Malerkotla Threads

Behind the table, the unassuming Iftekhar Bably, who’s giving the finishing touches to a banner ordered by Punjab CM Capt Amarinder Singh, smiles at your amazement. ‘‘Yes, we embroider everything — epaulettes, badges, insignias, medal plates, caps,’’ he says dusting a photo of a Brigadier to point out what’s what, before telling you how much zari and dabka is used by a force so macho.

The town with the highest concentration of Muslims in Punjab discovered this craft in the early ’30s. ‘‘Our fore-fathers used to work for the British through agents,’’ says Mohammed Hanif Shah, the patriarch, who pioneered direct dealing with the forces. The Partition came and went, leaving them untouched. ‘‘Thanks to the blessings of the guru,’’ says Bably. Lore has it that the tenth Sikh guru blessed the community after its nawab protested the bricking alive of his two sons.

Today, the new generation is wooing the western world. Sitting besides piles of velvet in the lane behind Kamal Cinema, the slightly-built Izhar Ahmed is hard at work on Oxford University badges. ‘‘Each one takes almost an hour,’’ he says, showing the fine silver, gold and thread work. His list of clients includes the British Air Force, a number of high-brow US golf clubs, a church, a London store whose name, he says, starts with an ‘H’ (Harrod’s, you wonder), and none other than Tommy Hilfiger.

‘‘This craft feeds more than half the town,’’ says the portly Mohammed Riaz, who left his cloth business to join it. Walk any winding lane and you’re sure to come across a workshop packed with artisans. ‘‘It demands both skill and patience,’’ says Bably, an award-winning craftsman. A single banner can consume a month, while a badge takes an hour.

But the returns are good. ‘‘That’s why I joined it with my brothers,’’ says Gopal Chand. This only non-Muslim in the field makes badges for the US Army. The artisans too seem satisfied. ‘‘I make Rs 100 a day,’’ says Mohammed Shahid. ‘‘It’s given me a backache and some education,’’ he grins, telling you how he’s learnt to read after embroidering thousands of alphabets.

For the biggies, what counts is the izzat they enjoy in the forces. ‘‘Even the DGP sa’ab knows me by name,’’ beams Bably, while his English-speaking wife tells you about her trip to an Army mess in Ambala.

The spectre of competition doesn’t worry them. As Iftekaar puts it: ‘Why should it? The guru is on our side.’’