Here is Haider Hussain from Bangladesh singing Abujh duti chokh (Baffled pair of eyes) about the Rohingya refugees. Some of the images are graphic so skip this one if you find such content distressing, and go onto his next, Ami Faisa Gechi (I've got entangled) - a lighter track.
The next track, a golden oldie - Hey Dola (O Palanquin), is from Bhupen Hazarika, a well-known singer-songwriter-composer from Assam, who sang in multiple languages including Bengali.
And lastly, a track from the film Hemlock Society, Amar Mawte Tor Moton Keu Nei (In my opinion, there's no-one like you), playback by Lopamudra Mitra, composed by Anupam Roy.
The
origins of Indian handloom cloth go back into deep antiquity – the handwoven
sari has an unbroken history of nearly 4000 years in the subcontinent. Ancient India
was known for its excellent textiles the world over. Pliny the Elder (1st century CE)
once complained in the Senate that too much Roman wealth was being spent in the
import of Indian cloth. Mummies wrapped in fine Indian muslin have been dated
to 2000 BCE in Ancient Egypt. Herodotus wrote in 450 BCE that in India he saw
fruits bearing fibre burst open when ripe, from which the people spun and wove
their garments.
Bengal
was one of the main textile hubs of ancient India. Chanakya (350-275 BCE), the
Prime Minister to Emperor Chandragupta Maurya, mentions in his Arthashastra
a textile sector already fully developed in Bengal at the time of writing. Old
Bengali literature records foreign traders coming to Bengal to pick up fabric
at Saptagram in the middle ages.
Chinese
pilgrims and monks coming to Bengal from the 13th century onwards
have noted that ‘there was an abundance of gems and cotton stuff.’ Subsequent
travellers have listed various types of textiles that were imported into China
from Bengal. A Bengali encyclopaedia compiled in the 19th century
lists around 25 subcastes and castes of weavers dispersed through different
regions in Bengal showing the extraordinary diversity and numbers engaged in
this occupation. In other words, there is no dearth of evidence to show Bengal
had a thriving handloom industry more than a millennium old. Dhaka in East
Bengal was the centrepoint of the Muslin trade, the superfine, translucent
cotton fabric so prized all over the ancient world. And in West Bengal,
Murshidabad specialised in silks of rare fineness and the most delicate weaves.
Bengal
came to dominate the Indian Ocean trade from the very beginning. But the muslin
described by foreign writers as ‘light vapours of dawn’ and ‘garments of the
winds’ was a small, niche market, the cotton grew only in East Bengal in
restricted localities on the banks of river Brahmaputra and in tiny yields. The
art and science of growing, combing, spinning and weaving those yarns finer
than a baby’s hair was limited to a few textile artisans/weaver families too. Less
than 10% of the overall cotton yield was of the type, phuti kapas, which was made into the finest Muslins.
The
Mughals, those indefatigable patrons of arts and beauty, conquered Bengal in
the 16th century and elevated the best quality Muslin further by
reserving it for royalty alone. Ain-e-Akbari, the biography of Emperor Akbar
records the imperial Muslin with a thread count of 2400 per sq inch, so fine
and so light that it could reportedly be packed into a match box. The names of
those fabrics themselves are so evocative as to conjure up their delicacy and
translucence – Nayansukh (eye-pleasure), Tanzeb (body-ornament), Abrawan
(flowing water) Shabnam (evening dew), Bakthawa (woven webs of winds) and more.
But fabrics with lower thread counts also continued to be produced and worn by
commoners. And all kinds of Bengal cottons continued to be traded across the
world.
The
story of Bengal is inextricably woven with its political fortunes. The British
displaced the Indian rulers, colonised India and prosperous Bengal became their
trade hub. For a couple of centuries, they took shiploads of Muslins back to Europe
to meet the ever-growing demand. At the beginning of the 18th
century, around 40% of the cargo shipped to Europe by the British and the Dutch
East India Companies consisted of textiles from Bengal, both muslins and calicoes.
