She smiles and makes bangles with beads #travelogues of Arti Jain

Little Rann of Kutch, 2017

She smiles and makes bangles with beads.

Young, plucky and shrewd can also be used to describe this young Banjaran of Kutch. I met her in 2017 in Little Rann of Kutch. I didn't write her name down in a diary and my sieve memory is failing me to recall what she's called.

On my travels, commerce for clicks is a motto that works well for both the parties. I get to make a picture and the subject gets to sell her wares.

She agreed to get her picture taken when I asked on one condition: I had to buy bangles from her.

I was more than happy to oblige -- who could resist those charming eyes?

"Oh! I love your earrings--the ones you're wearing.." I blurted out, baring my greed and excitement to her while picking a few bangles.

Without blinking an eyelid, she removed her earrings and handed them to me.

"Here. You can buy them." she commanded with her twinkling eyes.

I was putty in her hands.

"You paid too much." someone in the group commented when I got back into the mini van.

"It's probably not even silver." she clarified my stupidity at buying something that expensive first thing in the morning and without any guarantee of authenticity of silver!

You see, we had just started the day. The Banjara women had spread their wares out on the porch outside the reception area of the place we had spent the night in Little Rann of Kutch.

I felt a twinge of regret at my over-excited nature but the earrings were so beautiful.

A couple of days later, I met a young jeweller in Bhuj and I showed him those earrings and asked him to check if they were silver or not.

He told me that they were but of course not pure silver.

"Did I get cheated?" I asked him.

He smiled and said, " Do you like them?"

"Yes. very much."

"Then you paid as much as you could afford for what you liked. Banjara make jewellery when they have enough money to buy silver. Then, in times of need or when they find a customer, they sell it. You are happy with your earrings and she's happy with the money she made. Simple." he made a matter of fact statement and smiled.

This young jeweller's name is Jay and he taught me a valuable lesson that day.

Banjara women wear a silver band that sits across their head and they hook their earrings from these bands, so the pair she sold me didn't have a post, just a hook.

I had to wait a year before Anu took me to her jewellery guy in Doha to get posts welded on to these earrings so I could wear them.

I love them. And every time I wear them, I think of her smile and her twinkling eyes.

W is for Warp and Weft #atozchallenge

What are you weaving on your loom today?
How tense are the threads you hold?

Are you alone?
Or with company?

The cloth you weave is of your choosing.
So choose 
wisely.

Patience is key.

Love will guide you to the pattern of your heart.

Fear will plant doubts. 
The shuttle will lose its path.

Come
alone
or with your beloved
sit 
weave a peaceful harmony
of breath, body and soul.

The loom knows its rhythm:
dhuk-dhuk-dhuk.

Threads know their purpose.
They wear their hearts on their sleeves
nothing to hide or be ashamed of
ready to dye
in all colours of life
whatever they may be.

Open and empty
waits the space
(where the cloth will be)
to be filled
with life's surprises
happy and not so happy.

You are the weaver of your destiny.
What are you waiting for?
Weave.

*****

The words above are by no means a lesson or a lecture or gyan (wise words). They came to the page willingly after I'd spent a good half an hour staring at the blank screen.

I kept hitting a wall today when I first sat down to write this post--no seriously, I'm not just saying it because wall begins with a W. Trust me. 

So, I decided to go through a few pictures of my recent travels to help me unclog the writing. Weavers of Kutchch helped. I started editing a few photos to post under W and before you know it, the post patterned up.

We visited Dharam Patola Art in February this year.

These photos were clicked in their home, where the lady of the house and her husband weave side by side, 

a stole each.

What I didn't do today,

is what I usually do most mornings

when I sit with my cup of tea at my kitchen table--

  I open Rumi.

After I'd typed all this, I did do what I usually do every morning--

Opened up to Rumi.

And guess what he said?

What do you do when creative juices seize to flow?

S is for Silver Serendipity #atozchallenge

One of the items on my list of things to buy in Bhuj was a pair of silver earrings.

