Fortune India Exclusive: Banarasi Weavers—A Dwindling Lot

When the timeless red and golden Banarasi sari became a part of the trousseau of Bollywood icons Anushka Sharma and Deepika Padukone, fashion gurus declared that the ancient art form which dates back to the 14th century was on the path of revival. Walk into any saree store in Varanasi today, and the salesman, without fail, would woo his patron with a replica of Anushka or Deepika’s sari. He would even tell her the sari had been woven by the same weavers. The patron, invariably a young bride-to-be, would succumb. After having paid a quarter of what it would have cost the Bollywood divas, she would walk out of the shop triumphantly assuming that it was a steal.

Hold On! How can a sari worth lakhs be sold for a few thousand? A chat with weavers, traders and other stakeholders of this exquisite handwoven craft reveals the hard truth–the sari that the young bride-to-be would have bought would have been a replica made in power loom. That’s not all. The sari wouldn’t have been manufactured in Varanasi at all. It would have been made in Surat, Gujarat. A sari with that kind of intricacy takes anywhere between 60 to 100 days to hand weave. One roll of fabric would churn out three-four saris at the most. In contrast, a power loom could churn out hundreds of saris within hours. Making the art form affordable by manufacturing on power looms is not unethical, but manufacturing on power loom and claiming that it is handloom is. 

“Banarasi saris are getting copied by power looms in Surat and that has impacted our industry adversely.  In the last 5-7 years this trend has become a lot more disturbing. A master weaver makes a design and it gets copied by the power loom. They make replicas of the sari and sell at a cheap rate; as a result, the real connoisseurs of handloom are confused,” points out veteran master weaver and owner of Taj Estate, Saeed-Ur-Rehman. “I made a sari worth ₹1.10 lakh and the replica which was made in Surat was sold for ₹6,000. After a couple of years, the same sari was sold for ₹2,000,” he cribs. A pure zari Banarasi silk, on average, costs between ₹30,000-40,000.  

With style divas wearing Banarasi saris and high-profile designers such as Manish Malhotra and Sabyasachi Mukherjee showcasing the exquisite craft, one may believe the craft has revived. The truth, however, is that only 5% of the ₹200-300 crore textile industry in Varanasi are handloom artisans. The next generation of weavers don’t want to take this craft forward. 

In the village of Cholapur, a one-hour drive from Varanasi, lives Aarif Ansari, a master weaver who weaves intricate wedding saris. When we reached his loom, Aarif was painstakingly weaving a colourful ‘Rangkaat’ sari which he said would take him at least 90 days to complete. His brother Shariq flaunted a beautiful gold and black sari (with Gujarati script all over the body of the weave) that won him the coveted President’s Award. The duo may be relatively well-to-do; most weavers in that village have migrated to Surat to work on power looms. The Ansari brothers work with 100-odd weavers from villages in and around but getting them to work hasn’t been easy. “Many of them prefer pulling a rickshaw or opening a paan shop to weaving,” says Aarif.

The switch to power loom began in the early 2000s when the demand for handlooms dipped to an all-time low. This was also the time when consumers preferred embroidered lehengas and saris. A Banarasi sari was no longer a ubiquitous part of a woman’s trousseau. “The market was in the dumps from 2006-2010. We were finding it difficult to make ends meet. The thought of quitting the profession did occur to us, but this is the only skill we had,” says Aarif. The Ansari brothers managed to get orders from Indian Hotels (IHCL) but that too didn’t last long. “Our lives improved after brands such as Tilfi started giving us work on a regular basis from 2016 onwards,” points out Shariq.

Unfriendly Business Environment

So, why are the Banarasi weavers dwindling? It’s a combination of raw materials becoming more expensive and the weaver not getting adequately incentivised. The cost per kg of silk is anywhere between ₹7,000 to ₹10,000. To add to that is the cost of real zari which is between ₹75,000 and ₹1.35 lakh per kg (even tested zari costs ₹5,000 to ₹20,000 per kg). A weaver has to invest between ₹10,000-15,000 for a basic Banarasi sari with minimal zari, but when it comes to complex weaves such as rangkaat or tanchoi, he would need 400-500 gms of zari which would require an investment of ₹50,000 to ₹1 lakh. Now comes the big problem–handloom saris are prone to errors. After spending a fortune on the raw materials, if by any chance there is an error, the middlemen refuse to buy the sari from the weaver and the latter ends up with unsold inventory.

Most middlemen or wholesalers/retailers don’t pay the weaver until the sari is sold. “If the sari is not sold they return it to the weaver. This makes it extremely difficult for the weaver as he ends up with idle inventory. Most of them are so scared that their sari could be returned, that they don’t want to take the risk of innovating. They end up making the same old paisleys and other traditional designs. Since there is no innovation, customers are also getting tired of seeing the same visuals and aesthetics,” says Ujjwal Khanna, director, Tilfi Brands, a direct-to-consumer Banarasi sari and apparel brand.      

Khanna, whose family has been in the textiles business for 200 years, claims that Tilfi safeguards its network of 2,500-odd weavers from all the risks they take to weave a sari. “If a sari has defects (which is extremely common) we either upcycle it or absorb it in our costs. We never return it to the weaver. If you protect them from the vagaries of the fashion cycle, it gives them the confidence to push the boundaries of the craft. The good weavers are happy to be part of handloom, it depends on who they are working with.”

