Migration has been the story of humankind since man set out of Africa and moved to other climes, at first for survival, and in search of food. Later it was fleeing from epidemics or conquering armies. Whole communities left their homeland, fleeing religious persecution or simply to trade in distant lands. India was a favoured destination for both. Thus, it was that the Parsis found a home in Gujarat and Jewish traders in Kochi. Within India itself, communities migrated for economic and religious reasons. The weavers of Saurashtra fled their native land after Ghazni destroyed the Somnath temple. They had lived in an area famed for long staple cotton used for weaving fine cloth. Naturally, they became skilled weavers of fine cotton and silk. Unable to face the harassment, they migrated to peaceful places in the north, centre and south of India.
Thirumalai Naicker who ruled Madurai between 1623 and 1659, invited the Saurashtrian weavers to Madurai to make silk dresses for the royal family.
Weaving Fire is the story of Kannan, a Saurashtrian weaver of Kumbakonam and his wife Kausalai, as they struggled to cope with whatever fate and their relations threw at them.
Kannan’s father, also a weaver, has dreams of sending Kannan, one of six siblings to college, but his brothers force the unwilling boy to work at the looms when he comes home for the holidays. Thus, while still at school, he learns how to design Zari borders and becomes adept at dyeing. On his father’s death, the care of his mother becomes an issue with both the older brothers unwilling to care for her. Kannan moves with her to another house, with nothing but the clothes on his back. His anger turns into determination to provide a good life for his mother.
By this time Kannan’s reputation as a skilled weaver makes people help him by renting him looms. The loom owners were called muthalalis. They either hired weavers for a wage, rented looms to them or gave them looms on contract. A contract loom meant that the weaver would be given the silk and jari and wages up front as an advance on his account. When the sari was completed, he would receive a small additional profit as well. Ramasamy Iyer, a kindly muthalali who owns three hundred looms offers Kannan two contract looms and a house with water and electricity.
Kannan manages to build a good life for himself and his wife Kausalai and baby daughter, with financial help and advice from his father-in-law who was a trusted friend and advisor. Success attracts sycophants and hangers-on like ants to the honey pot. Kannan’s siblings suddenly reappear and talk him into parting with large chunks of his hard-earned money. He is made to bear all the expenses of his mother’s funeral rites including a trip for all of them to Tirupati, all of which lands Kannan in deep debt.
There is much unrest among the weavers, who want better wages, but the muthalalis are unwilling to agree to their demands. Kannan is a key figure in the negotiations since he is acceptable to both parties.
Amidst all this comes the deluge, weeks of incessant rain, which wrecks Kannan’s house. His looms and supplies of silk and zari are damaged. He needs large credit, and with his father-in-law’s passing, Kannan finds himself friendless. His trusted business associates are not only unwilling to extend credit, but also want to call in their loans, because of stories about his extravagance and the damage to his house and looms.
Weaving Fire gives the reader an insight into the daily lives and travails of the Saurashtrian weavers in Kumbakonam. Skilled and hardworking as they were, they were always in debt because of exploitation by the loom owners and the demands of society. The author describes in interesting detail their petty jealousies, vanities and kindnesses, their customs and rituals observed at birth, death and marriage. Through it all runs the thread of exploitation against the background of social and financial unrest among the working classes in a still young Indian republic. A good read which portrays the personal, political and working lives of the weavers with understanding and empathy, especially for those interested in social history.
Lakshmi Rajagopalan, born and brought up in Madras, now Chennai, with the dubious distinction of still living in the house where she was born. Home maker, pianist and music teacher, translator (on and off, from German to English and vice versa) and grandmother of four. In short, a sort of Jack of all trades, but master of none!