Bangalore is loved not just for its weather, but also for its vibrant culture. Last week, escaping the usual honking and chaos, I made my way to the third edition of Bangalore Habba, one of the city’s premier arts and culture festivals. Even though I was able to go only on the last day, I found the MIRAAS– traditional art, craft, and textile exhibition particularly compelling. Not often does one get to interact directly with artisans across the country and engage with their craft. Curated by Lisa Pingale, founder of Monalisa Kalagram, MIRAAS brought together National Awardees, Shilp Gurus, UNESCO Seal of Excellence recipients, and lineage based mastercraftsmen representing India’s handmade traditions.
Threading through the bazaar’s energy, I had conversations with many of these artisans. I found it very interesting to note that a lot of points from an earlier SpicyIP TV episode with Niharika Salar on “The Geographical Indication Hurdles We Need to Talk About” reverberated in these conversations, and if you haven’t seen that already, I’d highly recommend it.
I found myself stopping at one stall in particular: Bhujodi weaves from Kutch, Gujarat, presented by artisan Chaman Siju. Bhujodi weaves are instrumental in the production of Kachch shawls (Kachch shawls have received a GI tag). Chamanji presented his hand woven, hand stitched organic kala cotton, and our conversation revealed his deep passion for the craft. As he spoke about the differences in “thought process” and “conceptualisation” between his traditional approach, and his daughter’s (who studies in a top fashion school) modern contemporary approach, he expressed his dislike towards the latter. It was so interesting to see his belief in “make what you like”, while he described his daughter’s orientation as being towards what the consumers would prefer, and the current trends. Despite this generational tension, they collaborate anyway!
In a very interesting paper by Yogesh Pai and Tania Singla, there is discussion about cheaper synthetic imitations of Banarasi saree in Surat, and also the frequent import of Chinese silk cloth which is sold as Banarasi saree. Yet, despite infringement of geographical indication, Banarasi saree producers haven’t taken any legal action against the Surat made or Chinese made Banarasi saree producers/ traders. Why not? Do they care about geographical indications? I brought up this question with Chamanji, and Chamanji absolutely does not! Not just him, when I spoke to some other artisans as well, like Kaantha stitch artisans from Bardhaman, West Bengal, Kota Doria artisans from Rajasthan, and Bhujodi weaves artisan who makes Bhujodi wool, they all reflected a similar stance, laughing it off as “Abhi tak toh kuch nahi hua”, which translates to “Nothing has happened till now”. This once again took me back to the podcast episode on an important point: the assumption that GI registration automatically leads to protection and empowerment doesn’t hold true everywhere. What works in some contexts and jurisdictions fails in others. In that episode, Niharika traced the problem to its roots: GI law was originally a European concept designed for wines and spirits, not handicrafts. When the framework is transplanted to jurisdictions like India, and to handmade textiles and crafts, we see the mismatch in the form of this default assumption, and the celebratory discourse of GI tags.
Niharika also talked about how artisans she spoke to are not excited about litigation to enforce their GI. If somebody makes a copy, the first resolution is to go and talk, not sue. I saw a reflection of this, but a different response when I spoke to the Bhujodi weaves artisan who presented Bhujodi wools. He said that he doesn’t care if a copy is made. To me it seemed his response also came from a place of power imbalance and distrust, when he said that there was no point fighting because those who make copies have money and power, and even if he takes to litigation, it is unlikely that he would get a favourable decision. Chamanji also mentioned (later in a call) that realistic but machine made Kachch shawls are also made in a factory in Ludhiana, but it doesn’t affect them. Powerlooms and machines don’t worry him, and he is confident that his craftsmanship speaks for itself. He even narrated that during the 2001 earthquake, despite multiple designers, NGOs educating them about powerlooms, and providing them with some instruments, they refused to accept it because the significance of their craft is that it is hand-made. Therefore, as he described, even if imitations do occur, they are unbothered.
The narrations from Chamanji illustrate how some of them are already operating in a space parallel to the legal framework where the driving force is not an economic or legal incentive, but the passion for their craft. An interesting observation was that in today’s world where e-commerce is evolving rapidly, people like Chamanji do not do online sales at all! The value he accords to a physical marketplace for himself and for the experience of his consumers overpower the drive to increase sales through online means.
If you have seen the above mentioned episode with Niharika, I am sure you would have been fascinated by Mansukhbhai’s story of being the last surviving maker of “Bela Printing” craft. It makes us think about how cultures can be revived, and if GI has any role in such revival, especially when it is meant to protect a collective right and not an individual. A call with Chamanji brought focus to this. Did GI law anticipate preservation efforts by individuals like him, who aspire to document the whole community’s culture? When I went to the Khatri artisan from Ajrakhpur, he said that they engage in teaching everything about the craft including the process of making it and even invited me to come to Akrahpur to learn more, rather than a mere oral telling of it.
(As an unrelated yet interesting side note, it was interesting to see artisans of Shibhori, a Japanese technique practiced in Kutch! This artisan said that if anyone else wanted to learn, they could approach the NGO teaching the techniques or they could even learn from Youtube!)
What I realized through these conversations is that different artisans think about culture and their craft differently, with different motivators, highlighting the inappropriateness in generalizing what matters to who, even if similar patterns may emerge. While master artisans from Kota Doria recognised the significance of GI on the lines of reducing the information asymmetry between consumers and producers, artisans like Chaman Siju focused their recognition on the craft itself rather than an external tag.
Though I could spend only a few hours in this whole 10 day exhibition (and I wish I spent longer), this was a great reminder to myself to find more such opportunities to engage directly with such artisans and craftspersons to get a better understanding of this ecosystem that I find so fascinating. I would like to acknowledge and express my gratitude to Chamanji who so kindly spent so much of his time talking to me and indulging my curiosities about craft making, and his business, even to the extent of inviting me to continue any such questions over phone calls in the days that followed!
Thanks to Swaraj sir for encouraging me to write on this, and comments on this piece
