One step at a time. This is the mantra that has transformed the vision of a simple grassroots movement initiated by a Mumbai homemaker in 1969 and transformed into a successful social enterprise that has since touched the lives of more than 30,000 women across the Kutch region of Gujarat, India.
Arriving as a relief mission worker at Dhaneti to assist the villagers of the severely drought-affected regions of the Kutch, Chanda Shroff, then aged 36, was taken aback by the rampant famine she witnessed around her.
“People were on the verge of starvation,” remembers this soft-spoken, diminutive woman. “They had sold off their utensils and jewellery to acquire food. Yet the Ahirs — the community that lived there — were a dignified lot and reluctant to accept charity.”
Dhaneti was a picture of gloom, “but the colourful, vibrant hand-embroidered garments the women wore provided a welcome foil to the desolateness that permeated the landscape,” says Shroff, who has a teaching diploma in crafts. Having lived in the region prior to her marriage, she was aware of the special place embroidery had in their lives. Exquisitely embroidered garments and wall décor form the most integral items of a girl’s trousseau.
“It was heart-wrenching, therefore, to learn how they had to relinquish these treasured heirlooms for food,” says Shroff, also affectionately known as Chandaben or Kaki (aunt).
Understanding that relief work was only a temporary solution, Chandaben gently broached the idea of using their innate talent for embroidery as a source of potential income. “Embroidery is a domestic craft in the Ahir community and commercial trade is generally frowned upon,” she explains.
Fortunately, the Ahir women agreed, and she dipped into her entire savings Rs5,000 (Dh302) to purchase 30 plain saris and boxes of silken threads from Mumbai. Back in Dhaneti, she was astounded to learn that though all women could embroider, not everyone could do an aarekhani (freehand design outline).
“That was my first stumbling block,” she says. “I was taken to Parma Balasara, the only aarekhani artist in Dhaneti. Unbeknownst to me, the meeting with this frail lady was to change all our lives forever.”
Parmaben instantly understood what Chanda Shroff was trying to achieve. She drew different motifs and borders on each sari, and entrusted 30 of the best craftswomen in the village to work on them. At an exhibition in Mumbai, the sarees sold for Rs400 each. All the proceeds were then sent to Parmaben to distribute among the craftswomen who worked on it.
90-year-old Parmaben still recollects the day she received the first payment from Chandaben. “After five years of drought, we had no food to eat and all hope had died in our hearts. Thanks to Chandaben, money began to flow in. It did not make us wealthy overnight, but it helped revive our flailing spirits and feed our families. Never had it occurred to any of us until then, that embroidery — a craft we grew up with — could help us gain a livelihood.”
For the Ahirs, embroidery is more than just an embellishment of a garment. “It is a silent language that conveys so much of our thoughts and feelings,” says Parmaben. “Just as its presence indicates our happy states of mind, its absence denotes the passing away of a loved one.”
Convinced that embroidery could become the lifeline of the Ahir community, Chandaben mooted the idea of starting a nonprofit organisation to serve this purpose. “My husband’s family set up a charitable trust but I was keen that we adopt a business enterprise model based on demand and supply to ensure the longevity of the project and help ensure both the survival of the art form and also the livelihood of the craftswomen,” says Shroff.
Thus was born “Shrujan”, coined from the names of two family members, Shruti and Ranjan, who were assisting her, and coincidentally, also a Sanskrit term for “creativity”. A fair wage system was set in place and women worked within the confines of their homes, at their own pace.
Chandaben maintained a regular long-distance communication with Parmaben via the 10 paise Indian postcard. “Motifs and designs that I wanted were drawn or explained on the postcard including colour specifications and other details,” she reminisces. The embroidered textiles were fashioned into high quality garments and lifestyle products including bags, clutches, shawls and quilts, and retailed across cities in India and abroad.
