I am so thrilled to hear that Narendra Modi gifted Jill Biden a pashmina shawl in a papier mache gift box. So much nicer than the boy’s toy that he gifted her husband, President Joe Biden. My joy is courtesy a too-short trip to Srinagar that I have just returned from, and I am in love with all things Kashmiri. But mostly because the gift of a pashmina shawl has so much significance; I do hope Modi knows it too.
Babur, the founder of the Mughal empire in India, had established giving ‘khalat’—or expensive robes of honour—as gifts. He obviously understood the importance of fashion and the specialty of fine clothing as his robes comprised turbans, coats, jama shirts, fitted vests, scarves and shawls, all made from the finest fabrics and embroidered with gold threads (zardozi). By the time his grandson Akbar took over, the shawls as gifts were exclusively pashmina. From then on, and well until the 20th century, the Safavid, Zand and Qajar emperors of Iran also wore and gifted pashmina shawls to their political allies.
The pashmina needs little introduction, as it is India’s finest export even though we export a fraction of what China does. China produces 70 per cent of the world’s cashmere, while Mongolia produces 20 per cent. Afghanistan, Australia, India, Iran, Nepal and the US together produce 10 per cent. Regardless, the market for pashmina shawls especially is never satiated. There are, in fact, far more fake or diluted pashminas than authentic ones.
I’m on a pashmina trawl in Srinagar courtesy Aadyam Handwoven, a craft initiative of The Aditya Birla Group that focuses on certain villages across India and produces authentic items paying locals a higher wage than what they would otherwise earn. They established themselves in Srinagar four years ago, to give the pashmina weavers and embroiderers better infrastructure, encourage modern design details, provide consistent employment and create a distinct product. “Our pashminas come with a GI tag that authenticates that they are hand spun as well as hand woven, as against most of the products in the market which are made using mill-made yarn. The design detailing brings a freshness to the aesthetic that is global and deliberate,” Manish Saksena, Aadyam’s lead adviser, tells me.
Aadyam’s weaving centre here is a special place; a Srinagar style home where different activities are conducted in various rooms. As in much of India, the pre-loom activities are the domain of the women. Yasmeena combs the pashmina fluff and cleans it, then she spins it into a single thread yarn first and then a double-thread yarn. A kilo of fine pashmina starts from Rs40,000 (silk is Rs8,000 a kilo, and shawls are usually a blend of both). This yarn is then warped on a garden outside, stretched across iron rods. The wefting is done by men on a loom; a coloured extra weft is also added by hand, often that makes for a ‘kani’ weave. Then it is back to the ladies at Aadyam who work by daylight and embroider ‘sozni’, silk threads so fine they look like a print, into the shawl.
There can be no other luxury product in the world more special than this. There is an unfortunate feminist tale to the popularity of pashminas, too. They were part of a wealthy woman’s wedding trousseau in India, Pakistan and Nepal. Since women at the time were not permitted to inherit land, they would be gifted luxuries. But to see the women reclaim their one-time dowry as a source of livelihood is a delicious irony.
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