The Gauntlet

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Well, it’s not quite the gauntlet. More like a self-inflicted time crunch that will span the next month. That’s how long I have left in India. A month. It seems odd to say. I’m saving my travel funds until the program ends, and my lengthy end-of-the-term papers are growling at me. Plus, I have a whole language to re-learn, thanks to the long break in Hindi class and my sloth in studying on my own. It’s easy to not know Hindi in Delhi. So I have a month in Delhi, for better or worse. A month to savor all the tantalizing aromas and tastes, to throw myself back into the mix without interruption of extended weekends around India. I guess Delhi is on the chopping block, and I’m the one holding the ax, debating whether or not the city is worth the polluted streets. Or maybe I’m on Delhi’s chopping block, and I may be expelled from its doorstep less wise than when I came.
Either way, I am forced to give my full attention to my classes. Or at least half of my attention, as I spend a good part of the day planning out the next thirty years of my life. I’m not sure why, but it’s impulsive. Regardless, an attentive mind to my studies has proved to rewarding once again.
In my art history class, we recently covered Indian textiles. I have long heard this word thrown around by my girlfriend, as she is a textiles major, and yet I seem to know relatively little about it. Scratch that. I couldn’t tell a weft from left, a warp from… shwarp. When my girlfriend came, she was very excited to explore the “rich textile history” and the “amazing techniques” and the “gorgeous colors.” I was happy for her fascination with it, but still did not fully understand the allure until my art history lecture on the subject. Not that I don’t listen to her or anything of that sort. But being stuck in a classroom and spoken at for two hours can work wonders for the mind. Who would have thought?
Indian textiles have been at the forefront of the global market for thousands of years. In fact, India has truly dominated the textiles market during that time. Such clothing nomenclature as “kasmir” or “muslin” or “pashmina” have been embedded into the minds of all shoppers, and yet few would stop to consider that all of this comes from India.
From the dawn of textile production in India, it has been the belief that the techniques used to create fabric are empowering, and a complete is an artistic piece in itself. This is why most traditional Indian styles of clothing do not use stitching, such as the sari or the lungi. These clothes cover the body from being wrapped, not from manipulation by means of stitching together different pieces of fabric, the latter being considered inauspicious. This exemplifies not only the pride in a piece as a whole, but also in the technique and work ethic used to create a piece of fabric.
Indian dyes have also been a staple of the superior quality of Indian textiles. Indian thread is dyed before it is sewn, a technique not often used throughout history, and certainly not in today’s world. Thus, colors would not run. Certain colors used, such as indigo, actually grew more vibrant over time, as the exposure to oxygen is what brings out the chemical color.
But it is perhaps the mastery over individual forms that have kept Indian textiles at the pinnacle of the textile market for so long. Families pass down techniques through generations, and focus only on one technique. Tie dye and gold-lacing originate in certain geographic areas, and only spread with the migration of the families that created them. As early as the Roman Empire, and probably earlier, the world has sought out the attainment of these fabrics and clothes. India has, throughout its history, traded commissioned textiles from kingdoms across Africa, Asia, and Europe. Traditional ceremonial garb in Thailand, Chinese-styled evening dresses in the Netherlands: all made in India. In fact, it was because of Indian textiles that Christopher Columbus set sail for India, and in turn, “discovered” America. Europeans, enamored with Pacific spices, set sail for the archipelago of Indonesia, weighted down with buckets of gold. However, the Indonesian tribes refused the gold, demanding Indian textiles in return for the spices. Thus, the Europeans went looking for a sea route with India. This later, it could be argued, lead to the rise of oceanic exploration, and thus shaped the modern world as it is today. All because of Indian textiles.
Voltaire described India as the nation whom everybody needs, and yet needs no one. Is this still true today? It’s a provocative question, and begs to be answered, especially in light of the American agri-business that has taken root in the Indian countryside.
But this is only one of many questions I have, and which will probably not be answered in my last three weeks or so. I am gathering together my wits to write an English paper, upon which my entire grade will be judged, and so have little time for philosophical ventures. But maybe I can squeeze them in. Actually, Delhi will probably squeeze them in for me.
I look forward to spending the next few weeks in Delhi while I compile my paper. There is some unfinished business between the city and I.

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