Statutory warning: This is not just another textile revival story. In the 1950s, the enchanting Nargis Dutt was presented with a white Venkatagiri sari to wear to a dinner party. Her fellow guests were enthralled by its fine weave, lightness and lustre. In gratitude, the actress wrote a thank you note to her benefactor, Pramadwara Devi, from the royal family of Venkatagiri in Andhra Pradesh.
These saris were first woven three centuries ago at an eponymous artisan centre close to Tirupati. Venkatagiri’s sobriquet was ‘Kali Mili’ and the saris became famous after the royal women of the Velugoti Dynasty began to patronise them. Royalty is particular about cachet; hence Venkatagiris were made only for them. A batch would be woven once a year only since the weavers were so paid well enough to be able to afford the wait till the next order. Devi, now the matriarch of the family at 82, continues to promote the sari.
She was narrating the Nargis episode at Back to the Roots, a handloom event organised by Antaran, a Tata Trust initiative, in Hyderabad. She had lent her expansive collection of 200 Venkatagiri saris to be displayed for the show; woven miracles in subtle pastels and creams and jewel-toned weaves with silver zari borders.
Considered an authority on the garment, Devi was born into a Zamindar family in Andhra —her father-in-law was the last Raja of Venkatagiri. “I have been wearing these saris since 1950, the year I was married,” she says.
With a history dating back to the 1700s, the GI-tagged weave occupies a pride place in Andhra’s handloom. The saris were previously made with fine cotton on traditional pit looms. Today’s weavers use silk threads and the Jamdani technique imported from Bangladesh, and work on cheaper power looms. Devi has quite a challenge on her hands. The usual story of flagging patronage and diminishing popularity of handloom products has forced the weavers to seek other employment avenues.
From 10,000 weavers in 2000, the number has dipped to 20 today. The quality of the saris has declined too, as the cotton count has fallen from 300 to 80 because of the rising cost of raw materials. Venkatigiri lovers are shying away because of its high maintenance—it needs to be spread out, washed and starched, all by hand. Its border tends to fray if washed roughly. Half a century ago, there were dedicated dhobis to launder these royal garments.
Only a handful of initiatives and designers are working with weavers to revive the sari. Subramanyam Patnam, a third-generation weaver, says, “We used to weave the sari in gold and cream, but now we use greens and pinks and new motifs like trees and teardrops to attract the younger generation. We are also on social media and are making shirts for men for the first time.”
To promote the saris, Devi gifts them to her celebrity friends and buys Venkatagiris only from the descendants of weavers she patronised in the 1950s.
What an untangled thread she weaves when she tries to revive.