Embroidered gardens of flowers: Bagh and Phulkari of Punjab.

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"Ghoo ghuoo" would go the lacquered charkha which my grandmother had carried, much to my father's irritation, all the way from Abbottabad when we moved to Delhi. The charkha is intertwined with my memories of childhood and early teenage years. I remember it as Dadi's constant companion, for she spun everyday as she recited her Gurbani or sang in Pothwari songs of her childhood. "Ghoo ghoo charkeya main kataya na?" she would sing on her singing wheel--shall I spin or not? In Abbottabad, our ancestral home, the thread was given to the Hindu weaver to weave and then to the Muslim dyer to dye in a deep maroon or a russet red: somehow Dadi never dyed black or deep blue. Then Dadiji would sit with Hazra Bibi, the lady from Chitral, who was an expert embroiderer and who looked after me as well, discussing what needed to be embroidered. The old empty English biscuit tins, filled with silk threads of multiple colours, which Dadi bought from the Afghani itinerant sellers of silk threads and gulbarga, ikat, silk, were brought out. The colours were matched with what was to be embroidered. I still remember Hazra Bibi telling me "This pillow case is for your shadi." I looked at the brilliant petunia pink, lapis lazuli blue, and yellow and my heart would lift and I would say "When! Whenl" Bibi, as I called her, would say "Meri Jhallo", my crazy one, and laugh. I remember the karva chauth pujan after a day of fasting, when my mother would dress up and wrap herself in her wari-da-bagh, which father's dadi had made for her and I would look at her enviously and sit close to her as she sat in a circle with the other women with their lamp-lit trays, reciting some magic spells, as they sounded to my ears. As they passed the trays with the twinkling lights, they all looked like boor-paris, beautiful fairies. Thus I grew up with a close relationship with these shawls of handspun, hand-woven cotton, richly embroidered in silk, which were very much a part of life in Punjab, the fertile land of five rivers of northern India. And as I grew to research on them, I was so proud that my area, Hazara, produced the finest.

We called them bagh, the garden, for the more richly embroidered ones which were a part of the rites of passage. Then there was the phulkari, "flower embroidery", enlivened by patterns of stylized flowers which was the glorious wrap of everyday. One of my favourites was the surajmukhi, sunflowers of the phulkari enclosed within squares, reflecting the rainbow colours which emerged brilliantly from a dark background. Women wrapped themselves in these beautifully embroidered shawls on winter afternoons as they carried food to their husbands in the fields. The fields were also covered with golden sunflowers and the women merged with them. It appeared as though the sunflowers themselves were moving.

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There was such a range of phulkaris, with stylized flowers distributed over cotton cloth in various ways. They were worked in rows which ran the entire length of the fabric, or within squares, or the motifs were sparsely embroidered and carried a border on all four sides.

The cross border at both ends of the shawl, known as the palla, had richer patterns. These were meant for everyday use and the motifs too were taken from the everyday, for instance the kikar, acacia flower enclosed by the thorny branches, which Sardar Hitkari, an in-depth researcher on phulkari, connects with the embroidery of the Dalits. Though traditionally the embroidery was done by Jar women, the women who worked in their homes learnt it from them. There is also the stylized karela, or bitter gourd, mustard flowers, and a range of other motifs.

The bagh was entirely covered with embroidered flowers, and hardly any of the background was visible. They were generally worked in yellow on a maroon background and were used for all ceremonies associated with the rites of passage, from the birth of a child, puberty ceremony, wedding, until the last journey.

The thick handspun cotton on which the embroidery is traditionally done is produced in the village. Cotton is grown by the farmers and picked by them. Customarily the picking was done in the early morning mist--women wrapped in their traditional phulkaris, along with the men, would fan out in the fields full of fluffy balls of cotton. A drummer would beat a rhythm, and the women and men, laughing and singing, would pick the cotton to this rhythm. It was a cash crop, so much of it would be sold in the market, while what was needed by the household was cleaned, carded, and spun at home. It was then given to the local weaver, who wove it on his narrow loom, producing cloth 45 centimetres (18 inches) in width. It was then given to the local dyer, who dyed it with vegetable dyes. In some cases the women dyed the cloth.

The dominant colour was red, dyed with madder, in different shades, from orange red, deep red, and russet, to a deep maroon, which was the most popular. The colour red is associated with shakti, power, and the mother goddess, thus the association of red with power and with passion. They also dyed the cotton a deep blue, using indigo, nil, which is known as neelarnbari, the "blue open horizon". Indigo blue has deep significance for Indian women. It is associated with the blue-black Krishna, the divine lover, and neelambari is also the name of a musical mode, a raga, that expresses deep longing.

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Bleached white cotton was also commonly used as a ground for embroidering, generally dark magenta-pink flowers with green. These pieces were normally used by older women. The embroidery thread used was of untwisted silk floss. The dyed silk came in skeins from Afghanistan and was sold by itinerant pedlars of thread, needles, rouge, and walnut bark used for cleaning the teeth and colouring the lips. These pedlars also served as matchmakers and carried messages between secret lovers. The most popular colours were golden yellow and lemon yellow.

