saree aunty: 09/01/20

Tuesday, September 1, 2020

the black paithani

i think it was in 1984 that i first heard of paithani sarees. while struggling with the correct way to say the name and marvelling at all the stories of how real gold thread was used in its tapestry weave and how the art was almost dying but now the government of maharashtra was reviving it, and oh they were so expensive so exclusive (that favourite word) and almost sighing at the fact that i’d never ever be able to acquire/afford one, i of course never thought the paithani saree would actually take me to ancient rome one day.

and yet, that’s exactly where this black paithani took me this afternoon.

a few years back, determined to get myself a paithani and not be deterred by the fact i was not in india, nor the price (i muttered severely to myself about how this was art and one just had to, etc.) i started searching the net for a good shop.

found touch of class paithani there. lovely young woman called rashmi tapadia runs the place and after i’d gone ahead and bought one without knowing anything about them other than what they said on their website, i was totally floored by the way the whole things was managed. the no fuss, easy way of working, the prompt service and finally, ah the saree… a beautiful off white with fiery orange border.

i called rashmi to thank her and found myself asking if she customised sarees. of course, she did. and what was the zaree like? was it really gold zaree? she said, no, but they did use very high content silver zaree thread for some of their sarees and silk from bangalore, not china as it originally used to be. they had their own looms where ancient motifs were adhered to and the weavers got a decent deal.

there’s a certain joy in discussing a saree and getting it the way you want it to be, though with ample respect for the creators’ instinct. if they sound totally stressed by your ideas, good to hear what they have to say. i wasn’t disappointed with the blue saree that came of our first chat. and just yesterday this one arrived. jet black with shades of mauve and purple, a touch of blue in the pallu… i notice flecks of pale pink here and there, such a fine understanding of colour and impact.

as i pranced about the room, showing it to whoever was around, i started reading the brochure accompanying it. there was something about the satvahana kings and ancient rome there. i had read this before but suddenly this time it got me.

i am imagining this gorgeous roman lady, statuesque and most haughty, wrapped in her paithani something or the other. paithani toga??? mutter mutter. what did beautiful women of rome wear two thousand years ago?

what? the number registers.

this textile art was developed back then. a unique way to weave multiple threads of many colours an gold and silver yarns using the ancient technique of tapestry to create a fine piece of fabric.

striking colours and motifs with meaning were always part of its story. peacocks in bangles, mango, parrots, the coconut inspired nareli borders… everything had symbolism and auspicious interpretations.

paithani grew and flourished on the banks of godavari, a river i am yet to see, in pratishthanapura or paithan, the capital of the highly established and large satvahana empire that spanned right across the centre of india from 230 bce to 220 ce.

later when the muslim rulers came, they too fell for the resplendent sheen of paithani. aurangzeb loved the stuff as did the nizam of hyderabad. weaving centres came up near the nizam’s city.

while all this had me rushing around time trying to imagine the splendour of courts and courtesans and vain kings and beautiful queens, a mughal e azam of sorts in full technicolor in my mind… what i couldn’t get over was rome.

seems soon after the conquest of egypt by rome in 30 bce, trade between rome and india and other parts of asia increased dramatically, along the sea route i am guessing. and silks from china and india, including the wondrous paithani became such a rage and such a drain on roman gold, paisa paisa paisa, that the senate issued several edicts banning the wearing of silk.

of course, everyone merrily blamed women for their wayward ways and expensive tastes, teehee, what changes ever.

30 bce, egypt… the year cleopatra died. i wonder if she ever saw a paithani or wore one. so many places a mere baro haath saree as we say in bangla, a twelve arm-lengths saree, can ferry you. the paithani really is a saree of splendid colours i think and something about it is pure gold.

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wrote this on april 26, 2015

paithan is near aurangabad in maharashtra.

my paithanis were made in pune by touch of class paithani.

(map courtesy uploader.)

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sarees tell stories | the black paithani from touch of class paithani, pune, 2015.

