The sari is in peril?

steven_ber

The sari is in peril

By H.Y. Sharada Prasad (article in Asian Age newspaper)


Sari wearers may come in many shapes and sizes, but the sari comes in just one shape. It is a rectangle, six or eight or sometimes nine yards long, and 45 to 52 inches wide. But in that sameness of size, what endless variety of colour, texture, design, and allure! A Banaras gold-embroidered sari might emit a golden glow and give the impression that it is a queen’s ransom. A Tangail sari may be a piece of woven gossamer that can pass through a ruby studded ring. A Patola from Patan might make you feel that it would be an impertinence to wrap such an exquisite work of art round the body of a mere human. Little wonder that every region of India has made it a point to produce a special sari or two which would serve as its identifiable banner — Tamil Nadu its Conjeevarams, Andhra Pradesh its Gadwals and Dharmavarams, Karnataka its Ilkals, Maharashtra its Paithanis, Madhya Pradesh its Maheshwaris, Orissa its Sambalpurs, and Bengal its Balucharis. Apart from the rich saris worn at wedding receptions and dinners, there are functional saris worn for work and at home, like the Poona pastel ones, the Madurai chungdis, the Sanganer prints, the Jharkhand tassars, and the light silks of Kashmir and Murshidabad. Bafflingly, maharanis and princesses spurned this glorious wealth within the country and swathed themselves in chiffons and georgettes, possibly to proclaim their loyalty to Europe. In the last 50 years five persons gave the sari a new acceptability, and they are Rukminidevi Arundale, Kamaladevi Chattopadhyaya, Devikarani Roerich, Indira Gandhi, and Sonia Gandhi. All colours seemed to suit them. An older Mrs Gandhi, namely Kasturba, wore only white.

But it looks as though the future of the sari cannot be taken for granted. It has powerful challengers. For schoolgirls the promotion

from frocks is no longer into saris but into salwar-kameez or kurta-pajama. College-going girls, like their counterparts elsewhere, prefer jeans and tops. Only public sector dames, like Doordarshan newsreaders and schoolmarms, cling to their saris; trend-setters, such as air hostesses, have all but abandoned them and gone in for western costume. Evidently, it is in response to the impact of globalisation.

Fifteen years ago, while on a visit to the National Institute of Design, Ahmedabad, I decided to travel to Patan to see how the Patolas were made. I had seen the magnificent two-volume monograph on Patolas brought out by Dr Eberhard Fischer of the Zurich Museum, and also some beautiful specimens in the Calico Museum of the Sarabhais, and admired them for the complexity of their design and the sure mastery of their approach to colour. But the visit to the place it takes its name from saddened me greatly. In the once-flourishing town which once hummed with the sound of hundreds of looms at work, there were only two families which continued to ply the trade. The house we were taken to was most unimpressive. It was no better than a charpai-weaver’s hut. The master-craftsman said, "It takes six to eight months to weave a single Patola. My sons found it too boring and too unrewarding. They have given up the profession altogether and have taken to business." Yes, how can we expect a tradition to endure if the country cares so little for it? In the 15 years since my visit even these two looms must have fallen silent.

The June issue of Crossroads, a journal devoted to rural development published by the Press Institute of India, carried a report on the plight that has befallen the weavers of Sambalpur saris. Over the last few months hundreds of looms which wove this variety of sari have been forced into idleness. The weavers have begun to ply rickshaws. Organisational weaknesses on the part of the cooperatives which supplied the inputs and looked after the sales have been blamed for this fiasco. The blame game may go on, but if no remedy is found in a year or two the skill accumulated over centuries may be irretrievably lost.

It would be tempting to argue that the cooperative system is not resilient enough to act in such situations, but it is doubtful if the private market would have been able to perform any better. The trouble is, there are not enough buyers; demand is shrinking because tastes are changing. Young women of the upper classes who used to buy Patola or Sambalpuri saris now opt for a Versace wraparound or a Gucci gown or a Guess T-shirt. The growth in the size of the middle class and its purchasing power may be making for bigger wardrobes, but the composition of these wardrobes is changing because of the change in consumer preferences.