The other colours were two shades of pink - a bright pink and a darker shade bordering on magenta. Deep lapis blue and sage green were also used, but only to enliven borders. Bagh and phulkari are unusual in that the embroidery is done from the "wrong" side, using the cotton cloth's grid of warp and weft threads as an aid for building the pattern. This technique was developed to display the maximum quantity of floating silk threads, creating rich silk patterns emulating the effect of silk brocade, which was only used by royalty.

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We had already left Abbottabad for Delhi before I would have started to learn to embroider the phulkari, and alas Dadiji never taught me how to embroider and Mama had no patience. Traditionally a girl learned to embroider from her paternal grandmother and mother. At first she was given a cotton thread, which was not only cheaper but easier to handle. The tiny squares of the coarse handspun and hand-woven cotton provided a grid for embroidering the simple four-petalled white daisy. As her hand became more adept, she created the circular flowers of madhumalati, which hang in bunches and where blue-black sunbirds flutter to extract honey with their long curved beaks. Then she would graduate to embroidering the simple butidar phulkari used by young unmarried girls or given as gifts to the women labourers who work on the farm. Soon a young woman would be skilled enough to embroider for her own dowry. The older women would smile and say,"Ah she is embroidering her own garden of happiness."

Each region, village, and family had special patterns. To these the women added their own creativity. Though the inspiration was from nature, yet each area expressed it in different ways. West Punjab, now Pakistan, made the finest embroidery. The women of the rich, fertile area created highly stylized forms of their favourite flowers. The stylized lotus was a very popular motif and was embroidered in many different forms. Golden-yellow marigold was yet another favourite. The yellow mustard flowers were often embroidered on cross borders. The red hibiscus flower was popular, as was the delicate white lily-of-the-valley. Jasmine buds were embroidered in a white line running like a strung garland along the length of the entire phulkari, as the fragrant jasmines are strung into garlands for weddings and for ritual decoration of the temples.

The lotus has always had a deep significance. It represents the sun for it opens with the dawn and closes with sunset. It is also the most ancient object of worship and is found in traditions throughout the world. It also became the seat of many gods. Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth and prosperity is shown seated on it. Vishnu's feet rest on the lotus as he lies on the coils of shesha-naga on the eternal ocean. It is associated with the opening up of consciousness. The open multiple-petalled flower is enclosed in a square when embroidered on the bagh, while an eight-petalled open lotus is freely drawn and dominates the centre of the sainchi phulkari of East Punjab.

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It was a common sight to see women sitting in an open courtyard embroidering and singing:

   Bharam khoiya shant, sehaj, swami
   Pargas bhaiya kauul khilia

   When the doubt in the mind is gone, there is peace
   and quietude my lord.
   Just as the sun rises and the lotus blooms.

The marigold is also worked into a lozenge form, worked in deep golden yellow. These are called box marigolds (dibbiwala gainda) and are sometimes edged on one side by a green line signifying the budding flower. Curvilinear borders of green stems and white and yellow flowers represent the auspicious garlands made for weddings and for offerings to the temples. Another speciality is the dark magenta-pink embroidered bagh on a white background used by older women. White is the satvik colour, associated with withdrawal and introversion and considered appropriate for older women. The pink-magenta is also of a dark hue, and the flower is the pomegranate. Another favourite is the deep red hibiscus, which is offered to the mother goddess. There was no difference between the embroidery work of Hindus and Muslims in West Punjab.

In East Punjab, which is arid and dry and where the climate is harsh, the colours were more vivid and the creations freer. The sainchi, as the phulkari is known, has the lotus flower in the centre and life appears to emanate from it, for it represents the sun and the diurnal rhythm of the earth. Flowering trees, men, women, birds appear to emerge from the power of the lotus/sun and enrich the surface. A train rushes along with people and strange animals. A snake darts across, and the romantic figures of pahelwans wrestle together. The gods are represented by their vahanas. Tucked into all this rich canvas are embroidered pieces of jewellery that the woman has dreamt of having. In the floral-motif phulkaris, the festive golden yellow marigold is circular and is enclosed in a trellis of the kikar, the thorny acacia, which grows wild in the desert. While the marigold is golden yellow, the mustard flower is a pale yellow and is embroidered in the cross border. It is associated with spring, the season of love, of fecundity and growth.

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The gods dominate Indian life and are included even by the embroidering of flowers associated with them. Shiva, the lord of destruction and creation, as well as the lord of the mendicants, is addicted to intoxicants, so he is offered the flower of the toxic dhatura (Datura stramoniurn), white and bell-shaped, resembling a lily. The fragrant yellow kadamba flower and the champa kali, jasmine bud, are associated with Krishna and make the embroidered garden fragrant.

   Champa kali oisee khili
   Guldastai mai aa gayi bahar

   The jasmine buds burst into blossom
   and made the bouquet fragrant.

