Why Indian royalty got British Coats of Arms

In the Mysore Palace, I saw the Wodeyar Coat of Arms on the palace gate. It was a proper British Coat of Arms, containing all four formal elements - shield, supporters, crest and motto. I have seen similarly designed British coats of arms in Jaipur, Udaipur and many more places. Clearly, an Englishman had put some thought behind all of them. But why would the British spend time and energy on designing heraldic banners for Indian princes?

After doing some initial digging, I realised that these coats of arms were part of the larger British strategy of "conciliate and command". To understand this a little better, we need to go back to the 1870's, when a guy named Lytton was appointed Viceroy of India. Lytton was what we would now call a racist, and a fairly nasty one at that. Millions died in the Bengal famine under his watch.

He had very clear views about the various rajahs and nawabs that he encountered in India. "Here is a great feudal aristocracy," he wrote, "which we cannot get rid of, which we are avowedly anxious to conciliate and command, but which we have as yet done next to nothing to rally round the British Crown as its feudal head."

Lytton's "conciliate and command" strategy had many elements - but chief among them was the announcement of a grand Durbar in Delhi, a "Royal Assemblage" as he called it.

The Mughals had a custom of holding Durbars, where their feudatories brought gifts, met the Emperor one by one (in strict order of rank) and re-affirmed their relationship. In return they were granted favours - ceremonial gifts, embellished weapons, embroidered robes, elaborate titles, etc. Although these tokens were small, they were used and displayed with a great deal of pride, because they represented the Emperor's favour. 

Lytton decided to do something similar - yet, clearly different - from Mughal protocol. The Indian princes, he wrote condescendingly, "are easily affected by sentiment, and susceptible to the influence of symbols to which facts very inadequately correspond." Keeping in mind the Indian attachment to symbolic displays, he decided to present coats of arms (banners) to each of the Indian kingdoms. 

The only problem was - there was no one available in India with any of the skills required for designing so many coats of arms at short notice. Eventually the task was given to Robert Taylor - an employee in the Bengal Civil Service. He was neither a herald nor an artist (there is a College of Heralds in London, which designs and approves these things). But he was the only available man at the time with some understanding of the matter. So a round of hasty consultations with various rajas ensued, and British coats of arms were quickly designed. For the Delhi Durbar, these designs were converted into colourful banners by Sir Lockwood Kipling, who was then at Lahore. 

On the day of the Durbar, Lytton put on a grand show. He placed himself on an elevated dias at the centre of the assembly. Banners were ceremonially presented to each Indian royal attendee, carried on a gilt pole which bore the inscription 'From Victoria, Empress of India. 1st January 1877.' Lytton, while presenting the banner, said "Whenever this banner is unfurled, let it remind you of the relations between your Princely House and the Paramount Power." The "native chiefs" received the banners with the same gratitude that they displayed at the Mughal courts. 

Then came the proclamation of Victoria as Empress of India. A grandly dressed herald - selected because he was 7 feet tall - stepped up and loudly read the proclamation. The Viceroy gave a speech and some of the desi princes proclaimed their allegiance to "the paramount power". After these proclamations, 101 guns were fired and this caused a stampede among the various royal elephants present (I grinned when I read that). You can see the elephants in the photo.  

The rajas and nawabs returned home, displaying these banners as symbols of the Queen's favour, in much the same way as they displayed their Mughal honours. The British coat of arms, as well as the giving of various royal titles and gun salutes, became an established part of the "conciliate and command" strategy to rule India. 

Durbar Photo source: The Royal Collection Trust

Visiting Ajmer Sharif during the Urs

We were in Ajmer during the annual Urs, the death anniversary of the 12th century Sufi mystic Moinuddin Chishti. It is a six day commemoration; and we were there on the first day. That's the day when the Jannati Darwaza - Doorway to Paradise - is thrown open to pilgrims. Otherwise it remains shut through the year, except for a few occasions. 

We were lucky to get there before the massive crowds arrived. Even so, the dargah was filled with devotees. 

The two famous gigantic cauldrons of the dargah - where food is cooked for langar - were being filled with offerings of rice, sugar, ghee and dry fruits. Many threw currency notes into the cauldrons. Later in the evening, the cauldrons would be emptied, and langar of sweet rice would be cooked and served to devotees.  

