Chikankari - A Choreography of Stitches

Recently, I spent five days in Lucknow two of which were taken up with travel and sightseeing. The other three, I spent at Mamta Varma’s atelier in the heart of Chowk. Buzzing with life on the outside, the inner sanctum was imbued with her quiet spirit and resilience. The work she creates is outstanding. They’re precious evocations of an ancient art. When you see the fineness of Bhairavi’s Chikankari, nothing else matches up. I couldn’t afford those luxury prices but I was happy to see someone making hand crafting a luxury.

On the way to Lucknow Junction Station, to catch our train back to Delhi, we had some time to kill and went to Hazratganj market to check out what else the market had to offer. Shalini couldn’t bring herself to buy the coarser version of chikan at otter high end chikankari shops. Threads sticking out at the back. Embroidery that wasn’t done with love and passion but for rozi. 

What I’d managed after just three days of learning actually seemed better than the chikankari we had seen.  I couldn’t believe that the ends hadn’t been worked into the embroidery as Nasreen had diligently imposed upon us during our training sessions.  She was particular about the direction of the needle, the direction of the frame, the tension of fabric and thread. The number of strands needed for which kind of stitch and more. Things that cannot be spelt out but must be observed. 

She shared stories of how she came to learn chikankari. Where her teacher, designated by the government to impart the skill to women, wouldn’t teach her everything she wanted to learn. Determined as she was, she found a way around it. Her teacher had lice. Under the guise of looking for them in her hair, standing behind the woman, Nasreen had a great vantage point to study the then forbidden jaali stitches - her speciality today. 

Seated on the floor, each taking a backrest against the wall or steel almirahs, eyes cast on the tiny frame covered with stitched together scraps of fabric for a grip to hold and stretch the fabric to be embroidered. Fingers nimble, manipulated needle and thread with an easy dexterity. Just looking you’d think it was simple enough. But, sitting amongst them, I felt almost foolish to imagine I could actually learn enough. 

Perhaps, I didn’t master any of them. Maybe I can’t learn the entire repertoire of 32 stitches. But, what I did learn was that chikankari is not just about a stitch or even 32, it’s the art of deciding which stitch will go where. Bakhiya with hatkati, with ghas patti, bijli, phanda, tepchi-pechni and jaali, but it’s the configuration of these stitches that really creates the masterpiece. As also the skill of working with them. 

I also had the privilege of seeing Mamta and Paola work together with the block printer Aleem. Watching the meticulous, patient decision making of what block to place where. Some blocks were no more than 3/4”. The block printers chaapon the fabric with Neel. The blocks for chikankari are different to the blocks for printing fabric. They’re designed to keep space for the jaali and bakhiya, in as much as space for hathkati amid the printed lines. In many ways watching the process unfold was like observing fabric being woven. You’re never quite sure when threads floating mid air through heddles become the fabric on the loom. The women create their magic by consensus among themselves with Mamta, Paola and others and each piece is a labour of love. 

Squatting on the floor chowkri-maar, albeit awkwardly because one knee isn’t as strong as the other, pouring over the frame, focussed upon Nasreen’s fingers as she manipulated needle, thread and fabric. I felt a deep sense of camaraderie with these women. It was as if they were my tribe. They understood my calloused fingers, they relished my tools, loved them as I do. They understood the song of needle pulling  thread. And, like me, they experienced the sukoon of repeated movements of stitch. They knew the discipline of battling knots. They knew the impact of needle and thread on their psyche. But, above all, they were grateful to leave their burkhas on the wall hooks and be free among their brethren. Koi kisi ki naani, koi cousin, some betrothed waiting to be married. Some with families and spouses they loved and wished to have for seven lifetimes. Others abused, divorced and single mothers. There were stories in each pair of eyes. And that was all one saw when they left for the day when burkhas and hijabs covering everything else. 

Who’s to Blame….Whose Fault is it…..

May the tide

never tire of its tender toil

how over and over

it forgives the Moon

the daily exile

and returns to turn

mountains into sand

         as if to say,

you too can have

this homecoming

you too possess

this elemental power

of turning

the stone in the heart. into golden dust. 

                                     

(Forgiveness) by Maria Popova

Patterns fascinate me. I’ve been studying patterns in myself. I found them difficult to contend with, find forgiveness, acceptance and leave behind regret and shame. Years of therapy helped, but not nearly enough. It was my walks along the sea shore, looking at nature in its myriad patterns that solace started emerging. 

