Sanskriti Talwar

Vishaka George

Editor

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“The
first day, Majidan smacked my hand like this,” says 65-year-old Qarsaed Begum,
playfully reenacting the moment. Sitting next to her, Majidan Begum, still
amused at the old story, defends her actions immediately. “Qarsaed didn’t know
how to work with the threads initially. I smacked her only once,” she says, and
adds, “then she quickly learned.”

In Ghanda Bana, a village in Punjab’s Bathinda district,
the two elderly women, Majidan and Qarsaed are well known for the detailed and
vibrant dhurries [rugs] they weave
from cotton, jute, and even old clothes.

“I learned how to weave
dhurries from Majidan at the age of 35,” says Qarsaed. “Since then, we have
been weaving dhurries together,” says
71-year-old Majidan. “It is not just one person’s job, but a task for two.”

The duo,
related to each other by marriage to two brothers, refer to themselves as
sisters and family members. “We feel no different than real sisters,” says
Qarsaed. Majidan quickly adds, “even though our natures are completely
opposite.&quot; To which Qarsaed responds swiftly saying, “she is upfront.
However, I stay quiet.”

Despite
the hours they spend weaving dhurries,
Majidan and Qarsaed also work as domestic helpers for a few thousand rupees a
month so they can support their family. Both are physically demanding jobs,
especially for women at their age.

On the
humid morning of Eid, Majidan navigates the narrow lanes of Ghanda Bana towards
Qarsaed&#39;s home. &quot;Every household in this village would welcome me with
open doors,&quot; she says proudly. &quot;That&#39;s how much work I&#39;ve done over
the years.&quot;

Their reputation extends beyond the village too. People
from distant places send messengers to check with Majidan if the duo can make
rugs. “But nearby villages or towns like Phul, Dhapali, and Rampura Phul, who know me
well for weaving dhurries, come
directly to my house,” Majidan says.

When PARI met them a few months ago (April 2024), the two
artisans were weaving a phulkari dhurrie,
a flower-embroidered rug for a Ghanda Bana resident. The family wanted to
present the rug to their daughter who was getting married soon.  “The dhurrie
is for her daaj [trousseau],” Majidan
said. 

The flowers were created using
combinations of two different coloured threads provided by the customer.
“When
weaving a flower pattern, we incorporate various colours of weft threads in
between,” explains Majidan, lifting 10 white warp (vertical) threads to pass a
yellow weft (horizontal) thread, then repeating the process for a blue one.
Leaving a gap, she continues, this time making a green and black flower. 

“Once the flowers are complete, we will weave about one
foot of the dhurrie using only red
weft threads,” Majidan says. There is no tape to measure the fabric, instead
Majidan uses her hands. It’s something she and Qarsaed have done since the
beginning as neither ever went to school. 


As the
two push the weft threads into place using hathas
[comb reeds], Majidan remarks again, “the design is all in my head.” Among the dhurries she has woven so far, she’s
proud of the one with a peacock and
another with 12 pariyaans [fairies].
These were given to both her daughters for their daaj.

In
Majidan’s pucca home, their workstation
reflects careful attention to detail. She shares the room where they work with
her 10-year-old grandson, Imran Khan. The 14 x 14-foot space is dominated by a
10-foot-long metal frame known locally as an &#39;adda&#39; and used for weaving tapestry. The rest of the room has
multiple charpais (string cots), some
leaning against the wall and one beside the frame; a large steel trunk filled
with clothes and belongings lies to the side. A single light bulb illuminates
the room, but Majidan and Qarsaed rely on the sunlight that enters through the
door for essential lighting. 

They start by winding the warp—vertical threads—across a
nearly 10-foot metal frame. “Winding the warp threads is the most difficult
task in weaving dhurries,” remarks
Majidan. The tightly wound warp is stretched lengthwise around a metal beam.

 The two weavers sit on a plank placed above
the metal frame that supports the tapestry they will create. The process starts
with manipulating the heddle – a bar used for faster and simpler weaving – to
open and close the shed of the loom. The shed is what separates the warp
threads from each other. This creates the patterns the rug will eventually take
on. 



Alternating with each other, the two craftswomen pass
the horizontal weft threads [bana] through
the warp threads (tana) using a
wooden stick, creating intricate designs. Majidan winds the warp to create
various motifs that she says are “based on an idea that exists in her head.”
There is no pattern or stencil she is referencing to replicate the design.

Hard as it seems, the job is much easier now.  “Before this we used to hammer four big iron kile [nails] in the ground in each of
the four corners. We would place wooden beams on them creating a frame and then
wind warp around them to weave,” Qarsaed says. “That adda was immovable unlike this one,&quot; says Majidan. So when
they want a change of setting, “we drag it into the courtyard.” 



The two
women don’t receive much financial help from their families. Majidan&#39;s youngest
son, Riyasat Ali, was a truck driver but now works in a cow shelter for Rs. 500
a day. Her eldest son is a local reporter in Barnala.  Two of Qarsaed’s sons work as welders, while her third son is a daily wage labourer.

Majidan began weaving much earlier than Qarsaed. The
disciplinary tactics inflicted on her were not too different, though. “My parjaayi [sister-in-law] smacked me on my tui [buttocks] to teach me,” Majidan says, speaking of her other
sister-in-law, who taught her how to weave.

“Even
though I was a short-tempered girl, I remained silent because I was eager to
learn.”  And she did, in less than a
month “despite my initial frustration and tears.”