Kutchchi women are stunning to look at (example is above) and they wear the kind of jewellery I absolutely adore: silver and striking.

An evening of shopping in the market of Bhuj, the capital of Kutchch, had been assigned and all of us  (six women) had our lists ready. Mine was the most selfish one. I only wanted to buy silver for myself.

As I've mentioned before, I like to google local artisans and artists before I get on that plane/bus/car to explore a new place. This time too, I had jotted down names of two jewellers who came recommended by bloggers who'd been to Bhuj and bought silver.

BUT!

But, the universe had other plans for me, or so I thought.

1. Our stop at Khamir, made us all hanker for the earrings Juhi was wearing and so the name of her guy was added to all the lists.

2. The longer than expected time we spent at Khamir meant we had less than expected time to shop in Bhuj.

3. After checking in, lunch and a brief rest at The Bhuj House, we left for the bazaar in such a cackle of excited chatter that the little piece of paper with the jewellers' names got left behind, forgotten.

There we were--our band of six women-- with one mission in mind--to find Juhi's jeweller.

Our 'where is ...?' adventure took us through the winding and busy bazaar roads of Bhuj. Many blank looks and knowing nods later, we found his shop.

YES!

No. Not quite. It was shut. Closed. With no board of reason hanging on the door.

The sun was setting over the ancient walls of the city and on my silver aspirations.

"Let's just find Soni Bazaar." suggested Apu.

Soni is to jeweller like sona is to gold.

I hope the shops are still open, I thought while immersing in the hullabaloo of the bazaar. Carts, cars, bikes and rickshaws jostled with each other to get to their destinations. I was enjoying the chaos. It reminded me of my childhood visits to Paltan Bazaar in Dehradun. How can antiseptic malls even come close to this celebration of everyday life?

Now, think Arti...maybe you can recall the names you scribbled on that list...think.

Soni, I thought...the first name on the list sort of sprang up. The shops were open. My steps became more purposeful. All I had to do was to look for a 'Soni' something.

Ha! guffawed the atoms of fate...Ha!

Every, yes each and every shop on this street of jewellers has a board which starts with the word SONI..i.e. Jeweller so and so.

We entered a shop. Saw a few wares. Apu tried on a pair. S liked one too. I stepped out and told the rest to carry on while I checked out a few other shops down the street.

Somehow, I found what I was looking for at a shop.

They fit. I strutted a bit in the mirror held by the salesperson, imagined myself as a nomad for a few seconds and while I was doing all this, my roving eyes spotted a necklace.

Can I try this please?

I did and loved it so much that I bought it. 

Happy with my purchase, I asked for their card. He handed it to me and we said namaste to each other. I left.

'Psst...psst...hey Asha....are you awake?"

Asha was sort of snoring softly. She was not awake. 

It was gone past midnight. I was having trouble sleeping. We'd had our dinner and all of us had gone to bed by ten. The following day was packed full of palaces to see. We needed our rest.

"Hey...Asha..." loud, raspy whispers from me made Asha turn.

She's a darling friend. So instead of clobbering me on my head, she opened her droopy eyes (actually I couldn't see them as it was dark in the room.)

"Wh...whaat?"

I turned my phone on. I can never find the torch thingy so just used the lit up phone screen to show sleepy Asha two things:

1. The card above and 2. the scribbled address on my list. 

They were a perfect match.

"Can you believe it?" I almost shrieked.

"Wow..." whispered Asha softly before rolling her head back on to her pillow...the soft snoring had started before I had had time to get up from my kneeling-beside-her-side-of-the-bed position.

The rest of the group were given an update of my amazing discovery over breakfast the next morning. 

It's very difficult for me to save my new purchases for a special day. I wear new stuff as soon as or soon after I get it. Who knows how long I have on this planet? Why save my best for a Sunday I may never see?

So, the next morning, I wore my new silver necklace and we left to explore Aina Mahal in Bhuj.

"There's a tiny shop tucked in a corner just outside the main gate. He's got such lovely stuff." informed Apu when a couple of us had finished our tour of the palace and were waiting for the others to gather near the car.

