CHENNAI: Less than a kilometre yonder from the wee-hour haste of the holy town of Thirukazhakundram, four men in their early 60s — under the balance of massively curled-up trees — soak their hands in mopped starch to uproot the remains of a grizzled craft from the verge of extinction.
It was in the British era that the craft of sizing vigorously sprawled across the neighbouring villages of Deshumugipettai and Kanalkovilpettai, defining their rural economy while baking the daily bread of its residents. Roughly 50 years ago, as recalled by Perumal Kuppan, now turning 64, the two villages thrived under the artistry of over 1,000 sizing workers across 100 outdoor sizing units. Alternate opportunities, years in the passing and technological advancement laid the foundation for its downfall, shrinking the count to hardly four workers in just one unit of late.
Stepping into the field
Kuppan, one of the remaining sizing workers, quietened his inclination to jobs with better pay just for the craft to survive. V Balakrishnan, also 63 and sprinkling starch over sheets of cotton along with Kuppan, got an introduction to sizing at the age of 11. Both are school dropouts. “The journey so far wasn’t just a walk in the park; the roads Kuppan, Nagamani, Kaniappan and I traversed through the years were battered and stiff, and we hung in there despite almost the entire two villages quitting the craft to better pay at hospitality or construction. The craft of sizing has been overlooked; it is not even considered as a professional line of work. Why should officials approach us when the profession itself is not listed as a regular occupation?” rues Balakrishnan, who started as a teaboy to his seniors.
A regular day in the lives of these four commences at 8 am when the town is still yawning and bells echo from the temples on the hills. Kanji prepared from home by Kuppan is mopped to cotton clothes that are punctured into a globe-like shape. Then the craftsmanship in them sets in as the starch settles to stick to their palms.
A day in their lives
Time shoots up as Nagamani and Kaniappan make haste to spread out the day’s sheet of cotton yarn over the muddy ground off Girivala Road in Deshumugipettai. About a step or two away, tucked with lungis to the waist, Kuppan and Balakrishnan keep a close eye on their colleagues while their memories turn around to reflect upon a period when everyday life was a blend of smooth sail and competence. Nagamani and Kaniappan, in a trice, cross out bamboo woods on either end to hold the yarn sheet — corresponding perhaps to the size of a 22-yard-long cricket pitch — on air, while Kuppan soaks a cotton cloth with starch. Balakrishnan, in the midst, takes time out to make a deeply felt confession to TNIE: Sizing in the two villages would die in small doses with us and, “we have passed the time to attempt, let alone save the craft.”
The status quo has reached a stage that Balakrishnan swarms in two minds to even bring in his own offspring. “We entered the sizing field, which was then more than a craft and almost a business, when the craft was, indeed, the talk of the town. But the times have changed and I do not want my sons to struggle for a living. Let them find employment elsewhere and draw better pay,” Balakrishnan contemplates with a heavy heart.
There’s a serene drizzle, throwing pale leaves all around the way Kuppan sprinkled starch over the cotton yarn only for Nagamani and Kaniappan to roll a wooden brush of their height of themselves across the sheet seconds later.
Under the setting sun
Baskaran S, the cluster development officer (South India) of the Artisans Cluster Development Trust, New Delhi, who has been part of the textile industry for over 30 years, says the “sprinkled starch strengthens the yarn, protecting It with a layer of coat to avoid breakage when weaved,” he explains, maintaining that the craft thrived in Kancheepuram and Chengalpettu until “the arrival of textile sizing machines sidelined it to the edge. The craft awaits a revival, and longs for it.”
The sun turned vague by the close of day as the drizzle swelled into a downpour and a transport van awaited the four “sizers” who, too, were drawn in by the day. The metal chains that secured the sheet to the crossed woods were unfastened for the yarn to be loaded onto the van. Moments later, the vehicle accelerated away. “We do not even know the name of the shirt-manufacturing unit to which it is being taken. All we know is that it is in Kelambakkam and cash — broken down to hardly Rs 5,000 a month each — is credited to our bank accounts…,” Balakrishnan approximates, packing his utensils.