A rare Maheshwari weave is on the verge of dying out. This 95-year-old artisan has the key to its survival

In the images and videos you see of 95-year-old weaver Tulsa Bai, she’s a tiny and wiry, her white hair covered with a ghoonghat, a big red bindi on her forehead. While she might look frail, in the videos you see that her hands move with confidence, separating and counting threads with a mathematical precision drawn from years of practice. She’s usually teaching someone the practice of pajni, a painstaking process of hand-sizing and strengthening fine 80-ply cotton yarn, which she calls the “essence” of Maheshwari saris. “Pajni is what gave Devi Ahilya’s garbha reshmi saris their softness and sheen,” explains Tulsa Bai, referring to her family’s royal patron.

Tulsa Bai is the last living custodian of pajni, the technique that’s the centre of a new collection of saris by REHWA Society to commemorate the 300th birth anniversary of Devi Ahilyabai Holkar, the erstwhile ruler who built the temple town of Maheshwar into the spiritual and craft hub that it is today. “My family migrated from Burhanpur to Maheshwar under her patronage,” the third-generation artisan tells The Nod in the local dialect of Nimari, relayed to us by a translator.

Reviving a dying art

The pajni method involves brushing a paste of jowar or ragi onto the yarn, which is stretched in the open and tied end-to-end on wooden sticks or poles. Next, through stretching and pulling, using a wooden sizing brush and detailed mathematical calculations, 11 metres of warp are transformed to 44 metres of supple yarn. “It’s a non-stop process of five hours and achieved only under very precise weather conditions,” explains Sanra S, chief operating officer of REHWA Society and WomenWeave Charitable Trust.

The result is the aforementioned garbha reshmi sari—a unique Maheshwari handloom sari characterised by a blend of 75 per cent silk and cotton (as opposed to the traditional pure-cotton Maheshwari saris). The technique is being protected and championed by the original queen’s descendants, Richard Holkar and Padma Shri awardee Sally Holkar, who set up the not-for-profit REHWA Society in 1978. Their aim was to revive and develop Maheshwari weaving, much like their ancestors did. “Today, there are over 7,000 handloom weavers in Maheshwar, all of whom have some ancestral ties to REHWA Society. We have shaped the town’s weaving legacy in the last five decades,” adds Sanra.

Tulsa Bai’s family was among them. “My grandmother and mother—everyone before me—worked with pajni. It was part of our household and daily chores, much like fetching water or cooking,” she explains.

She first got involved at the age of nine. “It was a generational thing. I started absorbing it just by being there.” By the time she was a teenager, she could complete the entire process herself. “Pajni was very important for our survival, as it gave us a means to earn an income with dignity,” she says. “But when pajni started fading, we had to change our ways and start learning handloom.”

A tribute in threads

It’s been over a decade since the last collection that used the pajni technique. Now, the ‘Ahilyadevi’ collection brings it back.

The limited-edition line of 15 saris was Richard Holkar’s idea and takes inspiration from his family’s ancestral portraits as well as works by Portuguese painter AX Trindade and India’s Raja Ravi Varma. “I was looking at the portrait of my grandmother, Maharani Chandravati Bai Sahib Holkar, and felt strongly about recreating the fine cotton and real-gold zari sari worn by her—as a fitting tribute to the skill of the Maheshwari handloom weaver and to the weaving tradition itself, which Devi Ahilyabai Holkar so successfully established in Maheshwar over 250 years ago,” he says.

One of the most unique saris in the line is Chandravati, woven over 100 hours by REHWA’s master artisans: it’s a cotton and silk (neem-resham, as it’s locally known) piece with 111 lines of booti (2,109 such motifs dress the sari), handmade in 24-carat real gold zari.

“Pajni may seem like just yarn and starch, but it holds memories of our mothers and grandmothers. This collection is like a warm hug to a daughter from a long-lost mother,” says Tulsa Bai. “The recreation of the original pajni-enabled garbha-reshmi sari is very fortunate.”

Paying it forward

Even as her health doesn’t permit her to be actively involved in the weaving process, Tulsa Bai feels a deep responsibility to be a part of pajni’s revival movement. Along with REHWA Society, Sally Holkar’s WomenWeave Charitable Trust, and a special grant from entrepreneur-philanthropist Rati Forbes, Tulsa Bai is passing on her knowledge to the next generation of craftswomen.

“When REHWA and WomenWeave asked me to pick up my brushes again, the process came back to me like a song I always knew,” she smiles. “Now, I go into the centre only on days I am to teach.”

“It’s been a challenge bringing the younger generation to this craft, as they find it very labour-intensive. Even Tulsa Bai’s own children haven’t learnt it from her,” admits Sanra. “This year, we have two women who are learning pajni. Two women can make yarns for two or three looms in the entire month. We hope to inculcate two more women to the craft every year.”

“The first principle to save an art is to practise it,” adds Tulsa Bai. “I feel that it is my responsibility to teach the process to this generation so that the craft lives on even after I am long gone.”

The ‘Ahilyadevi’ collection will be exhibited at 47-A Gallery, Mumbai, from September 20 to September 28