Hanging by a thread

Weavers of the famous Pochampally saris face a grim future.

Young men of the Padmashali community around Pochampally in the Telengana heartland face a peculiar problem these days — it’s not easy to find a suitable bride. They are the traditional weavers of the famous ikat saris and fabric. But in fast-growing India, they feel left behind. “The community is regarded as backward and parents are not willing to marry their daughters to weavers due to financial instability,” says a weaver. Fragile health completes the bleak picture — most weavers suffer back pain, stiffness in muscles and weak eyesight. Many youngsters now prefer to work in neighbouring Hyderabad as factory hands and security guards than ply the trade of their forefathers.

Pochampally is located about 50 km from Hyderabad on the road to Vijayawada in Nalgonda district. This is where Vinoba Bhave started his Bhoodan movement in 1951, persuading rich landlords to donate surplus land to small farmers and the landless. This is also the home of the ikat sari, made famous by elegantly-dressed Sonia Gandhi, Sheila Dikshit, Shabana Azmi and Aparna Sen.

Ikat is the process of “resist dyeing” sections of bundled yarn to a predetermined colour. It is called resist dyeing because sections of the yarn are kept safe from colours with the use of resistors like wax or discarded bicycle tubes. Thus, the design is done before the yarn is woven into the fabric. The technique is used in other countries as well — Argentina and Bolivia is South America, Uzbekistan in Central Asia and The Philippines, Indonesia and Japan in the Far East —, but nowhere is it as famous as in Pochampally. Pochampally ikat got a geographical indicator (like Darjeeling tea, Kullu shawl, Mysore silk etc) in 2005. Some experts see commonality between Pochampally ikat and the bandhini work of Gujarat. The difference is that the designs in Gujarat are done on the fabric after weaving.

Ikat is done in 70 villages in and around Pochampally by Padmashali men and women on handlooms. Their numbers are down to 3,000 to 4,000 from over 10,000 a few years ago. “There is no guarantee of fixed earnings. For 9 to 10 hours of work every day, we get paid Rs 120 to 150 per day or Rs 500 per sari,” says 58-year old Narayan who came here from Solapur in Maharashtra in 1981 in the hope of earning a livelihood. This is not different from what workers get in the government’s National Rural Employment Guarantee Scheme. Narayan wants his grandson to have a better future and is, therefore, sending him to school. “I never wanted my son to do weaving. But since colleges were far from the village, he couldn’t study to get a decent job,” he says. Narayan and his wife work at their own looms and together earn Rs 7,000 a month.

Powerlooms have made matters worse for the Padmashali craftsmen. A weaver takes seven to eight days on his handloom to make a silk sari and five days to make a cotton sari; a powerloom does the work in just two or three days. Powerlooms are now responsible for 40 per cent of the production in Pochampally, up from zero a few years ago, says Sarvamangali Chavali, the owner of Anagha, an ikat sari boutique at Hyderabad. “I prefer to retain the touch of the traditional ikat work,” says Chavali who has employed seven weavers from Choutuppal, Puttapakka and Koyyalagudam villages to produce customised designs for her.

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In 2008, Y S Rajasekhara Reddy, the then chief minister, initiated the Pochampally Handloom Park to help weavers earn better. The central government built it under the Incredible India campaign. Spread over 24 acres, it can accommodate up to 2,000 looms and 5,000 artisans and produces 4 million metres of sari, dress material and home furnishing in a year. At the moment, some 280 weavers from 30 to 35 surrounding villages work here. Madhusudan, 37, who used to work on his loom and earn Rs 3,000 to 4,000 per month, says he has found financial stability after joining the park in 2009 .

“Earlier, weaving was labour intensive and mostly done on the streets. Disturbances from air, rain and cattle led to uncertainty in output. Moreover, weavers worked on limited colours, did traditional designs and failed to create demand,” says H K Chari, the park’s chief executive. The park is helping weavers experiment with colour, design and products with value-additions in motifs, embroidery and beadwork at the in-house research centre. Chari says so far about 800 designs have been developed across categories.

“Designs by most local weavers were outdated and most products did not match international standards. The park brings innovation in ikat by doing a lot of market research on the current trend and consumer taste,” Chari says. It has roped in Mumbai-based designer Chelna Desai to assist on designing and has tied up with shopping malls, art galleries and retail stores, including Shoppers Stop, Fabindia and Taj Hotels. Still, admits park in-charge Govardhan, though the park has a capacity to hold 5,000 artisans, only 280 people work at present. Of the 500 looms installed, only 130 are operational.

The park makes home furnishing products targeting high-end customers, whereas the local weavers are confined to saris and dress materials. “The park is not competing with the traditional weavers. We target the high-end market and value-added market,” says park chairman Chikka Krishna. About 60 per cent of what is produced at the park is exported to Spain, Italy, USA, Japan, Malaysia, Thailand, Indonesia, and other European and Asian markets.

Retailers think the park is a good idea. “Production does not match the demand which is increasing by the year, mainly from international buyers,” says Sridhar K of Pochampally.com, an online retailer which has 5,000 direct customers, 90 per cent of whom are based abroad in the US.

The hold of the Padmashalis over the ikat trade has weakened and other communities have moved in to fill the gap. The park has till now 70 people from other communities. This is a societal change that the high-profile patrons of ikat may want to know.