In Quest of ‘Woven Air’

Saiful Islam’s Muslin – Our Story is not only a must-read for art and textile students of the sub-continent, but also for historians and cultural historians alike.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that Saiful Islam’s tome Muslin – Our Story on the incredible mul-mul is actually a forensic investigation into its source, from cultivation in Bengal, spinning, weaving and its consumption.

It is the first time that someone from the subcontinent embarked on a quest with the aim of not just theoretical investigation but to uncover solid evidence as to why this inimitable textile became extinct, never to be revived, after its zenith in the 18th century.

Growing up in the subcontinent, for most of us, the Dhaka mul-mul was legendary, with ‘its ability to pass through a ring’ or ‘fit in a matchbox’ and its fame on the world stage. But the hand-me-down memory of how the British had allegedly ordered cutting the thumbs of the dexterous weavers (almost mythical creatures) in the 18th century remained painful.

Saif meticulously sifts through facts and fiction to not only unravel the DNA of the mother fibre, Gossypium Arboreum, and its sub-class Neglecta, and join the dots – but to also push the boundaries and breathe life into these legends by re-cultivating the species and re-creating textiles with present day weavers to revive the famed mul-mul.

Most coveted by the Timurid Mughal emperors, in every likelihood to beat the stifling heat of the subcontinent, mul-mul also offered a clean slate which when worn with ropes and ropes of pearls, rubies and emeralds enhanced the beauty of their priceless gems. Mul-mul-e-khas was the finest with 1800-1900 thread count in the warp, worn exclusively by the emperor and his family, followed by Jhuna, Rang (gauzelike) and Abrawan (flowing water) in lower counts and so on.

At times so fragile mul-mul garments were reputed to last only one-wear, and consequently very few specimens survive today. However, miniature paintings, folios and albums are proof of the delicately diaphanous nature of this exquisite textile where kings and queens are both clad in virtually transparent jamas or robes, and where the body, the material and print of the pajamas – the lower garment – are clearly seen through what appears to be a layer of breeze. Even in winter scenes, mul-mul is clearly visible, worn under layers of poshak, pashmina chogas with collars of mink and ermine, fine pashmina patkas or kummerbunds (waistbands) and swathes of shahtoos shawls.

Accounts from travelers also provide vivid descriptions of the attire at court. The French jeweler Francois Bernier, who visited the Mughal court in 1670, while recording the royal karkhanas or workshops says, “…. In a sixth (one) manufacturers of silk, brocade and those fine muslins of which are made turbans, girdles with golden flowers and drawers worn by females, so delicately fine as frequently to wear out in one night.”

Subsequent techniques to embellish mul-mul included jamdani, a ‘flowered and figured’ muslin with loom-woven patterns of a discontinuous weft, which could be cotton silk or silver thread. Later the art of chikan kari, cotton thread needle embroidery with its 32 stitches, and badla, pure silver strand, also emerged as embellishment, ostensibly patronised by the co-sovereign Nur Jahan, with her superb Persian design aesthetic.

The Portugese, French and the Dutch had begun trading in cotton textiles, spices and sugar from India with Bengal emerging as its epicenter. The exquisite mul-mul was presented at the Ottomon court and shipped as far as Japan. Soon it became the rage in Europe, with patrons like the Empress Josephine and the Duchess of Devonshire, and consequently Bengal became the richest province in India.

However, once the corporate brutes of the East India Company (EIC) jumped into the fray they systematically got rid of the competition, banned the import of hand printed calico from Gujrat into England in 1723 and eventually unseated the Nawabs of Bengal. After the battle of Plassey in 1757 they gained de-facto sovereignty and began to collect harsh taxes from the local population to finance their trade, for which bullion had previously been brought over from England. 

Meanwhile mul-mul’s unique desirability as ‘white gold’, its production (at the expense of food crops) and trade value rose to almost 75%. This led the EIC to prevent even local traders from buying mul-mul and under laws enacted in 1887-89 weavers became bonded craftsmen who were obliged to sell exclusively to the EIC, with punitive measures and fines for violations and late deliveries.

With bounties from Bengal, the EIC earned vast and previously unimaginable personal and commercial fortunes throughout the 17th and 18th century. As volumes and prices of mul-mul went up, local cheaper imitations were manufactured in England and other part of Europe. In a further travesty the English began to send machine spun raw material from England to be woven as mul-mul in India and re-imported.

This was a further dis-incentive for the cultivation of the delicate short staple phutti karpas, around Dhaka and hand spinning, making it an endangered species. The dumping of machine-made English textiles on a vast scale to India followed and thus turned the world’s largest exporter into an importer on the verge of the worst known famine.

Historically, early cotton grew wild in damp sandy tropics in India, around the Red Sea in Egypt and the Horn of Africa, where it was likely harvested for its seeds and oil. Textile historians confirm that fluff from the cotton plant was first spun and woven into cloth in India. Evidence of fibre and seeds appear in pre-Harappan 6000 BC site of Mehrgarh in Balochistan, and spindles and whorls in sites throughout the Indus valley.

However, the first evidence of woven cotton was found in 3000 BC Moenjodaro, also in present day Pakistan. Early surviving fragments in Jordan and Egypt have also been established as imported from here. Roman accounts from 20-70 CE mention the existence of ‘Gangetic Cotton’ produced from a plant (phuti Karpas) that exclusively grew along the banks of the rivers Meghna and Brahmaputra (in present Bangladesh) and thus referred to mul-mul, “Thy bride might as well clothe herself with a garment of the wind as stand forth publicly naked under the clouds of muslin”.

Beginning his rumination, Saif, an erstwhile executive with a multinational career, became intrigued by its history, taking out two years from his retired life in London to lead the charge, and demystify the rise and fall of mul-mul. What makes this book a compelling read, allowing it to stand apart from other coffee table productions of Western museums or academic scholars, is the author’s non-linear journal, which is a narrative following his travels across India, Bangladesh, the Middle East, Europe and the US including characters, elucidating incidents and musings in what clearly became a personalised quest, at times fraught with danger.

While the research provides the reader a chance to accompany him, that he is considered an ‘outsider’ to the museum and academic establishment, becomes apparent as he makes his progress as a ‘muslineer’. His timeline entries such as “waste time at Courtald Gallery”, “photo without permission at British Library” are even amusing.

The Drik team in Bangladesh not only published the book, but to celebrate the craft organised a muslin festival at the national museum in Dhaka replete with cultural activities. Simultaneous dialogue with the weaving and craft community, fashion industry, growers and policy makers ensued.

Saif also produced a documentary film, ‘Legend of the Loom’, which to date has won multiple awards, further confirming his ingenuity. The book is not only a must-read for art and textile students of the sub-continent, but also for historians and cultural historians alike. After all it’s not just a study of a cotton species or a mythological textile but undisputedly it is our own shared history.

Fatma Shah is a freelance consultant with more than 15 years’ experience in Economic Development and Finance. Her passion for art, literature, history, craft and cultural heritage led her to create Jadeed in 2010 – a platform for curating exhibitions, and writing about the visual arts, design and craft traditions and their preservation.