You enter into the silk sari section of that air-conditioned textile shop, with a contended smile on your lips for having stepped inside the shade escaping the wrenches of the Sun at last. You are very pleased with yourself for managing to reach the intended floor as it seemed a very long journey for you to make yourself walk from the car to the crowded shop, cramp yourself into the already crowded lift and to land in the actual floor. “Oooh! What a climate” You exasperate! In those days it was not this hot! We used to climb the stairs in no time. “You seem to say this much to yourself than to your neighbor, who nods in acceptance.
You ignore the tampering shop assistants who seem to be excited on your arrival (or at least on the outset). You start scanning the clothes yourself. The racks in the shop are laden with rows and rows of attractive materials, from sheer chiffon saris to shimmering silk saris of colors which are beyond your imagination. The clothes were glimmering with fascinating patterns, and jubilant designs. Having scanned the shop for more than two hours you end up with half a dozen saris to choose from. Here is where the ignored shop assisstant steps in giving you his expert opinion. You rely on him to provide you with a conclusion of which suits you better, the blue one with a dancing peacock craning its beautiful neck or that realistic mango pattern sari in the sunset orange color. The assistant convinces you that both are really fantastic on you and finally you buy both the saris convinced that you deserved them both.
This may be an ordinary event happening in everybody’s life. But we hardly give a second thought on how those saris ended up with us. Not many of us would have ever wondered the hard work and turmoil which the weavers would have undergone to make the saris? We seem to have the habit of taking things for granted. Since its available it doesn’t mean that we can exploit it.
Owing to the extreme temperatures on the sub-continent, sari fills a practical role as well as a decorative one. It warms in winter and cools in summer. A look into the lives of these struggling weavers may change our perspective on these otherwise simple saris.
So, how this silk is made? We simply answer it as Sericulture. But sericulture or the production of cocoons required for the filament is just the initial step. Silk, a natural protein fiber, is obtained from the cocoons of the larvae of Mulberry silkworm. Farmers or Sericulturist raise these silk moths under tightly controlled conditions. The silk worm begins life as an egg, and then becomes a silk worm, pupa and, finally, a moth. The silkworm, when ready to become a pupa, secretes a protein-like substance through its head to form the cocoon. Some silkworms are allowed to become moths to propagate the species but most are harvested in this stage to be used in silk production.
Farmers deliver the cocoons to special factories called filatures. This is where cocoons are turned into silk threads through a four-step process. The cocoons are first sorted by color, size, shape and texture. Then the sericin or silk gum holding the cocoon's filaments together is softened by alternating hot and cold immersions. Next, the silk filaments are unwound and, because individual filaments are too fine for commercial production, several strands are reeled together, are at the artistic hands of the weavers to give life to these threads with their exemplary designs. There are exotic varieties of birds, animals, deities and natural patterns to be brought from imagination to realistic world. But the irony of their life is life itself. The lives of these artisans are not that artistic.
They generally come from the working class communities apart from the merchants, most of them working at daily wages, with no security to their future. They pawn their own lives for very small amounts and make a life imprisonment of their kinship. If the father dies without fulfillment of the bond, the tradition continues with the son.
Many riots broke out among the people demanding rise in wages. But they were suppressed in one way or the other by their masters. Either they were convinced of high wages or threatened that they would be bringing workers from other places to replace them, in both case the merchants were benefitted. Many weavers working under private managements are bonded laborers. They beat the warp rhythmically for hours together in dingy rooms, hoping against hope to see light at the end of the tunnel. But truth dawns very lately on them that the tunnel is a never ending one. Mere appreciation of this artistic excellence is not enough. It needs a valiant heart to praise and value these artisans along with their artistic exquisite.
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