There are moments when I hold the Paithani Close to my heart as close can be; its soft, silken caress Brings my grandmother back to me.The intervening years vanish, Time’s broken thread runs whole again;O golden squares of my grandmother’s sari,Tell her of my wellbeing then…— Shanta Shelke
The late Marathi writer Shanta Shelke rummaged through an old cupboard to find mothballed dresses. One of them was a green Paithani sari with a coconut motif within brocade checks. It was her grandmother’s wedding sari, and whenever Shelke held it close, it reminded her of her grandmother’s “soft, silken caress”.
Paithani saris are known the world over among those with a discerning and refined taste, as a poem hand-woven in silk and gold with a powerful visual appeal. Purchasing a new Paithani is akin to investing in jewellery because it can be handed down from generation to generation and has virtually become a status symbol. Paithani uses the ancient technique of tapestry where multiple threads of different colours along with gold and silver threads are weaved together to form a fascinating piece of silk. It’s made from natural silk or cotton, along with precious gold and silver metal threads, that gives Paithani the Midas touch.
Paithani saris have been a precious heirloom since the Shalivahana era of 2nd century AD and have been handed down from mother to daughter for several generations. Traditional creative artistry and painstaking workmanship combine to form this unique cloth and make it an experience for the visual and tactile senses. It takes a master weaver an entire day to weave just an inch, thus, it takes a year-and-half to weave the entire sari. The intricate weaving, in all its hues and colours, when brilliantly executed, makes the fabric highly prized. The gossamer fabric, woven by hand on long wooden looms, is recogniseable to aficionados by its refined feel and audible rustle.
Paithan is a small town and quiet religious place on the northern banks of the river Godavari in Aurangabad, Maharashtra. Gone are the days of palaces and kings, of Sanskrit pundits who held forth the Vedas, of preachers and their religious discourses. Gone too are the days when Paithan was a prosperous trade centre called Pratishthan, and it exported rich fabrics and precious stones to far off lands. Yet, a glimmer of the glorious past carries on — not handed down by kings and princes, or even by learned men but by patient weavers working endlessly at their humble looms — an indelible heritage, the Paithani sari, a poem in silk and gold.
The Paithani is not just a silk sari of gorgeous colours, intricate design and painstaking labour. It is part of a culture given more to thrift than flamboyance and also treasures elegance and beauty. It tells us of people who were willing to spend lavishly to clothe their womenfolk in nine yards of traditional silk and spun gold, crafted by indigenous weavers.
No Maharashtrian wedding trousseau was ever complete without the Paithani sari and shawl or stole. They then became treasured heirlooms that could be preserved and worn by at least three generations. The eye-popping dhoop-chaav (light and shade) effect is achieved by weaving two different coloured silk threads together in the process of a simple tabby weave. It has an ornamental zari border and pallu-and buttis (little designs) of tara (star), mor (peacock), popat (parrot), kuyri (mango), rui phool (flower), paisa (coin), pankha (fan), kalas pakli (petal), kamal (lotus), chandrakar (moon), narli (coconut) and so on. Many of these designs are found on the border and pallu in different sizes and patterns. The designs show the influence of the panels of Ajanta frescoes close by.
The dominant traditional colours of vegetable dyes include neeligunji (blue), pasila (red and green), gujri (black and white), mirani (black and red), motiya (pink), kusumbi (purplish red) and pophali (yellow). The red-white version called panetar is the most cherished sari for a new bride. The local names of the colours are interesting: kaali chandrakala (black), uddani (fainter black), pophali (yellow), neeligungi (blue), pasila (red pink green), mirani (black red), pheroze (white red pale green), samprus (green red), kusumbi (purple red), motiya (pale pink) and shkirodak (white).
The oldest of the traditional Paithani designs are the asavali (flowering vine) and the akruti (squish flower) forms. Some other designs and motifs used in the Paithani are the kuyri vel (vine and mango), annar vel (vine and pomegranate), draksha vel (vine and grapes), tota-maina (parrot) and behest parinda (the bird of paradise). Right on top of the quality scale is the sari with an asavali border (six inches wide). On par are the sankhli mor (chain of peacocks) and the Ajanta lotus border measuring six inches each. These are followed by the muniya border (1.5 inches), and the cheapest is the sari with the narli border as it is the easiest to weave.
A Paithani sari can take anywhere from one month to two years to finish and has a very high yarn count in its warp and weft. The three-ply fine filature weft silk and 20/22 warp is typical of an original and traditional Paithani. The normal zari count is 1,200 yards, which may increase to 3,000 yards in the case of the traditional coconut design border. So fine is the weave in some antique Paithan that it is practically impossible to distinguish between the positive and negative sides of the fabric.
An Indian bride looks forward to having the most exquisite of saris in her trousseau. Moreover, if she is a Maharashtrian bride, a Paithani would be the high point of her bridal finery. But not everyone can afford the gold and silver threads interwoven with silk that go into the making of an exclusive Paithani sari. More affordable are Paithanis woven with just silk threads. Many city women have adopted Western-style dress, reserving the sari for weddings and other traditional occasions. Young women often prefer cheaper, plainer saris — produced by machines and burnished with garish spangles and beadwork. The handwoven ones are not just costly but are also expensive to maintain as they require careful and constant washing, repeated ironing, starching and still fray faster than saris made with sturdier machine made yarn.
The township of Yeola, 83 km from Nasik, is now the main hub of Paithani. The government has invested heavily to make infrastructural support available to the weavers. The hub hosts about 3,500 weavers. But weavers still continue to languish. The entire cycle is highly exploitative. The rainbow-coloured sari growing under their fingers takes months to make, and hardly fetches them a decent earning. They twist the threads from milky filaments of silk which they return back to the dealer who commissioned them. He will dye the thread, and supply it to another family of weavers who will transform it into a bright sari that will adorn regal wardrobes but will hardly make life better for its creators.
While the efforts to revive the craft are laudable, they are likely to help only a small band of weavers. Even so, these endeavours have spurred hope in the area and have given tourists another reason to visit.
The New Wave Paithani Festival is an annual event held at Mumbai for promoting Paithani sari. It is now in its 28th year. Kamakshi Barve, a proud owner of a 100-year-old black Paithani, said: “The sari has been in the family for over eight generations now.”
The writer is a well-known banker, author and Islamic researcher. He can be reached at moinqazi123@gmail.com
