Language of the Looms

Kashmir shawls have a long withstanding synonymity with luxury, carrying a myriad of historical and spiritual meanings, embedded in every part of the loom. The patience and dedication implore the world to recognise their artistry. A journey starting from within the mountains to that in hands of Kashmiri artisans on a loom.

In his recollection of Himalayan travels [1], William Moorcroft recognizes shawl making as a celebrated manufacture throughout the world. The documentation stands important, providing space to an indispensable part of history and a narrative that proves to be pivotal for what we know as the socio political history of craft and tradition.

IMAGE: Moorcroft and Hyder Young Hearsey on yaks (left) with two Chinese horsemen near Lake Manasarovar, Tibet, July 1812. Via Wikipedia

It is no secret that in the 18th and 19th centuries, the west manufactured affordable imitations of imported Kashmiri shawls in Europe. One such place of mass production was the small town of Paisley in Scotland, and so was named the international favourite “Paisley”. A distinctive teardrop or curved leaf shaped pattern often seen in shawls, imitations and originals alike. Culturally it represents life, eternity and 'looking within oneself'.

The motif originally known as buteh has dominated various crafts across the valley, ranging from carpets, shawls, crewel, namdas, papier mache, coppermaking and wood carving. Due to confluence of Central Asian and Persian culture in the valley, the linguistic usage for this motif alternates between ambi and buteh.

Drawing from the older times, shawl making in its essence has stayed a cottage industry, often involving the entire family and local customs. Not only the means of a family earning a livelihood, but significantly contributing in the craft and art that commands patrons worldwide. The qasb (craft) gets etched into specifically learned movements of a block printer, who now prints on a shawl not with measurements, but memory. Hands so skilled on the blocks that scales fails to reach the same precision; the embroider who traces these prints with different techniques, the master and apprentice who follow the taleem (weaving script) of a Kani.

IMAGE: A weaver’s loom setup

Be it a map shawl carrying an entire city in its field, embroidered over 3 long decades, or a simple Pashmina weave of a few months; everything is done with equal precision. Some found its way to reputed museums all over the world, royal collections, in the hands of discerning collectors and patrons; some stayed in Kashmiri homes. Before definitive names came into being, techniques and the craft were named by the inherent character of the art, often inspired by the mundanity of everyday lives. The kaergar’s (artisan) original words reverberating through the echoes in the karkhanas (workshops). Here, necessities shaped vocabulary. This article tries to recall these names which hold generations together till this day, an indispensable part of Kashmiri shawl industry.

In her paper [2], The Trade in Pashm and Its Impact on Ladakh’s history, textile historian and a renowned authority on Kashmiri textiles, Janet Rizvi traces the social lines of the trade of pashm wool and notably recognizes the exchange of raw material between the merchant and the bakal (importer) and mokim (broker) over a traditional dinner spread, pointing to the amalgamation of the trade and local Kashmiri culture.

The acquisition follows up with distribution among the spinners, often womenfolk who then pick out the coarse, rough hair and sort the fleece before spinning it. Often beginning at daybreak, the women would extend their labour long until moonlight. The fine wool is spun being mindful of not breaking the thread on a slight interruption in drawing it out. This yarn once doubled, is formed into a twist and put on a spindle to be formed into hanks. Presently done predominantly by women, in the earlier times men called trasrkhans were equally involved in the practice.

The yarn hanks are now ready to be given to the to the dyer or rangrez, who prepares it by steeping it in cold water. In the earlier times, the choice of colors depended upon availability and meaning. Each dyer has a separate denomination for referring to colors, for them a badaem isn’t an almond design, but a colour; what historians record in classifications, the weavers name with poetry.

IMAGE: Dyeing in process

The names of these dyes would find derivation from various factors; place of origin; likeness to a food product or object. Procured from West Asia, the name of the vibrant hue of crimson, was alternated between as Kirmisi/Kirmdana, or its local equivalent, gul-e-naar, often synonymous to prosperity and fertility.

In Moorcroft’s detailed account, multiple natural dyes are mentioned. Ussul refers to a rich crimson derived from cochineal or lac insects, it is also known as lac kirmisi. Furrah, often Zurd is a vibrant golden yellow, Neelee denotes a deep blue, while kham is a soft beige or natural undyed pashmina. Pherosee (or, fairouzi) refers to the precious turquoise.

Food stands as yet another derivative. Names like Pistakhee (pistachio), Nabatee (rock sugar), Tilahee, Badamee (Almond), Daalcheeni (Cinnamon) are often found in the records.

This nomenclature did not have any particular rulebook. Every color, motif, design and even placement according to their nature and quality transforms it. What gave the lozenge-shaped, diamond weave the name of Chasm-e-bulbul or why the Herringbone is called the Gaad Kond (literally, fish hook) are in reality the markers of a raw vocabulary, one that belongs to the hands that craft it.

Moorcroft underlines about fifty of common designs prevalent in the early 19th century. What is interesting to see is that many of the names are in reality are lost in translation. One such is the Alifdar, which he recounts had green sprigs without any other color on a white field.

Multiple designs went on to become iconic. Though said to have possibly inspired by Ottomon carpets, the chanddar (Moon shawl) were in reality elite status symbols originally for the subcontinent in conception and use. Toting a circular medallion or moon in the centre of the field, found in both shawls and vintage square rumaals. Though erased from accessible markets, they find their patrons in museums and private collections. Yet, there are some designs which are relevant and found in markets till now.

IMAGE: A rare Ushak medallion court carpet, Ottoman Turkey, 1475-85. Via Art of the Islamic and Indian Worlds including Rugs and Carpets, Lot 237, Christies.com

IMAGE: A Moon Shawl (Chandar), North India, c. 1825. Via An Important Private Collection of Kashmir Shawls, Lot 24, Christies.com

A hashiadar sports a distinctive narrow border called hashiya. As the number or proportions of borders increases, the name transforms. A dohashiadar is said to have sported a double border. As they go up to four, its name transforms to chaharhashiadaar, something which is extinct in current times. Nonetheless, a design with an embroidered frame thicker than a hashiya border around the field, often similar to the former is called dordar.

Between the two hashiya, is the field of the shawl, known as matan in the local language. The act of any ornamentation/embroidery done on this area is called aab barun, literally, 'filling water', and the shawls with such ornamentation in the middle are called matandar. The placement of this ornamentation would impact the name as well; shawls with a cluster of flowers at each side will be known as a kunebutedaar (konabutadaar).

Many lost in translation, such as Islimi, Mehramat, Chaporast, Kaddhar still evoke the curiosity of patrons. Nevertheless, these names are a reminder that shawl making is far more than mechanical workings of a loom; threads flowing through the fingers of artisans are mingled with the humming of sufi incantations such as 'Yaa Pir Dastagir' which present an ode to the spirituality of the valley and the names which are somewhere lost in the modern understanding of luxury. Much like the continuity of life, the language of the looms remains very sacred between the weaver and his craft, a never-ending warp of memory.

CITATIONS
1] William Moorcroft and George Trebeck, Travels in the Himalayan provinces of Hindustan and the Panjab, in Ladakh and Kashmir, in Peshawar, Kabul, Kunduz and Bokhara. (1841)

[2] Janet Rizvi, The Trade in Pashm and Its Impact on Ladakh’s History. (1999)

Written by Seerat Hafiz.