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. 

Mending Beyond Fabric, Rafooghar -The House That Mends, Guest Post - Pooja Dhingra

In a country where the marginalized are often swept out of sight or rendered invisible in the name of beautification while hosting global events, beauty is rarely extended to them, depriving them of basic necessities, greenery, and dignity. Women in these neighborhoods suffer the most and are often denied spaces to rest, find joy, and express themselves freely.

Yet, in a small room tucked away in one of New Delhi’s most disadvantaged neighborhoods, women have found a place of sukoon (peace), fursat (leisure), masti (fun), and made it beautiful with their presence, stories and embroidered works that decorate every nook and corner of this space.

 Rafooghar- the community space decorated with women’s powerful stitched artworks. 

Rafooghar گھر, was set up by Compassion Contagion in collaboration with Yellow Streets and Artreach India, so that for a few hours every Sunday, women who have faced discrimination and social exclusion and are marginalized on the basis of their caste, class, religion and gender, could leave behind the demands of cooking, cleaning, caretaking to rest and to reclaim a bit of themselves by sitting and stitching together.

Photograph by Harmeet Basur

                                               

Some of the women, mostly homemakers, come from the overcrowded, tiny lanes of  Shaheen Bagh- a small, nondescript locality in Delhi that gained international attention for the historic protests led by Muslim women against a discriminatory citizenship law. Others who work as domestic workers or day wagers hail from the makeshift shanties in Jasola and Madanpur Khadar, areas populated by families who moved to the city in search of better opportunities but found themselves in precarious living conditions.

Women from these communities are always engaged in labor, both physical and emotional, with little time for self-care. They are always expected to be productive, juggling multiple tasks at all times. In the initial days, many women found it challenging to take out even an hour to spend at the space. Some women would bring their children along because raising children remains largely a mother’s responsibility; while others would abruptly be called back home by family duties, unexpected guests, or their employers’ demands.

"All I want is some moments of peace" - Gulafsha

An embroidered artwork by Gulafsha who just wants some peace and free time. Her idea of ‘sukoon’ is tucking her four children and husband in bed before embarking on a solo adventure in her husband's auto. She fondly recalls another special  and peaceful moment when they stood together under an umbrella in the rain.

The only reason they get ‘permission’ to come here is because it's just for Silai (stitching)- an acceptable, non-threatening activity, fitting neatly within traditional gender roles.  

Movement based ice breaking session facilitated by Artreach India

But here in this space, stitching is not just a chore or a means of livelihood; it’s a tool for women to express themselves, feel heard, and valued. 

Rafooghar draws its inspiration from the word Rafoogar—a traditional Indian master darner or cloth mender. Rafoogars are not just skilled artisans who invisibly repair damaged garments; they are also healers who breathe new life into these torn fabrics. In the same spirit, Rafooghar—The House that Mends—is a space where women gather to share their stories, release their emotions; repair their emotional wounds;  restore their broken selves and relationships; rejuvenate and resist the erasure of their identities through the mediums of stitching and textiles.

women from Jasola and Shaheen Bagh sitting together and stitching 'Love Lihaaf' - a community 
quilt made by  piecing together individual narratives of everyone

Stitching facilitates a new form of freedom because this non-verbal medium allows women to stitch what they can’t express with words. Stories of daily struggles and injustices; of oppression and liberation;  of unfulfilled dreams and harsh realities; of childhood memories and the burdens of adult responsibilities; of fleeting moments of joy amidst abuse and violence; of sorrow, pain, grief, longing, rage and resistance - are all voiced fearlessly on the fabric

“I spend a lot of time at home. I love looking at flying planes from my terrace".-Shahista

My life is full of problems. Everyone says I cry a lot. I have shown myself
crying in my portrait but look I have filled a river with my tears, it’s now
full of fish and a tree has grown too!- Billo Photograph by Hansika Sharma

In marginalized communities, often, the mental well-being of women goes unnoticed-even by the women themselves. There is frequently a lack of vocabulary to articulate their mental health concerns, and therapy is often unaffordable and inaccessible. The slow and repetitive process of stitching offers a space for self-reflection and therapeutic benefits. Stitching, combined with other interventions, has been shown to reduce anxiety, depression, and PTSD symptoms,  particularly in the context of trauma related to gender-based violence. Practicing stitching collectively provides an opportunity to build bonds and create a culture of care.

