Personal Threads : Blessings From a Grandmother, Guest Post by Ina Puri





My dearest Samaira,

 

Long before you read about the fabled Pokkhiraaj - the winged horse that is believed to have magical powers to fight evil, you will own an exquisitely embroidered kantha that will narrate many a story. Tales of valour, romance and enchantment. When your great-grandmother, your father’s Nani Konchi, started stitching the kantha, it was for her grandson Arjun, your father. We were in Baharampur, Murshidabad, where my grandparents lived in a rambling house filled with books and memories.

 

Ina with her son Arjun



It is hardly mentioned now, but the British East India Company started its journey from Murshidabad which was the capital of pre-British Bengal, and Bankim Chandra  Chatterjee who composed the famed ‘Vande Mataram’, wrote his epic ‘Anandamath’ sitting on the banks of the Bhagirathi that flows through our very own Baharampur. In fact, Kashida, the exquisite silk embroidery on cotton was at one time exported exclusively from Bengal, its main centres around Dhaka and Murshidabad.

 

A Balaposh

Those days, I was looking for a Balaposh – a yearning for that subtly fragrant, soft and comforting quilt. Although it is a quilt, the only quilting stitches are on the edges. It was a speciality of the artisans of Murshidabad, made by craftspeople known to our family. The Balaposh is traditionally layered, with ‘attar scented’ cotton, infolded between two fabrics of silk cloth, and sewn at the edges. It was first made in the Mughal era on request by Nawab Shujauddin Muhammad Khan who commissioned a quilt  “soft like wool, warm like a lap, and gentle like a flower.” 

 

Flowering Bakul Tree (Indian Medlar)

On days that I stepped out, in search of a one, my mother (your great-grandmother) would sit in the garden, under the fragrant flowering Bakul tree (Indian Medlar or Bulletwood tree), stitching away. The evenings stretched long and as we, on my mother's side of the  family shared stories and anecdotes amongst ourselves, to while away the hours, Ma would spread out the silk cloth -a  smallish, baby-sized quilt length, and fill in the imaginary squares which she had, probably, already marked out in her mind. The box with different coloured silk threads and needles by her side, she would carry on stitching even when the lanterns and candles were brought out, during the daily power cuts.



Konchi's Kantha, Hand sewn for her grandson Arjun



It was a time I recollect with fondness, when our family, spanning generations - my maternal grandparents, mashis (aunts) and cousins, all gathered at our ancestral  home in  Murshidabad,  just to be together. It had been an uncharacteristically cold February that particular year, some thirty years ago, but the room was warm and alive with conversations and laughter. We begged Boro Mashi (Mahasweta Devi) to tell us one of her famous ghost stories and huddled close, as she obliged. Outside, the night was full of mysterious shadows, lit occasionally, by the dancing fireflies.

 

Ina with her cousin, mother and aunt Mahashweta Devi,
who is doing the alpana

 

Do you know, as long as I can remember, kanthas have always been a part of our household. A light blanket which was ideal for summer or monsoon nights, was usually made by the women who specialized in the art and turned discarded and worn-out sarees into a beautifully embroidered quilt. It was worked with the myriad stitches of kantha needlework. The main distinguishing feature of a kantha was the pattern created by the concurrent lines of running stitch, sewn in white thread securing together the layers of cloth, which gave the surface a textured, rippled feel. If the designate purpose was to use the cloth as a regular covering, this puckering quilted surface was left unadorned but, if it was designed as a wall hanging or stole, then the kantha-maker would embroider it with motifs that were artistic and imaginative.

 



Detail of Konchi's Kantha



 

My grandmother (your great-great-grandmother) told us that the earliest reference to kantha in Bengali literature date back to the verses in Charyapadas (8th to the 11th centuries CE) They are a collection of mystical poems, in the Vajrayana tradition of Buddhism, derived from the tantric tradition during the Pala Empire in Ancient Assam, Bengal, Bihar, Orissa. It was written in an ‘Abahatta’ (evolving language) that was the ancestor of Bengali and other Eastern Indo-Aryan languages, and is said to be the oldest collection of verses written in those languages.

 

 

The family celebrating Bhai PhoNta
or Bhai Dooj

 

A fleeting hush would descend when Didima spoke about the history of Bengal, its textiles or customs. The younger people in the room would find it  especially fascinating to know that Baharampur had such a rich heritage. We had all visited the historic ‘Hazarduari’ or a ‘palace with a thousand doors’ with our grandparents, built on the lands of the demolished fort Kila Nizamat which stood on  the banks of  the  Bhagirathi River, in Murshidabad.  And, with the pride of true Bengali’s  our hearts had thrilled to hear about the bravery and courage of Siraj ud-Daullah, the last independent Nawab of Bengal, who, deceived by his own men, faced the British cavalry fiercely, armed with a mere sword, in the decisive ‘Battle of Plassey’. The end of his reign marked the start of British East India Company rule over Bengal and subsequently the Indian Subcontinent.

