KARACHI:

The stench of stagnant sewage hangs heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the harsh reality for the millions who call Orangi Town home. Crumbling buildings line the labyrinthine streets, their cracks spewing forth plumes of acrid smoke from burning trash. This is not a scene from a post-apocalyptic movie, but the everyday life for residents of Asia's largest slum, located in the bustling metropolis of Karachi, Pakistan.

This sprawl of humanity wasn't always like this. Following the tumultuous partition of India and Pakistan in 1947, a wave of refugees flooded across the newly drawn borders. Many, skilled artisans from regions like Banaras, sought refuge in Karachi. With nowhere else to go, they settled on the outskirts of the city, on what was then barren land. This is how Orangi Town was born - a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, but also a stark reminder of the displacement caused by political upheaval.

Having around 2,400,000 people living in an area of located in the city of lights, is the largest slum of the world, leaving behind India’s Dharavi with 1,000,000 people living there. This slum not only carries the history of this city but migrants from India and Bangladesh who came here to give this area the status of having this market.

Yet, beneath the despairing surface, a hidden gem gleams. Tucked away within this maze of hardship lies the 50-year-old Asia's largest Banarasi cloth market. Here, along with the chaos, skilled artisans weave intricate tapestries of silk, their nimble fingers guided by generations of tradition. The air thrums with the rhythmic clatter of looms, each beat a testament to the enduring spirit of this community.

Weaving a legacy

The story of Banarsi cloth in Orangi Town is intricately woven with the human experience. It's a tale of displacement, resilience, and the enduring spirit of cultural heritage. Following the partition of India and Pakistan in 1947, a mass migration saw skilled artisans, many from the Banaras region of India, uprooted and seeking a new home.

One such individual is Zafarullah Ansari, the 67-year-old ex-chairman of the Banarasi Cloth Merchant Association (Orangi). “When Pakistan and India were divided, people from all walks of life migrated from there. Among them were skilled Banarasi craftsmen who settled in industrial areas and nearby kachi abadi which later turned into areas like Banarsi Colony and Orangi Township.”

"We came here with nothing but the skills passed down through generations. We settled on the edges of Karachi, and with our bare hands, built a community around the craft we knew best - Banarsi cloth making," Zafarullah recalls, his voice etched with the memory of that time. “This market has a rich history, it has the honor of making cloth for the Kiswah (Ghilaf-e-Kaaba)”

The early days were challenging for the community. Their forefathers worked in the factories day and night to put the foundation of this cloth market and to carry on our lagacy. "We started small, working from a single house. But the demand for our work was strong. Our fathers used to tell that in the early days, they even did business of more than Rs300,000 in a day. People prized the intricate designs and rich textures of Banarsi cloth."

Their dedication paid off, and slowly, the market grew. "I've seen this market transform over the years. From a single house to the hub for Banarasi cloth in all of Asia, it's a testament to the hard work and passion of our community,” he says with a hint of pride.

Talking about the origin of this Banaras Cloth-making skill, Zafarullah said, “The history of our Banarashi cloth dates back to the time of Pakistan's formation and the subsequent influx of migrants. However, precise records of its origins are elusive. Perhaps a visit to Banaras in India could shed light on the rich heritage and longstanding tradition of our community.”

However, the challenges haven't vanished entirely. Zafarullah expresses his concern for the future, "The infrastructure hasn't kept pace with the growth of the market. We need better roads, proper sanitation, and a reliable supply of electricity to truly thrive.”

The art of Banarsi cloth making

Step inside a workshop in Orangi Town, and you'll be transported into a world that transcends the harsh realities of its surroundings. Here, amidst the cacophony of the city, lies a sanctuary of meticulous dedication and rhythmic clatter. Looms hum a symphony of silk and skill, each beat a testament to the enduring art of Banarsi cloth making. This is a craft not merely practiced, but cherished, its secrets passed down through generations like heirlooms.

"It all starts with the finest silk threads," explains Irfan Ansari, a craftsman with over 35 years of experience, his weathered hands gently stroking a spool. "We source them carefully, ensuring their strength and suppleness. They are the foundation upon which our stories are woven." The silk, once acquired, undergoes a meticulous dyeing process, each vibrant hue a secret jealously guarded by generations of artisans.

Irfan leans in and secretly shares, "The exact proportions of natural dyes and the precise boiling times, these are the whispers passed down from father to son, ensuring the colors remain as rich and enduring as the traditions themselves."

The heart of the craft lies in the loom, a testament to human ingenuity and artistry. "Each thread is carefully woven, following patterns that have been etched in our memories for centuries," says Muhammad Rafiq, another veteran of the trade, his hands gesturing towards the intricate wooden contraption that stands before him.

