Anakaputhur weavers create a new legacy on the loom

An American professor, Arlie Russell Hochschild, once said, ...Most women work one shift in the office or factory and a second shift at home. Most women around us follow this drill. They wake up early, tend to household needs, get minimal to no time for themselves, and rush to their workplaces. It was one such day in the life of S Valli, a weaver from Anakaputhur, Chennai. After completing all her household chores, Valli carried her wire koodai containing her lunch and other essentials to reach her home for the next seven hours. She greets her friend, who, with her legs folded, was on a charkha, performing bobbin winding the process of straightening out yarn from the hank into small spools with her eyes concentrating on the yarn being rolled over, and her hands continuously rotating the wheel. Valli and three others begin by setting up the warp the process of organising the base yarn that runs through layers of heddles to make a fabric. With the warp tied to beams, the weavers entered a two-foot-deep pit-loom. There, they step on the foot pedals, exerting energy, and manipulating the warp to lift and be tied with the weft yarn; a metaphor akin to how these weavers are tied to their laborious profession with minimal recognition. The 300-sq-ft room where this labour unfolds also has piles of silk. Valli explains, Our entire body, from head to toe, is at work when we get down to the pit. While pulling the treadles, the shoulders ache, and peddling causes pain in the knees. But we dont know any other work either. I have been working in the weaving sector since I was 15 years old. Another weaver says, The outcome of our entire days work is half a sari. It takes us two days, sometimes even without proper breaks, to weave one sari. After peddling for four hours, the weavers in the room turn off their common radio that usually plays old Tamil and Telugu songs, and break for lunch. They then return for a second round of weaving. Their rhythmic clack of looms is a story of resilience, one that weaves together past, present, and a hope for a better future. Valli and the other women work with C Sekar, who heads the Anakaputhur Jute Weavers Association. Sekar is on a mission to bring recognition to these weavers and restore the glory that Anakaputhur once held. The weaving cluster here thrived previously. Anakaputhur is where the famous Madras Checks originated from. My family also did business with Nigerian customers. But when the country faced economic and other political issues, the exports from here were stopped, shares Sekar. This ban silenced many handlooms in the neighbourhood, and the number drastically fell, from thousands to hundreds, and now to only a few that one could count on the fingers. We want to keep up the legacy of our forefathers. In an attempt, 15 years ago, he, along with the weavers, started introducing natural fibre yarns for weaving saris. They use banana, bamboo, aloe vera, pineapple, crown flower, khas khas , silk, wool, hemp, jute, and gongura , among others. In all their productions, they use 50 per cent of cotton and 50 per cent of any of the natural fibres. We make 25 plant-based varieties of saris. We are also doing R&D for extracting fibre from lotus plants. A few years ago, we even mastered extracting fibre from vetiver, flax seeds, and others. These saris are eco-friendly, sustainable, and help the farmers in a way, when we buy the respective trees from them, says Sekar, his voice mixed with both pride and fatigue following the years of struggle. Despite having found these natural alternatives, Sekars fight did not end. We have sent many petitions to the collector, the MSME minister, and the CM to give us land facility, so that we can produce such natural fabric saris on a larger scale. But there has been no proper response from any of these authorities, rues Sekar. Two years ago, the cluster visited three acres of land in Pozhichalur. We showed them (government officials) the place for this project. It is government land, so we asked if they could give us one acre to do this work. But until now, we havent received any indication from them, Sekar says. Though tangled in bureaucracy, there is light. The weavers innovations have been appreciated and certified by various organisations. Additionally, after noticing their struggle to extract fibre from bananas, which they did with their hands, the Khadi and Village Industries Commission (KVIC) decided to help the cluster by providing machines to extract fibre. Banana fibre is not available anywhere. You can never get 100 per cent fibre because it has a lot of cellulose. It breaks easily. It needs treatment. It takes us a days time to extract mere grams of fibre, but in a machine, we can extract 2-5 kilos from a tree in a few hours, explains Sekar. In the same workspace, Sekars son S Mohan, who has a B.Tech in Textile Technology, has furthered his fathers ideas. I have been researching fibres, especially banana fibre. Its not possible to get one hundred per cent of its fibre, so we have to research and show how it can be done. Blending experience and experimentation with handloom heritage and science is keeping Anakaputhurs looms humming. For now, every thread Valli and others weave tells us a story of how Chennais weavers are finding their way back to the roots.