It is a hot summer afternoon here in Godhra. The sun is streaming in through the lone window; a wisp of fresh air blows in; the fan sitting beside me takes a little spin. My loom standing tall, finds a place by this window. My wife sits by the door, her hands busy at work as she spins my yarn. The rhythmic ring of the loom fades into the background, my thoughts in the fore…
I would watch my father, as he sat in this same room. His fingers adept, his feet, swift. He would call me in when I was back from school and sit me beside him. I, in awe, would sit there, hours together, listening to tales of his father and his father’s father. I let out a little laugh, as I think of the time, when I used to push the peddles for my father with my hands as he worked. I was too short to reach the peddles then with my own two feet.
I was all of 15 when I took up weaving full time. I had learned through the years by just watching my father. It was different then. We had two looms in this very same room. My sisters, brothers, and father- we all would weave. Now, with my father old, my sisters married off, it is only my older brother and me working on this one loom. I often prod my wife to learn too. She refuses, content with the spinning and dyeing she does for me. With my children away at Mandvi, she manages everything for me, as I sit through the day weaving.
My children don’t weave. I just want to see them well settled. When the time comes we need to make room for their wives and children in this very same house. Looking around the room, I feel I need a better ventilated work space. Work seems to be going well now. I remember the time when I was ill. It was hard on all of us. Work had come to a stand still. Money was tight. However, that is in the past. I have a strong sense of attachment and involvement with my work. I always have. Whatever I do I want to do it well. It perturbs me if things don’t come out well. A sense of disappointment, an unsettled feeling.
Weaving around eight to nine meters a day, I am happy now. Being peaceful is essential to my work. Probably, the only way to weave is with a peaceful and happy mind.