He describes the loom with a reverence reserved for a trusted companion, "It's a delicate dance between the craftsman and the machine. The warp threads, stretched taut like the strings of a sitar, become the canvas. The weft threads, dipped in vibrant hues, become the brushstrokes. Together, they create a tapestry that tells a story – a story of heritage, of resilience, of the unwavering spirit of this community."

The designs themselves are a captivating blend of tradition and innovation. "We still use the Mughal-era motifs like Munar Rama," Rafiq explains, while respecting the artistry of the past. He unfolds a length of fabric, sunlight catching on the intricate gold thread that weaves a geometric pattern across its surface. "But we also incorporate contemporary elements to keep our work relevant. We want our creations to adorn not just the walls of palaces, but also the shoulders of modern women, a bridge between the timeless and the trendy."

“In the old days, the Banarasi cloth was made with the manual handloom called ‘Khadi’ where three people use (used) to be engaged in making one piece of Banarasi. Now with new technologies coming in it has shifted to machines and computers. Still, there are some of the workers who use old equipment to make cloths,” he said.

The shift from handlooms to modern machinery has brought both advantages and challenges. "Machines have certainly increased our production speed," says Shehroz Ansari, a young factory owner, a hint of pride in his voice as he skillfully adjusts the settings on a computerized loom.

He leans back, gesturing towards the rows of humming machines, "We can now complete a saree in a day, compared to a week by hand. This allows us to meet the growing demand and ensure our craft continues to thrive."

However, the soul of the craft remains firmly rooted in tradition. "Even with machines, the human touch is essential. The intricate embroidery and finishing touches are all done by hand, ensuring each piece is a unique work of art," Shehroz emphasizes. "A machine can replicate the pattern, but it cannot replicate the love, the care, the generations of stories woven into every thread."

"This craft is more than just a livelihood," Irfan declares. "It's a connection to our heritage, a story woven into every thread. We are the custodians of this legacy, entrusted with keeping it alive for future generations. We will continue to adapt, to innovate, but the essence of Banarsi cloth making, the meticulous attention to detail, the dedication to quality, and the unwavering spirit of our community – that will forever remain unchanged."

Talking about the potential of this market, Irfan says, “Today, China serves as a global hub for processing silk cocoons, catering to the demands of the international market. But the key difference lies in the high quality of our cloth. Initially, we used threads from China, but we established our setup using Banarasi khadi. Today, we've mastered manual jacquard through personal techniques developed in industrial zones.”

He added that all designs and creations originate from here, ensuring top-notch quality. “This craft is our sole source of earning, sustaining us and our families. Our forebears primarily worked with pure silk, modern techniques have evolved, yet our artisanal approach remains unchanged,” he said.

A hopeful eye on the future

The rhythmic clatter of the loom fades as we step out of the workshop and back into the harsh reality of Orangi Town. The air thickens with the stench of sewage, a stark reminder of the precarious existence of this vibrant community. The harsh reality is that the very conditions that birthed this artistic haven now threaten its survival.

"The infrastructure here hasn't kept pace with the growth of the market," Zafarullah laments. His frustration is palpable as he gestures towards the broken roads, choked with overflowing sewage drains. "Navigating these streets is a daily struggle, not just for our customers but for transporting raw materials and finished products. It discourages potential buyers and makes it difficult for us to compete with markets that boast better facilities."

The lack of basic amenities goes far beyond just transportation woes. "We face constant power outages," says Shehroz, working in a room carrying eight embroidery machines "These disrupt production, causing delays and financial losses. Reliable electricity is essential for running the machines that have become crucial for meeting market demands." He points towards a tangle of wires strung haphazardly across buildings, a desperate attempt to access a power source that remains frustratingly unreliable.

The lack of proper sanitation facilities poses another major threat. "Diseases spread easily in these conditions. The children are the most vulnerable, often falling prey to waterborne illnesses. It's a constant worry for all of us," says Raheem Ahmed, a resident of Orangi Town. His words underscore the harsh reality that the very environment that houses this artistic tradition also puts its artisans and their families at risk.

Despite these challenges, a flicker of hope remains. "The artisans here are incredibly skilled and dedicated. They are constantly innovating, incorporating modern techniques while remaining true to the traditional methods," assures Irfan. While pointing to a rack of sarees, each adorned with intricate embroidery patterns that combine traditional motifs with contemporary flair, he says "We are adapting to meet the changing demands of the market, but we refuse to compromise on the quality and heritage that defines our work."

However, adaptation alone can't solve the underlying problems. "We need government intervention. Improved infrastructure – proper roads, reliable electricity, and a functioning sewage system – is essential for the survival of this market,” Zafarullah emphasises while echoing the sentiments of many residents of Orangi Town, calling for a collaborative effort between the government, NGOs, and the community itself.