We met a khadim of the dargarh - a descendant of the Chishtiya family - and he told us the history of the dargah, explained the rituals and helped us navigate the crowds. We entered the main tomb through the Jannati Darwaza, and made our offering of chadar and flowers. The energy inside was electric, and I could hear the outcries of the faithful. Ya Garib Nawaz! Ya Khwaja! the pilgrims called out his name and poured out their problems. Next to me, a man pleaded repeatedly "Save my brother, Ya Khwaja! Only you can save him!". It moved me to tears. 

Our khadim offered an appeal on our behalf to Khawja Moinuddin and asked for blessings for the health and prosperity of us and our families. In content it was pretty similar to what the Hindu priest at Pushkar did for us. It made me smile a little. What suckers we humans are for reassurances and guarantees! And how similar the words of the intermediaries are!

It took us about an hour to make our offerings and depart. We received 'tabarruk' of gulkand, rose petals, chadar and photo (tabarruk is like a temple prashad). Even as we left, the crowds were thickening, and there were police stationed for crowd management. We missed the night quwwali - but it was not something I could help. Our schedule did not permit us to stay. 

I came back home and listened to the specific quwwali which is sung to inaugurate the Ajmer Urs: it's called Mehfil E Shahana Mubarak Bashad, and it says "O Saki! what a blessed mehfil (gathering)! We thank you for this bountiful goblet of wine". Saki means, the server of wine. I find these maikhana references in Sufism quite fascinating. What sort of culture produced this wine-soaked divine love? It reminds me so much of the trance-like divine love of Radha-Krishna. And the Persian lyrics are super interesting because I can half understand them. 

Here is the link to the song. Listen to it, and imagine it being sung at night in the dargah, illuminated by many lamps. 

Best way to visit the city of Madurai

 

Madurai has long been the cultural epicentre of Tamil Nadu. Records of the city from the 3rd century BC depict a thriving trading centre, with links not only to other cities in India, but also to Rome and Greece. Under the Pandya kings, the city flourished and became a great centre of literature and learning. From the Pandyas, the city passed into the hands of many conquerors, including the Cholas, the Delhi Sultanate and the Vijayanagara Kingdom.

When the Vijayanagara kingdom collapsed, the Nayaks of Madurai, who had been appointed as local governors, became powerful and independent. It was the Nayaks who in the 17th century, expanded the Meenakshi Temple and brought it to the pinnacle of its glory. In the 18th century, the Nayaks lost control of Madurai to the Nawabs of Arcot, who in turn ceded power to the British East India Company. British control over Madurai endured for 150 years, until Indian independence in 1947.

Here is a beautiful video showing some of the highlights of Madurai. Do reach out if you need help planning a trip to this vibrant city which is the cultural and food capital of Tamil Nadu. We have heritage walk, food tour, crafts tour... everything to help you really enjoy a trip to Madurai.  www.maduraimagic.com

The Tamil Mahabharatams

Have you heard about the Tamil Mahabharatams? Although the physical locales of the Mahabharata are primarily located in north India, there's more than one version in Tamil.

Researcher Vijaya Ramaswamy says that the epic reached south India somewhere in the early Christian era (corresponding to late Sangam period). The earliest Tamil version is by the Sangam poet Perunthevanar, who wrote something called Bharatam referring to the Pandava-Kaurava war. But this version has not survived.

The next oldest version appears in the 9th century, when a version of Bharatam was written in the Pallava Kingdom (during the rule of Nandivarman III). It was in "Champu" style, which is a mix of prose and poetry.

In the 10th century, the Pandya king Rajasimha commissioned another version in Tamil. Further in 14th century, Villiputturar wrote a version called Villi Bharatam. This is the version used in Villupaatu, one of Tamil Nadu's folk performances (featured in the photo).

Villupaattu performance in progress, photo by Praveenp [Public domain]

The Villi Bharatam ends with Ashwathama killing Draupadi's children. After that, the same Villi Bharatam was extended by two poets called Nallapillai and Murugapillai who added 11,000 poems in the 1800's. You can see several Villipatu performances even now on youtube; and there are often performances on televisions as well.

Also, somewhere in 16th century, yet another version emerged, written by Pugazhendi Pulavar, which is also used in folk versions and performances of the Mahabharata.

As the epic travelled into Tamil Nadu, local stories began to incorporate Mahabharata characters - thus for example, we have the story of Alli and Arjuna (about which more later!). 

