CHENNAI : How much can a person’s clothing reveal about who they are? To women in the humble northeastern state of Tripura, a narrow piece of cloth hides away centuries of indigenous history. The ‘risha’ assumed to have etymological origins in the old Kokborok language, is a conjunction of the words ‘ri’ meaning cloth and ‘brsha’, meaning small.
On Friday, textile designer and founder of Tilla, Aratrik Dev Varman, and designer and illustrator at Tilla, Jisha Unnikrishnan, joined in conversation with the founder of Prakriti Foundation, Ranvir Shah, to discuss the significance of the narrow piece of weaved cloth that marked out a forgotten piece of history and cultural identity.
Leaving a women’s breasts uncovered may seem to be humiliating or uneasy for many in the present context. However, according to general editor of Marg magazine, Naman P Ahuja says, “Covering is a utilitarian requirement for comfort while working rather than one that is based on status or shame.”
The most recent issue of Marg, India’s oldest art magazine, delves into the case of Tripuri women weaving the breast cloth ‘risha’, for this reason, in an attempt to assert a distinctly tribal identity. The colour of the dye, type of patterns and miniscule changes in weaving make the ‘risha’ different for each tribe.
Tilla foundation has worked in the northeast tirelessly for over five years, collecting samples, patterns and designs to revitalise and restore the lost artform. The 1x5-metre-long cotton fabric that wraps around the chest is traditionally woven by women in the tribal communities of Tripura on a loin loom, also known as a ‘komor tant’, which is a loom without a frame, held together with tension from the weaver’s body with a backstrap.
Usually, it is accompanied by a knee-length skirt known as ‘rignai’, made by sewing together two or more ‘risha-s’. Women are taught how to weave at a young age. “The ‘risha’ follows a woman throughout her life,” says Aratrik. “It is worn after her first time menstruating and gifted to her at her wedding. She is also cremated in her favourite risha, so that she can carry it forward to her next life.”
The evolution of the ‘risha’ as a resilient piece of fabric also took it to the royal court, adorned by the Manikyas. In turn for the cottons and natural dyes indigenous communities used, Tripuri royal princesses imported rich silks and elaborate zari work from their neighbouring countries. This dual historic identity makes the ‘risha’ a distinguished textile. Marg magazine also documents the fall of the risha during the colonial period. European notions of ‘uncivilised’ clothing had caught on and tribal women with bare shoulders were scorned for it.
Secondly, the Swadeshi movement called for a mainstream national identity. “In the palace, saris became a more ‘modern’, ‘national’, and ‘national’ clothing option,” Aratrik explains. Through photographs of Manmohini Devi, Raja Bir Chandra’s third wife, he traces the trajectory of how the risha changed in the palace. Architect Tirupurasundari Sevvel, who was among the audience, posed a question to the panel: Do the traditional tribal patterns on the ‘risha’ have any mathematical reasoning to them? “No,” answers Jisha after a little contemplation. “But there is certainly a language to the motifs.”
In their years of intense research, Aratrik and Jisha have embraced the adaptations and various forms the deceivingly simple piece of cloth had taken. While the old designs have been swapped out for contemporary cross-stitches and the cotton harvested locally has been substituted with shimmery lurex yarn, the weavers still pride themselves on the quality of their work made with the backstrap looms.
“The cloth that we can weave on this loom is far superior to other cloth. It is tighter and more durable, and even though people have stared weaving our traditional designs on a frame loom, it is not the same,” Chandrani Deb Barma testifies. Chandrani is a banker who weaves when she has the time, exemplifying the future of the ‘risha’, talking about drawing weaving inspiration from YouTube! Aratrik, contrarily, has vowed to save the past that has been woven with the threads in the ‘risha’, choosing not to translate the traditional designs to other clothes like shawls. “We need to respect it as a ‘risha’, and not as a stole,” he concludes.