Call them old fashioned, but shawls are one wardrobe worth 10 times their weight in designer wear. A Jamawar shawl today costs you about Rs 4 lakh, perhaps more, depending on the work. Kings or royal members used to buy the woven fabric by the yard (‘jama’ means robe and ‘var’ stands for ‘yard’), wore it as a gown or a shawl. Shahtoosh, another type of shawls, are so fine that even a large shawl can be pulled with ease through a finger ring, giving it the name, ‘ring shawl’. Each piece is unique in its own way —“I enslave myself to the beauty of the shawl, it is like touching the artist’s feet and saluting them,” claims CL Bharany, a connoisseur whose collection of Jamawar and Kashmir shawls is renowned the world over.

To say Bharany’s taste in textiles is ‘outdated’ would be an understatement. Today, the 87-year-old Delhi-based jeweller, whose first love was miniatures, can boast one of the best private collections of ancient textiles in the country. “For me, it is an inherited disease that has given me life — loving, collecting art — it keeps one away from negative outlets,” he claims. Bharany inherited his sartorial fascination for old textiles from his father, Ram Kishen Bharany. The late Bharany senior had developed a keen interest in old garments being a textile trader in Punjab. RK Bharany acquired art objects and textiles. As a result, he was referred to in almost all art books by eminent art historians such as AK Coomaraswamy, MS Randhawa and KJ Khandalavala. RK Bharany went on to win a gold medal for his collection at a Kolkata exhibition in 1906. His son is now the mantle bearer of his collection and passion. In his own words, he has an affinity towards textiles because “Any painting can be duplicated but a Kashmiri shawl can’t be duplicated. Shawls are my passion. To admire beauty needs no reason. I go by intuition, without going into details — ‘who did it?’ etcetera.”

Bharany’s love for the art of textiles is as deeply woven in his soul as the fine patterns of shawls in his collection. The 19th century shimmering maroon silk robe, for instance, has beautifully colourful patterns woven in gold and silver threads. His Do Rukha Do Ranga Kashmiri shawl is every connoisseur’s delight. Reversible, as its name suggests, it is a curious mix of two colours — the usual off white and mustard. To a layman, the shawl will surely look machine made as the mustard has been mixed extremely skilfully with the base colour. And even though it is evident that so many colours and heavy embroidery has been used, the shawl weighs little and feels as thin as a cotton shirt!

These shawls were a rage during their time. If you look through the early records of the East India Company, you would find that shawls such as these were used as articles of bribery. During the 1800s, the western elite even considered them to be the last word in passion!

Their uniqueness was, perhaps, one of the main reasons for their popularity. The shawls were a riot of colours — maroon, purple, red, yellow, green — as vegetable dyes were used, says Bharany. “People used to go blind making these shawls and must have surely been driven to madness,” he exclaims, overturning one of his antique shawls and pointing to the fine embroidery hence revealed. The designs were, indeed, complicated and highly intricate. Several little wooden shuttles of different colours were used for a single weft line of the fabric. Since each particular colour was to be highlighted, the threads did not run through the width of the cloth as is done today. So laborious was the process that weeks, sometimes even years of hard work meant one Jamawar, creating an elegant and glorious ensemble.

Shawls have been woven in Kashmir since about the 11th century, but the industry producing what we refer to as a Kashmir shawl is thought to have begun during the 15th and 16th centuries. As far back as in 1623, Italian traveller Pietro della Valle, observed that whereas in Persia the shawl was worn as a girdle, in India it was usually carried “across the shoulders”. John Irwin, a textile historian of great standing, claims in his book Shawls, “Worn in this way in India, the shawl was essentially a male garment; its degree of fineness was traditionally accepted as a mark of nobility. The finest shawls of the modern era are synonymous with the name of Kashmir.”

However, these exquisitely woven shawls — Jamawar, Do Rakha (double sided), Do Rookha Do Ranga (with two colours), Moon Shawls, Shahtoosh, Lahiria, Jal Daar — might soon be seen only in text books or museum exhibits as their craft is vanishing and skilled artisans are growing smaller in number.

The coat of the endangered Tibetan antelope, Chiru, contains some of the world’s finest hair, measuring one-fifth that of human hair. Shahtoosh shawls, which sell for anything between Rs 60,000 and more, have today become the fashion symbol. To be seen draped in a Shahtoosh shawl is the ‘in thing’ among the elite and the fashion-conscious of the world but to keep a check on illegal poaching and trade, the international ban on Shahtoosh trade has been in force for close to 25 years now. Jammu and Kashmir, however, is the only place where its trade continues to be legal.