Garuda Purana and the democratization of knowledge production

The Garuda Purana, composed in Sanskrit, contains 16000 verses, dealing with an incredibly diverse collection of topics.

It covers cosmology, mythology, salvation theory, ethics, Hindu philosophical schools, theory of Yoga, ancestral rites, rivers and geography, types of minerals and stones, testing methods for gems for their quality, listing of plants and herbs, disease symptoms and medicines, astronomy, astrology, architecture, grammar, literature classification etc.

It also includes statecraft and more practical matters such as charity and gift making, economy, thrift, duties of a king, politics, state officials and their roles, and how to appoint officials. Lastly, it also covers personal development and self awareness through Sankhya and Advaita Yoga.

The text is attributed to the legendary sage Vyasa, in the absence of clear authorship. It is believed to have been first composed at least a thousand years ago, with the core being even older. The versions that survive today contain different lengths and different sets of scriptures, pointing to diverse authorship over time as it gained popularity.

Garuda Vahana, at Chennai airport, a beautiful wooden sculpture 
used for temple processions. It is likely from Tanjore.

One of India's unique features is the way in which many of our scriptures co-opt and include multiple authors. Imagine a book, with many chapters by different writers, all of whom help to grow the book continuously over centuries. As it spreads, more chapters appear, more commentaries and discussions take place, and diverse versions grow and become popular in different parts of the land. The closest parallel is a river, with a single origin but which branches into thousands of tributaries, ending in many lakes and ponds, and watering many fertile lands as it goes along. One could also draw a parallel to the way the internet functions, democratizing the production and dissemination of knowledge. In the case of scriptures, the dissemination takes place in thousands of sabhas and temples, where readings and recitations bring different versions to the people. Confusing? Yes. That is the nature of a cooperative effort at knowledge production. But it is also very appealing, that there is no "one book", no single authority.

#hinduliterature
#magictoursofindia
#chennaimagic

Curry Leaves chutney (Karuvepallai Thuvaiyal)

The problem with ordering curry leaves online is that you have more leaves than you know what to do with. Meenakshi Ammal came to my rescue with "Cook and See" (Samaithu Paar), the go-to recipe book for all Tamil kitchens.

I made Karuveppalai Thuvaiyal, a thick coarsely ground chutney of curry leaves, tamarind, red chillies, urad dal, mustard and asafoetida. Curry leaves pack a wallop in terms of nutrition. They contain calcium, phosphorous, irons and vitamins (C, A, B, E). But the damn thing can be bitter, so Meenakshi Ammal advises using tender leaves and enough spices to offset it. The asafoetida, tamarind and mustard give it a kick, the red chillies and salt give it bite. I didn't have tender leaves, so I cheated and added a teeny bit of sugar. Shhhhh. No one will know! 

- 4 big handfuls of leaves (only one handful is on the plate in the photo) 

-Marble sized tamarind 8 red chillies 

- 2 teaspoons urad dal 

- 3/4 teaspoon mustard 

- Hing (asafoetida to taste) 

 Wash leaves. Fry chillies, mustard and lentils in oil. Grind with tamarind, salt, hing. 

Pro tip: grind masalas coarsely and then add the leaves to grinder. This one works best if ground by hand on a stone, the old fashioned way. The mixer doesn't quite help with the sort of coarse consistency you want. I ended up doubling the urad dal because I wanted more of that lentil feel. I also added sugar like I said, and a twist of lime because I thought the tamarind was not tamarindy enough. 

If you'd like to learn how to make a range of pickles, preserves and chutneys, we have workshops in Mumbai, Bangalore  and Chennai.

Karaikkal Ammaiyar - The Mother from Karaikkal

Karaikkal Ammaiyar (The Mother from Karaikkal) lived in Tamil Nadu in 6th century. She was a poet-saint, one of the 63 Shaivite Nayanmars. This sculpture is a copper alloy, about 9 inches high, dated during the Chola period (880–1279). . It is now at the Metropolitan Museum.

Karaikkal Ammaiyar belonged to the Chettiar (Nagarathar) community. She was a devotee of Lord Shiva, and said to be very beautiful. On seeing her perform miracles, her husband recognized her divine nature, and worshipped her as a goddess. She left her home, and went to Mount Kailash, on pilgrimage to Lord Shiva's abode. She prayed to Shiva to transform her into a ghoul (gana), one of Shiva's many attendants. Shiva granted her wish, changing her into a wizened old woman.

