that patola is more vibrant in colour and produces a less frayed form of the design than single ikat. We learned this a few days ago at the renowned Calico Museum of Textiles in Ahmedabad. Our guide Kamalini told us that this art form is only practiced in Patan and exclusively by the Salvi family. They have been doing it since the 11th century. Imagine, for a staggering forty consecutive generations, from father to son. Such incredible stories can only be found in India.
Therefore, a silk sari doesn't cost much more than a cotton sari. Who would want to spend a lot of money on ordinary cotton then?
Not only silk but also cotton is a suitable raw material for ikat. However, according to Daramshi, it's the many hours of labour that make a sari expensive, not the material used. Therefore, a silk sari doesn't cost much more than a cotton sari. Who would want to spend a lot of money on ordinary cotton then?
Daramshi needs ten workers per loom. Previously, he had three looms, but now he has only one. To keep three looms in operation, he lacks both sufficient demand and enough personnel. Consequently, he produces barely four saris per month. If he manages to sell them, he more or less breaks even. However, he cannot rely on the local population to buy his saris as they cannot afford them. He must seek affluent customers in distant cities like Delhi or Mumbai.
The Salvi family has been practicing this since the 11th century – a staggering forty consecutive generations, from father to son
Next to Daramshi, only his nephew and the man we see at work master the technique of tying the threads. And that is what it all revolves around. Whether one of Daramshi's children will continue the craft is highly doubtful. Daramshi himself does not rule out the possibility that ikat in Gujarat may become extinct. And that is regrettable, he believes, as ikat can also be found in Orissa, West Bengal, and Andhra Pradesh. But it is Gujarat that produces the most refined work, concludes this resident of Gujarat.
Bhujodhi is the place where we get acquainted with the Shrujan Foundation. In a brisk rhythm, a DVD video outlines its inception. They focus on the hands, heads, and hearts of the people, poetic words resonating from the computer speakers. It was the severe drought of 1969 that prompted this initiative. Back then, as many as fifteen thousand villages were affected. With a starting capital of no more than 5,000 rupees – about 100 euros – Mrs. Chadashraff established this textile centre. Nowadays, 18,000 women in the villages are reached, and sixteen embroidery styles are actively supported. The role of women in society is also highlighted.
Nowadays, 18,000 women in the villages are reached, and sixteen embroidery styles are actively supported
However, the centre wants to step up its efforts, explains Kativa. They have their sights set on a budget of a whopping four million USD to develop the Living and Learning Museum of Kutch. This budget will finance the construction of a museum, a library, video materials, a research centre, and even two mobile units to travel to the villages. This way, patterns, along with thread and instructions, can be distributed among the women in the villages. The results are then collected after some time. The women are always encouraged to pursue quality. They receive a fixed amount for a good piece of work, and sloppy work is returned for improvement. The centre also manages the distribution of the finished products through stores in major cities like Delhi, Mumbai, and Hyderabad.
Kativa takes us to the basement, where 1,100 pieces are professionally stored. It is dry and dark, with no sunlight entering, and flash photography is not allowed. Carefully, she shows us some precious pieces with her gloved hands.
With a mix of amazement and admiration, we leave the Shrujan Foundation behind. So caring, so efficient, so forward-thinking – this is not the India we typically know.
In the midst of an expansive garden just behind the dunes, the Maharao of Kutch built a summer palace
Mandvi – Vijaya Vilas Palace
Enough textile for now; we set course to the south via Bhuj. More precisely, towards the Gulf of Kutch on the Arabian Sea coast. Because there, amidst an expansive garden just behind the dunes, the Maharao of Kutch – the king of Kutch – had a summer palace erected in 1929.
Vijaya Vilas Palace
In fact, it wasn't even for himself that the Maharao embarked on this construction; it was for his son and heir, Madansinhji Vijayaraji. Therefore, the summer palace was named Vijaya Vilas. Meanwhile, we know that Madansinhji would become the last king of Kutch, reigning for only a few months before his princely state merged into the newly formed Republic of India.