Nature is renowned for her exquisite patterns and living by the Arabian sea, I have been spoiled by those created by water, wind, crabs, sand, leaves and the sky. I’ve been particularly mesmerised by the patterns that water creates. Or, rather co-creates, wherein the resultant pattern that the eyes see is the consequence of multiple layers of water, over sand, rippled by water and wind, and water rippled by incoming and out going tides and/or the wind, as also the sun glinting on these ripples. It’s a marvellous experience to see this unfold and I never tire of it. 

My training as a textile designer, means that I have created numerous patterns over the years. I recall my early years of learning -  one of our assignments was to dissect a bhindi (okra),  draw it, the repeat it in pre-set ways.

The Art Nouveau patterns with their sensuous lines and mirrored repeats have been another favourite. However, all these years of making patterns, looking at fabrics with patterns, has probably sensitised me to finding them everywhere. 

The patterns I’ve seen at the banks of rivers and the sea shore can be complex in their layers, such that they become evocative of the patterns of our psyche which emerge in similar manners. 

As human beings, we are co-created in layers. By people who themselves are layers of history, politics, familial and cultural traditions and conditioning, technology and so much more. It’s impossible to visualise them, much less find any sense of awe and fascination in them. Particularly in contemporary times, when scientific analysis creates a kind of judgement, even if it’s not intended. Psychology labels these patterns and traits creating scope for judgement rather than acceptance and forgiveness. 

For instance, if you have/had a narcissist parent, you have developed patterns of coping that may habituate you to accepting abuse as familiar and even attractive (however weird and foolish it may sound) This leads one to create more and more painful experiences. Some may recall the Stockholm syndrome, which is not that different. When you realise the reasons for manifesting this and other patterns, there’s judgement of both parent and self. Acceptance that it’s just another facet of being, in the larger canvas of life, could take a life-time of therapy, if that. 

Earlier, before CBT and other kinds of psychotherapy became popular and were deemed necessary, it was all put down to karma. Cause and effect, which it is. There’s not much one can do about the patterns that life generates within us, knowing what caused it quells some of the anxiety perhaps, but visually perceiving the tantalising effects of the patterns co-created at the river banks and sea-shore provide a very powerful tool for finding beauty where otherwise one is inclined to blame, shame and self hate. 

We need to find forgiveness for ourselves and others. Taking photographs isn’t enough to move beyond the negative feelings and connotations that have been imprinted on the mind, leading to feelings that self-destruct, so I decided to try and re-create the patterns I witnessed the manifestation of, at the river bank.

I had some photographs sand ripples and patterns digitally printed onto cotton fabrics. This provides the bottom-most layer. I then drew out warp and weft threads from a black and gold tissue fabric. Initially I had intended to just reduce the ends per inch to make it supple. But, the weft was plastic thread covered with gold metal and it didn’t lend itself well to being tweezed out of the fabric. I then started to pull the gold threads together, creating dense woven threads amid a loose weave left by moving the weft threads. They formed ripples and I loved the effect. I later did the same drawn thread processes with the aquamarine and silver tissue fabric and white silk organza. 

I haven’t covered the entire base fabric equally. The layers are replicating the colours of the bank of the River Chapora in Morjhim, Goa. 

The top layer is fine silk organza. It creates a layer that is transparent and holds all the others together. 

I’ve printed the photograph so that I can trace the dappled light and create a template for embroidery. I’m not sure whether to embroider the organza extraneous to the rest of the layers and then add more stitches later to bind them together, so do the needle work with all the layers, picking up some with the embroidery thread, but just minimally, to keep it light and evanescent. 

I’m thinking of the latter for it’s more organic, albeit more complex too. The thread will be stranded cotton and some metallic threads in gold and silver. The Split stitch seems just perfect for this. All in all a tall order, but I’m super excited. 

An inspiring passage by Nick Cave is what I’m hoping to meditate upon as I stitch, recreate the water dappled with sunlight, the sand ripples adding the dark backdrop for perfect reflection on the water’s surface. Where he  shares that “- In a way my work has become an explicit rejection of cynicism and negativity. I simply have no time for it. I mean that quite literally, and from a personal perspective. No time for censure or relentless condemnation. No time for the whole cycle of perpetual blame. Others can do that sort of thing. I haven’t the stomach for it, or the time. Life is too damn short, in my opinion, not to be awed……We all have regrets and most of us know that those regrets, as excruciating as they can be, are the things that help us lead improved lives. Or, rather, there are certain regrets that, as they emerge, can accompany us on the incremental bettering of our lives. Regrets are forever floating to the surface… They require our attention. You have to do something with them. One way is to seek forgiveness by making what might be called living amends, by using whatever gifts you may have in order to help rehabilitate the world. - Nick Cave

Stitching is meditative. It’s expressive and the layers, the photographs add such a sense of beauty to this process, that one hopes, it will re-habilitate me and you.