Thus she became free of the burden of social norms, and spent her life as a free spirit, composing and singing hymns in praise of Shiva. In this sculpture, you can see her holding a pair of cymbals as she sings her own compositions. The sculptor has stayed within the stylistic tradition of Chola art, with fine nose, curved lips, large eyes, square shoulders and slim waist. Thus he maintains her divinity. He has chosen to represent her ghoul transformation by focusing purely on exaggeratedly deformed breasts. He has chosen to represent her mendicant status by giving her only a single garment. And, to show her great age, her ear lobes are sagging with the weight of her ear-ring (a feature of older women).

Beginning in the 6th century in Tamil Nadu, India witnessed a widespread Bhakti movement, where several women rejected the life of a householder, and embraced a life of devotion/renunciation, Examples include Andal from Tamil Vaishnavism of the ninth century, Mahadevi Akka of Karnataka (13th century), Muktabai of Maharashtra (13th century), Mirabai of Rajasthan (16th century), and many more.

The Chettiar adventures in Burma

The village of Kanadukathan is a couple of hours from Madurai in Tamilnadu. If you walk through the village, you will come across streets full of grand palatial homes. These are the mansions of the Chettiar community; built with wealth from their trading and financing businesses around the world. A lot of the wealth came from Burma, which was then part of British India.

The Chettiars had followed the British into Burma in the 1820s. Initially they were small traders and financiers. But the opening of the Suez Canal in 1869 provided a golden opportunity for the growth in the fortunes of the Chettiars.

There was a great demand in Europe for rice, and the Suez Canal opened up opportunities for exports of rice from Burma. Burmese cultivators made the most of the opportunity, transitioning from subsistence farming to large scale rice cultivation. Formal bank loans were not available to Burmese agriculturists. The Chettiars provided loans, with and without collateral, for farming activities. But that was not all. They took deposits, remitted funds, discounted bills, bought and sold gold, and provided much of the necessary funding that enabled the rice trade. In other words, they became not just moneylenders, but bankers to the rice trade.

Dr. Sean Turnell, a researcher at Macquarie university says that the Chettiars gave loans to farmers at rates between 9 to 15 percent. When there was no collateral the rate could be upto 25 percent. He further says that these loans were reasonable, given the cost of business and the risks. The Chettiars look almost benign when you compare them with other local moneylenders, particularly Burmese landlords who offered their tenants something called sabape, a loan made "in kind" rather than in cash, at usurious rates of over 100% per annum.

Burma went on to become the "rice bowl" for Europe in the second half of the 1800s and in the 1900s. Exports grew. But as is common among British colonies, the people of Burma had very little share in this prosperity. Rangoon's wealthy elite were foreigners - the British and their Indian merchant partners. As the wealth of the Chettiars grew, they invested in building lavish mansions in their hometowns in Tamil Nadu.

But the global depression of the 1930s badly affected Burma, resulting in the near collapse of paddy prices. Vast tracts of cultivable lands passed to the Chettiars, as farmers defaulted on their loans. It was a time when a wave of anti-foreign sentiment grew in Burma, and the Chettiars were the target of much vilification.

Then came WW-II, and with that, the fortunes of the Chettiars took a further turn for the worse. In 1942, Rangoon fell to the Japanese and the Chettiars fled Burma along with the British, travelling overland from Rangoon to Assam. Many are believed to have perished in the journey.
Eventually the British declared Burma independent in 1948. Although they had rightful title, the Chettiars could not successfully claim compensation from the new government which took over agricultural land. In 1962, when a military coup ended democracy in Burma, they lost their claims, and Burma became just a memory.

The Chettiar mansions remain a lasting legacy of those times, with their Burmese teak and antiquities.
#chettinad
#tamilnadu
#magictoursofindia
#chennaimagic
#maduraimagic

Grave of Emperor Aurangzeb, Khuldabad

From Johnson Album 3, 4, painted 1660-70
Featured in the British Library exhibition,
Mughal India: Art, Culture and Empire.

Emperor Aurangzeb - the sixth Mughal ruler - had a long reign of nearly 50 years.

