Dawn of learning: Young NIFT designers learn from Arani’s silk weavers

The first sound in Athimalaipattu, Tamil Nadu, is not the rooster’s call but the quiet rustle of silk threads stretching across narrow village lanes.

Before the sun climbs above the horizon, the roads are transformed into long corridors of color, where threads shimmer faintly in the dawn light.

Children scurry past with ropes, sticks, and scissors, helping their parents in the delicate act of street warping, an ancient ritual that prepares silk for the loom.

By the time the day brightens, the threads are already waiting to be reborn as sarees.

A question at dawn

It was in this rhythm of work that a question interrupted the steady beat of wooden rods on silk.

“Why is this process done before sunrise?” The query came from a voice unfamiliar to the weavers.

Looking up, one of them explained with patience, “After sunrise, the heat will break the silk threads, and they will not be tensile and tight enough to be drawn as sarees.”

His words were hurriedly noted down by Swathini Ramesh, a textile design student from NIFT Chennai, who was observing with intent curiosity.

Learning extends beyond the confines of the classroom.

Swathini was not alone. She and 19 of her classmates had traveled to the village after completing their second year in design.

For a week, they lived among the weavers, watching, documenting, and learning each detail of silk saree production.

Their visit was part of the Craft Research and Documentation component prescribed by the Union Ministry of Textiles.

“As part of their curriculum, students from all NIFT centers, including Chennai, visit craft clusters such as Arani that specialize in traditional crafts. This helps them to develop respect for the age-old arts of India,” said Professor Divya Satyan, Director of NIFT Chennai.

Preserving traditions through practice

The experience was not about observation alone. Students were asked to live and work with artisans, record their processes, and later present their findings as reports.

“It helps to preserve and document heritage art and craft. Then, it gives the students the idea to take these traditional crafts to a new level. In the final year, they go back to the cluster for a collaborative project and implement interventions, like how to utilize resources without affecting the environment,” explained Associate Professor G Krishnaraj.

Threads of reality

For the students, the village became a living classroom. “This was the chance to see the theory of our classrooms come alive in threads and looms,” said Arushi Bansal, one of the participants.

While they had practiced weaving in college, the small handkerchief-sized cotton pieces felt like nothing compared to what they saw in Arani.

“We did weave a cotton cloth, in the size of a handkerchief, in college. But it was not the real deal,” added Swathini.

The wisdom of the pit loom

The real deal stood in the form of pit looms dug into the earth, operated with pedals and shuttles. “The ones in Arani were large and were in a pit,” Arushi recalled.

A pit loom, with its pedals sunk into the floor, allowed the weaver to sit for hours without strain, their feet guiding the rhythm while their hands danced with threads.

“I laughed when one of the students asked why the loom sits in a pit instead of on the ground. I explained that it allows me to work for hours without a break. Sitting above the pit with my feet inside makes it easy to operate the pedals, while my hands remain free to pass the shuttle and manage the threads,” remembered Venkatesan, a 37-year-old weaver. “I don’t have to bend over the yarn and hurt my back.”

Precision and patience

What impressed the students most was the precision required.

“The hand-eye coordination these weavers have comes only from practice. If they have to transition to another color in the saree, the weavers cut around 4,000 warped threads manually, then they take the other color and knot it with the 4,000 ends before weaving. The hard work put into weaving a saree in a handloom was inspiring,” said Arushi.

Professor Krishnaraj reminded them that not every loom could accommodate the same design.

“The students observed looms of different sizes and capacities. That’s when they could understand that only some looms allow two-inch-long designs, while others allow designs with a length of four inches. There is no design that corresponds to one-size-fits-for-all,” Prof Krishnaraj said.

Following the journey of silk

Their journey took them beyond looms to mulberry plantations and silkworm farms, tracing silk back to its fragile beginnings. Alongside the technicalities, they were welcomed warmly.

“They gave us food, kept flowers on our heads, and even accommodated non-Tamil-speaking students in our batch. They taught me weaving in their handlooms too,” recalled Swathini.

Weaving new dreams

The connection was not temporary. In the seventh semester, students are asked to return for collaborative projects. Swathini already had a vision.

“I wanted to use natural and plant-based dyes to create a bridal wear brand with their silk. They agreed to send me the silk so I could dye it with natural dyes. They even kept a section for natural-dye silk sarees for sale in their cooperative society showroom,” she said.

Encouraged by their support, she later established her own brand in Chennai, selling naturally dyed sarees with silk sourced from Arani.

She also noticed the distinct character of Arani silk.

“Kanchipuram silk is a very heavy and traditional material. But Arani silk is more contemporary with modern motifs and is mostly used for office and casual wear. Arani is also famous for checks. These sarees also weigh less,” she explained.

Arushi, on the other hand, planned to amplify their work through branding and social media.

“They gave a non-Tamil speaker like me so much love and care. They did not even speak English, but I could understand what they were communicating with some sign language and weaving practices. They opened up their houses, looms, and craft secrets to us,” said Arushi.

A plea from the weavers

For the weavers, the collaboration with young students felt like hope. “The younger generation is gradually drifting away from our family and generational art. We want more weavers to join us. Our cooperative society offers handloom training with a small stipend too,” said Venkatesan.

In the early light of Athimalaipattu, where silk still glows like dawn itself, the threads of tradition now intertwine with the ideas of a new generation, carrying forward a legacy that has lived for centuries.