Majidan’s assertiveness showed when after her father’s
passing, her mother became the sole earning member. The 14-year-old Majidan
insisted on helping her mother, despite initial reluctance. “Bebe [mother] would gently refuse,
saying [I can’t because] ‘I am a girl’,” Majidan recalls. “But I persisted,
questioning why being a girl should stop me from helping the family.”

The family was profoundly
impacted by the Partition of India – her maternal grandparents’ family lived in
Pakistan, a fact that still fills Majidan with longing. When she visited them
in the 1980s, she went with gifts – two hand-woven dhurries which “they really
liked,” she says.

Despite the hours of labour, the women earn only Rs. 250 each for a single dhurrie. “We usually charge
1,100 rupees for weaving a dhurrie.
If the customer provides the soot
[yarn thread], we charge only 500 rupees for our labour,” Majidan explains.
“When I started, an entire dhurrie
was woven for 20 rupees. Now, we barely make enough,” Majidan recalls. “A litre
of milk costs 60 rupees in the village. Imagine my expenses in a month,”
Qarsaed laments.

Majidan and Qarsaed raised their children with great
difficulty as both their husbands were unemployed. “I worked as a domestic help
for Jat Sikh families, who gave me essentials to take home. I fed my children
with that,” Qarsaed adds. Majidan, who lives with her youngest son and his
family, and Qarsaed, who lives with her family of eight, often think about
those hard times.

Up until
three years ago, they would pick cotton during the busy cotton harvesting
season between September and October. They would spin this into yarn, which
supplemented their earnings, making Rs 200 a day
for picking 40 kilos of cotton. &quot;Nowadays, most
farmers sow paddy instead,&quot; Majidan remarks. This shift has significantly
impacted their lives. Government records
<a href="https://www.texmin.nic.in/sites/default/files/Annexure-IV-%20Area-Prod-Yield-state-wise%20year%20wise.pdf">show</a> a sharp
decline in cotton cultivation in Punjab, dropping from 420,000 hectares in
2014-15 to 240,000 hectares in 2022-23. 



In March, Majidan reluctantly retired her charkha for spinning thread and yarn; it
lies abandoned in a shed. The demand for dhurries
has also fallen sharply — they once crafted 10 to 12 a month, now they manage
only two. Their sole steady income is a monthly widow pension of Rs. 1,500 from
the state government.

After
over an hour of work, Qarsaed and Majidan take a short break and stretch their
legs. Qarsaed mentions her aching back, and Majidan presses her knees and says,
&quot;I&#39;m finding it difficult to walk today. My joints are hurting.&quot; Both
also complain of weakening eyesight.

“Banda ban ke kaam
kita hai [I have worked like a man], and I continue to do so at my age,”
Majidan adds, as she manages this household solely on her modest earnings.

Despite her age and the aches that accompany it, Majidan
has to supplement her pension and the money she gets from crafting dhurries. Every day at 7 am, she walks a
few kilometers to cook for a family, earning Rs. 2,000 a month. She and Qarsaed
also work as domestic helpers, earning Rs. 70 per hour. 

Despite their long days, they find time to weave dhurries. “If we weave every day, we can
finish a dhurrie in a week,” Qarsaed
says.

Majidan
considers quitting weaving. “Maybe after finishing this one and one more, I’ll
stop. Sitting for long hours has become difficult. It pains me here,” she says,
revealing stitches from last year&#39;s gallbladder surgery. “Whatever years are
left – one or two perhaps – I intend to live them well.”



The next day, however, any thought of retirement seems
forgotten.  A frail woman, in her early
eighties Balbir Kaur arrives with an order for a dhurrie from another village. “Mai
[mother], ask the family if they want the dhurrie
to use in their home or for their daughter’s trousseau,” Majidan instructs the
old woman, handing her a hundred rupees. This story is supported by a fellowship from Mrinalini Mukherjee Foundation (MMF).

The dhurrie weavers of Ghanda Bana

دری بنانے میں ماہر بھٹنڈا کی مجیدن اور قرسید

ఘందా బానాలో దరీ నేతకు ప్రసిద్ధి చెందిన మహిళలు

கண்டா பாணாவின் கம்பள விரிப்பு நெசவாளர்கள்

ଘଣ୍ଡା ବନାର ଦରି ବୁଣାକାର

ഘണ്ട ബാനയിലെ ദരി നെയ്ത്തുകാർ

ಘಂಡಾ ಬನಾದ ಧುರ್ರಿ ನೇಕಾರರು

बठिंडा की दरी बुनकर

ઘંદા બાનાના ધુરી વણકરો

बठिंडा के दरी बुनेइय्या महतारी

घंदा बाना के गोतनी आउर उनकर बीनाई के संसार

ঘন্দা বানা গ্রামে দারি বোনেন দুই ওস্তাদ

ঘাণ্ডা বানাৰ দড়ি শিপিনীসকল

ਘੰਡਾ ਬੰਨਾ ਦੀਆਂ ਦਰੀ ਬੁਣਕਰ ਬੀਬੀਆਂ

Ghanda Bana

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پاری میں آپ کا خیرمقدم ہے

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The dhurrie weavers of Ghanda Bana

In Punjab's Bathinda district, Majidan Begum and Qarsaed Begum are well known for the intricately-woven rugs they craft from a variety of materials

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