During his rule (1658 to 1707), the Mughal Empire reached its largest extent, covering almost the entire Indian subcontinent. In 1700, India's GDP accounted for one-fourth of world GDP, with textiles playing a major role. Nearly 15% of the population lived in urban centres; it was thus more urban than Europe at the time, or even more urban than British India in the 19th century.

Among the urban centres in the Deccan was Aurangabad. Earlier it was a village called Khadki; but it grew into a city under the patronage of Malik Ambar and the Nizamshahs of Ahmadnagar. When Aurangzeb took over the city, as the Mughal viceroy to the Deccan, he named it Aurangabad.

Aurangzeb spent the last 26 years of his life in an attempt to conquer the Deccan. He died at his military camp in Bhingar, near Ahmadnagar, at the age of 89.

His modest open-air grave in Khuldabad expresses his deep devotion to his Islamic beliefs. He desired in his will that not more than 8 rupees be spent on it - in marked contrast to the ostentatious splendour of the tombs of his predecessors.

Grave of Aurangzeb, painted by William Carptenter between 1850-56, British Library

Aurangzeb's tomb is in the courtyard of the shrine of the Sufi saint Shaikh Burhan-u'd-din Gharib, who was a disciple of Nizamuddin Auliya of Delhi.

The epitaph reads his own couplet in Persian:
Az tila o nuqreh gar saazand gumbad aghniyaa! 
Bar mazaar e maa ghareebaan gumbad e gardun bas ast!
Translation: "The rich may well construct domes of gold and silver on their graves!
For the poor folks like me, the sky is dome enough!" 

"Daan Paatra" at Pushkar

Spotted at Pushkar: a collection box (Daan Patra) for Gau Seva (the welfare of cows). A young bull stands next to it, looking quite annoyed with life :)

Holy Cow Container, India -
Rod Waddington from Kergunyah, Australia [CC BY-SA 2.0
(https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

The cow is depicted with a peacock feather decoration for her horns, indicating the linkage of cows with the cowherd God Krishna of the Braj region. The Braj region (Brajbhoomi) is the land associated with Krishna's birth and major events in his life. While there is no official geographical demarcation, it lies more or less within the golden triangle circuit that is popular with tourists. Pushkar is nearby.

The cow is depicted with auspicious symbols (the Om and the Swastika) on her body. She is adorned with jewellery, denoting her special status. Similar decorations can be seen in many Rajasthani miniatures, particularly the Pichhawai paintings depicting Krishna as a cowherd. 

The Portuguese Church Bells of Maharashtra

This week I read a story in Hindustan Times about Portuguese church bells, which are being used all over temples in Maharashtra.

Temple bell at Naroshankar, Nashik. Photo Credit: Hindustan Times

The bells were acquired by the Marathas from various churches, during their conflicts with the Portuguese. The 17th and 18th century were full of many conflicts, with the Marathas, Siddis, the French, the English and the Portuguese, all jostling for supremacy on the Western coast of India.

Fr. Francis Correa, a priest based in Vasai (Bassein) says discovering the bells has broadened his view of India. He says: “Seeing the bells for the first time, I initially felt like it was my community’s property and that I should work on restoring them to the church. But over time I’ve realised that in Hindu temples, they’ve been given a new life, with new missions to perform. They are our shared heritage.”

When I read this quote I couldn't help thinking that if more of us had such enlightened views we would be living in a much happier world!

For many years now, we have been sitting on this Ayodhya mandir-masjid controversy. Was it originally a temple or a mosque? Now that the mosque is broken, what should we build there? Whose monument is it now? ... All these questions could be more easily resolved if we thought of it as our country's shared heritage!

Whether we like it or not, we cannot wish away history; nor can we turn back the clock. If more politicians had the guts to celebrate the Ganga-Jamuna tehzeeb (cultural diversity) of this land, India would be a different place. Come to think of it, every time we eat a biryani, it is a Ganga-Jamuna celebration. Every time we wear a salwar-kameez, it is the same celebration. The notion of India as belonging only to only one community is really impractical, not to mention immoral.

Magar yeh ghanti kisi ke dimaag mein bajti hi nahi!
(but this bell does not ring clear to anyone!)

Rajsamand and the Golden Age of Flying Boats

Have you been to Rajsamand Lake? It is just an hour north of Udaipur, past the religious centre of Nathdwara.

Rajsamand Lake, Wikimedia Commons

Rajsamand was built in the 17th century by Raj Singh, the ruler of the Mewar kingdom. Not surprisingly, he named the lake after himself (I like to believe it was not megalomania, but the desire to be permanently remembered for a great dharmik task of religious and social significance).