But
all that changed when the first textile mills were set up in Manchester in mid-18th
century. The Brit output was coarser and rougher than Bengal Muslin. Naturally,
no-one was falling over themselves to buy the mill products.
There’s
a story on which every Bengali is raised, I was too - that the British solved
this problem by cutting off the thumbs of the Bengal weavers to stop the
production of the fabric. While this is largely apocryphal, it is an apt
metaphor for the way they killed the competition – they just set a crippling
tax on the handwoven cloth Bengal had made for centuries with such passion,
precision and profit. The milled British cloth was of course pegged at a lower
price point than the indigenous Muslin. Looms in Bengal fell silent after a thousand
years and whole families starved. In a double blow, the specific type of cotton,
phuti kapas - that gave the fabric
for those ‘woven winds,’ went quietly extinct in a famine, and then growers
turned to other crops which were more profitable. The pool of formidable
weaving skills to make those ‘flowing waters’ that ‘pleasured the eye’ were
gradually lost. But it wasn’t just the textiles - a whole slew of colonial
policies gradually deindustrialised Bengal. However, all is not doom and gloom
- the good news is there are studious efforts to revive Bengal Muslin in both
in Bangladesh and West Bengal as of now, read about that here
and here.
Like
the legendary muslins, the origins of the silk handloom industry in Bengal is
also lost in antiquity. Silk was a part of tribal culture in Bengal and the
Ganges Delta region for centuries, silk spinning in Bhagalpur in modern Bihar
can be traced back for more than a thousand years among the forest dwelling
tribes. Tamralipta, the ancient city in the Bay of Bengal was part of the Silk
Route in Mauryan times (3rd century BCE). Sericulture, unlike
cotton, was limited to the spinning of yarn till recent centuries. Most of the
European trade of silk the 16th/17th century consisted of
raw silk yarn rather than woven cloth. The Bengal silk handlooms started during
the times of Nawab Murshid Quli Khan (1660-1727) who moved the capital of
Bengal from Dhaka to Murshidabad. The most well
known among the silks was the Baluchari sari – woven with narrative motifs from
the mythologies and epics of Hindu, Buddhist faiths, and other scenes depicting
contemporary life including the lifestyles of the nawabs and the Europeans. The
Baluchari saris were woven from the early 1700’s onwards till about the 1900,
when the craft was lost due to the last Baluchari artisan’s death without a
successor. These weaves were researched and restored, the motifs reimagined in
the 1950’s under a government initiative. Read more here.
Posted for the A-Z Challenge 2019
Those images were heartbreaking, and his voice fit perfectly.
ReplyDeleteI was told the 'cutting off the thumbs' story while in India. I am glad that it is 'sort of' apocryphyal. None the less the loss of the families livelihood, culture and income was real. And wrong. Glad to hear that steps are being made to revive Bengal muslin.
Nearly all of colonialism was wrong. The only good that came out of it was an interest in Ancient India and some solid education infrastructure.
DeleteYou wove quite a post of handloom history, music, politics, and a lost art of silk with sadness.
ReplyDeleteI'm a great admirer of handmade stuff, Indian or otherwise. Feels very sad when artisanal skills die out. Thankfully it has dawned on us that they need to be preserved, but the pace is necessarily slow mainly because there are no written records. Weaving techniques were passed on from one generation to the next orally, so revival is inspired guesswork mostly.
DeleteI know I haven't commented much this month, but I have been reading almost all of your April posts, and enjoying all the ones I've read. You give us plenty of variety, too!
ReplyDelete(I almost wrote "I have been reading and enjoying almost all of your April posts," then realized that could be misinterpreted.)
DeleteVariety is the spice of life! Glad you've enjoyed them. Thanks for your time, David. My A-Z posts are superlong always and April is a busy month for everyone.
DeleteI love the fabric names! Evocative indeed.
ReplyDeleteThe Multicolored Diary
Aren't they sumptuous? I particularly like webs of winds, such amazing imagery!
DeleteQuite an interesting and informative wrap of the textile scenario.
ReplyDeleteOf course Bengal wasn't only about textiles, but textiles is what Bengal was and to some extent, is still known for.
Delete