"How far?" I asked.

"Just ahead..." pointed Apu.

I had to go. So I went.

A few minutes later, I was standing outside the shop, peeping in. A friendly face looked up. 

"Come in." he said.

I stepped in, partially blinded by the strong sun outside. Before I could gather my wits and vision, he, owner of the friendly face, had jumped up and come right in front of me.

"Where did you buy that from?" he pointed at my necklace, his eyes twinkling.

I told him.

"Do you know, my grandfather is the only one in Bhuj who can make these silver beads?" 

"Really?"

"Of course. We supply these to other jewellers here. Every jeweller has a specialty and this is ours."

Silver Serendipity!

The beads

 Jay, the smiling one, showing me the sheets of silver that are rolled into these silver beads.

His card.

You don't always have to buy silver to bathe in its evanescence, sometimes you can make do with poetry that comes with it. 

Window shopping in Zagreb:)
"Before my breath
the moonlight hovers
how pleasing,
I find myself shining."

And window shooting in Dubrovnik.

S is for smile too:)

Have you ever had an Aha! moment while shopping or afterwards?
Or
Any serendipitous moments you'd like to share?
I'd love to find out:)

Enjoy a serene Sunday.

Ta ta for now.

Till we meet again.

R is for Rann of Kutchch #atozchallenge

I came across quietude
yesterday.
A few times actually.
It was Q day, you see.

Quiet
Hmmm...
I thought
I haven't been that
from A till now.

Maybe, it's time.
Perhaps a pause, I thought
A bit of quietude
is what I need before
S follows R
tomorrow.

Come in silence
in your own quietude
and walk or stroll or wander
beside me.
I like your company
when I'm quiet
and you are too.
Silence speaks an ancient tongue
one you speak
the one I infer
without ever uttering a word.

So come.
to these silent salts of Kutchch.

Where a smile, a nod is enough.

Sun sets us alight 

Golden and bright

While he goes off

after kissing Earth.

I'm sure he can taste the salt on his lips.

  

They are warm and proud
and hardworking too--
The people of Kutchch
who give you free rides
and call you behen (sister)
even though you're a tourist
and this is their tourist season.

An extract from The Essential Rumi

by

Coleman Barks

Wean Yourself

Think how it is to have a conversation with an embryo.

You might say, "The world outside is vast and intricate.

There are wheatfields and mountain passes,

and orchards in bloom.

At night there are millions of galaxies, and in sunlight

the beauty of friends dancing at a wedding."

You ask the embryo why he, she, stays cooped up

in the dark with eyes closed.

Listen to the answer.

There is no "other world."

I only know what I've experienced.

You must be hallucinating.

*****

Stay safe and relish the silence

till we meet again:)

N is for Naada and Nirona #atozchallenge

I was all set to do a photo essay on Nirona village in Kutchch when a comment I heard this weekend made my brain cells go PING! and I decided to go down this route instead.

Naa-da (Punjabi) or Naa-la (Hindi) is the drawstring that one uses to keep the pajamas from falling.

But before we get into the seams to find our way out of the casing, let me explain a little about Indian clothing. 

When Max, the doctor, (played by Patrick Swayze in the movie) is attracted to the idea that Indian women don't obsess about their waist sizes like the western ones he'd come across in his fictional life as a character in the book, City of Joy (by Dominique Lapierre), I, the reader of the book, smirk. I smirk because Max is not acquainted with the fact that Indian clothing (to cover the bottom half) almost always comes with an adjustable waist band.

Here in the world of  salwars, pyjamas, churidaars and petticoats, there's never any need to fit into a size 2 or 8 or 12. You can grow as big as the proverbial piece of string or in our case, the naada. What Max doesn't realise is that when he was being set as a character in the novel in the 70s India, a typical Indian woman was making her trip to her tailor, who was measuring her waist and cutting the cloth she'd brought with her to fit her waist (whatever her circumference) and not the other way round.

