Textiles: Vimor saris ~ where classic is contemporary

Chimy Nanjappa at Vimor

(This article was written in 2003)


"LOOK AT this antique pooja sari," says Pavithra Muddaya, holding up a rich red silken length. "Unlike the popular ones today, its orange checks are ikkat or woven tie-and-dye, so are the white butas within each. Working with Tamil weavers over the past 28 years, we've taught them to create the butas with a single strand of silk, so that they don't have to combine local weaves with ikkat from a different region. The result is two silk versions and one in cotton that the market can afford, and that sustains the weaver community."

Pavithra should know, as she holds up a more contemporary avatar of the classic pooja sari, distinguished by its wavy white mailikanne or peacock's eyes border. She's grown up with natural fibre weaves ever since her mother Chimy Nanjappa set up Vimor (that's Indonesian for "pure") at their inconspicuous home in Bangalore’s Victoria Layout in 1974.

"I used to sell saris on my trips abroad. So, the idea came to me: if I can sell to a foreigner, I can sell here too," reflects Chimy, a former general manager at Bangalore's Mysore Arts and Crafts Emporium, often assigned overseas by the Handicrafts and Handlooms Export Corporation (HHEC). Initially, she travelled to small south Indian weavers, and coaxed the local Weaver's Service Centre (WSC) to replicate her exquisite collection of temple saris. In time, Vimor's clientele grew to include Indira Gandhi, Sonia Gandhi, Begum Fakhruddin Ali Ahmed, Pupul Jayakar, and Shabani Azmi.

But big name clientele means little to either Chimy or Pavithra. For Vimor's reputation has grown by word of mouth, instead of advertising. Why? Probably because the experience of shopping off a large bed, picking saris out of cupboards, makes you feel completely at home. It's comparable only to diving headfirst into your grandmother's sari cupboard, and emerging full of wonder over every singular weave.

For the timeless saris at Vimor, adapted to the skills and resources of today's weaving community, speak subtly of history and geography. Through the gandaberunda or double-headed eagle that was the Mysore royal insignia, or the mythical annapakshi that recalls Tamil lore. Through the procession of elephants on a pooja sari pallu that evokes a Mysore Dussehra or temple friezes at Belur, through untold stories of legendary weavers' guilds in mailikanne or mokalmoru weaves against shimmering grounds sumptuous as peacock feathers or dusky skies. Through a Manipuri pallu that turns up in a Karnataka sari, signaling peregrinations of style. Through an antique magenta sari enlivened with butas of bi-planes, vintage cars, and gramophones.

Vimor's success links intrinsically into a second generation of both buyers and weavers today. Buyers who know they will not find an eyesore among its woven treasures, priced between Rs. 350 and Rs. 14,000. And weavers from the Kancheepuram belt, from Raidurga in Karnataka who trust the outlet for, as Chimy says: "We're here to encourage the weavers, to help them come up in life."

How? Sharing her mother's stunning yellow-checked black cotton sari with red and ochre Ganga-Jamuna borders, Pavithra points out: "It's so easy to keep antique pieces in the cupboard, to bring them out to exclaim over every few days. But we have to give something back to society." So, she's shown the Raidurga weavers how to create a heavy cotton, minimal-care black sari with yellow woven borders and a contrasting pallu. An office-goer can afford it for everyday wear. And the weavers have learnt to innovate from its colour and design palette, instead of merely replicating an old sari.

Take the case of the original temple cotton sari, which has flooded the market in its Chettinadu avatar. Simplifying the concept of a checked or striped ground with contrasting big borders, Vimor taught weavers in Salem, Kancheepuram, and Andhra Pradesh to adapt the sari with a single shuttle, instead of three. This cut weaving costs, sustaining whole villages, and ensuring that the elegant sari survived. On a parallel track, weavers in Durgam and Arni learnt to weave lightweight silk saris on a single shuttle in stunning combinations such as rust shot with golden yellow and green, promising personality-plus at Rs. 1,500 to woman executives tired of look-alike power dressing.

Instead of monopolising traditional weaves or patenting their own innovations, Vimor has ensured that lakhs of weavers live with dignity. "I've tried to impart that multiples of one or two beautiful saris should sustain and feed their families," Pavithra stresses. "That sets the weaver free to experiment for the home market and for export. But most important, it builds up his self-confidence." For award-winning C. Shekhar, a towel weaver, she conceptualised a deep blue cotton sari with a silk pallu, interfaced with jute, banana or pineapple fibre interweaves from his export surplus stocks.

Pavithra, who trained at the local WSC while studying law, shares warm memories from Vimor's times past. Of taking their rich cottons to Kamaladevi Chattopadhyaya, the late doyenne of the post-independence Indian crafts renaissance, who lauded their documentation of kasuti stitches on a red cotton sari sampler. Of Jnanapith awardee U.R. Ananthamurthy's comment in the 2002 National Handloom Expo visitor's book, comparing their revival of weaving traditions to a resurgence of music. Of an Andhra weaver who waited hours for "Chimy amma" to bless his wedded daughter, despite a delayed train at Katpadi junction.

Together, they share the story of a Tamil weaving family ruined by an avaricious son. He collected orders that they were unable to execute, plunging them into insurmountable debt. The skilled father is currently a daily wage earner at his nephew's loom. "The weaver's pride is of paramount importance in our polycot age," says Pavithra earnestly. Weavers like Shekhar, Balasubramaniam, and Rajendran, whose lives they have touched, could not agree more.