The phulkari as well as the bagh is closely linked with rites of passage. A newborn baby after being bathed is wrapped in an old phulkari, used by the grandmother. Its soft texture is considered appropriate for the infant. The shawl also carries the aura of the venerable grandmother, her love and her blessings. The women sing songs to celebrate the arrival.

   Jamada ra lal gudhar balatai
   Kuchar lilta irma mayia te dai
   Natha te dhota lal pat baletaya
   Kuchar lilta ma pai jayia

   When the child was born
   he was wrapped in a patched quilt.
   When the child was bathed
   he was wrapped in silk embroidery.

During the puberty ceremony, when a young girl comes of age, after her purificatory bath, she is wrapped in a red chope embroidered by her maternal grandmother and they sing:

   Wadieji Wadie
   Nazar na lagai ma pey jai
   Wadieji Wadie
   Kadh ni ma kurdi da rata rata chope

   Good wishes mother
   Let not the evil eye touch her
   Mother, take out the girl's red embroidered chope.

   Nazar na lagai ma pey jai
   Kad ni bhabhi kajle di dhara
   Aun bibi hoi siani
   Wadieji Wadie

   Keep away the evil eye
   Draw the collyrium in her eyes, oh sister-in-law
   Now the girl is mature. Congratulations!

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This is considered a blessing for her new life, as a girl who has become mature and is now able to walk the path of womanhood.

The chope is quite distinct from the phulkari and bagh. On a red khadi background bold patterns of stylized peacocks are embroidered in Holbein stitch.

The most important rituals are associated with marriage. The bride and the groom are supposed to go into retreat in the inner room of the house. Seated in silence, with an oil lamp placed before them, they meditate on the new life that they are now entering. This in yoga is known as tratak and has a deep emotional impact on them. As the groom is brought to the bathing place, he is shaded by a canopy of a phulkari, while the girl is covered with the phulkari after her bath.

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The finest bagh, called waft da bagh, is embroidered by the groom's paternal grandmother in a golden yellow silk. It represents multiple golden lotuses. The laying of the stitches at different angles creates different shades of colour, and also a three-dimensional effect. The grandmother begins to embroider at the birth of the boy, and it takes her often over ten years. The embroidery mirrors the family's joys and sorrows. The random appearance of different colours or a change in pattern are not careless mistakes, but indicate significant events in the life of the family. The sudden introduction of a red in the midst of yellow signifies happiness: a birth or a marriage. The visit from a daughter after a long separation is seen by a change in the rhythm of the pattern. The introduction of black signifies sadness. The introduction of a small black dot, however, signifies keeping away the evil eye. When the young bride is wrapped with the bagh by the grandmother after the wedding ceremony, she is entering her husband's family history.

One of the most distinctive baghs is the chandrama bagh, the moon garden with multiple moons represented by the white flowering lotus. It is embroidered in off-white silk on deep indigo cloth. This is surrounded by a rich border and cross border of flowers that bloom in the night, such as the fragrant night-blooming lily of red colour, and the queen of the night or raat-ki-rani, which fills the air with a heady perfume, said to excite lovers and even to attract snakes. Married women wear it for a special ritual every year.

Bagh and phulkari are closely associated with women. It is they who spin the cotton and sometimes even dye the cloth. It is they who embroider it, and it is they who use it. Often the women may not have the opportunity to visit the famous gardens that are a part of the landscape of a township. They may not be able to see the flowers in bloom and only see them when they are brought for festive occasions or perhaps hear of them from descriptions by the men or from the poetry sung by itinerant storytellers. Thus they create their dream garden, their dream flowers, by embroidering them and wearing them on their person; and by associating them with the ceremonies of the rites of passage, they make the dream become a reality. This is also where they express their longing and separation.

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   Dhola jai tur chalou
   Rang lani han sawa
   Meri aihl jawani
   Jewai bhakda hi awa

   Oh my beloved, you are going away
   and I am embroidering with a green thread.
   My budding youth
   is burning like a brick kiln

The most poignant phulkari is the one made by the older women, which they dip in the purificatory waters of the river Ganga, sacred to the Hindus, and then keep away to be used as their shroud. This fulfils their desire to be wrapped in their dream garden of flowers, for their final journey.

This rich tradition of Punjab, the land of five rivers, is closely linked with Central Asia. It is as free-flowing as the Sapt Sindhu, as the area at the mouth of the Indus was known in the Rig Veda. This area of greater Punjab was open to many influences and has one of the oldest civilizations. The Harappan civilization was spread widely, from the foothills of the mountains to the Arabian Sea. In addition to the two best known Indus cities, Mohenjodaro in Sindh and Harappa in Punjab, 35 smaller sites extended for nearly 2,000 kilometres, which exceeded the stretch of the Egyptian and Mesopotamian civilizations. Later, Herodotus mentions that Punjab was the 2oth satrapy, province, of the Achamenian Empire around 700 BCE, and was the most popular and the richest. It is these which have shaped the living cultural traditions of Punjab.

Today this vibrant art has been lost and it is with regret that I look back at the times when everyone around me embroidered and I did not learn the art. Though we may try to revive the art, it has nothing of the richness that was found in the embroidery just forty years ago.