Making bangles from sheep hair in Karadaga

When a child is born in Karadaga village, families first inform Somakka Pujari. She is one of the few artists in the village of almost 9,000 people who can still make bangles with sheep hair. These ornaments, known locally as kanda , are considered auspicious and placed around the wrists of newborns.

“Sheep often move across villages in search of pastures, braving rough weather and meeting all kinds of people,” says Somakka, who is in her late 50s. Sheep are considered a symbol of endurance, and kanda made from their hair is believed to ward off evil.

Women belonging to the Dhangar community have traditionally crafted these bangles. Today, only eight Dhangar families in Karadaga are said to practise this art. “ Nimma gavala ghatla aahe [I have adorned wrists of half of the children in this village with these bangles],” Somakka says in Marathi. Karadaga village is located in Karnataka’s Belagavi district which borders Maharashtra, and hence many residents like Somakka can speak both Kannada and Marathi.

“People from every caste and religion come to us for kanda ,” Somakka says.

As a child, Somakka would watch her mother, late Kisnabai Bankar, make some of the finest kanda s in Karadaga. “I was curious to know why she checked every strand of sheep hair [also called lokar ] before making a kanda ,” she says, recalling how her mother used fine strands as they are easier to shape. Hair from sheep being sheared for the first time is used as it is coarser in texture. “Out of a hundred sheep, the right type of hair will be found in just one.”

Somakka learnt how to make kanda from her father, late Appaji Bankar. She was then 10 years old and it took her two months to learn. Four decades later, Somakka continues to practise the art and is concerned about its declining popularity: “young shepherds these days don’t even graze sheep. What will they know about craft involving sheep hair?”

Somakka explains, “a sheep usually yields 1-2 kilos of lokar in a shearing.” Her family owns sheep which the men shear twice a year, usually during Diwali and Bendur (a festival in celebration of bulls held between June and August). A katharbhuni , or a pair of traditional scissors is used. Shearing a sheep takes about 10 minutes and is usually done in the morning. Each strand is then checked for quality where weathered hair is discarded.

It takes Somakka 10 minutes to make a kanda . The lokar that Somakka is using now was sheared during Diwali in the year 2023 – “I’ve kept it safely for newborns,” she says.

Before starting to shape the hair, Somakka removes dust and other impurities. She pulls and gives the strands a circular shape, determining the size of the kanda according to a newborn’s wrists. Once the circular structure is ready, she rubs it between her palms. The friction firms it up.

Somakka dips this circular frame in water every few seconds. “The more water you add, the stronger it becomes,” she says, pulling the strands dexterously and rubbing the frame between her palms.

“Children between the ages of 1-3 years wear this bangle”, she says, adding that a pair of kanda lasts for at least three years. Dhangars are listed as a nomadic tribe in Maharashtra and as Other Backward Classes in Karnataka. In addition to making these bangles, the community also grazes sheep and looks after farms.

Somakka’s husband, Balu Pujari, began working as a shepherd at the age of 15. Now 62, he has stopped grazing livestock because of his age. These days he works as a farmer, cultivating sugarcane in the two acres of land he owns in the village.

Somakka’s elder son, 34-year-old Malu Pujari has taken over the job of grazing livestock. Balu says his son grazes less than 50 sheep and goats. “Over a decade ago, our family owned and grazed more than 200 livestock,” he recollects, attributing this decline mainly to the decreasing grazing lands around Karadaga.

The shrinking herd size makes finding previously unsheared sheep difficult. That in turn impacts kanda found in the village.

Somakka recalls accompanying Balu on his daily journeys to graze sheep and goats. The couple travelled as far as Bijapur in Karnataka 151 kilometres away and Solapur in Maharashtra 227 kms away. “We travelled so much that fields became our home,” Somakka says of their life till a decade ago. “I was used to sleeping in the open fields every day. We had stars and the moon above our heads. There is nothing like this in a home secured with four walls.”

Somakka would also work in farms in Karadaga and its neighbouring villages – some over 10 kilometres away. She would walk every day to work and has “even dug wells and lifted stones,” she says. Back in the 1980s, she would be paid 25 paise for digging wells. “During that time , a kilogram of rice would cost Rs. 2 per kilogram,” she recalls.

Making kanda by hand can look deceptively simple but there are several challenges involved. The hair often enters the nose and the mouth of the maker, leading to bouts of coughing and sneezing. Then the free nature of the work – no money is exchanged – along with the decline in grazing lands has hit the craft hard.

After the ceremony where Somakka puts the kanda around the wrists of a newborn, she usually receives halad-kunku (turmeric-vermillion) , topi (traditional cap) , paan (betel leaf) , supari (betel nut), jhampar (blouse piece) , saree , naral (coconut) , and tawal (towel). “Some families even give a little money,” says Somakka, adding that she never asks for anything in return. “This art has never been about earning money," she insists.

These days, some even mix black thread with sheep hair and sell it as kanda for as low as Rs. 10 in fairs. “It has become tough to find original kanda ,” says Somakka’s younger son, 30-year-old Ramchandra, who is a priest at a village temple and also farms with his father.

Somakka’s daughter, 28-year-old Mahadevi has learned this skill from her. “Very few are interested in it now,” says Somakka, recalling a time when every woman from the Dhangar community knew how to make a kanda .

Somakka even knows how to weave threads from lokar (sheep hair) by rolling the strands together on her thighs. The friction often burns her skin, which is why some use a wooden charkha for such weaving. Her family sells woven lokar to Sangars, a community renowned for making ghongadis – blankets made from sheep hair. While these blankets are sold for over Rs. 1,000 to customers, Somakka sells the woven thread for as low as Rs. 7 per kg.

The threads are sold at the Vitthal Birdev yatra held every year between October and December in Kolhapur’s Pattan Kodoli village. Somakka works long hours in the run-up to this yatra, weaving at least 2,500 strands of thread the day before the yatra begins. “This often makes my legs swell," she says. Somakka walks to this site 16 kilometres away carrying over 10 kilos of thread in a basket on her head – all she earns for this is Rs. 90.

Despite the hardships, Somakka’s enthusiasm for making kanda has not waned. “I am proud that I keep this tradition alive,” she says, her forehead smeared with bhandara (turmeric). “I was born in the fields with sheep and goats around me," Somakka adds, "and will keep this artform alive till I die.”

This story is part of a series on rural artisans by Sanket Jain, and is supported by the Mrinalini Mukherjee Foundation.