What makes Vimor's buyers return time and again? "Good aesthetics and minimal costs appeal to common people and the sophisticate alike," notes Pavithra, as she folds a divine brinjal-hued Kancheepuram silk with golden checks, vivid against a deep green border with two streaks of patterned gold.

(The Hindu Metroplus, 2003)

Textiles: Neeru Kumar ~ creating a contemporary weft

IN Neeru Kumar's world, experimentation is integral to the warp of her life. As a Delhi-based textile designer deeply rooted in contemporising the craft tradition. As a 1980 National Institute of Design graduate, who's passionate about weaving. As a path breaker in showcasing Indian fabrics under her own label at 60 stores across 15 countries, including Selfridge's in London, Bloomingdale's in New York, and Le Bon Marche in Paris. Or as a consultant to the Indian Development Commissioner for Handlooms.

Reaching out beyond Delhi and Mumbai, she launched a Bangalore store on Vittal Mallya Road in January 2005. It offers cues to her core values. Through contrasting black geometric patterns woven into a textured tussar throw, the original Neeru imprint on the global textile retina. Through Banjara embroidered panels transformed into oblong silken cushions. Through fine khadi transmuted through shaded weaves into easy-maintenance office wear. Through jamdani and ikat weaves in an international palette that handlooms fresh directions. Most exquisitely, through old bandhej, Paithani or ikat heirlooms recreated as jewel-bright stoles revived through fine kantha quilting.

What intricacies shuttle through 48-year-old Neeru's creativity, against the backdrop of an international buzz about Indian textiles? Her commitment is to the sustained livelihood of practitioners, such as over 400 kantha embroiderers in rural Bengal, who add subtlety to her home range and garments. And over 700 weavers who contribute to her label.

Neeru recalls, holding up her tussar-based throw in Bangalore, "At the time when I created this in 1989, everybody wanted it. Its universal appeal fitted into American, British, European, even Japanese interiors. I got entry into the world's best stores. The First Design, as I called it, was the breakthrough in my life. It was copied in every corner of the country, though I did have it registered."


Other threads gradually interwove into the weft of her designs. Such as the jamdani weavers brought to her buzzing studio in Delhi. Her reinterpretation? Perhaps graded stripes on a green-grey silk-meshed sari melding into the pallav, with a burnt orange border. A European palette merging perfectly into an Indian textile. "This is a very contemporary colour," smiles Neeru, about her five-year-old jamdani project. "How an angrez would probably do it."

Of her engagement with weaving, Neeru reiterates, "To me, it's important to get what I want. To get the weavers to my studio, where the design and weaving are controlled. We can learn from them. Why don't some ideas work? But without a passion for textiles, all this would not be possible."

Neeru emphasises, "You cannot design textiles with the computer. You need to feel the material, to explore, be with the weaver. I'm a hands-on person. During your explorations, you might come across something stunning by accident. You have to be able to recognise its beauty."

Whether experimenting with Orissa ikats, Paithanis or Kutchi bandhini, tussar or khadi, she stresses, "Once you start learning about the material and its possibilities, you keep working on it all the time. You have to sustain the activity. And ensure the quality of both design and production."


Referring to post-independence Indian textile revival pioneers like Kamaladevi Chattopadhyaya or Prabha Shah of Sohan, she explains, "To us, they were like goddesses. Now, though all the traditional weaves, styles and colour are there, we have to take them forward. Revive them, create new awareness, give them new energy to sustain our skills. Recently, when I travelled to Orissa, it was heartening to see the villagers still wearing their ikat saris."


Beyond her clientele, which includes Sonia Gandhi, Rekha, Shabana Azmi, and Arundhati Roy, Neeru's skeins engage with the grassroots. "I've been involved with educating the craftsperson, keeping their traditions alive. I love buying old textiles, which have no jaan in them, though not antiques. Because I had access to kantha workers, I thought that was one way to save my old textiles, while creating new ones," she narrates.

Extending the story, Neeru recalls, "Ten years ago, a man brought me some kantha pieces. I gave him a tussar sample to work on. Three months later, he brought back a synthetic version of the tussar silk. He'd done all that work on it! But when I explained, he returned with plain, beautiful quilting. And my first customer was (film director) Mira Nair."

What of her interface with Tokyo's Kaori and Chiaki Maki, the famed Weaving Sisters? "I met them in 1990 through my First Design," the soft-spoken artist-weaver says. "Chiaki saw it at an exhibition and came to me. She insists my Delhi studio is the best place in the world for any textile designer to work. We work with silk, linen, wool, the finest cottons. We do embroidery and stitching. Over five years, we explored so many weaves and materials together for a contemporary look, basically home furnishings and shawls."

In the public eye, Neeru's image is inextricably linked to khadi. "While working on tussar, I felt the need to do something that was basic, beautiful, textured. That's when a khadi fellow walked in. We made five sample bedcovers. They all went, even in the international market. Then, we began working on lightweight contemporary kurtas that had an attractive play of colour and were washing machine friendly. An Indian, French or Japanese person could wear it with equal ease."

Amidst a sunburst of oranges, crimsons, reds, pinks as wearable or usable textiles, Neeru concludes, "Till five years ago, there was so much happening. Now, suddenly I feel too little is being done to save our textile skills. We need to create and to market with new energy... If we don't, ikat weavers may be forced to till the land."