Raj Singh rather poetically used the word 'samand' (ocean or sea) to describe the lake. If you visit the lake, you will see why. It is a large lake, about 6 kms long, and 3 kms wide, with a depth of 60 feet. In a land-locked state that receives only 1% of India's total rainfall, the lake does seem like an ocean.

Throughout the 18th and 19th centuries, the lake was a blessing to the local populace, for irrigation and as insurance against drought.

But in the late 1920's, Rajsamand suddenly became a very glamorous place. Seaplanes of the Imperial Airways began landing in Rajsamand, on their way from London to Singapore or Sydney. They carried the rich and famous of Europe. After the horrors of WW-I, wealthy Europeans travelled around the world in luxurious seaplanes, celebrating life. It was the Golden Age of Flying Boats. Seaplane flights were long and slow, but offered passengers lots of space, comfortable beds and 5-star service. The all-male cabin crew were usually poached from luxury steamships and knew how to pamper their clientele.

Poster for Imperial Airways, 

Imperial Airways seaplanes had very little fuel capacity. On a typical trip from London to Sydney, there were 31 stops, and the journey took 16 nights. To make each stop worthwhile, Imperial Airways tried to find lakes that were not just fuelling stations, but also beautiful and exotic. Landing in Rajsamand, passengers were ferried to the shore by boats, and then took the train to Udaipur, where they stayed the night. Meanwhile, the plane refuelled and took in fresh supplies.

Seaplane at Rajsamand

The "airport" at Rajsamand had a passenger lounge, a weather station, a wireless station, fuel depots and two residential bungalows. Planes were anchored to the lake (one of the anchors was found a couple of decades ago, when the lake dried up, but it was then tossed back into the water and now no one knows where it is).

For nearly 2 decades, Imperial Airways seaplanes flew into India, stopping at Karachi, Udaipur, Gwalior and Calcutta. In those days, there were not many long runways, so the seaplanes, which could land pretty much anywhere with a nice stretch of water, became hugely popular.


But after WW-II, there were a lot more long runways available in military bases around the world. And there were many military aircraft too, that became available for passenger use.

In nearby Jodhpur, Maharaja Umaid Singh created a small air-strip in the 1920's, which was expanded and used in WW-II by the Royal Air Force (RAF). Umaid Singh himself was a Level A certified flyer, and as Air Vice Marshall, he was in command of the Jodhpur base during the war.

After the war, when passenger flights resumed, Jodhpur became the airport of choice for Imperial Airways, and Rajsamand's glamorous days came to an end.

Jatar Ghat and Raja Gwalior Ghat in Varanasi

Continuing the series on the ghats of Varanasi; Jatar Ghat was built in the mid 1800's by the finance secretary of the Gwalior Estate, Balaji Cimadaji Jatar. There is a Laxminarayan temple here, which is in disrepair. The Gwalior Ghat was built by Jayajirao Shinde, the raja of Gwalior. The 1800's was a period when the Maratha empire was prosperous.

This area of Varanasi even today has many Maharashtrians.

The English scholar and architect James Prinsep, who arrived in Benaras in the 1820s, refers to this ghat as Chor Ghat (Thieves Ghat). Apparently in those days it was known for the disappearance of pilgrims's clothes and belongings :)

The songs of Phulkari

Phulkari meri reshmi
Rang na aiya theek
Chheti darshan devne
Main rasta rahi udeek

My phulkari is silken
But the colour doesn't seem right
Come quickly now, my love (let me see you)
My eyes search the road.

Phulkari is an embroidery technique from the Punjab region, and is practised both in India and Pakistan, by Hindus, Sikhs and Muslims. The word 'phul' means flower and 'kari' means craft, thus Phulkari literally means floral work or floral craft. Exquisite and labor-intensive, Phulkari embroideries have been produced by Punjabi and Haryanvi women from at least the early 19th century. Phulkaris are traditionally done in brightly colored silk thread on rough, earth-toned cotton fabric. The cotton was local, but the silk came from far off places via nomads, and was dyed in the Punjab. Phulkaris are deeply ingrained into Punjabi culture and several folks songs sung by women have Phulkari as the motif.

