Remembering Jasleen Dhamija, India’s custodian of crafts (1933-2023)

Winter was on the retreat in Delhi. Pallid daylight filtered through the rough hedges around the boundary of the back garden and Jasleen wished to make the most of it during my third visit in 2017. It was an opportunity to sit, speak and reflect on my efforts with muslin, (Bangladesh’s fine high count cotton cloth) revival, or on textiles in general.

Our introductions had been made by mutual friends, Darshan Shah the dynamic founder of Weavers Studio in Kolkata, (Late) Ruby Ghaznavi, the legendary founder of Aranya in Bangladesh and Ruby Pal Chaudhri, founder of Artisana in Kolkata. If I wished to delve into the history and practice of sub-continental textiles, they had told me two years earlier, Dhamija must be my multiple resort of call. They were right.

The Iranian tumbler that she served nimbu pani in (Saiful Islam)

The blue glass cupped in my hand, I sipped and glanced over the changes in her house since my last visit. Not much — the striking tapestries and bold wall hangings were all there, the smaller sculptures on side tables, collectibles from a lifelong interest in crafts, a pile of books in her study and on the central table. On display was Jasleen’s remarkable memory, warm-hearted strength and gracious hospitality. It was difficult to see beneath the surface of her twinkling eyes and large smile the illness she was struggling with. “The glass is from Iran too,” she mentioned, “when I was there.” I remembered how her journey to that country had also led to the fifth of her dozen or so publications, Living Traditions of Iranian Crafts (1979).

She embraced both Indian and Central Asian culture, writing, revealing and collecting their carpets, fabrics, clothes, always making the aesthetic connection between their patterns and its influence on Indian designs and dresses. Jamdani’s (the fine handwoven cotton cloth from Bangladesh, with its unique supplementary motifs) electric, geometrical patterns are often thought to have been formed in Persian workshops and ateliers, ushering a new and unique way to represent Bengal’s flora and fauna on to its fabled fabric.

In 2015, when I first met her and wanted to know more about muslin, (of which jamdani was a central variety) she started with the immortal words, “It was spun from our breath and woven in our hearts.” When I later interviewed her in 2016 during the making of our film ‘Legend of the Loom’, along with Shahidul Alam, the celebrated Bangladeshi photographer-activist, those words were repeated on celluloid as an ever-lasting introduction to the subject.
She was born and raised in Abbottabad, in eastern Pakistan, 200 km west of Kashmir. Dhamija was herself a Sikh Rajput and one of four sisters. They moved across to Delhi after the Partition in 1947. By the time I met her again in Gurgaon, though moving around was difficult, her love for Delhi had congealed into “…a rich experience and despite all its drawbacks, I have come to love this city… as one can only love an impossible lover.”

Her scholarship was deep and pioneering, ranging from the heritage of Himachal to the crafts of Gujarat, from the magic of Indian silks to the drapery of Indonesia. In-between she curated at home and abroad. There was the teaching of course, a faculty member at both the National Institute of Fashion Technology, Delhi and the University of Minnesota, USA, leading discussions on living traditions, searching for the vital life-affirming creative connection that transforms our daily art into craft.

A book inscribed by Jasleen for Saiful Islam (Saiful Islam)

I was a junior entrant into her colourful world but received a treatment no different from her lifelong circle of connoisseurs. As her energy waned, she catalogued part of her unique personal collection of textiles, readying them for an international auction. She contacted me and mentioned that I should glance over them, especially the muslin pieces, for which she said I should recommend the pricing. It was the least I could do.

Having no knowledge of her culinary reputation, I was once invited in 2018 for lunch and she autographed her book, A Gourmet’s Journey: Discovering the Exotic and Erotic in Food, resplendent in a black sari and matching accessories. I mentioned that she was looking great, “Going somewhere?” I asked and she replied, “I dressed up for you dear,” warming my heart
and our supper. I enjoyed all the dishes immensely, but baulked from eating “korola” (bitter gourd) with mincemeat. I had always stayed away from this vegetable until she said, “You have to eat it, Bengalis can’t do without it,” thus forcing me to establish racial credentials over personal aversion.
During the screening of Legend of the Loom at the India International Centre, Delhi, I invited her and she mentioned that it would require a huge physical effort on her part to attend. The film show started without her, but the lights came on to reveal her with two assistants, sitting amongst the audience.

It was pre-COVID, mid 2019, and I was making a trip through Delhi to Bangalore and back to Dhaka. I stopped over to see her, to sip a little duty-free scotch in her company while readying myself for a scolding for not having visited her earlier. Her friend, Paola Manfredi, the Italian textile researcher was stopping by too and I showed both of them the 400 count ‘new muslin’ sari that we had recently woven. The smiles on her creased face said it all as she inspected and complimented our effort.

I couldn’t stay much longer, so I left after I had a quick drink of water from the turquoise glass that she had reminded the staff to serve me in. It was the last time I drank from the deep blue.
The day she left us, I looked up, imagining stars in the foggy English sky, knowing hers had started to glow, too. The heavens have lit up more brightly with her larger-than-life presence while our lands have gone a little darker — sleep well and thank you, Jasleenji.

Islam is the managing director of Majority World. He has led the muslin revival in Bangladesh