         Haal Khayal Module -  Mark making for Mental well-being facilitated by Ahmedabad-based                  textile artist-Hansika Sharma

Our modules are, therefore, thoughtfully designed to promote mental well-being while delving deeper into themes of identity, agency, and mobility. Created in collaboration with Artreach India, art therapists, educators, our community contact Yusra Khan from Yellow Streets, and the women of Rafooghar, each session focuses on the issues and needs of the community women. We begin with movement and theatre-based ice-breakers, followed by art warm-ups and stitching prompts centered around a theme. Sessions conclude with a sharing circle to spark conversations and discussions around the stitched stories, as well as to address challenging issues. 

Meri Zindagi ka Naksha: an embroidered activity template that aids 
participants to reflect on  their past, recognise how it has impacted and
where they are in life currently and what they want in the future .
Embroidery by Usha Dhingra

                       

The process of sitting, sharing and stitching together has led to a strong sense of sisterhood among the women. They bond over similar experiences in spite of their differences and find support and courage to take action against shared injustices. For e.g, when one woman’s children were denied their right to a mid-day meal in school, she shared her story with others at Rafooghar during a session. The encouragement, support and advice she received from her fellow participants gave her the courage to go to the school and demand what was rightfully due to her children. In another instance, when a woman from Jasola was beaten by her in-laws, the women from Shaheen Bagh went to confront her in-laws, showing their collective strength and support.

This space and community support also encourages several of them to break their silence, seek help, and take steps towards healing and justice. A fifteen year old girl, after three years of domestic abuse, finally found the courage to file an F.I.R against her husband and her in-laws.

Rafooghar participants with ‘‘Umeed ka karavaan’- the travelling quilt of hopes and dreams.

Rafooghar is only a year old, yet it has already brought about significant changes in the community, simply by giving women a place to rest and the creative outlet of stitching. Women who once hurried to leave now stay for hours, even after the sessions end. They have also started leaving their kids at home with husbands taking care of them as well as some household chores, a significant change since they previously had no break from childcare responsibilities. The right to rest has allowed these women to recharge, reflect, and reinvent themselves.

It’s been a packed year for them ever since their first community exhibition Daastaan-e-Rafoo: Stories in Stitches. They've showcased their work at major events like the India Art Fair and the 19th Asian Women’s Film Festival, taking on new roles by assisting in workshops and exhibitions. Some have even represented Rafooghar internationally at the Participatory Design Conference in Malaysia, and others will soon be traveling to Thailand for the AWID Forum. They have just started a study group to teach themselves English and are now dreaming of bigger things to rewrite their destinies.

Rafooghar participants with "Umeed ka Karavaan" - the travelling quilt of hopes and dreams

Rafooghar may have started as a modest space for rest and leisure, but it has grown into a powerful place for quiet resistance and transformation. In a world that often pushes the marginalized to the edges, the women of Rafooghar are finding their voices, forming new friendships, and  reclaiming space. Each stitch is an act of defiance against invisibility, a declaration that their stories matter.

Daastan--Rafoo: Stories in Stitches at the 19th Asian Women's
Film Festival. Photograph by Antasa Vairagya

Pooja Dhingra is an independent conceptualiser, art director and graphic designer. She is the founder of Compassion Contagion, an online archive that has been documenting acts of compassion, hope and resilience through art. She spends her Sundays at Rafooghar (the house that mends), a community space where women who live on the margins and face social exclusion gather for sukoon (peace) and (fursat), share and stitch their stories and lived experiences on fabric.

Pooja's personal work revolves around waste management, sustainability, and addressing the patriarchy through humor and satire.

What’s In A Mess

My studio has overtaken my home. It’s a mess. I usually hate the messiness, but something shifted in these last few weeks. Making me realise it was actually useful.