“I see the creativity, colours and combination not done by post graduates or art students but by people who did it for posterity, to enjoy — they weren’t told by anybody. When creation becomes production, it means more commercialisation. A lot of things are changing hands now and not being produced,” says Bharany. “Quite a few people, especially from Kolkata — like zamindars — were great patrons but now, a lot of museums, like national ones, are collecting shawls,” he says. On a positive note, he adds: “Antique shawl market has expanded because now there are many books on the subject. More people see this as being better for the art because once it gets shown, it gets value and people start preserving it. I see a great future for appreciation.”

Collecting shawls hasn’t been an easy task for Bharany. Some years ago, he was on the road constantly scouting for new finds and following up tips on rare specimens. Sometimes he would have to wait for as long as 10 years to add certain articles of textiles to his ever-growing collection. “I would buy if someone offers a good price and I can afford it. I can’t put a price on it — it depends on how much love I have for the piece. I collect what appeals to me. The price is determined by the respective bargaining power of the buyer and seller.” Yet he exclaims that collecting shawls for him isn’t a business.

However, for some, shawls put food on the table and provide a roof above heads. Every year, many Kashmiri shawl weavers and sellers make Delhi their temporary abode and carry out the shawl trade in the city, bringing rich vibrant colours into the lives of people. If you have money, they have a shawl for you.

Showkat Ahmad Shehri comes down to Delhi when winter begins to settle in the city for a period of five months each year. Fast-talking Shehri has a lot of contacts up his sleeve who he regularly visits, showcasing and enticing them with new, and exquisite shawls. “My father, who passed away recently, Ghulam Hasan Shehri, was involved in the business for 40 years and I have been involved in the same for 30,” he exclaims. Sitting in his small house in one of Bhogul’s myriad lanes, he tells that a pashmina made by his artisans starts from Rs 20,000 and depending on the work, the price of a Jamawar can go up to Rs 4 lakh. He also adds, “Kashmir has had a long tradition of pundits being great patrons of shawl makers and girls get pashmina gifted to them when they get married.” Shehri goes on to lament the fact that even though there is a high demand for Kashmiri shawls, the younger generation would rather get educated than learn to weave, afraid of manipulative middlemen, raw material scarcity and governmental negligence. Upon asking, he opens up a big suitcase to reveal a lot of shining, new shawls. “This one was made with ‘tilis’ and it took a little more than three years,” he says, holding up a beautiful maroon Kani priced at Rs 2.5 lakh. “It isn’t antique now but one day, this will be considered a great shawl,” Shehri says.

The major difference between antique Indian shawls and the ones being made now, points out Bharany, could be that these days nobody has that kind of patience and colours. “Earlier, the shades one got using vegetable dyes are all gone now. The old shawls used to take four to five years to be completed. To my mind, matching the embroidery technique is possible but the new weaving is loose compared to the old shawls,” says Bharany. “New shawls being produced incorporate new styles; for example, the new Jamawar style. They are gaining popularity and they come mostly from Kashmir. Those that come from Najibabad are mostly embroidered and not woven, but at least people are getting jobs because of them,” exclaims Bharany. Despite being asked many times, Bharany, would not quote any price for his shawls — perhaps, writing the fact, that his shawls are priceless, in stone. “I, sometimes, collect small fragments on shawls. Beauty is in rarity,” he says. And he is right — the real value of a shawl lies in the effort and skill that has gone into creating each one of them.

“I gladly loan whatever I own as I consider myself a temporary custodian of what I have,” says Bharany whose collection has been exhibited at India festivals in the US, the UK, Paris, Russia and Japan. “A collector goes by the beauty for what he collects. Listen to others but don’t consult — buy what you enjoy, because you love it — if you love it, it radiates. Go by your own heart because otherwise it’s their collection with your money and not your collection with your money,” explains Bharany.

Maintaining antique is a tedious exercise as well. The shawls are folded carefully, alternating each layer of fabric with either tissue paper or muslin cloth. Bharany tells us the ideal material would be acid free paper but it isn’t available in the country. Every few months, the garments are brought out to be ‘aired’.

Worried that his collection will not last long, Bharany is in the process of photographing and documenting his shawls. “There is an urgent need for an exhaustive documentation of these remnants of the bygone era, before they are lost,” he says.

Even in this day and age, Bharany is still hungry for more articles to be added to his collection. “Even though I don’t buy that often now, I still in touch with shawl dealers — I am a slave of old shawls. Sometimes, I open shawls at night and feel good about them — it’s like a holy man visiting a temple,” says Bharany.

This passion, Bharany tells you, keeps him alive. “I’m so happy to be alive with art. It is like a therapy for me, it can make you forget negative things.” He pauses for a while and utters words of pure wisdom, “My antique shawl collection is an indirect tribute to the unknown, unlamented artist who have created them — these occupy, for me, feelings of love.”

aazaranis@mydigitalfc.com