Discovering timeless stories behind the Maheshwari saris along the Narmada

The sound is like a heartbeat; the rhythmic click-clack of looms seemingly without beginning or end, much like the flowing Narmada nearby. I am standing under an ancient neem tree in the courtyard of the Rehwa Society, thinking back to the women who have brought me here. My mother and aunts all wore Maheshwari saris in tropical Chennai as did I, and though I didn’t know it then, the history of this weave, unlike many others in India, is linked to women.

It began with Queen Ahilyabai Holkar who made Maheshwar (in present-day Madhya Pradesh) the capital of her Malwa kingdom in 1767. She invited weavers from Surat, Mandu and Hyderabad to create special weaves for her, taking inspiration from the stone sculptures of her fort. The architectural element is obvious in the geometric patterns adorning traditional Maheshwari weaves such as the garbha reshmi (silk of the womb). For centuries, Rani Ahilya’s patronage of this weave, which is a blend of fine cotton and silk, held strong. In the early 1900s though, during the years of colonization, weavers lost sales and abandoned their art and the craft was on the verge of collapse.

In 1978, Richard and Sally Holkar of the erstwhile royal family of Indore were walking by the Ahilya ghat in Maheshwar when a weaver came up to them, pleading for work. Moved by his plight, they created the Rehwa Society to revive the weave invented by their ancestor. Rehwa is another name for the Narmada river, and today, the weaves they supported have given rise to rivulets of livelihood throughout the town, with many shops selling handwoven Maheshwari sarees. Sally later started Women Weave, a cooperative that employs nearly 100 women who spin, draft, wind, warp and weave khadi cotton into high-quality fabric that is exported or sold to high-end boutiques. “She did not want Women Weave to compete with Rehwa, so one organization weaves Maheshwaris and the other does khadi,” says Sanra S, chief operating officer of Rehwa. Sally also started The Handloom School, which trains young weavers to become craft entrepreneurs. On the day I visited, young weavers were repairing the looms, drafting designs and practicing with their shuttles.

Madhya Pradesh has several handloom clusters: Burhanpur, Dhar, Barwani, and Chanderi, each of which produce beautiful, fine saris. The Maheshwari, though, is easy to like. The Maheshwari was popular with the women in my family because of its understated elegance. The silk-cotton body of the saris is plain or woven with small buttis inspired by the rudraksh or the kamal phool, and the sari is gossamer light. The colours are bright: rani pink, jamun blue, lime green and mango yellow. The design and motifs are both traditional and modern, all of which made me realize what a visionary queen Ahilyabai was.

“Ahilyabai remains more relevant than ever today because her influence is pan-Indian and across many areas,” says Richard, her descendant and the current occupant of Ahilya Fort, which he has converted into a heritage hotel. Gond paintings hang on the walls; the cutlery has elements of tribal art including fish-shaped handles; Bagh prints adorn the tablecloths; heavy bell metal lamps are tucked into the alcoves along the wall; and best of all, a beautiful ghat along the Narmada.

The Narmada is in her middle age in Maheshwar and flows with broad self-assurance. . Unlike many of India’s storied rivers, she flows west rather than east and empties into the Arabian Sea. For decades, I have wanted to see the Narmada and visit the land where the Maheshwaris originated. This ancient capital has been mentioned in the Ramayana, the Mahabharata and in Buddhist texts as well. The Narmada flows over the valley that was created when Gondwanaland crashed into the Indian subcontinent creating the Himalayan range.

Today, Maheshwar wears it ancient geological origins lightly. Few places in India so seamlessly combine living craft traditions, quiet royalty, spirituality, and hospitality. During the day, I roamed the streets, ducking into weaver studios attracted by the sound of looms. In Maheshwar, most weavers sell from their homes. Sure, I bought sarees from Rehwa and Women’s Weave, but I also bought saris from Nisha Verma, a national award-winning weaver, and visited Tana Bana, founded by weavers who started out Rehwa. Each of my aunts was thrilled with the sari I gifted them. Maheshwaris, they sighed, so soft and pleasing.

The saris I wore as a young woman had led me back to the place they came from.

Shoba Narayan is an author based in Bengaluru.