Teaching your kids to tie the naada in India is the western equivalent of teaching them how to tie their shoe laces. Only difference is, while a shoddily tied naada can cause you immense embarrassment, a sloppy job with shoe laces can trip you up and cause a different kind of pain.

Once you've mastered the art of tying your pajame ka naada  (drawstrings), you can go and get married. I mean you are ready to embark upon your life's path as dreamed up by your parents and as depicted in stereotypical western dramas (dare I say, not without reason): A+ school student, engineer or doctor, holder of a safe and well paid job, married with children, etc.

But, wait. Hang on a tic. It's not the tying of the naada that's an issue, it's the ruddy untying of it that leaves emotional scars so deep, one seeks counselling even when one doesn't believe it works. One is Indian, you see.

In the 70's and the 80's, as a wee one, you had the right to shake your mum or wake your sister to help you to untie the naada in the middle of night when you needed to wee and your fumbling fingers refused to co-operate. It was acceptable. Of course, the elastic band had been invented by then but there were times when you ended up wearing that one pj which hadn't been elasticated yet.

It's when you're all grown up and dressed up in the 90s and you're going out for a night of merriment, dressed in your best salwaar kameez, kurta pajama or saree that comic and life shattering experiences abound.

Imagine an evening of dance, music, good food and wine. Everyone's happy. You decide to go to powder your nose. The ladies' loo is unusually queue free. So you decide to pee too. Why miss a chance like this? You feel so good about your terrific timing and presence of mind. Now you can go on for another couple of hours and not stand in a queue. Happy with this thought,  you yank the naada to undo the knot. It seems stuck. Did I tie a double knot? You can't remember. But you try again and this time you tease the knot to ease it up a bit. The cotton threads that make the naada soft and washable decide to behave like steal wire today. You yank a little, tease a little, then yank a little more. You keep your cool. It's a naada, after all. You've done this in your sleep. It'll yield. It has to. You didn't even need to pee. But now the bladder has sensed that you're in a loo. So he gets all excited and decides he needs a release. The brain is trying to cope with two conflicting signal: bladder vs fingers. Who will win? You breathe in and tell your adrenaline to shush and just let the fingers do their thing. You can hear a few voices outside the door now. People are starting to shuffle close to the cubicle. Then a knock. Yes, you tell them, it's occupied.

That knock tips the scales and the adrenaline takes over completely. Fingers get sweaty and bladder is blasting to explode. No! You get the tweezers out (the tiny ones you always carry with you in your bag for the pesky chin hair that seem to show up only on your nights out and only after you've hugged and air-kissed all your friends at close quarters). Fumble. Fumble. Plop. The tweezers look up at you from their watery grave and the sight of water makes the bladder weak at his knees.

You know you've lost your battle and any street credit you may have picked up that evening when you feel the first wet drop.

You unlock the cubicle door and holler, does anyone have scissors? My naada is stuck.

Universal sisterhood rises to the challenge. You are saved just in time. You tinkle like you've never tinkled before and see the Divine right in front of you. That feeling! That release!

You step out, wash your hands, avoid eye contact, slink out without saying goodbye to your friends. And promise yourself to never, ever, go close to a naada. It's elastic from now on or hooks or buttons or zips...not zips, you tell yourself. Remember that scene in that film? But that was a man, you justify and feel a smile spreading inside of you. Safe in the comfort of your home and pull up pants, you can see the funny side of the evening.

Wardrobe malfunction stories are a dime a dozen when it comes to naada tying, untying, breaking in half while tying , or old naadas giving up their ghost while you're in the middle of a busy bazaar bargaining.

Have clothes ever put you in a pickle? Do share (if you can or would like to).

*****

And here are nine (clever, right?) pictures of Nirona village in Kutchh to give you a little flavour.

For more details about this village of artisans, check out NIRONA

 Wooden utensils and toys made by hand and coloured with natural pigment and mustard oil.

Ordinary moments of ordinary days 

is all that my heart desires.