“Middlemen don’t pay the right price to the weaver. They take the sari from him and return it if it doesn’t sell. Oftentimes they promise a weaver ₹10,000 but end up paying him just ₹8,000. Most traders don’t allow the weavers to grow because they feel they would be a threat to them. They don’t understand if the weaver grows the industry will also grow. The weavers who have worked with me have moved forward and that is because I have treated them like my children. My logic is if I take care of them, they will be loyal to me,” says Taj Estate’s Rehman.

The past decade has seen the emergence of DTC brands such as Holy Weaves, Tilfi and Ekaya Banaras which by owning the entire value chain are trying to protect the weavers from risks. “We prefer working with brands such as Tilfi as they pay us immediately and don't return the saris which don't get sold. We are not educated enough to market our products well,” admits weaver Aarif.

“The Banarasi craft is a cottage industry. You will never find a factory where 50 handlooms would be running, unlike states such as Maharashtra which have cooperatives. The weavers mostly weave on one-two looms in their home and they weave as per their convenience. Some have money to invest and we give them designs, but most don’t have the wherewithal to invest. We have to give them the yarn along with the designs. We have to take care of them end to end,” explains Umang Agrawal, director, Holy Weaves.

The advent of power loom and weavers not getting their due are indeed reasons for the art form to dwindle, but Agrawal also attributes it to smartphones. “It’s a huge distraction, especially for the newer generation. They don’t have the patience to weave as they are glued to their smartphones. Of course, the advent of power looms is a dampener. Power looms first started weaving the base fabrics using chanderi and polycottons, now they are even weaving complex patterns. Therefore, many weavers see no point in weaving on handlooms which is time-consuming. Production of handlooms has moved to the premium luxury side. The cost of weaving has increased, the cost of yarn has increased, so you don’t justify the price of weaving it on handloom. Around 25-30 years ago, everything was handloom.”

Menace of Duplication

The Banarasi weaving ecosystem for centuries has thrived on mutual trust. A master weaver after drawing the design gives it to the weaver who weaves out of the comfort of his home. The former doesn’t make him sign any non-disclosure agreement. However, in the era of fierce competition, many weavers tend to break this trust. Duplicates are rampant. “Other master weavers try to convince the weavers who work for me to give out designs. If I paid the weaver ₹10,000, they would offer him ₹11,000 and take the design away. That’s the reason I have taken such good care of my weavers that they remain loyal to me,” explains Rehman.

He cites the example of the ₹1.80 lakh sari he had recently woven for Reliance Foundation chairperson, Nita Ambani. “It was a rangkaat, and the moment Madam Ambani wore it there was a beeline of buyers in my office wanting the design. When I refused to give them the design, they blackmailed me that they would go to my weaver’s house and fetch the design. The weaver turned out to be my loyalist and told them that he hadn’t woven the sari.”       

“A lot of our designs get copied. Our signature ghat sari (inspired by the ghats of Varanasi) is sold in every second shop in Varanasi. It is very difficult to maintain copyright. You can get the design registered but that is not etched on stone either,” admits Khanna of Tilfi.

Rehman also blames the fashion designers for promoting duplication. He cites the example of a leading fashion designer who bought one of his rejected saris, which he repurposed and sold. “The sari went viral and it was copied by everyone. The designers instead of helping us with design inputs to better our craft actually do more harm to us. They buy just one sari, but don’t do anything to take the craft forward,” he says.

The fact that the Banarasi weavers don’t have ownership of their designs has commoditised the art form. This has resulted in the proliferation of the duplicate market. “Banarasi saris are marketed as a product and till the time the product commands a premium, there is no way the people involved in the production process would get their due. I am part of that chain, my grapher is part of the chain, and the dyer and textile finisher are also part of that chain. They are as important as the weaver. The second generation of most of these stakeholders don’t want to be part of this craft,” explains Holy Weaves’ Agrawal.

Government Intervention

The Ministry of Textiles has done its bit by setting up weaver training schools where the weavers are taught newer techniques as well as design thinking. The weaver community however feels that the government’s interventions aren’t good enough. “The government initially invited fashion designers to give us design inputs and I think that was a great move. However, nothing much happened after the first year. As I told you, fashion designers buy one or a maximum of two saris and it hardly helps the weaver,” points out Rehman. “The government should organise frequent fashion shows so that our weavers get to showcase their art,” he adds.

Rehman also believes that the government should revoke the ban on child labour. He says children are an important part of the weaver value chain and banning child labour hasn’t helped children in any way. “They are either selling tea or paan, while some of them pull rickshaws. Instead of banning child labour, the government should train these children in weaving schools and provide them with basic education. Just as we train our children to become doctors or engineers, how about training them to become designers? They will take the art to the next level.” 

The handwoven Banarasi weavers are definitely dwindling, but the rise of rich patrons who appreciate the art makes the stakeholders hopeful. “I had taken the Nita Ambani sari to showcase to a group of women in Delhi and sold two saris. There are high-profile women who aspire for a high-quality handwoven sari, so there is an opportunity to grow,” says Rehman.

The need of the hour, however, is to ensure that the stakeholders don’t opt out of the profession. Design copyright, safeguarding the weavers from risks and taking the exotic Banarasi art beyond saris could be a great way of preserving the dwindling art.