Soon, women from neighbouring villages came forward and expressed their desire to be part of Shrujan. What began as an employment generation and sustenance scheme in one village with 30 women of one community soon grew to encompass more craft communities such as the Mutvas, Jats, Sodhas and many more in other villages as well.
At present over 3,500 women from 18 villages specialising in 19 different types of embroidery are part of the Shrujan family and a fairly large and complex infrastructure is in place in Bhuj, Kutch, to service their needs. This includes specialised services to handle design, production, marketing and village-level distribution and collection of materials.
For Chandaben, Shrujan was not just about income generation for Ahir women. Her thrust was on producing exquisite embroidery to give it the status of a high art form. She urged the women to keep their tradition alive by reviving designs that were fast disappearing. She also brought in professional designers to inject fresh creativity and reinterpret traditional designs so that the products could seamlessly integrate into with lifestyles.
“She wanted us to look to the future,” Parmaben says.
To cater to a larger clientele, Chandaben suggested the use of subdued versions of the bright Ahir colours. Thus oranges turned into dull gold; pearl white became ivory and parrot green metamorphosed into emerald green. Soon, she also introduced them to the idea of working on lighter colour base fabrics. This marked a significant shift from tradition as virtually every spectrum of colour could now be explored whilst retaining the Ahir spirit.
Chanda Shroff was therefore alarmed when, decades later, she noticed a visible decline in the quality of embroidery. “The commitment of the women to the craft was not as strong as when they were embroidering for personal use. Women opted for stitches that were neither complex nor intricate and young women, who no longer wore traditional clothing, saw no interest in pursuing this art form.”
The complete disappearance of the treasured heirlooms, brought on by a continued cycle of natural disasters in the region, only added to her woes. “These had served as a rich learning resource to which women turned to for inspiration. With no documentation of the craft, their artistic legacy now teetered on the verge of extinction.”
Around this time, funding from the Sir Dorabji Tata Trust encouraged Chandaben to give shape to a bold and ambitious six-year project called Pride and Enterprise (1997-2003), which involved the creation of 1,082 hand embroidered textile panels, each 1 metre by 1.2 metres in size, representing all the 16 different styles of Kutchi embroidery.
“The idea was to ignite a fire in the hearts of the younger generation; to showcase the richness and diversity of the craft they have inherited; and to inspire them to see themselves as custodians of this artistic heritage.”
Six-hundred highly skilled craftswomen from 20 villages belonging to different castes and communities helped bring this project to life. This was then taken around the villages where facilitators explained the intricacies of motifs and designs. Pride and Enterprise led to a dramatic explosion of new designs that pushed the frontiers of the craft as the younger craftswomen began to view themselves and their skills in an entirely different light.
In 2006, Chanda Shroff became the first Indian to win the Rolex Award for Enterprise, as the jury recognised her efforts in “preserving an endangered and intangible heritage” while at the same time, endeavouring to “empower rural women” in a conservative social environment.
This financial empowerment gave women a more respectable position in the household. As education became the norm, rigid caste barriers too began to slowly erode. Widows also received unwavering support at Shrujan.
As Parmaben says, “Shrujan literally changed our lives. I did not have to work in the fields anymore yet could run my household, educate my daughters and get them married without any difficulty.”
Now 81, Chandaben is giving the final touches to another cherished dream — a museum dedicated to showcasing the rich culture and craftsmanship of the Ahirs which will highlight the pastoral and religious elements present in their embroidery style. A Crafts School where practicing and aspiring artisans will receive need-based training, exposure and individual nurturing forms phase 2 of the project.
“My life is inextricably linked with the lives of the Ahirs,” Chandaben says. “Forty-five years ago, when they welcomed me into their fold, it gave me the courage to work along the ideas of empowerment, conservation and education. Each of the more than 30,000 craftswomen engaged with Shrujan over the decades has added a new meaning to my life, and I am grateful to every one of them for such a fulfilling journey.”
Sangeetha Swaroop is a writer based in Dubai.
