How Banaras lost its handlooms to government's apathy

A talk with Haji Mukhtar, leader of the weavers of Banaras:

"If the government really wants to support the silk industry of Banaras, it should help the weavers themselves and the handloom, not just boost the power loom."

I am sitting with Haji Mukhtar, the Mehto (leader) of the weavers of Banaras, on his cool, neat gaddi in the heart of the weaving neighbourhood Madanpura. He indicates with a sweep of his hand that a few years ago, it was in this very room that he himself operated a handloom, with other weavers under him. Today, however, his gaddi deals in only power loom-produced synthetic fabrics. He was forced to make this switch because of dwindling demand for handloom silk.

His story is not an unusual one in Madanpura, or Adampura or Jaitpura, or any of the other areas of the city where weavers live and work. Handloom silk is now extremely difficult to find anywhere in Banaras. As a result, older weave patterns and particular motifs are also rarely found, even though new designs are often evolved versions of older ones.

As for the government's plans of building a "Trade Faciliation Centre" on the outskirts of the city – even after the "inauguration" by PM Narendra Modi in November 2014, the land dedicated for the purpose lies vacant: no centre has been built, nor does Haji sahib know of any plans for its construction.

Even if such a project were underway, Haji sahib is skeptical of its efficacy to begin with. "Such a centre," he explains, "will not help the actual weavers of Madanpura or Adampura; what it will do is boost the power loom. Every place has its own techniques and styles: how can you impose a system from Bengal or Bangalore upon Banaras? Banarasi weavers are not power loom weavers like the weavers of Surat. They are handloom weavers and Banarasi silk means handloom silk. A power loom centre will in fact destroy the Banarasi silk industry. Any good businessman can set up a power loom centre anywhere. The real challenge is to help the handloom weavers of Banaras and the handloom.”

He adds that he did not attend the power loom centre inauguration, to which he was sent a VIP invitation, precisely because his interests lie with the weavers and not the power loom. The government officials, he notes with a laugh, now seem to be annoyed with him! But neither do they seem to be making an effort to find out what the weavers' real interests are.

Haji sahib tells me with a rueful smile that he dislikes artificial fabrics from the bottom of his heart. There is no comparison between power loom and handloom fabric, he says eloquently, for handloom weaving is a true art. He pauses, then adds wistfully that in his day, the test of good craftsmanship was to fold a silk sari up like a handkerchief and put it in your pocket, or to pass it smoothly through a ring.

"In my day," he says, "I used to sit next to my father and watch him weave. My grandchildren don’t do that. In my day, there was handloom weaving in every house in this neighbourhood. Children, nowadays, don't even see handloom weaving. You have to see something in order to really learn it. Hatta, phanni, darki, pagia, navlata, chhakaria – all these are names of different parts of the loom and the weave. Weavers' children today wouldn’t be able to tell you even one of those names, or a single thing about weaving."

The story would be different if the power loom itself were doing well in Banaras. Weavers are accustomed to dips in the market that occur for short periods at a time - that is a phenomenon they expect and plan for. However, the market is currently experiencing a dip like none before. "The entire industry is going down each day," Haji sahib says. "And I have no idea what exactly is going on, and why. How the industry does depends on government policy. So, there must be something wrong with the policies."

Never before have I seen such open frustration and bewilderment on the Mehto’s otherwise calm, humorous face. "What can I do for the weavers? What can I do when they start abandoning weaving and become rickshaw drivers, because they don't earn enough to eat? How can I care if the ghats and galis are clean if I can't even feed myself? The lanes are not clean anyway – they couldn't be filthier."

He shakes his head. "I have very little hope. There is no real philosophy or ideology, or any honesty, in what the government does."