Bringing the Old Back...
“My mother
wore a Banarasi Tanchoi on my marriage, you know… An exquisite six yard embellished
with antique Zardozi. Every time I see the album, I forget myself and stare at
her.” Aanchal Sagar Jain rues her decision to don a designer lehenga on her big
day. “I should have worn a handwoven sari. I would have loved myself in those
pictures more that way…” I take a liking to Aanchal instantly. We lighten up
over a crostini and fresh orange juice at Good Earth café in Khan market as she
narrates her rendezvous into the world of heritage weaves and timeless
handcrafted textiles.
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Aanchal (left) and Akshita |
Aanchal
and her sister, Akshita Sagar, launched Ohfab a year back to do something that
they passionately felt about… to restore and revive the lost weaves and designs
dying a slow death in the serpentine lanes of Varanasi. But unlike most
designers their age championing the cause of heritage fabrics and textiles,
Aanchal and Akshita are clear about one thing… they want to retain the
old-world charm in their works. If you do peek into their look books and Instagram
page, it would be like staring into the fragile pages of the past, brittle at a
touch but promising vignettes of the vintage… the sepia-washed skin, the
sun-kissed air and the redolent life… women in heirloom bijouterie, ensconced
in rustling six yards, each telling an intricate story… of love, laughter and
looking ethereal.
The coy
demeanour of the women draped in rich fabric that showcases the intricate
workmanship of the weaver, is only enhanced by the old-world aura that is
purposely recreated in every frame. The Ohfab look is a luxurious reminder of
the days of yore, which the enterprising sisters have unfurled through their
painstaking efforts.
Even while
growing up in Ambala, the sisters witnessed this insane love for textiles
amongst their elders. “Our mother decked up in the most gorgeous handloom saris.
We have grown up hearing that our grandfather developed a superior sense of
style even as he travelled to different countries. Our maternal granddad, K K
Nayyar, was the Deputy Director General of AIR and his aesthetics thrived in an
august company of fashionable celebrities and artists at home.”
But,
fashion was never a career choice when the sisters were transitioning towards adulthood.
“I studied Economics from LSR and Akshita did Electrical Engineering. I went to San Francisco to study luxury management and thereafter worked with Louis Vuitton for
three years after my marriage. Akshita went on to do her post graduate studies from University College, London and probed into
the fashion industry there. But somewhere, both of us rooted for home. We had
to come back and do something that took us to the villages, where we wanted to
see the process of making beautiful textiles at the grassroots level. A few
years ago, we took the plunge and set off to Varanasi,” recalls Aanchal, “What
happened changed our lives and perspectives forever.”
A ground
study revealed to the siblings that while there were skilled artisans willing
to hold on to the old techniques and design graphs, the rampant unscrupulous
market mechanism riddled with middlemen curbed their creative instincts. This
led to the gradual extinction of the old designs. “When we went through old swatches
in their little units we fell in love with the ancient patterns that were so
much more ornate and intricate than some of the modern forms.
But not everyone
was eager to experiment backwards. Gradually, we won them over with promises of
sales and vanquishing the predominance of middlemen. Weavers often felt
surprised that we cajoled them to weave the ancient patterns complaining that
the modern taste wouldn’t find favour with the vocabulary of jaals and junglas.
But we trudged on,” Akshita explains from Ambala, “It’s sad that the next
generation doesn’t want to get into weaving like their fathers. They find it
too tedious and not rewarding enough. The irony is that when our clients see
our ware, they are pleasantly surprised that we actually have something that
looked like the sari their grandmothers wore. We are striving to bring back the
glorious past and that is what we tell our weavers, to take pride in their
heritage,” avers Aanchal.
Every year
the sisters (Aanchal is settled in Bangalore and Akshita in Ambala) take numerous
trips to Varanasi, Kota, Gujarat and Paithan to explore what’s hot in the hinterlands
of weaves and textiles. They are fascinated by how the social demographics
influence weaves and patterns. For instance, just like how Shikargah uses fine
minakari to depict flora and fauna, a Baluchori too, uses exquisite weave
bindings to depict mythological figures. Unlike weaves of Varanasi, the weaves
of the South uses human figures a lot. What the sisters lack in technical
education, they try to bolster through in-depth study and research. Armed with knowledge
about the country’s history in woven fabrics that has been collated through
various visits to museums and information websites (Aanchal sounds excited
about her recent trip to Barcelona that turned out to be a revelation in the
realm of historical textiles; they want to do something with weaves of Iran)
the sisters are convincing dormant weavers from various craft districts of the
country to get back in the trade that they left due to non-profitable returns
and disbalanced market forces.
“We met
Lakshman in one of the villages. He had stopped weaving and had shifted to some
job because he did not find any taker for his designs. He showed us two saris
and we stood there stupefied at the workmanship. We have commissioned some
saris to him that we are sure will be a sell-out in our next show, slated for end
of this month in the capital. That is the premise of exploring remote areas of
India to revive techniques and crafts and provide the artisans with a platform
to reach the right consumer. We have noticed that when it comes to luxury
weaves, there are connoisseurs passionate about legacy. And, we give them the
old look, the timeless look that invoke nostalgia in them,” trails off Aanchal
with satisfied gleam in her eyes
.
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