 

Fort Bahrampur, on the banks of the River Bhagirathi

 

While the conversations flowed through the evening, Ma worked on her kantha completely lost to the world. Who can tell, what was going on in her mind.  I would ask myself, if she was imagining a conversation with her yet to be born grandson. In front of her, the Kantha she was embroidering was getting more and more elaborate every day, a magical fairyland inhabited with serpents, dancing peacocks, flowers and fruits, alphabets, nursery rhymes and board games with knots and crosses. In one corner, there were even the fabled birds familiar to us from our favourite bedtime storybook ‘ ‘Thakurmar Jhuli’, the Byangoma and Byangomi.

 

Another detail from Konchi's Kantha

 

 Samaira, wait till you are a little older, we will read these stories together and look at the pictures of all these enchanted creatures.

 

Baby Arjun

 

When I look at this kantha today, those soft folds that once swathed my infant son, following the layout with more focussed attention, I realize that what makes it so original is that Ma followed her own instincts when it came to the design. Creating a composition that was intimate yet visually appealing. We were aware that most conventional kanthas have a basic pattern that is common to them - a lotus at the centre embellished by vines of plants and motifs taken from old and worn sari borders. The four corners usually have the tree of life patterns that lead to the centre, with the ornamentations drawn from nature or mythologies. Images of goddesses are popular and Lakshmi is the one deity who remains a perennial favourite - her footprints  symbolically  represented through patterns of alpana. Newly married wives were known to show off their embroidery skills by making elaborate kanthas for their husbands, interspersed with lines of romantic poetry. In contrast, Ma’s creativity was uniquely her own personal language.

 

Manish Ghatak with his wife Dharitri Devi,
Ina's maternal grandparents

You would have enjoyed her company, Samaira. Ma was born to an illustrious family; her mother was Dharitri Devi and her father, the distinguished litterateur Manish Ghatak. He was a poet and novelist of the Kallol era (one of the most influential literary movements in Bengali literature), who used to write under the pen name ‘Jubanashwa’. Her eldest sister was the brilliant writer and activist Mahasweta Devi who studied in Shantiniketan. But, she was a strict disciplinarian when she came home for the holidays, keeping the large brood of younger siblings under a stringent regime. While the rest behaved, Ma was hauled up constantly. She was said to be extremely mischievous and was always getting into trouble. In her youth, she was a striking beauty with a fiercely independent mind, who stood up for what she believed was just and right. While her siblings went about their lives establishing themselves in diverse ways, Ma concentrated on her music.  And as she grew older, she developed  her other skills, like stitching, cooking and making alpana. She had just about started enjoying her life away from Baharampur, at her maternal uncle, the renowned sculptor, Sankho Chowdhury’s home in Baroda, where she was learning music, when her parents decided to marry her off to an eminent suitor, they considered suitable for her.



Ina's mother Konchi



No matter how tough life turned out to be, in later years, she never submitted to defeat and remained her indomitable self, full of spunk and laughter. Had she continued her studies in music, who knows, she might even have been a musician of distinction today. Yet, destiny had other plans for her, a life she lived with her entire being. Remaining till the end, unvanquished.

 

Another detail of Konchi's Kantha

Samaira, this embroidered cloth is a repository of song and words of poetry that came alive as she embroidered the squares, almost a delicate memoir of her recollections and desires. While she continued to stitch even after making this one for Arjun, she never made another quite so intricate or exquisite. Someday, when you are older, read this story  when you look at the kantha. Imagine the life that was, imagine the hands that held the fabric and fingers that lovingly sewed, carrying forth a tradition of our native Bengal

 

Ina with her mother

 If Ma were around, I know she would want to add just another frame, of a little girl with shiny eyes and curly hair, laughing hard. Of you.

 

 

With all my love,
Your fond Dadi, Ina

 

 





 

Ina Puri is a writer, biographer, art curator and collector. She is the author of several books, including In Black & White (a biography of Manjit Bawa), Faces of Indian Art (iconic artists seen through the lens of Nemai Ghosh) and Journey with a Hundred Strings (on the music and life of Pandit Shiv Kumar Sharma). She produced Meeting Manjit, a film on Bawa, her friend and collaborator, which won the National Award. She currently occupies the position of Editor at Art Varta and has recently published a pictorial memoir on Pt. Shiv Kumar Sharma entitled, The Man and His Music.  Ina’s three-decade-long engagement with the arts embraces everything from tribal art and folk theatre to contemporary performing arts, visual arts and literature. She lives in Gurgaon with her husband, Ravi, and canine soulmate, Leyla.