It looked messy on the outside, but I felt really comfortable within it - sitting on the sofa, with all my threads around me in clear plastic bags, allowing me to see them. The threads did entangle and at times, around me too. Catching in my toes, around my ankles and legs. Trying to get up in a hurry to answer the doorbell or go to the loo was often a rather strangulating process. Sometimes a sneaky ball of yarn would roll under the sofa and once I realised that, I’d pull and pull the thread until I caught sight of the ball, pick it up and place it somewhere it couldn’t create more of a mess. But yarns when unravelled and snuggled together in close confines, will tangle and twist when handled and it does become problematic. 

I had crochet hooks and knitting needles close at hand so I could decide to do either, depending upon the threads I had in my hand - based on the number of strands that made up, or came close to the colour I needed to make into my 5” square pattern. 

Laid out open, even though they were carefully placed in holders, the knitting and crochet needles took up considerable space and the crochet hooks would often disappear under a cushion or into a thread bag. I had similar issues with the thread cutter and scissors. Many times, I’d be sitting on them. Always a mystery how they got there! 

It was a mess. But, it was a functional mess. Having everything at hand, despite the periodic disappearing acts, served expediency and efficiency. And as I worked with my hands, enacting various mudras to create the fabricated patterns, order was emerging from the chaos. The squares piled up. I blocked them each night and felt satisfied that so was making progress. Each day, I just slipped into that messy space, almost comforted by it, to continue making the squares - adding to the pattern melange. 

These mudras may or may not or have the  beneficial effects of yogic or dance mudras. But, something happens to the mind and heart, when the hand works in repetitive patterns. Stitching slows the mind down, it allows one to think. Rather, hear oneself think. It also helps me feel what’s going on. Sometimes feelings are intense, they’re hard to fathom and slowing down helps unravel them. The fact that we make something, aids the contemplation. I don’t feel quite so useless, just connecting with myself for most of the day. 

In our overly connected world, where there’s just too much out there to assimilate and make sense of, stitching for hours at a stretch helps one feel more grounded in your being. And, I tend to do it for most of the day in silence. No music, no Netflix or Apple TV. It’s when the mind starts going around in circles and I can’t continue to confuse myself, that I switch channels and create some noise in the background. Ostensibly I’m  watching TV and do grasp some of what’s going on, but mostly I’m concentrating on what I’m making. And having slept it off, as I journal the next morning having, I begin to make sense of whatever I was ruminating on or feeling. And it goes on and on like so. 

It’s rained so hard for the past two months. It was beginning to seem as if the sun had forsaken us altogether. I’ve also been unwell for the last three weeks. It’s been hard. But, I found comfort in my messy studio, where I could work once the fever wore off. Yes, it’s drained me. Yes, the paracetamols have caused havoc with acidity, but I’m recovering. 

The pattern melange is also coming along. I’ve crossed the half-way mark, but there’s still a long way to go. However,  I have to pack this stuff up to prepare for a multitude of things, a trip to Delhi for care-giving included. 

Before I cleared up this mess, I wanted to share how it suddenly dawned on me, that this mess, isn’t unlike the mess I see myself as. The shame and disdain I feel for what I’ve done or not done, for the ignorance, the arrogance and more that fuelled the trajectory of my life this far. Those so-called dysfunctional patterns that subconsciously emerged and determined the course of action I took. But, I’m beginning to realise that they may well be ‘functional’ after all. Like my messy studio creates efficiency and expediency in making the over-sized pattern mélange. There may well be some function to the psychological mess that discomfits my sense of self. 

It’s really making me re-think the idea of messiness. It’s helping me feel less of a need to tidy up, to clean up around me or cringe at all the fallen leaves that carpet the lawn, totally eclipsing the grass. And Im also trying not feel so bad about the bamboo trees they thoughtlessly pruned last year because they’re growing back in clumsy clumps. The balletic fronds fluttering  elegantly in my window frame, just isn’t the same these days. Their dance is gawky and amateurish and I have been cussing the guys who ordered them cut, ruining my vista of graceful green. 

The tall coconut palm that stands a stoic witness to life within and without my window, advises that one must flutter whichever way the wind blows. 

Even if it means diving right into the messiness of it all. As Carl Gustav Jung observed “design emerges from amidst the chaos of form” so, there’s hope yet!