Red, blue and green squares intermingle with white and black borders to form the gago embroidery pattern upon the yoke of their red frocks. Shimmering circular mirrors are stitched tightly into the geometric symmetry, and the 500-year-old traditional dress is complete.
Shrubs and classic dessert vegetation line the smooth road out of Bhuj city and into the Sumrasar village, where light blue houses coated with a layer of sand greet you. A tall man in a crisp, white kurta and an impressive beard welcomed us, gesturing towards a soft carpet laid out on the floor for us to sit on. Nihal kaka, a researcher with Shrujan Trust (a non-profit organisation working with traditional craftsmen in Kutch), who has learnt the ins and outs of Kutch over the last 30 years of his working life, warmly embraces the gentleman, introducing him as Jumna Ali Maman, the former Par Mukh (head) of Sumrasar. And slowly, the stories he narrates paint a picture of the Jath Garaasiyas in colourful clarity, keeping us in rapt attention hanging off his every word. [Since various documented works referring to this community haven’t agreed on one specific spelling, we will continue with ‘Jath Garaasiya’.]
The Three Jaths of Kutch
The Jath community (not to be mistaken with the Jats), is one of the several different communities occupying Gujarat’s Kutch region, and has three distinct sub-groups. Starting with the Dhaanetah Jaths, who derived their name from the ‘dhaan’ they would give to the king of Kutch, make up the largest Jath population. Next, the Jath Fakiraanis, called as such owing to their nomadic ‘fakir’ lives. And lastly, we arrive at the Jath Garaasiyas, named after the grasslands they occupy to herd cattle. The Jath community’s travel can be traced from Arab lands to Iraq to Iran, finding their way to Baluchistan, then to Sind, finally arriving in Kutch’s Banni district outside of Bhuj about 600 years ago.
Mai Bhambi and her beautiful, bright red frock
“We fully belong to Mai,” smiles Sara bai Jakab, Jumna Ali Maman’s sister-in-law. The Jaths are primarily Sunni Muslim, and greatly revere the Goddess form Mai Bhambi, who, as they believe, was a greatly independent, unmarried woman who travelled on camel back across the dessert. As we were on our way to Sumrasar to meet Sara bai and Jumna ji, we journeyed through narrow lanes packed with festively dressed locals shuffling in and out of brown cloth tents. Camels were ushered in and out of the hundreds of tents and stalls set up with food. A little way off, horses were being lined up, surrounded by huge groups of men cheering and shouting. Nihal Kaka explained in the car, “The Mai Bhambi mela is on. The horse race is about to start.” A tall gentlemen with a long, orange beard that commanded respect, smiled at Nihal Kaka from amidst the crowd of men. “That’s Jakab Bhai, Sumrasar’s par mukh,” we learn about Sara bai’s husband. Back in Sumrasar, as we continue to learn more about Mai Bhambi from Jumna ji, her connection to the Jath Garaasiya embroidered red frock becomes clearer.
“It’s called a gago”, Jumna ji says, pointing to the intricately stitched design atop Sara bai’s garb. As he talks to us, he pulls out a red bandhni cloth, and proceeds to tie a perfect turban around his head. For the last 600 years, Jath Garaasiya women have stitched the exact same red frock with the precise yoke design that they believe was worn by Mai Bhambi, implying that they are wearing Mai Bhambi’s clothes. Referring to the drought that crippled the dessert of Kutch for decades, Nihal Kaka explains one of the many reasons they revere this Goddess form, “There was no water until 60 feet underground, which was inaccessible. Then suddenly, they found water 12 feet underground, which was a provided by Mai herself.” He speaks very fondly about this community, expressing how trustworthy, honest and hardworking they are. How their women have an equal say in the structural functioning of the household, and they have no conflicts with other villages or communities either.
The Garaasiya women, a fashionable lot
Thick gold beads strung on a black string, known as chirmas, hang around the necks of the women walking around the light blue house, with red bandhni (tie-and-dye) dupatta called a khombi draped around their gago frocks and silver bangles around their wrists. Todas, thick silver anklets, sit above their feet. As Sara bai explains, khombis come in two colours, red and white, and both are draped around a girl for festivities or her wedding. The embroidered gago, since it comes from Mai’s clothes, is considered to be a part of their soul. Jath Garaasiya women stitch gagos for themselves and other women in their community, and once the gago is old, torn or worn out, it has to be hung on a tree or washed away in a stream, since it can’t be burnt or thrown anywhere where feet might touch it. And since this age-old embroidery tradition is such an integral part of their souls, selling it is supposed to be completely out of the question. Still, that isn’t the case anymore.
Tectonic shifts
“It all changed after the earthquake,” sighed Jumna ji. In 2001, one of the most devastating earthquakes hit Gujarat, destroying housing, land, fields and lives. In the aftermath of the tragedy, Kutch and other regions began rebuilding themselves through monetary relief donations, rehabilitating villages and town, and reconstructing their lives. In an attempt to bring in investments, the government declared a five-year excise exemption and various tax cuts, luring in companies such as the Adani group, Essar, Welspun and so on. Bhuj, which suffered greatly from the natural calamity, was rebuilt and now acts as a hub for booming industries. As labour opportunities opened up with new investments, the new generation moved out of their villages to reap the benefits.
“They became laalchi [greedy],” explained Nihal Kaka. This socio-economic shift in Bhuj urged the Jaths and several other communities into selling whatever they could, including their embroidery. “We’re not supposed to sell milk. We can sell it in the form of ghee, but never as pure milk, it’s an insult. But now, we sell even that,” confides Sara bai. Jumna ji clicks his tongue and whispers ‘majboori’ [no choice].
“We’re lucky we came during Mai’s mela, otherwise these women aren’t always wearing their gagos and khombis,” says Nihal Kaka. The new generation of Garaasiya girls were slowly moving away from their tradition garb. As age-old craft rituals are passed down from generation to generation of women through oral retellings, the gago embroidery was on its way to being lost amidst the youth’s new industrial shift. The Shrujan Trust, however, which has been documenting and researching as well as giving these local crafts a platform to sell their handiwork since 1969, has preserved this oral history now as written traditions, as well as reignited the craft of embroidery amongst younger Garaasiya girls.
As the traditions of Mai Bhambi surrounding the Jath Garaasiya’s gago embroidery have evolved, this evolution can be seen as an indication of how industrialisation is changing parts of India. Or, if that particular lens seems too heavy-handed, it can just be an insight into one particular community caught in the tussle between old and new worlds.