Leaving you with a few lines from The Sage's Tao Te Ching

by

William Martin

Every Ordinary Moment

Our thoughts are becoming clearer,

and our needs are becoming more simple.

Enough to eat,

a comfortable bed,

and the glow of friendship

suffice to delight us.

*****

K is for Khamir #AtoZChallenge

What's the first thing you do when you start planning your holiday?

The first thing after you've decided your destination.

We are an airline family. No, we don't own an aircraft (sadly). The husband works for one which means that we are blessed with discounted air travel as long as there are seats available on the plane. There lies the catch 22 of every airline family. The most popular destinations, therefore, are almost always out of reach on staff discounted tickets.

But, this quirk has worked out quite favorably for us as we end up travelling to 'off the beaten path' kinda places and love it.

One has to be ready to fly out at half a day's notice (as long as the boss okays your leave) and pack efficiently for hot and cold places at once. A couple of years ago, we were all set to spend a weekend in February in cool Kathmandu but the flight filled up. Luckily, we found out before we left for the airport. The only other option was a flight to Kerala, a few hours later. Out came the woolly jumpers and in went the bathing suits. We've done this sort of last minute travelling long enough for it to feel normal now.

The first thing I do when I know that there's a 75% chance we'll get on is to google: local artisans or artists and a place to stay -- yes, in that order. The artisans' details with phone numbers etc. are jotted down on pieces of paper lying around the house. These pieces travel with me in my handbag/backpack. I've manged to meet, visit, see and talk to quite a few people on my lists. Visiting local artists/artisans tops the 'to-do-list' for me when I'm travelling. Luckily, others in the family enjoy it too:)

So when in February this year, while travelling through Kutchch, my travel guru and buddy, Apu, mentioned that a friend of hers knew the director of  Khamir (the one on my list) and that we'd be given a tour of the place, I was ecstatic.

"Khamir in Kutcchi means pride." stated the director, Juhi Pandey.

"I read that it stands for yeast (like in Hindi...khameer) to show that this centre is like a catalyst..." I interjected unnecessarily.

"Yes." She carried on. "It is that too." She smiled and offered an explanation.

Note to self: stop blurting out googled facts to the people who know what they're talking about. Actually, just stop blabbing. Full Stop.

Notes I can take, follow their instructions....not so sure.

I didn't squeak a syllable after that. The sun was beating down on us and I could sense that the rest of the group wanted to listen to her, not me!

"After the earthquake," Juhi continued, "a group of weavers from near here came to us and asked for a loan to build their loom sheds. They said the only way they could get back on their feet was if they started working again. They said that although charities had re-built their homes, without work, they wouldn't be able to sustain themselves."

Juhi's silver earrings kept distracting me. They were gorgeous.

"The people of Kutchh are very proud of their heritage and when they insisted that they didn't want a hand out but a loan which they'd pay back, an idea was born and Khamir is the result."

Check out their story and other details here: KHAMIR and have a look at some of the photos I took:

 Under Indigo

 She laughs when we go Ewww...at the fact that cow dung is used to make the natural dyes used at Khamir vibrant and long lasting.

The yarn is boiled with it!

 To witness a process as ancient as the Indus Valley Civilization pumps me up with so much joy.

 Colourful human history
Some of the dyeing techniques are dying.
Here at Khamir, those techniques are being revived by giving the artisans the support they need to create and sell.

 Pit looms --where the weaver sits in a pit, so his feet dangle below the loom.

 Even the ugly plastic gets a useful makeover here

"Where did you get those earring from?" One of us asked Juhi.

The name of the jeweller was added to my list immediately.

No visit to a place like Khamir is complete without visiting their shop. So off we went, our group of women, to do what we (most of us at least) enjoy a lot -- yes, shopping; at least looking and oohing and aahing if not buying.

I bought this beautiful saree. The fabric wasn't woven here (it's a Chanderi) but the colours and the batik motifs were adorned to it in the village of Mundra in Kutchch.

Looking forward to seeing you here tomorrow.

Live lightly:)