This week, I'm talking about the wonderful cloth that is cotton! I'm ashamed to say I actually didn't know much about it until my recent trip to India, which has prompted me to read a lot more.
The last leg of our trip in Gujarat was to Muli, where we learnt about how cotton is grown and processed.
Gujarat is the largest cotton-producing state in India, producing almost 30% of the country's output. We visited some cotton fields and met a local farmer who talked to us about the realities of growing cotton and the difficulties he faces.
Over the past five years, farmers have experienced higher-than-average temperatures and longer dry spells, making cotton an increasingly precarious crop. Many have now switched to more reliable alternatives such as castor and groundnut. It was fascinating driving for hours across the landscape, identifying the different crops as we passed.
Left; A cotton 'boll' which is the name given to the whole seed structure (not to be confused with cotton 'balls'!). Inside the cotton fibres form around the seeds, and when it matures it splits open bursting into the fluffy white puff we recognise as cotton.
Right; A cotton flower. The plant is an 'indeterminate' which means it has buds, open flowers and mature bolls all the plant at the same time. Picking is done entirely by hand so you can selectively harvest the open bolls and leave the others to mature, and also it keeps the cotton as clean as possible for textile production.
Cotton is grown as an annual crop, and is typically planted before the monsoon, between June and July. It grows over four to five months, with weeding and pest management essential throughout as it has such a long growing season. From October to January, the cotton bolls mature and burst open, revealing their fluffy white fibre.
Left; A handful of lint I picked up in the factory.
Right; A truck spilling out cotton from a nearby field. I wish I could add a video here as we watched a very satisfying scene of a digger extracting all the lint from the back of this truck.
The bolls are then transported to ginning factories where machines remove the seeds and separate the fibres. They weren't operating the day we visited, and the factory was draped in eerie, Miss Havisham-esque cobwebs. Nothing is wasted and the collected seeds are crushed for cottonseed oil used in food and cosmetics, and the residue becomes high-protein cottonseed cake, which is fed to cattle.
Just one small corner of the vast factory we visited. the thought of all the work that went into picking all those bails of cotton is quite mind boggling.
We visited many incredible weavers on our trip and watched the whole process, from spinning raw cotton, to dyeing, to weaving, and as was becoming customary on the trip we all got to have a go. Spinning reminded me of that children's game where you pat your head whist simultaneously rub your tummy. It was really challenging getting both hands to do different movements with equal precision, and as with all the crafts we tried, required vast amounts of patience... not something I possess in great quantities! Gandhi was famous for always travelling with a hand loom, not only because it was symbolic showing that ordinary Indians could reject British imported textiles but he also believed that that spinning was a form of moving mediation quietening the mind.
Gandhi's actual spinning wheel which we saw when we visited his Ashram in Ahmedabad.
Above; Little looms for sale in a shop we visited.
Left; Spinning the raw cotton fibres and twisting at the same time gives the yarn strength.
Right; Perfect reels of cotton yarn ready for making a warp.
One the highlights of this trip was a visit to the village of Bhujod which is the weaving centre of Bhuj. Around 150 weavers live in the village, which counts 34 National Award winners among them.
The story of the village has had many twists and turns, much like the skeins of yarn we saw hanging everywhere. Weaving in Bhujodi goes back centuries and is rooted in the Vankar caste . They would traditionally weave woollen shawls and blankets for the Rabari who are nomadic herders of Kutch in exchange for wool and grain. We heard a lot about the amazing interdependent barter system which still takes place today between many of the communities we visited.
In the 1970s, the market was flooded with cheap synthetic machine-spun yarns, which replaced the less predictable natural-dyed cottons and wools, and badly disrupted the traditional craft. In 2001, a catastrophic earthquake struck Kutch and devasted an already fragile economy.
The silver lining was that NGO's and the Indian government actually helped revitalise the weaving tradition with new workshops and looms allocated to artisans. Indians themselves started to understand the value of craft, and printers, weavers and dyers worked together to rebuild their communities and organise themselves to connect with national and international markets.
We met Dinesh who patiently explained and demonstrated the whole process to us from spinning the yarns, to dyeing and weaving. After finishing his masters in history he decided to join the family business. He introduced indigo into their practice which took him around 10 years to learn!
Woad, which is used for making indigo had been historically grown primarily for medical purposes. Dinesh said that one gift the British made was to teach the Indians how to make indigo cakes (seen in the photo above). To make them you crush the indigo leaves and soak them over night. You then have to use jaggery or dates to make the water ferment. This bubbles up and the water is scooped out - which leaves sediment which dries and it create the cakes.
Of course indigo is an art in itself. The 3.5 feet deep dye vats that you can see in the pictures above are 13 years old! They more or less maintain the same temperature year round and Dinesh could tell just by dipping his finger in and licking it if the ph is correct at around 12-13.
You can see me having a go above. To dye the skeins you rotate them gently in the water just below the surface. I thought 'well this looks easy' but no... once again it required a huge amount of... patience ... argh! In no time at all my yarns were in a terrible tangle and they didn't seem to be taking the dye at all!
Left; Dyed indigo yarns. One of the beautiful things about indigo dyeing is the array of blue tones you get ranging from aqua to deep blue and even purple.
Right; Mesmerising weaving. I bought a few scarves from Dinesh's shop and I think they are the most wonderful things I bought in India (and I did a lot of shopping!)
Left; natural dyed and hand woven fabrics drying in the sun.
Right; A lovely friendly relative of Dinesh!
Above; Indigo hands.
If you enjoy reading about cotton and the rich culture that surrounds it, you can read a little more about the history of cotton here.