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a saree from kerala

fine fine off white cotton with a layer of shimmery soft gold on edges, on ends, six whole yards of it. i absolutely love the kerala kasavu. i never knew what it was called, asking in my inelegant way for “you know one of those white and gold kerala sarees,” when my friend said her mother was going to her home town in the southern state. aunty bought me my very first kasavu, and as i stared feeling pretty tongue tied at its beauty, she gently recounted how it was getting harder to get the real kasavu. kasavu means gold zaree thread.

the tale of the kasavu saree takes you back all the way to the first references to sarees or “sattika” in ancient buddhist and jain literature and even to the graeco-roman “palla,” an unstitched piece of cloth draped across the shoulders by women. my mind is leaping at this reference. so does “pallu” (some call it “palla”) which is the free end of the saree that goes over the shoulder and swishes away at the back or front depending on how you drape it, come from a greek word? the addition of a thin border to a base of plain cotton may have come from the greek garments, wiki says.

kasavu, it’s believed, is the remnant of the ancient form of saree and initially covered only the lower part of the body, much like a sarong. over time, evolved the mundum neriyatham, the two piece set, or the mundu set as it’s called. the full length saree came much later. while looking up the weaving traditions of kerala, i came across the channar revolt. was completely disturbing to read that till the nineteenth century, lower caste women were not allowed to wear “upper-body clothes” as part of caste restrictions sanctioned by the travancore kingdom. well, the nadar climber women fought relentlessly for this right and finally won it, however they had to make sure they adopted a style different from the upper caste women. strange sense of “upperness” that, how do people even think up such ways of feeling superior.

things have changed, kerala is one of the most progressive states in the country today and the status of women is far better i think than in many other places. on our recent four-day trip to cochin/kottayam, i again noticed how intensely colourful the place was. there were large urlis brimming with red hibiscus, pink lotus, pure blue bengal clock vine flowers; there were old richly green trees… plantations of rubber, pepper on lush vines, cardamom bushes, nutmeg trees, a huge variety of crotons and of course flowers of many shades. coconut palms swayed in the breeze, “kera” means coconut. the october skies were clear and blue, the backwaters and the sea shone.

the people here are many-hued too. for centuries, christians, muslims, hindus, and jews have lived together peacefully along the malabar coast. the syrian christians are amongst the oldest christian communities in the world. jewish traders have come to these shores from king solomon’s time and after the destruction of the second temple, many came seeking refuge. then arrived others. the cochin jews have a long history, settling first in cranganore, then moving down to cochin, or kochi, after the portuguese landed. today only six jews remain in the city. vasco da gama was buried in a church not far from the paradesi synagogue; the oldest european church and the oldest synagogue in the country.

the paradesi synagogue was built in 1567 and has a fabulous floor made of blue and white chinese hand painted tiles, sadly we weren’t allowed to take photographs, i had to resort to taking snaps of postcards. replicas of the original copper plates announcing the granting of land and many privileges to the jews by king ravi varman were on sale, made to mark the quartercentenary in 1968.

the shades, imagine, the many communities bring to the customs, food, music, even jewellery of kerala. and yet her saree is a simple plain off white with an understated real kasavu border. bengal is the only other state i know that loves its off white cottons.

as gold prices go up and younger women seek new fashions, the classic handloom pure kasavu is getting more and more difficult to find, exactly as aunty had said. a couple of years ago a friend picked up a pretty one for me with little motifs all across. she said it was done to wear it with a blouse in a deep colour, green or dark blue or red maybe.

on this trip, i bought one for myself from one of the two shops said to have the real thing still. for my daughter i had to get a mundu set of course. as i was leaving the shop, my eyes fell on a silver bordered saree. what’s that? i asked. oh a variation on the theme, this one in silver zaree. bought it instantly. i believe there’s a way of checking if this kasavu is authentic. i am not going to try it. just want to thank my friend’s mother for getting me my first saree from kerala. it still gleams and falls softly, gossamer like.

wrote this one on october 29, 2015

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in 2018, had a chance to wear that kasavu at a wedding in kumarokam. delightful wedding, the bride wanted us to wear south indian traditional for her haldi ceremony... was i going to demur?

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