Detail from the pallu of a traditional Patola
“Patan! Why would you even want to go there?” asks a puzzled
friend in Ahmedabad in the winter of 2009. “To check out the11th century Rani
nu Vav stepwell? Or the 100-plus stone Jain temples, built by the Solankis? Or to
buy the cotton-silk mashroo weaves,
created when local Muslims were forbidden to wear real silk by royal diktat?”
I realize I would tick none of the above as a crammed bus
trundles me past Modasa, Mehsana, and Sidhpur to Patan, three hours and 130 km
away. The journey marks a quarter century after I first set eyes on the legendary
Patan patola (from Sanskrit pat or silk) sari I now seek. That was at
‘The Master Weavers’ exhibition at Chennai, a 1984 spinoff from the Festival of
India in the UK.
Why is this fabric invested with mystical, mythical and
healing properties? Why is Patan one of only three global centres of
double-ikat weaving, besides Tenganan (Bali) and Okinawa (Japan)? Woven
from the world’s finest silk, is it the most perfect weave extant?
The historic town on the banks of the Saraswati river was
founded by Vanraj Chavada in 746 AD, and remained the Gujarati capital upto 1411
AD. Three major Rajput clans ruled
from Patan – the Chavadas (746- 942 AD), the Solankis (942-1244 AD) and the Vaghelas
(1244-1304 AD).
At the ‘Patolawala’ centre in Salviwado, Bharat Salvi creates
geometric blooms on a blue sari of Shanghai
silk at a teakwood and bamboo strip loom. A showcase protects another
200-year-old sari in auspicious red. Two walls highlight the National Awards
that this Salvi family has earned over the years – Kantilal Laherchand Salvi
(1978), Chotalal Manilal Salvi (1989), Vinayak Kantilal Salvi (1997), Rohit
Kantilal Salvi (2008).
Brows creased, Vinayak explains to a brash NRI visitor that only
three Patan families today weave this precious fabric. Their backlog of orders,
mainly from well-heeled Mumbai and Ahmedabad families, stretches back six
years. Dignified, he brushes aside her request for preferential treatment, despite
her dollar offer.
An age-old motif on a new Patola sari
“For each patola
sari, we dye the tana (weft) and vana (warp) threads of Chinese silk with
mathematical precision. Only then can we make a double ikat, where both sides
of the sari are equally perfect. The dyeing takes us four to six months,” Vinayak
says. “With three to four assistants, a salvi
or weaver may complete a sari in five to six months, because he can weave only
six to eight inches daily. Single-handed, it would take him a year.”
Mental comparisons surface with the approximate month needed
to weave a basic Kancheepuram silk sari. Or the 45-odd days that Banarasi weavers
in tandem take to create an exclusive wedding sari with real Surat zari for about Rs. 45,000. Both centres
weave with Bangalore
silk.
Two of the young Salvis hold up saris of recent vintage
Tugging at the warp with an iron device, refining the weave
every six inches, Bharat continues the silk odyssey, “The tradition of the
Patan patola began in the 12th
century when a Rajput king, Kumarpal, converted to Jainism. Every day, this
Solanki king wore a fresh patola when
he visited the shrine.”
Barring entry to Kumarpal (1143-1172 AD) one day, the priest
pointed out that the king’s patola was
‘impure,’ suggesting that the ruler of Jalna in south Maharashtra, where it was
woven, had pre-used the fabric as a bedspread. Furious, Kumarpal waged war on
Jalna. Victorious, he brought 700 Salvi craftsmen to Patan to ensure immaculate
patolas for the rest of his reign.
These weaves have traditionally been created of superior silk
imported from China, Japan, Korea
or Brazil
at about Rs. 2,000 per kg. Each sari, its motifs flame-edged, requires at least
600 gm of yarn. Unlike the single ikat with its warp or weft dyed from Kutch, Surat, Sambalpur
(Orissa), and Pochampalli (Andhra Pradesh), such double ikats are rare.
In 1342 AD, legendary Morocco-born traveller Ibn Batuta
gifted patolas to kings whose courts
he visited. French jeweller Jean Baptiste Tavernier noted that these silks – said
to be divine, to lend protection from evil or poor health – were prized as far
as Java, Sumatra, Samarkand, Basra,
Damask and Rome
in the 17th century. Such observations inspired the two 1979 volumes
on ‘The Patola of Gujarat’ by Zurich-based
art historian/ cultural anthropologist Eberhard Fischer and Alfred Buehler.
What of the patola’s
folk-invested qualities? Known as virali
pattu (variegated precious silk) in Malayalam, it decorates a Bhagavati shrine
at Madiya kavu near Payangadi (Kerala). Its motifs distinguish the minbar (pulpit) at the Juma Masjid at
Punnol, near Tellicherry. Frescoes at Kochi’s Mattancheri Palace depict its use in the 16th
century, according to a 1987 monograph by Fischer and Indian artist- folk
researcher Balan Nambiar. They note that in a Kerala folk ballad, the heroic
Tacholi Othenon tore his virali pattu
headcloth to heal his wounded forehead! Mystery shrouds whether the fabric
reached Kerala from Jalna or Patan, though.
Legends apart, by 2010 the simplest patola sari, dyed synthetically, costs over Rs. 1 lakh. More complex
natural dye weaves, revived over the past 20 years, soar to Rs. 4 lakh. This
Salvi family weaves four to five saris annually. But that signifies little when
a true patola can last over 300
years, its colours unfading.
Cued into the legacy of their Patan patola, Vinayak’s family recently acquired a plot of land en route
to Rani nu Vav. Within four years, it will house a museum, enshrining priceless
patolas from the family collection. A
seldom-shared document will form part of their display – a hand-drawn album
outlining the tradition, presented by the late Manilal to the 1939 Congress
session, presided over by Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose.
Proudly, Vinayak shares a Rs. 5 postal stamp commemorating their
textile, issued when the Indian President honoured him as a shilp guru in 2002. His nephews Rohit
and Rahul, proud of their lineage, hold up a square chaupat, teeming with imaginary parrots, tigers, and elephants. Their
life’s mission begins at home.
Are these untold stories about a legendary weave worth
recounting? Is such an heirloom worth possessing? Without a doubt. My
pilgrimage to Patan reaffirmed that, as I explained to my friend in Ahmedabad
on my return.
(Originally published in The Hindu Business Line in March 2010.)
No comments:
Post a Comment