When done for domestic use, Phulkaris function primarily as women’s wraps (odhnis). Originally, they signified a woman’s material wealth and were deemed an important part of her wardrobe. In addition to being worn, phulkaris are also placed on woven cots (charpais) as seat covers for special guests, or draped on dowry chests or hung in the home as decoration during religious festivals. They are presented to temple deities, or to gurudwaras as a cover for the Guru Granth Sahib (the Sikh holy book).

During colonial rule, Phulkaris became part of gift basket locally described as “dali” that were presented to the British and other high officials on Christmas and also as a gesture of gratification.

Following Punjab’s devastating partition in 1947, many treasured Phulkaris were lost or left behind in the traumatic events of the Partition. The Partition Museum in Amritsar has a Phulkari placed on a well, representing the tragedy of the many women who threw themselves into village wells in attempted suicides. To me it seems as if the death of all that was beautiful in the Punjab has been portrayed very poignantly via the Phulkari.

Today in Amritsar, there are plenty of machine-made Phulkaris, but they lack the beauty of the women's voices that made them unique.

Kawal phool main kadhke
Kardi han ardas
Chheti aa mere sajna
Bhul-chuk maaf

Having embroidered a lotus
I petition you
My love come to me quickly
All is forgiven/Forgive me

In May 2017, the Philadelphia Museum of Art showcased ‘Phulkari: The Embroidered Textiles of Punjab’, with phulkaris from the collection of Jill and Sheldon Bonovitz. The collection contained all types of Phulkaris:

- Baghs (all-over embroidered phulkaris, almost like a floral garden),
- Darshan Dwars (architectural motifs, meant to be presented at gurdwaras)
- Sainchis (narrative embroideries which depicted scenes of routine village life and included human motifs)
- Thirmas (embroidered on plain white khaddars for elderly women and widows)
- Chopes (presented to a girl by her maternal grandmother on her wedding day)

The Museum also showcased two gowns made especially for the exhibition by Indian designer Manish Malhotra, in an effort to highlight the couture culture and the new stories developing around phulkari. With the ace designers employing materials such as velvet and silk, a new set of audiences is being inspired to embrace the warmth of the textile tradition.

Photos Courtesy: Philadelphia Museum of Art, sourced from Architectural Digest

The information and text for this post came from this page, which has more about the show, and different types of Phulkaris is here: https://www.architecturaldigest.in/content/philadelphia-museum-art-showcases-history-punjabs-rich-embroidery-craft-phulkari/

Bazaar Thaterian - The Market of the MetalWorkers

About 10 kilometers south-east from Amritsar, along what used to be the historic Grand Trunk Road, there is a nondescript town called Jandiala Guru. No one knew much about it until 2014, when it suddenly received international recognition by UNESCO for its metalwork craft. The metalworkers are called Thateras.

If you walk into Jandiala Guru, you can find the Thateras in a lane called 'Gali Kashmirian' (Lane of the Kashmiris). I was a little puzzled by this name. Why were there Kashmiri Thateras in a little nondescript Punjabi town?

It turns out that in the late 18th century, Maharaja Ranjit Singh invited skilled metal workers from Kashmir, primarily Muslims, to settle in his kingdom. They established themselves in Gali Kashmirian, and began making brass and copper utensils.

Bazaar Thaterian (the Metalworkers Market) became a thriving market for all sorts of utensils, including those for household use as well as for community cooking (have you seen the huge cauldrons at gurudwaras?).

During the partition of India, the Muslim Thateras of Jandiala Guru migrated to Kujranwala in Pakistan (another metalwork town). Hindu and Sikh Thateras from Kujranwala arrived in Jandiala Guru and began practising their craft. Thus, the metalworkers in Jandiala Guru today are either Hindus or Sikhs. But the name of the lane has endured. Gali Kashmirian. The Lane of the Kashmiris.

The Thathera community has a long oral tradition of craft. Knowledge is passed through apprenticeship, usually within the family. Designs are made by skilfully hammering a series of tiny dents into the heated metal. Even the tools they use are handmade.

In spite of being inscribed in 2014 on the UNESCO representative list of the Intangible Cultural Heritage List of Humanity, the Thateras are struggling to make a living. The popularity of steel, aluminum and plastic has killed the market for brass and copper utensils.

There's a very nice video here, of the Thateras. It appears from the interviews that that Bazaar Thaterian is dying: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_SXc7L9d0ds