It's a cloudy day in the West Kameng district of Arunachal Pradesh and a Sherdukpen weaver is weaving a floor mat or a karthok. Fine wool and vivid colours are integral to most Sherdukpen textiles, just as weaving is integral to their lives. In fact, being a skilled weaver is valued in prospective Sherdukpen brides. A little further south in the state of Nagaland, more specifically in the region inhabited by the Chakhesang Naga tribe, a farmer works his field wearing a unique rain-proof palm leaf cloak. Cut to the Garo hills of Meghalaya where garo kil, an indigenous variety of cotton, is grown at an altitude of 500 to 3,000 feet by the local tribes. Lately, cultivation in Khasi and Jaintia hill districts has dwindled due to mining, but the use of this cotton in Garo culture and rituals has persisted, resisting intrusion of synthetic fibres.
These photographs and vignettes, on display at the Indira Gandhi National Centre for the Arts (IGNCA), are a small drop in the sea of information compiled as part of the project 'Threads of Change: Textile Cultures of North East India' by the National Institute of Design (NID) in association with the Janapada Sampada Division of the IGNCA. "We are currently displaying findings from Assam, Arunachal Pradesh, Nagaland and Meghalaya, where information and data have been collected over the past three years," says Romanie Jaitly, project head, NID. The data collection in Mizoram, Sikkim, Manipur and Tripura is part of the second phase of the project, which is under way. "Change is inevitable, so like all crafts in the country, the textile traditions in the North East are also changing, making it imperative to document these traditions now," she adds.
You can see a photograph of smiling Apatani women in Arunachal's Subansiri district, who are adept at the use of the pasu yahoo, or the bamboo needle that is used to stitch the inside of traditional skirts to give strength. In the upper Siang district of Arunachal, marked with deep gorges and aquamarine rivulets, one can find the Adi tribe that traditionally weaves a cotton pile blanket called gaduk. Created out of cotton slivers, the gaduk can act as a blanket as well as a jacket fabric for men. While the other tribes across the region are known for their vivid garments, the Adis keep the gaduk undyed in its natural off-white colour.
Or learn about the simphak, the traditional bark-cloth blankets and mattresses still made by the Garos using material from local trees like phakram. It is a practice that has been kept alive by the tribe's elders. Then there is the interesting textile of the Dimasas of Assam - a section of Kacharis, one of the biggest Assamese races - who use local and natural raw materials. Yellow is used extensively in their garments with emphasis on the Ramai motif which is created using an interlocking technique. These textile traditions don't just serve an ornamental purpose, but also add to the social fabric of the tribes. Like in Khasi villages, the verandah serves as a studio where the women work on their ground looms in natural sunlight. The Ri-Bhoi district of Meghalaya is one of the few places in the North East where such ground looms are still used.
The documentation, which has been compiled in eight volumes and is available at IGNCA, brings out some stark facts about the changing face of traditional textiles in the North East. Loin loom has been used in the region for centuries, giving each state's weave a unique touch. The introduction of motorised looms by the government has made the process of weaving faster, but also homogenised the style of weaves emerging from the state. "Attaching motors to handlooms is a crazy notion. Loin loom has been the basis of the entire textile industry in the region, it lends a khaasiyat to their weaves. Shuttle looms are irrelevant to the tradition. Introducing technology for technology's sake is not progress," says Dr Ashoke Chatterjee, who has had a 25-year-long association with NID as the executive director, senior faculty and distinguished fellow.
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Photographs record the indigenous looms that have been customised by weavers across the region. For instance, Khasi weavers have used a ground loom ever since they can recall, in parts of Arunachal, card weaving is very popular among Monpa women. They use square leather cards known as mongna, measuring up to 7 cm. They bear four holes at the corners to allow the yarn to pass through. The portability of the card-weaving loom allows the weaver to shift as per convenience and work outside with neighbours, thereby making it a social activity. Similarly, women from the Tai Phake tribe in Assam and Arunachal Pradesh work on the backstrap loom, mounted on two bamboo poles and operated with pedals. To replace all these ingenious contraptions with a homogenised motorised loom is akin to spelling doom on the traditional weaves, believe experts. "On a loin loom, it takes a week or two to make a shawl, while a motor loom churns out 10 to 20 of those in that time frame. So this is also reducing the value of the artist who works on the loin loom," says Kohima-based Abokali Sumi, founder of the Organic Nagaland collective of farmers and one of the respondents for this study.
But, acrylic has entered the market in a big way and is now widely substituted for traditional cotton. Motifs too are changing, based on tastes and attitudes. "In Assam the biggest danger is the losing battle of the muga silk. The silkworms are raised on local som trees which are becoming rare due to climate change and deforestation. During my childhood, these trees grew in the backyard. Because of this, muga is becoming very expensive," says AC Bhagabati, sociocultural anthropologist and head of IGNCA's regional centre in the North East.
Another example of changing motifs comes from Nagaland. Traditionally, every clan in the state had its trademark mekhla, and the wrap couldn't be worn by someone from another clan. "These garments are also a means to an identity, as they are indicative of a person's status. For instance, there is a special shawl for a warrior and a wrap which only the chief's daughter can wear," says Sumi. "Red is a prominent colour in the Sumi tribe's garments. In Nagaland, whenever someone wears red, it is said in humour that you must be from the Sumi tribe." Similarly in Arunachal, there is a special garment worn only by the shaman and his assistants. But things are changing. "In Nagaland, there has been a call for greater Nagaland and that has led to the creation of a pan-Nagalese shawl. Most tribes allowed their motifs to come together for this garment," says Bhagabati.
These changes have been recorded with the help of more than 200 volunteers - textile graduates, students, photographers, videographers and historians - formed part of the team. Moon Moon Jetley was part of the team that made many trips across Nagaland. She also travelled to Mizoram and will visit north Sikkim as part of the second phase of the project. "Last October, I went to a place called Silsury (in Mizoram) on the Bangladesh border which is home to the Chakma tribe. There was no road, we had to cut across jungles to reach the village. We didn't just document their textile practices but also tried to understand whether living on the border was a curse or a boon."
Besides field visits by volunteers, anthropologists and socio-cultural experts are also contributing to this project. Says one such expert, Desmond Kharmawphilang, a Shillong-based folklorist and professor at the North Eastern Hill University: "I collect songs and stories from areas where weaving is a thriving tradition. I once went to a particular cluster of villages which saw the destruction of its sacred forest in the 1960s. This event had acquired mythical proportions and I found to my amazement that the narratives were being spun into cloth as well."
The exhibition is on at IGNCA till January 21
