The struggles of Assam's gamusa weavers

In the days leading up to the Assamese festival of Rongali Bihu, the clacking sounds of treadles and shuttles hitting the wooden frames of a loom can be heard all over this neighbourhood.

In a quiet lane in Bhellapara neighbourhood, weaver Patney Deuri is busy at work on her handloom. She is weaving endi gamusas at her home in Bajrajhar village. They need to be ready in time for the Assamese new year, around the month of April.

And these are not just any gamusas. The 58-year-old is well known for the intricate floral designs she can weave. “I have orders to finish 30 gamusas before Bihu, because people will gift those to guests,” she says. 

Gamusas—woven pieces of cloth measuring roughly a metre and half in length—have great significance in Assamese culture. They are particularly in demand by locals during festivals, the red threads adding a festive air.

“It is my passion to weave flowers into the fabric. Whenever I see any flower, I can make that exact flower design on the clothes I weave. I just have to see it once,” says Deuri, smiling proudly. The Deuri community are listed as Scheduled Tribe in Assam.

The weavers in this village in Mazbat sub-division of Assam are part of the state’s 12.69 lakh handloom households with over 12 lakh weavers—the highest for any state in the country. Assam is also among the top states in the country producing handloom products, especially silk in four varieties—eri, muga, mulberry and tassar.

Deuri uses eri (both cotton and silk), also called ‘endi’ in the local Bodo language. “I learnt weaving from my mother when I was young. Once I learnt handling the loom on my own, I started weaving. Since then, I have been doing this work,” adds the master weaver. She can weave gamusas and fulam gamusas (Assamese towels with floral designs on both sides), mekhela-chador (a two-piece traditional Assamese dress for women) and endi chador (a large shawl).

To help with sales, in 1996, she set up a self-help group (SHG). “When we founded Bhellapar Khudrasanchoy [small savings] SHG, I started selling what I wove,” she says, proud of her entrepreneurship.

It is the procuring of yarn that is the real bottleneck in improved earnings. Deuri says buying yarn requires more capital than she can afford, so she prefers to work on commission where she gets the yarn from the shopkeepers or vendors and is told what to make. “To make gamusas, I will have to buy at least three kilos of yarn for the length and weft. A kilo of endi costs Rs. 700. I cannot afford to spend Rs. 2,100.” Traders give her yarn for 10 gamusas or three sarees together.

Madhobi Chaharia is Deuri’s neighbour. She says she, too, cannot afford to stock up on yarn. “My husband works as a daily labourer. Sometimes he gets work, sometimes he doesn’t. In such situations, I cannot buy the yarn,” she tells PARI.

Chaharia and Deuri’s situation is not unusual: domestic weavers in the state all face this problem, says a 2020 report by Dibrugarh University which advocates interest-free loans and better credit facilities. The lack of a strong working organisation among women weavers has kept them largely out of government schemes, health insurance, credit and market linkages, it adds.

“In three days, I can complete one chador,” says Deuri. A medium-size gamusa takes a full day of weaving and she is paid a flat wage of Rs. 400 for every garment. The price of a mekhela-chador in the market ranges from Rs. 5,000 to a few lakhs, but craftspeople like Deuri only manage to earn around Rs. 6,000 to 8,000 a month.

Her earnings from weaving are not able to sustain the family of seven—her husband Nabin Deuri, 66, and two children: Rajoni, 34 and Rumi, 26, and the family of her late older son—so she also works as a cook at a local lower primary school.

In Assam, almost all (11.79 lakh) weavers are women, says the Fourth All India Handloom Census (2019–2020). They must juggle home and weaving and some, like Deuri, also have other jobs.

Deuri’s day starts early. At 4 a.m. she seats herself on the bench in front of the loom, its rusted legs placed on bricks for balance. “After working till 7:30 to 8 a.m., I go to school [to cook]. On returning at around 2-3 p.m., I rest. By 4 p.m. I start again and continue till 10-11 p.m.”

But it’s not only weaving. Deuri must also ready the yarn, a physically demanding task. “You have to soak the yarn, put it into starch and then dry it to strengthen the endi. I put two bamboo poles at two ends to spread the threads. Once the thread is ready, I wrap them into the ra [warp beam]. You have to push the warp beam to the very end of the loom. And then you run your hands and feet to weave,” she explains.

Both the looms used by Deuri are traditional—she bought them over three decades ago. Their wooden frames are mounted on two poles of the areca nut tree; the peddles are made of bamboo. For intricate designs, older weavers working on traditional looms use thin bamboo strips (seri) along with the midrib of a coconut palm leaf. To get the coloured threads into the cloth, they have to weave the seri manually through the vertical threads every time after pushing the treadle. This a time-consuming process and slows them down.

Although the Assam government’s Handloom Policy adopted in 2017–2018 recognises that looms need to be upgraded and yarn made more accessible, Deuri says she has no financial support to go ahead. “I have no connection with the handloom department. These looms are old and I have not received any benefits from the department.”

Unable to sustain weaving as a livelihood, Taru Baruah from Hatigarh village of Udalguri district has abandoned the craft. “I was a pioneer in weaving. People used to come to me for mekhela-chador and gamusas. But with competition from power looms and cheaper products online, I am not weaving anymore,” says 51-year-old Taru, standing beside her abandoned eri plantation which has no silkworms now.

“I do not see people wearing handmade clothes anymore. People mostly wear cheaper clothes made with power looms. But I wear only homemade natural fabric clothes and I will continue to weave as long as I am alive,” says Deuri, as she continues pushing the paddle to move the maaku (shuttle) and design flowers on the Assamese towels she masterfully creates.

(Courtesy: People’s Archive of Rural India (PARI))