"Benarsi weave, after all, is more than just merchandise; it’s an experience that we know too little of."

The following article was written as part of the craft awareness series of blog posts for Fabindia. We wanted to create, among Fabindia's customers, a sense of craft sensitization for the Benarsi silk weave by adopting a human approach while writing. This was done by narrating the story of a single artisan and the pains he takes to make a single saree.

It's time we know who made our clothes and help empower the talent.

A Poetry Handcrafted in Silk

A story of the immaculate artistry, a dying craft, and the Benarasi silk weave

Each day, before the sun hits the zenith, the narrow bylanes of Benaras resound with a life of their own- the humdrum from the buzzing markets, rhythmic nip, and thud of handlooms, temple bells and yarns of thread. Behind the curtains, the Fabindia family extends beyond the stores and offices to the villages, through the streets and straight to the artisan workplace. Benarasi weave, after all, is more than just merchandise; it’s an experience that we know too little of.

Abdullah is having a good day today. The household is bustling with activity -the way mornings usually are- and the handloom is running smoothly already, marking an early start to a fresh day. Outside, the fellow artisans work the dyeing pot in frenzied intensity. An order has to be sent out by the evening, and Abdullah has to ensure it is perfect. The clock registers 9 am, sharp. While a lot has changed in the past two decades since Abdullah- a master weaver now- entered the craft, the schedule remains rigorously the same, each day. 

In this holy city of ancient lore and legends, housing more than 23,000 temples and the cosmic Ganges, weavers like Abdullah embrace and carry forward with them a legacy that is hard to script in mere words. A walk around an ethnic store reveals a myriad of garments in silk brocade, styled and stitched to a dreamy fall. A deeper perspective, however, will reveal that the quintessential weave resonates with a story of its own- having commenced some 2000 years back and ending with a weaver’s final stitch, probably in a basement by the pale gaze of a dimly lit bulb. Hirayana, the ‘golden’ cloth, is the pride of Kashi and the cradle of a civilisation older than time. The artistry finds mention in the Hindu magnum opus, the Mahabharata and the Ramayana, and homage in the Jataka tales that describe how the textile became the city’s cultural identity; Benaras being an open haven for all artistic altruism. 

Back in the present time, Abdullah’s day has just begun. It has been a decade since he became a part of Fabindia’s artisan community. He has never looked back since. Back then, as the multinational organisation looked for dedicated artisans to carry forward the legacy, Abdullah was looking for an identity to sell his handwork in the right market, at the right cost. The community is a thriving hub of traditional handicrafts where skilled local artisans are employed by Fabindia and work from their homes for a regular paycheck and a greater reach. The opportunity was new, and in sync with the changing times

It’s almost one now, and Abdullah is back at his work. The spindles of twisted raw silk yarn are yet to be dyed and the nearby cauldron is brewing to a slow simmer to reveal a dye shade of a brilliant blue hue. Upon taking a few steps down the alcove, one will be greeted with long swathes of freshly dyed yarn, hung out to dry in a colourful maze, like an open page of a shade chart. These reels would be unwound and woven into a fine tapestry with the designed motifs in gold or silver zari thread. Tomorrow, Abdullah will receive a fresh lot of raw silk from Fabindia’s nearby warehouse, and the entire process will be repeated, but with a new design.

He believes, though, that tastes are shifting and the grandeur of the past sits today in sharp conflict with the growing need to connect rural artisans to urban shoppers and their fashion preferences. As ‘cultural identity’ slowly succumbs to the Sisyphean struggle for raw materials, labour rights, and, when finished, for a consistent market, the struggle for survival continues, and there seldom is an alternate choice. Abdullah, though, did make a choice that redefined the course of events that are oft pre-set for artisans like him. He was getting to work on his trade in a work environment where he could craft his own stories and not worry about the reach.

A situation like this invites a sombre introspection. Do artisans like Abdullah need to contemporize the process to be able to reach out and cater to a smarter, more experimental customer? How can we preserve the originality of the technique and the designs? How can collaboration between an artisan community and Fabindia make a difference?

Sitting hunched over a manual pit loom amidst an opulent array of strings, Abdullah starts a fresh weave for a brocade sari, his project for the next six weeks. The punch cards or naksh that weavers used to guide the loom’s needlework stitch by stitch are lying close beside, fresh, and ready for a new masterpiece. Having worked with the artisan community of Fabindia for over a decade now, Abdullah- a master artisan from Chandoli, and the weaver of Kinkhwaab style of silk brocade- is slowly learning the demands of a contemporary market, the changing landscape and the ubiquitous nature of design in a modern environment. With Fabindia, the traditional weave retains its flavour still, having simply been repacked in a design that appeals to today's customer, yet condenses the cultural flavour.

The decision to switch from a traditional setup, with decades of practice behind it, to a modern variant was difficult but a conscious one. But Abdullah was not alone. The Fabindia family today has grown to accommodate over 55,000 artisans, and the community is thriving as more and more artisans choose to adapt to the changing norms. Small-time artisans like Abdullah, working somewhere in the nooks and corners of the city, are included in this change. It’s a loss on our part when every minute another of Abdullah’s household members chooses to differ owing to scarcity, in search of a newer and better trade that offers a more lucrative life. It’s a loss when artisans get exploited as we bargain to invariable rates and treat the craft as a commercialised commodity rather than a cultural identity. It is our loss when we fail to uplift the artisans and paint the craft in hues of changing times.

Abdullah, from Chandoli, is the voice of every silk weaver from Benaras. May he live a good life.