Compared to the opulent palaces predominantly found in Rajasthan, Vijaya Vilas might appear somewhat modest
Vijaya Vilas Palace – Rooftop
Neither rich nor poor was spared by the earthquake of 2001. The damage to the royal palace in Bhuj was so extensive that it became uninhabitable. However, the summer palace on the coast remained unharmed. The current Maharao took up residence on the first floor, and he still resides there – at least when he is in Kutch, as he generally stays in Mumbai. He generously opens the furnished ground floor and the rooftop terrace to the public, albeit for a small fee, to generate some additional income.
Admittedly, compared to the opulent palaces found in Rajasthan, Vijaya Vilas might appear somewhat modest. Nevertheless, this palace in red sandstone is impressive, if only for its distinctive architecture. Bengali domes adorn the sides of the building, octagonal bastions dominate the four corners, and right in the centre stands a massive dome on a platform supported by pillars. Many windows are adorned with jalis, the typical filigree stone work.
Bengali domes adorn the sides of the building, octagonal bastions dominate the four corners
Rooftop – Bengali Dome (left) |
|
Bastion (right) |
The rooftop terrace offers panoramic views of the surroundings in all directions. It's a delightful place to be, enjoying the gentle breeze playing through the openings of the jalis, the calls of peacocks rising from the beautiful park, the sound of the Arabian Sea, faintly visible beyond the dunes, and the orange-red glow of the setting sun on the western horizon.
The combined trading fleet of Mandvi must have included about four hundred ships
Mandvi – Seaport
In the evening, we descend to Mandvi. Until the 17th century, Mandvi was the main seaport of Gujarat, with a trading fleet that likely comprised about four hundred ships. Their trade activities took them to East Africa, the Persian Gulf, and the Malabar Coast – also known as the Pepper Coast by Europeans. There were even supposed trade contacts with China. However, the gradual silting of the harbour made such endeavours impossible. Nowadays, Mandvi is no longer significant as a seaport.
Mandvi – Shipyard
Yet, there's one activity that has survived the decline, and that is shipbuilding. The skill of constructing ships hasn't been lost. In the past, these were exclusively dhows. These are traditional sailing vessels with one or more masts carrying large triangular sails. Due to their deep holds, dhows had substantial cargo capacity, requiring a crew of twelve to thirty people depending on size.
Shipbuilding here still follows fairly traditional methods, almost entirely by hand, as they have little more than a hand drill and a polishing wheel
Mandvi – Shipyard |
|
|
Shipbuilding here still follows fairly traditional methods, almost entirely by hand, as they have little more than a hand drill and a polishing wheel. Three enormous wooden hulls stand in the shipyard. One of them is estimated to be 35 to 40 meters long and 10 meters high – the interior of the hull is downright impressive. Beams are not milled but hewn with a hammer and chisel. Safety measures are entirely absent.
Once the hull is complete, it will be towed to Dubai – likely carrying a cargo such as potatoes, goats, or buffaloes. In Dubai, the engine will be installed, and then the vessel will be towed back to Mandvi for finishing. You don't need to be a Nobel Prize winner in Economics to realize that this way of working will likely not endure for much longer.
* * *
While the sun embarks on its scorching journey across the cloudless sky, we stroll through the narrow market streets of Bhuj one last time. Soon, we will take the flight to Mumbai. But first, we let the atmosphere of the unfortunate city seep into us. Traces of the earthquake are everywhere, and most market-goers undoubtedly cherish memories of one or more loved ones from their family or circle of acquaintances who did not survive the disaster. Yet, the city teems with life.
We have encountered the same resilience, the same fortitude in the inhospitable Banni
We have encountered the same resilience, the same fortitude in the inhospitable Banni. We encountered mainly smiling people there, individuals who manage to maintain their age-old traditions and provide for their livelihoods in these harsh conditions. But above all, their hospitality left a lasting impression on us – like Ramatbhai, who apologized for not being able to offer food or drinks to the pampered tourists. Simply because she had nothing to eat herself. We will never forget her.
Jaak Palmans
© 2024 | Version 2024-01-14 16:00