Historically we find that when incomes grow there is a certain decline in taste. Technological "progress" also renders several old professions obsolete. For example, the rise of railways wiped out a whole lot of callings connected with stagecoach building and horse breeding. Economic historians tell us that as a result of nearly two centuries of colonialism, not only did India’s share of the world’s wealth fall from 23 per cent to about 2.3 per cent, but also that the percentage of people earning a livelihood from manufacturing went down considerably. This was because the rise of Manchester as a centre of manufacture of cheap cloth dealt a death blow to India’s cotton textiles in which we were the world’s leaders.

Something like that is happening again now as a result of globalisation. After all globalisation is in many ways a new avatar of colonialism with this difference — the powers are together instead of in rivalry, and also in that lip sympathy is paid to the need for removal of the hardships of the poor. But globalisation has no patience with the idea of any special safeguards for the poor. Instead the strong nations laud themselves on their liberalism in allowing the developing also to sell their goods in the same market. The affluent do not see any contradiction between their demand that the developing countries should abolish all subsidies while they themselves continue to offer support to their own agriculture.

I feel that the developing world should build up a case for supporting their handicrafts not on economic grounds but on the ground that they are conserving the world’s cultural treasures. For there is no doubt at all that the capacity of any people to produce a thing of beauty like the Patola or Sambalpuri sari needs to be preserved in the name of humanity as a whole.

Within the nation certain new steps could be taken up for the popularisation of handloom products. The Prime Minister has given his strong support to a suggestion made by the Union textile minister that people should be persuaded to wear handloom cloth one day in the week. Mere appeals will not go far. One area where handlooms can be pushed is school uniforms. Parents can no longer complain, as they did when there was a similar effort to promote khadi, that khadi attracted more dust and got crumpled too easily. And also that it was costlier. The availability of polyester-mixed handloom cloth meets all the three objections; it keeps crease, it is dust-resistant, and is in the same price range. What is more, it offers greater variety to choose from, and the schools can have special designs woven for their exclusive use.

H.Y. Sharada Prasad was adviser to Prime Ministers Indira Gandhi and Rajiv Gandhi

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Brigit

I've seen the trend setters in there jeans and tshirts reach for the sari as soon as they're married and going to a wedding or party.
I'd say the sari is going the way of the dress in the west, its becoming the formal wear.
how ever if you start to miss the sari's, just go to a village, and you'll soon have your fix.

Cantillon

Great article, but the author lost me in the last paragraph when he suggested the authorities should 'persuade' people to wear handloom clothes once a month. That's never gonna fly.

I love saris -- they are what first attracted me to India -- and I hate to think of craftsmanship dying out. However, part of me thinks that -- as in Western countries today -- handcrafted items like handloom saris are going to eventually enjoy a chic revival, where middle-class people will pay a premium for products that weren't made by a machine. It won't stop most handlooms from dying out, but I doubt they will disappear altogether, particularly in a country as attached to its traditions as India.

I say buy your handlooms now while they can still be had cheaply! The price of rarified craftsmen's skills can only go up.

ddevadatta

Humbug towards governmental intervention in people's choice to wear or not to wear the sari.

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Nick-H

Well said DD'; humbug indeed!

Reading the daily paperrrs, one often encounters this "the authorities should do something about it" attitude. Ofen it is appropriate, but very often it is not!

OTOH, perhaps the next government of Tamil Nadu will be elected non the basis of the saris that it gives away on the condition that they are worn by all people while watching the free colour TVs !

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crvlvr

I don't think the sari will ever die. what other garment pffers a trule "one size fits all"

Nick-H

...Or, even more important, one size fits the same woman however her figure changes!

sirensongs

One of the Travancore royal family said to me once, "that's the beauty of sari - it hides a multitude of sins," including, she added, wearing the wrong shoes. ;-)

Bhutan tried the mandatory-traditional-dress thing...from 9 to 5 everyone has to wear their Bhutanese dress (as I understand). After "work" they change into jeans and t-shirts. ;-)

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haritha

Sari will stay

other wise what will the news papers and ad media will do


sari in all ways will survive

to use handloom is an attitude

mridula

I have to say I do not know how to tie a sari. I wear salwar kameez and jeans/trousers a lot. When I have to wear a sari (like for my wedding, a long time back) my sister-in-law did it for me. And when the occassion demands it now (rare, a colleague once called it a celestial event), I always find someone who ties it for me. Reminds me to take my sariees out and dust them!

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http://www.gonomad.com/traveltalesfromindia/

haritha